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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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10406319
a soft and violent
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Female Sith Warrior, Vette (Star Wars), Malavai Quinn", "Fandom": "Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by swordstorm", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-22T00:00:00", "words": "1,936", "Additional Tags": "good family relationships sound fake, ghosting your family is a time-honoured sith tradition", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "make a fury of me", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The question of her origins is one Rkorya is surprised to suddenly start fielding, after she becomes Sith. Before, it was never something to be considered. She remembers vividly one of the many political outings her family took part in, small gatherings to make connections and assess like-minded allies, and the double-edged compliments that flew back and forth. “You’ve done quite well for yourselves,” one noble had said, smiling thinly. “Given where you came from, of course.” She – protected by her potential in the Force, the weighing interest in each message to the overseers – butted in, blunt and guileless and protesting that they came from their holdings on Dromund Kaas, where else?Later she would learn all the delightfully myriad ways that one could say Zabrak without saying it outright, or worse, alien. Even though she had never set foot on Iridonia, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that it was where she was really from, her bloodline be damned.And then suddenly, it isn’t. Korriban changes everything, is the crucible in which all the acolytes are poured into like seething molten metal. So many of them end up as slag, cooling and dead, and the rest are... reforged. Part of her is born there in the sand and amidst the tombs, drawn out of the dark whispers thick in the Force. This is what it means to be Sith: statues etched away by centuries, power that has seeped into every stone, names that make the air tremble with dread. This is her birthright, and at first she wields it like a hammer, flares her power because it must be acknowledged.From Baras she learns restraint, patience, cunning. He sends her across the galaxy, and it is on one of those seemingly unending journeys that the question comes up, after Vette has finished singing bawdy songs to try and make Quinn blush.(To his credit, he’s buried himself in some reports and has proven immune.)“I can’t believe I didn’t ask this before, but... you have family, right? You didn’t just... I don’t know, walk out of a Korriban tomb sometime?”“Of course I have family,” she says, surprised and uneasy. It takes a moment to pin down why – she almost hasn’t thought of them since Baras took her as his apprentice. She’d sent a message, of course, but... well, it had been brief, and that had been months ago. “Back on Dromund Kaas – a minor holding in the city, and a private compound.”“I thought so,” Quinn says, breaking his vow of long-suffering silence. “You have the refined eloquence of a Kaas noble, my lord – I thought that was where you were from.” And where else would I be from, she wants to ask, but knows the answer – Iridonia lives on in the mere glimpse of her tattoo or horns.“Who cares what she sounds like? You didn’t say a word about it when we were there! I mean, not that I want to be dragged around to some Sithy noble house but... you really didn’t want to stop in and see your family?”“There wasn’t much time,” she says, and even she can tell that’s a stalling tactic. Vette scowls, turning to fully face her.“Yeah, I’m sure you couldn’t take a break from going into ruins and squashing jungle rebellions, right?”“Vette,” Quinn says, tone sharpening – a warning of edging on insubordination that Rkorya doesn’t care to wave off. She takes a breath, and when she speaks again, she’s softened, if not quite respectful.“Sorry, I just... family is important. And I bet they’re really proud of you, for being an apprentice, and killing like, ten Jedi yesterday...”“Six were padawans,” she points out, letting herself be soothed.“They don’t have to know that.”“You’ve been pushing yourself hard, my lord,” Quinn adds. “I’m sure Darth Baras wouldn’t begrudge a few days of leave.”It sounds weighty and terrifying and tempting. Rkorya considers it, tasting fear and letting it unravel.“Very well – after Taris, maybe I’ll return to the capital. For a short while.”Of course, she never does. At first, it’s the war looming, her own need to prove herself mingling freely with a desire to strengthen the Empire. Baras’ orders are easy enough to follow, even if she chafes beneath his command, finds herself wondering how long before his pawns need to be replaced. When she does return to Kaas City, it’s a harried back and forth to kill Darth Vengean, and then she has to lay low lest the rest of the Dark Council think she’s bragging about her feat.There is no shortage of excuses, especially once Baras tries to kill her. And then there is truly no time. The Emperor has spoken, and what is family or fulfilling her pledge to them when the Empire is in danger? Events cascade, blurring from one hasty victory to the next. She doesn’t regret any part of it, not after Voss. It feels like she’s alive like never before, power and anger and duty all finally falling into place, and who could care about her origins or what she’s left behind with such conviction bearing her forward?Until, finally, she returns to Korriban. For all that she only spent a short, rushed time as an acolyte, the familiarity of coming back and setting foot on the sands hits her like a hammer blow.“I’ve missed this place,” she murmurs, and Vette – who, despite her nightmares, had insisted on coming to ‘see this through, and maybe laugh at old maskface’ – scoffs behind her.“That makes one of us, at least.”“This is home, in a way. To a part of me – the promise of what I could become, if I survived.”“You know, if you weren’t terrifying, you’d be cute when you get sentimental. Come on, greatest of Sith Lords – let’s fulfill that promise. I bet your weird Sith buddy will mope if you make him wait too long.”She kills her master. It is everything she could have hoped for, and nothing she expected. It is a burden relieved, a weight dropping away – a grudge that can be cast aside. When she leaves Korriban, she feels she must be floating, unsure of her purpose, wanting to wait for another crisis to arise. But her crew has been pushed to their limits by the lengths they’ve had to go, the betrayals they’ve endured, and she can think of no truly safe place for them to rest.Except, maybe, for one.“There’s a message for you, my lord,” Quinn says, painstakingly precise as they pull into the Dromund Kaas spaceport. “It’s from... ah, Darth Vowrawn. A congratulations on your recognition in front of the Dark Council.” He pauses which, even considering his diminished standing, is surprising – he’s done his best to be even more faultless, to atone for his betrayal. “He... also says he went ahead and made some arrangements for you to take Darth – Baras’ old quarters in the Sith Sanctum. Until you have time to adjust and move whatever you wish in, however, he’s sent some gifts to your hereditary holdings.”The clever old man. As the new Wrath, information on her was likely at a premium – Vowrawn hadn’t needed much time to dig up who she was related to, and where they lived. “Some gifts?” she repeats warily. “Does he specify?”“Only that it’s what anyone of your rank should possess. I’m afraid I’m as in the dark on this as you, my lord.”“Well, there’s only one way to find out what loot he sent, right?” Vette chimes in, undaunted by the flat look it gets her in return. “What? You know me – always willing to go look at some weird Sith treasure.”“Treasure that just so happens to be in my family’s holdings. I’m sure that has no bearing whatsoever on your desire to go see it.”“Weeeell, it’s better than sitting around a Kaas cantina all day while Pierce mopes about not shooting things and flirts badly with everyone.” A pause. “No offence, Pierce.”“Only some taken, Vette,” he shoots back, leaning on the back of a chair. Quinn looks wearily put-upon and Rkorya, for once, wishes she could join him. But the banter is sharper than it should be, even Vette, irrepressible as ever, is a little too brittle and quick with her words. She’s pushed them hard, for her goals.“Seriously, my lord,” she breaks in again, perhaps sensing the change in her mood. “It’s just... you don’t talk about it at all – where you’re from, your family. You... know all about us. You’ve helped us, saved us... you know all our stories. And we barely know yours, in some ways.”Sentiment, Baras had told her, is weakness. Surely it must be hers, to be so swayed by words alone.“It’s not anywhere near as important as you must be imagining,” she says at last. “I grew up on Dromund Kaas. I’ve never been close with my family – they knew I would either become Sith or die in the attempt.”“Cheerful,” Vette mutters, raising her hands when Rkorya glances at her. “Sorry, I get it. No interrupting.”“I know you... value your family, Vette, and you cared deeply for your parents, Jaesa. That was always impossible for me. Duty to the Empire always came first – especially when, despite my bloodline, there still was... much to prove. I was pushed to test myself, to be stronger than all who had come before. To proclaim, without a doubt, that we were worthy.” She allows herself a dry smile. “I don’t think they ever thought of what would come afterwards, and... neither did I, until you started pestering me.”“Well... sorry. Unless you’re... glad to be here, in which case, nope, not sorry at all.”“Glad we cleared that up,” Jaesa says, crossing her arms. Her impatience flares through the ship and Rkorya shrugs it off like a momentary surge of heat. The others barely twitch, by now. With two Sith onboard, they’ve grown rather used to the occasional display of temper. More sentiment, but she can’t help feeling proud of that. They are a ragged group, more bloodthirsty than disciplined, but they are hers, loyal to the last, and toughened by the battles she’s led them through. “So are we going or not?”“We’re going. Quinn, get a shuttle, and send word ahead that the Wrath –” Her title still feels new to her, and to say it so firmly, know it as truth, is a little like a killing blow. A taste of victory. “– will be arriving shortly. The rest of you make yourselves presentable.”“Of course, my lord,” Quinn says, making himself scarce. Pierce and Vette follow after, only lingering long enough to make it clear that they’re not leaving at the same time as he is. Quinn will still have an opportunity to be smug – he’d been after Pierce to tend to his armour for weeks.“...That includes cleaning your claws, Broonmark.” The Talz grumbles, aggrieved.<We do this only because it is for Sith’s blood.>“You do it because I’m telling you to. There’ll be enough battles to bloody them again soon enough, I promise you.” That certainty calms them both, and he lurches away with only one last grudging rumble. She isn’t sure of what to do with herself when resting, even when she can’t deny that they all need it. Time to regroup, to arrange her affairs...Past time, perhaps, to see just what she’s earned with her struggles. To realize that, here, at least, she has nothing left to prove.
10458318
Take Me To Church
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux", "Fandom": "Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Flyting", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-26T00:00:00", "words": "1,983", "Additional Tags": "Southern Gothic, AU, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Blasphemy, Hand Jobs, Celibacy, Abuse of Hozier lyrics, Backstory, Cult Leader Hux, Prophet Kylo, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren", "Series": "Southern Gothic AU", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Kylo’s hands smell like camphor and antiseptic when he slides them against Hux’s bare skin, crawling into bed behind him. It’s an astringent, sickbed smell, from the creams he uses to keep his master comfortable. It calls to mind the hiss of a respirator and the steady beep beep beep of a heart monitor. It’s the smell of illness and decay.When Hux turns over in the dark those hands nearly span the whole of his ribcage. Like if he spread his fingers wide enough Kylo could almost wrap them all the way around his body, cup Hux in his palms, cradled and safe and cozy. He loves Kylo’s hands. They’re a healer’s hands- big and rough, but not clumsy, with ragged cuticles and the clinging remnants of week-old, drug store nail polish. Sometimes when they’re alone Kylo presses them palm-to-palm against Hux’s own, and Hux delights at the contrast with his own soft, manicured digits.Hux takes good care of his hands, he remembers from watching his stepmother at the kitchen table with her little buffer and file when he was a kid, just like he does his clothes and his hair and his teeth and his car, because that’s how he was raised. Press your shirt. Polish your shoes. What his father used to call ‘putting a shine on’ and what Kylo calls ‘a pile of vain bullshit.’Kylo thought shampoo was a waste of money when you had dish soap, and would be perfectly content to wear the same three band t-shirts for concerts he had never been to, musicians he’d never heard, (the ascetic life didn’t allow for a lot of indulgence), until they fell apart. That was why he and his master needed Hux.Shine is what draws people in. The smiling preacher with his brand new SUV. Shine is what people remember, and if you’re good enough at it nobody looks close enough to realize that it’s only spit.Hux knew all about shine. Pastor Hux’s little boy had been working his father’s congregation, echoing promises of fire and brimstone with his hair slicked back and his shoes polished, from the time he was fourteen.It is dark outside and the world is heavy and still as it languishes in that interminable stretch between very late and very early. The cicadas are out in force, warring with the crickets to be the noisiest damn things in the blackness outside. It’s proper country darkness, all the way out here at the end of the gravel road where Kylo and his master dwelled. The kind that swallows you up, makes you think you must have been struck blind.Buzzing and chirping and warm, sticky air drifts in where they’ve opened the window to offset the lack of A/C in the derelict old mansion. The master didn’t indulge in pointless luxuries- not for himself or his chosen son. Hux was sweating a little, even sleeping under nothing but a thin cotton sheet.Kylo’s clever hands trace the shape of Hux under the sheet, rubbing idly up and down his pale chest and vulnerable belly like a man trying to re-familiarize himself with something that’s been lost. He gets like that sometimes when he is with the master too much- lost in his own mind. In the dark bedroom, Kylo sighs through his nose, tired, hair making an inky black halo on the pale cotton of the pillowcase. Kylo is beautiful, in his strange, uneven way, and Hux wouldn’t trade him for the world.“Stay,” Hux mutters, voice gravel-rough from sleep. He knows, even as he says it what the answer will be, but he tries anyway. “Rest. You’re tired.” “I can’t.”The apologetic skim of knuckles over his bare ribs makes Hux suck in a tight little breath, but he lays still and allows himself to be caressed. Another hour and Kylo will have to leave again. Every hour, on the hour. Like clockwork through the night. Hux doesn’t understand how he ever gets any sleep.But the master needs tending and Kylo, with his healer’s hands and his sleep-ringed eyes, is the only one who can do it.There are so many things that only Kylo can do.Bring Hux from the depths of sleep to sighing, stretching, aching wakefulness with just his hands is only one of them.“You smell good,” Kylo mutters, low, rubbing his prominent nose against Hux’s hair. Hux knows he stinks like summer sweat and restless sleep from tossing under the sheets but his mouth pulls into a tight smile at the flattery anyway. It’s a distraction Kylo wants now, not rest. Precious boy. The words, mixed with the feel of those hands pressing, warm and insistent, at the small of his back make him shiver. A callus scratches at the soft skin over his hipbone as Kylo’s hands venture into new territory, and Hux doesn’t bother to bite back a moan.When he was a little boy, Pastor Hux’s son used to pray to Jesus every night. Help me be good enough, please just this once, make me strong enough, help me be smart, punish those who hurt me, make these feelings stop- By the time he was eleven he’d realized that nobody was listening. He’d still knelt at the end of his bed every night and said his now I lay me down to sleeps, pressed his hands together and furrowed his brow sitting in the pew on Sunday, because, like daddy said, you put a good shine on it and nobody can tell the difference. But God had gone away and left the answering machine on, but he sure as shit wasn’t checking his messages.How lucky, how blessed, how fucking fortunate he is now to have a Messiah who answers every prayer directly. Especially the ones that go 'more', or 'god just like that, don’t stop-' or, ‘please, lord, fuck oh please-' When he arcs his neck, that silent plea is answered with sharp teeth and wicked tongue right where he’s been aching for them. Kylo growls, low and dangerous, right under his ear, just the way he knows makes Hux’s legs fall open. If it’s his body, his acquiescence, that’s needed, well, Hux is humbled to serve the lord. How many men can say they’ve seen firsthand the power of their savior? That they’ve touched it, felt it on their tongue and in their veins. He can feel it right now. The air in the room tenses, building tight with Kylo’s arousal. It reminds him of the electricity in the air just before a summer storm; all that power waiting to be unleashed. It’s intoxicating. Where he leans over Hux, his hair smells like ozone and, faintly, like Ajax. One of those healer’s hands finds Hux’s where it is twisted up in the front of Kylo’s wash-worn black t-shirt. Long, deft fingers encircle his wrist and pin it to the pillow. There’s a gleam in Kylo’s dark eyes, something wicked. He’s seen those hands start fires with a gesture before, and half believes Kylo’s doing it to him now. The pale skin under Kylo’s palms seems to be burning up from the inside. “What do you say?” “Please,” Hux breathes. Still, Kylo takes his time, whiling away the scant minutes they have together. His palm is warm on Hux’s sternum, flat over where his heart is beating rabbit-quick there, underneath bone and wiry flesh. “Please, Kylo, please-“  A callused hand moves over his pectoral and then skims down the concave little hollow of his belly, fingertips tripping over his naval. He can still faintly smell the camphor on Kylo’s skin.“So soft… You know what I want to hear.” Hux resists, spinning it out, giving Kylo his sorely-needed distraction, until that hand slides down and begins taking him apart with quick, tight strokes, and then he is babbling, panting, twisting against Kylo’s iron grip on his wrist, “Oh fuck, oh jesus, fuck, just- that, like that, oh lord, oh Christ please-“ Kylo was a funny little thing. He would shrink up on himself, broad shoulders inching up towards his childishly overlarge ears, when Hux spoke of him as their prophet, but here in the quiet darkness of the little bedroom Hux has claimed for himself in their master’s home, he lapped up the platitudes and prayers like any earnest savior. Or maybe he just liked to hear Hux blaspheme while he came, the awful man. When he drifts back down from his orgasm, Hux finds Kylo sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to him, still fully dressed. He won’t touch himself. He never did. The ascetic life doesn’t allow for indulgences.   Kylo got something else entirely out of their encounters. There’s a soft sound and then Hux can sense light flickering around the edges of Kylo’s bent form. When he sits up to get a better look, there is a perfect ball of flame cupped in Kylo’s palms. It’s bigger, brighter, than last time Hux saw this particular trick. Kylo stares at it, entranced, his hair hanging in lank tendrils around his shadowed face. “It barely hurts now.” When Kylo parts his cupped hands the flame splits into two. He twirls one hand idly and the fire moves with him, hovering just above the skin. A miracle fit for kings in Hux’s a shabby little guest bedroom. “You’re getting better at that.” Hux leans forward to kiss his shoulder. He remembers when just controlling the fire would leave Kylo's knees shaking. “It isn’t mine. It’s yours- ours. I can only do it like this when you’re here.” “Well, it’s beautiful.” When Hux reaches out, he can feel the heat radiating off the nearest one before he gets within inches of it. A part of him aches to stick his well-manicured fingers into the fire anyway- to see if they would blacken and burn. It’s a miracle, in every sense, that Kylo’s hands aren’t blistering.  Kylo closes his fists, first one then the other, extinguishing the twin balls of flame. “How much longer do you have?” Hux asks, leaning around him in the darkness to grab tissues from the antique nightstand. It was a dusty old thing, covered in layers of flaking paint. “I have to go.” “Sleep a little when you get done this time. Promise me you will. I need you conscious at the meeting tomorrow. We have new converts coming.” Kylo grunts his assent in lieu of a promise, but he takes the tissue Hux presses into his hand and dabs at his bleeding nose with it instead of wiping the blood on his sleeve. It’s barely a few drops this time. He was getting stronger. The old bed creaks and groans when he lifts his weight off of it, and then Hux is alone in the sticky summer warmth of the bedroom, listening to Kylo’s heavy footsteps as they receded down the hall to the plantation’s grand bedroom, where the master lay dreaming, surrounded by tubes and wires and things that hissed with every breath the shriveled figure took.  It wouldn't be forever. Kylo's power was growing. He'd be strong enough to restore his master soon. And then... The Lord works in mysterious ways. That’s what his father taught him to say when a parishioner came to him in tears because things hadn’t worked out. The Lord never failed to answer prayers, oh no- he just worked in mysterious ways. Just like he helped those who helped themselves. Like any neglectful father, God had worked out a way to take all the credit without having to do jack shit. And, just like poor old Pastor Hux, he would die on fire when Kylo was through with him.Hux hums a little to himself, in time with the cicadas, as he drifts back asleep. For I was blind, but now I see…
10495386
Let Me Mend Your Broken
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Alex Danvers, Maggie Sawyer, Kara Danvers", "Fandom": "Supergirl (TV 2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Rehizle_28", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-29T00:00:00", "words": "5,536", "Additional Tags": "slight angst, but a happy ending, Maggie is the perfect girlfriend and big sister", "Relationship": "Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Well let me hold your heart, let me be the one You’ll never have to feel so alone Let me bring you back to the world, back home Let me mend your broken soul  Calm down, just calm down It’s not the first time, I’ve seen you cry You don’t have to be so brave Tonight   It’s been a bad day.The call comes from Winn, the slight quiver in his voice giving away his own emotion and prompting her to sit up sharply, demanding to know what’s happened.An op gone bad.A rouge alien in a warehouse, it was supposed to be a simple in and out. Apprehend the alien and be back at the DEO for dinner.Only things had gone wrong.Ten agents, led by Alex and accompanied by Supergirl had infiltrated the warehouse, using tactics that have been honed over hundreds of successful missions. The plan was straightforward, the alien was weakened, should be easy to catch and transport. Supergirl was there merely as a precaution, there would be no real need for her.But the alien wasn’t weakened, it had fed, regained strength and was stronger than any of them were expecting, than any of them were prepared for.Ten agents went in.Only four walked out.Nobody is dead as far as Winn was aware, but six agents were badly wounded, with one not expected to make it through the night.Alex’s name is the first breathless question on her lips as Winn explains what happened.“She’s ok physically I think, a few cuts and bruises.” Winn replies hastily, but there’s a hesitation in his voice that sets her on edge.“Winn.”“I’ve never seen that look on her face before.” He carries on hurriedly. “Her eyes looked so...dead. I tried to get her to stay and talk, or call you. But she left to be with Kara.”Maggie closes her eyes, sighing heavily. “And Kara? Is she?”“She’s not doing great.” Winn’s voice is barely a whisper and she can hear the wobble in his tone that indicates he’s close to crying.She does her best to comfort him over the phone, assuring him that everything will be ok. That he did the right thing calling her, she’ll make sure his girls are ok.She ends the call with the promise that the two of them will go for a beer, so he can talk, work through his own feelings, allow him the attention he so rarely receives.She knows that people forget him, that because he spends most of his time behind a desk he’s passed over, people assume that when things go wrong it won’t affect him.But it’s his intel the agents are working on, his skills that track down the aliens and human threats alike. When things go wrong he feels it as acutely as any commander, as any field agent.It’s his two-favourite people in the world out there, risking their lives every day.Maggie knows how that feels.As soon as the call ends she’s heading out the door, pausing only to grab her keys and jacket, phone pressed against her ear again, calling the number she knows now by heart.It rings through to voicemail, and although it’s what she expected her steps become more urgent as she crosses the parking garage to her bike. XXXXXX It’s been a few weeks since Maggie guessed Kara’s secret and the three of them are still settling into their new normal. Kara has become a regular fixture on many of their nights, relishing in the idea that she can finally be her real self.Alex has been relaxing more too, Maggie notes with a swelling heart that her girlfriends smile is brighter than ever, her voice has lost the cautious tone that she hadn’t even realised it held, it’s as if she’s been released from invisible shackles, shackles that had her chained to a life of secrecy and lies.Maggie knows how seriously Alex takes her job, takes the safety of her agents and, above all, the safety of Kara. Every op she goes on, the outcome is always a reflection of her leadership skills. If something goes wrong, it’s on her. Despite the many assurances from J’onn, Kara and Maggie that she can’t control everything.Maggie can’t begin to imagine how her girlfriend must be feeling right now.The thought has her revving her bike faster, weaving through traffic slightly faster than the speed limit in a bid to reach Kara’s flat.She’ll write herself a ticket tomorrow if needs be. But right now, she needs to get there as fast as possible.Kara’s door is unlocked, it always is. When you’re bulletproof it’s easy for things like locking the door to be forgotten. Maggie still steps into the flat cautiously, eyes and ears alert for any danger. The flat is dark, an unusual occurrence and only serves to heighten her sense of unease.She’s about to call out for Alex when a shape in her peripheral vision catches her eye.There, elbows resting against the breakfast bar, a mostly empty bottle of whisky next to her left hand, is Alex.  Her head is bowed and she doesn’t appear to have noticed Maggie’s presence yet. The single bulb above the counter illuminates her profile and even in the low light Maggie can see the tears dripping down her girlfriend’s cheeks and onto the counter top, can hear the soft sobs that Alex is doing her best to muffle.Maggie feels her heart break.A quick glance round the apartments shows Kara nowhere in sight, but the bedroom door cracked open and Supergirl’s red boots leaning against the wall give Maggie a good idea where the hero is.Needing no more confirmation Maggie crosses the room quickly, stopping a few feet away from Alex’s motionless form.“Danvers.”At the sound of her name Alex starts, whirling round, eyes widening wildly even as she goes for her gun from her thigh holster that she had yet to remove.“It’s me!” Maggie throws her hands up in submission as the barrel of the gun is levelled at her head, panic flashing through her heart at the wild, alien look in Alex’s eyes. “Danvers it’s Maggie!”Recognition dawns in Alex’s expression and she lowers the gun with shaky hands, a choked sob rising halfway in her throat before she pushes it back down. Placing the gun on the counter next to the whisky bottle she wipes hurriedly at her eyes, brushing the tears away as if they were never there. Picking up the bottle she takes a long drag wincing at the taste.She does all this without meeting Maggie’s eyes.The detective takes a tentative step forward, hands splayed out in front of her. “Alex?”For a moment, she thinks Alex is going to ignore her, but after one more drag from the bottle the agent turns to face her and Maggie can’t help biting her lip as her eyes rake over the nasty gash that splits Alex’s right cheekbone and the darkening bruise that’s blooming on the left side of her jaw.“What are you doing here?”“Winn called me.” She takes another step forward, careful to move slowly. “He told me about the op, mentioned that you weren’t doing so good.”“I’m fine.” Alex’s response is quick. Too quick. Maggie can see in her red rimmed eyes and gaunt expression that the DEO agent is anything but fine. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, I had to take care of Kara.” She gestures vaguely to the bedroom.“How is she?” Maggie asks softly, another step bringing her within touching distance of her girlfriend. She hovers, not wanting to reach out until Alex gives her the ok, because she knows in moments like this that Alex is skittish, prone to fleeing from her emotions and the people around her.“She’s not taking it well.” Alex replies, bracing her arms against the counter she allows her head to fall forward, hair flopping around her eyes like a curtain, shielding her from Maggie’s gaze. “She thinks it’s her fault because she didn’t come in with us right away, she was monitoring the perimeter. She thinks if she’d come in earlier she could have saved them.”Maggie makes a sympathetic noise in her throat, eyes flitting to the door of Kara’s bedroom. “It’s not her fault.”“No. It’s not.” Alex’s voice has a hard edge to it as she straightens up, back straight like a soldier and expression blank. “It’s mine.”“Danvers...”“Those agents were under my command. It was my job to keep them safe!” Alex’s eyes are focused on a spot just to the left of Maggie’s head. “I should have gone in by myself scouted it out, realised that the alien was stronger. Because of me Bates is going to...” She catches herself on the last word, making another grab for the bottle and drinking deeply.Moving forward Maggie reaches out and gently pries the bottle from Alex’s fingers. “Come on babe, I think you’ve had enough.” Tugging softly on her hand Maggie moves her through the apartment, drawing her to the sofa, surprised that Alex allows her to.“You shouldn’t have had to come all the way over here.” Alex mumbles. “I’m fine.”“Danvers you’re not fine.” Maggie tries to coax her to sit on the sofa but Alex tenses, body not budging. “And that’s ok, you’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to fall apart, you’re allowed to feel.”“I don’t have that luxury.” Alex shakes her head, blinking fiercely to rid her eyes of the tears that have collected. “I need to be strong for Kara, she needs me. If I fall apart it’s...” She trails off again slumping down on the sofa and burying her head in her hands.Maggie is by her side in an instant, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her lower back, the other carding through soft hair, pushing it away from her face, fingertips brushing against skin.“You are the strongest person I’ve ever met.” She murmurs in Alex’s ear. “There is no one else who can carry the burdens of the world and walk as tall and straight as you do Danvers.” A small sob escapes Alex’s throat and Maggie tightens the hand that has curled around her girlfriend’s waist. “Nobody will think any less of you if you allow yourself to break down every once in a while. Because I see you, I see that you hold every decision in every fibre of you, they never leave you. It drives you forward I get that, it’s how you draw your strength because you’ve had to do everything alone, but sometimes you just need to let them go and start again, let yourself feel rather than just react and anticipate.” Pressing her lips against Alex’s temple Maggie sighs softly.They sit in silence for a moment, Alex isn’t crying but Maggie can feel her body shuddering slightly, as if she’s holding her breath to stop the tears coming.“Someone is going to have to call Bates’ wife,” Alex mumbles through her fingers, “call all of their families and partners.”“That doesn’t have to be you.”“It does.” Alex insists, her voice stronger now. “It’s my fault they’re lying in those beds so it should be me who tells their families why they’re there.”Maggie shakes her head. “It is not your fault!” She insists fiercely. “It was the alien who put them in those beds, not you!”Alex doesn’t respond but the slight nod of her head indicates that she has at least heard Maggie. After a moment she disentangles herself from Maggie’s arms, rising to her feet she flicks the lamp on the coffee table by the sofa on, flooding the room with soft orange light. Her expression is composed, almost stoic as she runs a hand through her hair.“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” She says finally. “It’s not fair to put this on you, it’s too much.”Maggie is on her feet in an instant. “Hey, listen to me. You should never be afraid to put these things on me, it’s part of being in a couple, we share each other burdens. I would take all your pain away if I could, but I can’t.” She pauses before speaking again. “I know a little of what it’s like to lose people, to feel like I should have saved them, like I should have been better.”Alex knows immediately that she’s thinking of the alien massacre at the bar and her expression softens, right hand involuntarily twitching out towards Maggie. The memories of the nights after that night still haunt them both, of anguished howls bloody knuckles and empty bottles. “I know how heavily today weighs on you, how you feel you have to hold it together for Kara, for me, for the DEO, for the city. But I need you to know that I am the one person you don’t need to do that with, I am someone you can lean on as heavily as you need too.”Stepping forward Maggie cradles Alex’s face between her hands, careful to avoid the wounds on her girlfriend’s face.“The days of you pushing down your feelings are officially over.” She whispers, forehead pressed to Alex’s. “Because you have me now.”At her words, Alex finally breaks, collapsing into her arms as if all the strength has just left her body in one go. Maggie guides them to the sofa, Alex’s face pressed into her shoulder as she cries.Maggie has seen Alex cry before.When Maggie rejected her in the bar she had seen the unshed tears shinning in Alex’s eyes as she had backed away, an image that still haunts her to this day.She cried when Maggie kissed her in her flat after the Cadmus attack, slow happy tears that trickled down her face as she pressed kiss after kiss to Maggie’s lips.She saw once, out of the corner of her eye Alex crying at an old black and white movie they were watching on television, although when confronted the agent vehemently denied such an occurrence happening. Alex Danvers does not cry at old movies.Alex cried when she opened up to Maggie about her father and her fears that they would never find him, that her mother would resent her for not doing enough to find him. A few single tears slipping down her cheeks as she admitted to not feeling good enough.But Maggie has never seen Alex cry like this.It’s as if every single tear, every moment of sorrow, remorse and fear is releasing from Alex’s body in a single torrent, like the breaking of a long-standing dam, unstoppable, raw emotion that floods the room with harsh sobs and tears staining Maggie’s shirt.The sound of her girlfriend’s pain is almost more than Maggie can stand, but she holds it together. She holds it together the way Alex has held herself together ever since Kara crash landed into her life 13 years before.She wonders when the last time was that Alex allowed herself to cry like this. She knows the answer is probably years.For a while she says nothing, offering only comforting noises her mother used to make when she was a child, ones that always seemed to calm her more than any words could manage. Alex’s hands grip, almost painfully at her shirt, but she takes the pain, her own hands running soothing patterns up and down the agent’s back.“It’s ok.” She murmurs. “You’re safe, you’re loved and you are not alone.”They haven’t said the words to each other yet, but they’ve been on the tip of Maggie’s tongue for weeks, always present but never quite there.If the trailed off sentiments and blushes of the last few weeks are anything to go by she suspects that Alex has been having similar thoughts.She wants to say it now, wants Alex to know just how much she’s loved, how much Maggie’s heart swells every time she sees Alex smile, how it beats quicker when she kisses her, how it becomes difficult to breathe when Alex presses her body against her own.She wants to tell her all this and more, spend the entire night listing every tiny thing she loves about Alex Danvers.But tonight, is not the night, the first time she tells Alex she loves her shouldn’t come in a moment of what Alex perceives as weakness.“You are so brave Alex,” the rare use of her name only makes Alex cry harder but Maggie presses on, “you do so much for the people around you without ever asking anything in return, and, after a day like today, it’s ok to ask. It’s ok to not be as brave.”“I have to be brave for Kara.” Alex sobs, each one like a knife in Maggie’s heart. “If I’m not and I fall apart what’s going to hold us up? What do we do then?”“You let someone else be brave for you.”Alex lifts her head, slowly, as if it’s suddenly become heavy, a dead weight. Her eyes are wide and somehow manage to look devoid of emotion, and brimming with it at the same time. The conflict swirling in her hazel irises is enough to have Maggie running a hand soothingly through her hair, smoothing it back from her face.“I’ve never…” Alex falters and Maggie smiles softly.“What? Had someone be brave for you?”“Kara is.” Alex is quick to defend her sister.“Kara is the second bravest woman on this planet.” Maggie soothes her quickly, ignoring Alex’s grunt of disbelief. “And I know she would rip this world apart if anything ever happened to you, because if she lost you then her world would never be the same, she would never be able to the hero she is without you.”Alex whimpers softly and Maggie presses tender lips to the crown of her head. “So yes, Kara is brave, but that strength, that courage, that willingness to do good, that comes from you. And you know this, it’s why you never let Kara see you cry, it’s why you never let her see how much days like today affect you, because if she sees you break down, then there’s nothing standing between her and the void.” Wrapping Alex in a tight hug she rocks her back and forth, whispering the next words in her ear, low and steady.“Now she does. Now she has me too.”Alex’s breath catches in her throat. “Maggie.”“I’m gonna be brave for you too.”Alex is crying again, tears streaming thick and fast down her face as she turns in Maggie’s arms, hands sliding up her chest to cup her face, her eyes shine with all the words that Maggie knew they both wanted to say, were both aching to say.Words didn’t quite seem to be enough, leaning forward with a heavy sigh Alex presses her forehead to Maggie, body slumping in surrender.“Thank you.”The words are accompanied by another sigh and Maggie can actually feel some of the tension, regret and blame that Alex has been holding inside leave her body with the exhale.It doesn’t erase the events of the day, it doesn’t make them magically better.But it’s a start.For a while they just sit, Maggie humming a tune so soft that it can barely be heard, but it’s soothing for both women.It’s only when Alex starts to flag against her the Maggie realises that she was still in her DEO outfit and covered in dirt and blood.“Alex, babe. Think you might want to get cleaned up a bit?” she asks cautiously, aware that at any moment Alex could snap out of her slightly calmer state.Alex looks down at herself, grunting softly in surprise when she sees the state of her uniform.Urging Alex gently to her feet Maggie guides her to the bathroom, flipping the switch they both wince as the bright light floods their eyes.Once she has the water running it becomes apparent that Alex isn’t making a move to undress, perching on the edge of the bathtub she’s staring off into space, the haunted look returning to her eyes.Sinking to her knees Maggie reaches out with cautious fingers towards the thigh holster. Alex starts slightly at the contact, eyes drooping to meet Maggie’s, a small nod was the permission she was looking for, unclasping the holster Maggie places it on the floor beside her, hands moving next to the clasp of Alex’s black combat trousers.On any other night Maggie would have kissed every inch of skin that was revealed to her, marvelling in the beauty of her girlfriend's body and using her lips, teeth and tongue to drive Alex to distraction until she was quivering with desire, want and need.But tonight, Alex needs something different.Instead she helps her into the tub before retrieving a soft sponge and beginning to clean away the dirt and dried blood that coats her girlfriend’s skin.Alex’s injuries are more extensive that Maggie had first thought and she holds in a wince with every new blossoming bruise or red, raw scrape that’s revealed.For her part Alex doesn’t seem to notice any pain, if anything she’s looking more relaxed than she has all evening, head tilted back against the rim of the bathtub, eyes fluttering closed as the sponge moves in slow circles over her skin. The final vestiges of tension finally seem to be melting away and Maggie knows from the slowness of her breathing that Alex is almost asleep.She’s about to suggest Alex get out the tub when a soft voice floats through the apartment.“Alex?”Kara’s voice is thick with sleep, but vulnerable and scared, like a child that’s woken to find their parents missing.At the sound of Kara’s whimper Alex’s eyes snap open and she shoots upright, water sloshing over the side of the bath as she scrambles to get out. Maggie’s hand on her shoulder stills her movement and she shoots the detective a frantic look, one that questions why she’s stopped her going to her sister's side.“Stay.” Maggie’s voice is firm, but gentle. “I’ll go to her.”Alex opens her mouth to protest but Maggie is already on her feet, shaking her head and applying gentle pressure to Alex’s shoulder to keep her in the tub. “Stay Danvers, we'll be waiting for you to finish up. You need this.”Alex relinquishes control with a heavy exhale, slumping back into the warm water and allowing her eyes to drift closed again, albeit with new worry lines wrinkling the edges.After dropping a soft kiss to her forehead Maggie moves swiftly through the living room to the cracked door that leads to Kara's bedroom. Hesitating by the door her heart cracks a little more when the sound of soft sniffles reaches her ears.“Kara.” Speaking gently she eases the door open. The room is lit softly by a small beside lamp, and by its light Maggie can make out Kara’s form, cocooned in the duvet, head buried half in the pillow and half in her hands, barely concealed sobs slipping through her fingers.In a flash Maggie is by her side, perching on the edge of the bed she runs one hand through long blonde tresses, much as she had done to Alex earlier that evening.The action appears to have a calming effect on both Danvers sisters because within seconds Kara’s cries have receded to quiet sniffling and after a few moments more the hero is able to lift her head, exposing a tear stained face to Maggie’s sympathetic gaze. “Maggie?” Kara almost looks surprised to see her and the detective realises just how upset Kara must be if she couldn’t tell who was outside the door just from their heartbeat.Kara loves explaining the differences she can hear between the people she loved heartbeats. It had led to one memorable rainy afternoon where Kara had spent almost an hour with her ear pressed against Maggie’s chest, determined to learn every little thing she could about her sister’s girlfriend’s heartbeat (‘So I can pick you out in a crowd in case you ever need help!’). Much to Maggie’s amusement and Alex’s exasperation.“Hey Little Danvers.”“What are you...? Where’s Alex?” Kara casts a wild glance at the door and Maggie is quick to soothe her with another sweep through her hair.“Alex is fine. She’s in the bath.”Kara sags at her words, face falling against the pillow again. “How did you...?” her question trails off as she peers up at Maggie with wide eyes.“Winn called me.” Maggie replies, hands not stilling in their movements. “He was worried about you and Alex. After today.”At the mention of the op Kara’s face crumples, a fresh sob building in her throat.“It was so horrible Maggie, he was so strong, and he took me by surprise.” Her voice shudders as her eyes glaze over, clearly lost in awful memories. “By the time I’d recovered he'd just gone straight through them, Bates was just lying there, so still, so pale. All I could hear was Alex screaming at him to get up, then he hit her.” Eyes squeeze shut as Kara attempts to control her emotions, hands clutching the pillow under her head so tightly that Maggie can hear the fibres breaking.She knows just how hard Kara is working to fight8 her natural strength, knows that if she wanted too the blonde could grind the bed to dust in the blink of an eye.“She went down so hard I was afraid she wasn’t going to get up again. I was paralysed with fear Maggie, I couldn’t move.” Turning onto her back Kara finally meets her eyes, fear swirling in her blur irises. “If Alex had died what would I have done? I can’t even think about what...”Maggie understands that Kara can’t even say the words, that her world would fall apart if Alex wasn’t in it.“By the time I came to my senses he was escaping.” Her voice cracks again and one hand reaches out to grasp the worn leather of Maggie’s jacket that she's yet to take off. “It's all my fault, if I’d not frozen, if I’d acted quicker. God Maggie it’s all my fault!”Faster than she believed possible Maggie has scooped the hero up into her arms, sliding onto the bed she pulls Kara against her shoulder, arms encircling her body and drawing her close, squeezing her tight as she can whilst soothing her with soft whispers and even softer lips to her temple.“Shhhh Little Danvers, you listen to me. This is not your fault, at all you hear me? What happened today was a result of bad luck, what happened to those agents is not on you, not on Alex. Bates wouldn’t want you beating yourself up like this, none of them would. You, Kara Danvers, are a hero.” Pressing another kiss to the crown of Kara’s head Maggie cradles her tighter, ignoring the twinge of pain in her forearms as Kara’s fingers grasp her just a little too tightly.“You and your sister are two of the most remarkable women I have ever met.” She continues when Kara’s sobs have subsided to sniffles again. “And the world is not only safer, but a much better and brighter place with both of you in it.”Kara sniffs and buries her head further into Maggie’s embrace, her hands loosening against the detectives arms but still clutching for dear life, as if Maggie is a lifeline she can’t let go of.Maggie starts to hum again, the first thing that comes into her head, a melody she knows from a long time ago but can’t place where. The sound floats around the room and soon Kara's breathing has evened out, her tears have stopped staining Maggie’s shirt and her body relaxes.“Being a superhero is really hard.”The mumbled admission comes a few minutes later, and Maggie has to strain to hear it.“I have all these powers, I can do the most amazing things, and I should be able to save everyone with them. I have that power.” Turning her face Kara gazes up at Maggie with wide blue eyes, tears once again threatening. “I couldn’t save everyone.”“Kara, sweetie. No one can.” Maggie tells her softly. “You can’t save everyone, but you save as many as you can, and you remind yourself of that on days like today, days when you can’t save everyone. Then, the next time there are people who need you, you get out there again.”“What if I can’t get back up? How do I get back up?”“You remind yourself that you are making a difference, that you’re saving everyone you can. That the world is better for you trying.” Maggie looks down at the hero with sad eyes, it’s clear from her expression that this is a talk that she’s given herself many times before.“And if that doesn’t work?”“You let your family remind you instead.”Kara’s eyes widen ever so slightly at Maggie’s words. “Are we...?”“Family?” Maggie arches an eyebrow. “I'd say we definitely are Little Danvers.”A watery smile breaks out on Kara’s face and she hugs Maggie tightly.“I like the idea of having another sister.” She mumbles.“Me too.” Maggie chuckles resting her cheek on top of Kara's.Movement in the doorway catches her attention. Alex is leaning against the door frame, one arm wrapped gingerly around her stomach and her eyes fixed firmly on the two figures curled up on the bed.Maggie doesn’t know how long she’s been stood there, but the look of tenderness and adoration she can see shinning in her girlfriend’s eyes indicates she’s heard at least the end of the conversation.Kara seems to realise that Maggie’s attention has shifted and raises her head.“Alex!”Alex is moving as soon as her sister speaks, crossing the room as fast as her battered body will allow, her hand coming up instinctively to meld with Kara’s outstretched one. The superhero visibly relaxing the second her skin came into contact with Alex’s.“How you doing?” Alex asks softly, placing a gentle kiss to the back of her sisters hand.“A bit better.” Kara admits. “Thanks to Maggie.”The look Alex’s shoots her way is enough to have her heart stuttering in her chest.“Good.”“Alex, I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to stop him! I’m sorry you got hurt because of me and that Bates...”“Hey,” Maggie interrupts gently seeing how Alex’s face tightens at Kara’s words, how tears are collecting once again in Kara’s eyes, “it’s late, both of you need to sleep.” Her tone is soft, but her words leave no room for argument and neither Danvers sister has the energy in them to argue with her.“Will you stay?” Kara asks in a small voice, hands tightening on Maggie’s jacket as the detective shifts to move off the bed.Maggie glances at Alex, who responds with the slightest of nods. “Of course.”Slipping out of Kara’s hold long enough to shuck her jacket and trousers Maggie made to move round the other side of the bed to allow Alex and Kara to cuddle each other, but is surprised when Kara’s hand on her wrist stops her. Using some of her super strength the blonde guides Maggie to the middle of the bed, immediately cuddling back into her side, ear pressed over her heart.“Your heartbeat is soothing.” Kara mumbles in way of explanation.Alex is quick to cuddle into Maggie’s other side the fingers of her right hand tangling with Kara’s across Maggie’s stomach. Her lips brushing against Maggie’s next just below her ear.“Thank you.”“Anytime.” Maggie turns her head to capture Alex’s lips in a sweet kiss.“Eww that’s gross.” Kara grumbles from Maggie’s left side.Alex retaliates by slapping Kara’s hand, her lips curving into a smile against Maggie’s.Kara’s responding giggle is weaker than usual and sounds a little watery, as if the younger woman is holding back tears. Maggie squeezes her gently, hoping to convey in the simple gesture what words cannot express.They don’t need to be brave anymore. They don’t have to hold it together anymore. She’s here.Two sets of breathing slow, turning deep as the Danvers sisters succumb to their exhaustion, leaving Maggie lying awake, eyes flitting between the two sleeping women.It’s been a horrible day.Things are not going to be healed overnight, today has left scars that run deep, she doesn’t know the full extent of the damage the day has left.But what she does know is that she will do everything in her power to help them heal.With that resolve firm in her mind Maggie closes her eyes and hugs the two women she cares about most in the world closer, drifting off into sleep.
10446213
A Fair Trade
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Papyrus (Undertale), Sans (Undertale)", "Fandom": "Undertale (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by LazySintastic13 (EmeraldWriter)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-26T00:00:00", "words": "413", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Underfell Sans, Underfell Papyrus, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans, honeymustard - Freeform", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), US!Paps/UF!Sans", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“Red!”The small skeleton teleported without another thought, eyes teary as he held onto the tall one’s shoulders.“S-Stretch, what do we do?”“C-C-Calm down. Calm down, dammit. I got this.” His tone quivered, reassuring no one. But he held his defensive stance and stood strong. “You’ll have to go through me if you want Red!”The monster before them wore a deadpan expression, before face palming. “For fuck’s sake, give me back my brother, you stinking weed!”“Never! Go Red, leave while you can! I’ll hold him back.”“No Stretch! I won’t leave you!”“Red, you must.”“But I—”“Oh for the love of—” Fell took out a bottle of honey. “I’ll make a trade with you.”Stretch snorted. “Hah! Like I’d give Red for a—”Then, Fell snapped his fingers and two boxes filled with honey bottles dropped before him.Silence loomed over the trio, until fake tears fell from Stretch’s eyes as he looked away. “… I’m sorry, Red.”“What?! Are you fucking serious?!”“You don’t understand. It’s two boxes. Red. Two boxes.”Red dropped their cheesy act and growled. “Fucki—”Fell appeared behind his brother and grabbed him before he could try running away. “Now, that’s settled, we’re going home, Sans.”The small skeleton didn’t put up a fight as he was carried on his brother’s shoulder. “Two boxes, Boss! I’m worth two fucking boxes!”Stretch waved them farewell with a handkerchief in hand. “I’m sorry, my love.” New tears were added for the dramatic effect.And Red gave him a middle finger. “We’re so over you piece of shit!”“I love you too~”And with that, the skeleton brothers teleported out just as Blue came down the stairs to check out what was going on. The skeleton gave Stretch a questioning look.The latter chuckled and shrugged. “Red was using me as an escape to doing his chores.”“Ah, and you traded him off.”“No one understands.”Blue huffed. “Paps, you traded your boyfriend for honey bottles.”“It’s two boxes, Blue. Two!”The small skeleton sighed, shaking his head. “He’s going to have a fit when he comes back.”“He’ll come around. In fact—”“We are not buying him boxes of mustard bottles.”“But he'll—”“No, Papy.”Stretch huffed. “All right, I’ll think of something else then.”“Yeah, you go do that.” Blue headed for the kitchen, but not before saying, “By the way, we are not keeping your honey bottles. Take one and throw away the rest.”“Sans!”
10401078
IdiotGenius
{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Portgas D. Ace, Sabo (One Piece), Outlook Sabo, Monkey D. Luffy, Curly Dadan, Dadan (One Piece), Makino (One Piece), Monkey D. Garp, (mentioned)", "Fandom": "One Piece", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by FireFaceOutlook", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-22T00:00:00", "words": "982", "Additional Tags": "Not related to my Eye Contact universe, kind of a high school au", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Portgas D. Ace & Sabo, Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace & Sabo, Portgas D. Ace/Sabo", "Series": "SaboAce Week, 2017", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply", "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“Are you a complete idiot?”Ace kept his arms crossed across his chest, gaze stubbornly set on the table he sat at while Dadan paced in front of him, his most recent progress report crinkling in her tightening fist.“What am I supposed to tell your grandfather?” the large woman ranted hotly. “He's going to murder me if your grades don't rise from failing to at least a 'C,' and I can't help you!”Both Dadan and Ace involuntarily shuddered at the thought of Monkey D. Garp's “Fist o' Love” he bestowed upon those in his family. Dadan was, unfortunately, in her opinion (not really), in that group of people.“I don't care what the old man thinks of my grade,” Ace grumbled.“This is your last year,” Makino, who was sitting through the conversation (argument) to act as a mediator, reminded him gently. “You don't want to send Sabo off to college on his own, do you?”Makino turned her head to the kitchen window. Ace followed her gaze to his childhood friend and classmate, who was roughhousing with Ace's younger brother, Luffy, in the front yard. Sabo's usually-pristine school uniform was stained with mud, as well as his pale skin, but he was smiling without a care in the world. Ace hadn't seen him so happy since they were children – ten year olds who were more concerned with having an adventure in the woods with their seven year old tag-along than school work. High school had really taken a toll on him. Or maybe it was Ace's grades. They had made a promise, as soon as they became freshmen, that they would stick together. They didn't have to worry about Luffy being alone, because he had Dadan, Makino, Garp, and all his weirdo friends around.“You worked so hard to get into the same private school as him,” Makino added.She was right, of course. He'd even enlisted the help of his second family, mostly Marco, to get accepted into the school Sabo's father had sent him (and his step brother) to. Ace sunk into his chair, a non-verbal sign that he was now open to any suggestions to help him...within reason.“Why don't you ask Sabo for help?” Makino suggested. “He could tutor you in the areas you're having the most trouble with.”Ace sat up straight, opening his mouth to voice exactly why that was a very bad idea (because he didn't want to look stupid in front of Sabo), only to get a wrinkled paper in his face by an irritated ex-criminal.“He already knows about your failures,” Dadan barked. “Now go talk to him so you don't flunk your senior year.”“I will,” Ace agreed slowly. “...later.”Then he was out the kitchen door, shirt flung carelessly to the side as he joined two of his favorite people in a fight to become the Mud King. Dadan's irritated grumbling and Makino's amused giggles sat in the background. The morning afterwards (Sabo stayed the night to clean his clothes and avoid his family), Ace told Sabo about his poor grades and silently requested his help. Sabo admitted to knowing about Ace's grades, that tidbit being the reason he wasn't quite as happy as before, and was more than willing to assist Ace with studying. With Sabo's help (the boy was a genius; why hadn't he skipped grades, exactly?), Ace's grades skyrocketed by the time graduation rolled around, and he was quite proud of himself for holding onto a 'B' average for the rest of the year.“You two did it!” Makino exclaimed with her beautiful smile in place, drawing the two in after the graduation ceremony.Luffy whooped along with her, his mouth stuffed full of fried chicken Dadan had allowed him to bring to keep him silent. Even Garp had attended, and he affectionately punched the two on the heads after Makino released them, then crushed them in his thick arms.“I'm so proud,” he said, beaming. “Now you two can come and be military men with me!”“No way!” Sabo, Ace, and Luffy yelled as the former two struggled their way out of his grip.“What are you two morons just standing around for?” Jewelry Bonney, one of their fellow graduates, huffed, hooking her arms in theirs before Garp could retaliate. “We're going out to party!”She tilted her head towards Eustass Kidd's car, where Bartolomeo and Cavendish sat in the back arguing and Robin claimed the passenger seat.“Luffy, there's gonna be food,” she added before Ace and Sabo could protest about leaving their younger companion.Luffy rocketed over to the car, leaping straight over Robin and into Kidd's lap. The red head let out a surprised shout and proceeded to attempt to strangle the squirmy boy. Ace and Sabo said hasty goodbyes to the three adults before and allowed Bonney to all but drag them to the car. The party was fun and full of sake. Sabo didn't touch any and kept Luffy from having more than one cup, and Ace moderated enough that he didn't need to be lugged home unconscious.“I can't believe I made it,” Ace sighed later as he fell back on his bed.Sabo dropped a snoring Luffy onto the other bed in the brothers' shared room and flopped down next to Ace, grinning.“Of course you did. I knew you would.”“Heh, not without you I wouldn't have.”Sabo snorted and crawled further onto the bed while Ace was content to stay where he was.“So... It's off to college next, huh?”Ace wasn't quite sure why, but the thought wasn't so exciting anymore.“Don't worry,” Sabo said, his face suddenly hovering over Ace's with a familiar twinkle in his eyes. “We'll have plenty adventures there, too.”Ace chuckled and closed his eyes as soft lips were pressed to his forehead. “Yeah, I'm sure we will.”
10407042
a whole new world dont
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov", "Fandom": "Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by rikotan", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-23T00:00:00", "words": "2,330", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Mermaid, Angst, trigger warning, Anxiety, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Sexuality Crisis, Suicide Attempt, Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Merman Victor, Yuuri Centric, Canon Animal Death", "Relationship": "Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Viktuuri Mermaids", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The beach near his house has always been his sanctuary. It is where he goes to the most (other than Minako’s dance studio, the Ice Castle, or his family’s hot spring resort). The cries of the black-tailed gulls and the sound of the waves hitting the shore helps calm him down. It’s not that Yuuri is only at the beach when he is feeling down or depressed. He is there when he wants to be alone. There are times where he just wants to detach himself from everyone else, and he moves across the sandy beach with practiced moves, translating his programme from the surface of hard, cold ice onto the soft, warm sand underneath his bare feet. He can't do the jumps, so he changes the jumps to different moves, mostly coming out from his ballet background. He can't remember when was the first time that he thought that the beach is his safe spot. It was probably when he was four, when children his age bullies him just because he is quiet and shy. “You must be a girl! You look just like one, why are you coming to the same toilet as us?” Yuuri remembers one of his classmates shouting at him accusingly before pushing him out of the toilet even if he needs it very much. The teachers intervened and it did not look like something very serious in the adults’ eyes. They do not notice how Yuuri became more quiet after that encounter. He remembers running to the beach that night after dinner. The sea wind blows softly against his face, and he can almost taste the salt in the air as the wind enveloped him in like an invisible barrier, protecting himself from the outside world. He allows himself to finally cry out heartily, feeling the weight on his small shoulders being lifted as his cries sounded out across the vast ocean to a place no one could hear. He feels better after that. It doesn't immediately becomes a habit, but whenever he felt down, Yuuri would patter along the road, down to the beach to seclude himself from the rest of the world. Soon after, he starts to enjoy being alone, occasionally joined by his toy poodle, Vicchan. He goes there when he’s happy. Getting good grades, being praised, landing the jump he always missed for the first time. He celebrates it in the comfort of solitude at the beach, as he voices out his day towards the vast ocean. He goes there when he’s sad. Like falling down on the ice and not getting the choreography right, losing his book in school, being pushed around. Or when he’s angry, when pent up anger for the bullies explode as he kicks the soft sand under his feet up into the air. He exhausts himself from the extra energy from angry stomps, kicks, and punches. All in all, the beach is like an extension of his emotions. What Yuuri does not show to the others around him in his day to day life, he releases them all at the beach.  Yuuri can hear the echos of the bullies from when he was four.  “You must be a girl! You look just like one, why are you coming to the same toilet as us?”  ‘No.’ Yuuri shakes his head, like if he shakes hard enough, maybe that thought will disappear. His hair is mussed from the with the wind blowing in from the ocean. ‘I’m not a girl.’ ‘I’m a guy. B-but …’ He chokes a little from breathing. Bringing his right hand up, he clenches the fabric of his shirt on his left chest. Puberty is a hard phase. And it only gets harder when you are not like everyone else. It shocks Yuuri when he had his first wet dream. There wasn't any distinct feature of the other lead of his dream, but he was under that person. And despite everything being so blurry, Yuuri could make out the shadowy figure to be belonging to a guy. All his life, he has been exposed to heteronormativity. He is expected to grow up, maybe get a girlfriend, who will be someone Yuuri will marry and settle down with, and have a kid or two as they continue to help out at the family’s hot spring resort. Maybe he knows it all along, because even if he knows he is expected of this, he couldn't see himself in living that life. It felt all wrong, and the dream felt all right. As he grows up, he gets more closed up. His only friends are Nishigori and Yuko; Minako as well, though she is his ballet instructor. Hasetsu is a small town, and news spreads as quick as wildfire. A person, Yuuri can't even remember his name anymore, moved away to Tokyo after having been exposed to be together with his partner of the same sex. Japan is never a place that is open with such things, Yuuri realises. He hears everyone’s opinions about it and all of them are etched deeply into his mind.  “That is unnatural.”   “What a disgrace to the family. I wonder what happened when they were raising him.”   “That’s like a perverted hobby.”   “Is he one of those people that thinks that they are a girl and wants to become one?”  These voices haunts him at night, when Yuuri lies on his bed, drenched in perspiration when he has a nightmare of his family finding out about his sexual preference. Anxiety does not help him. Guilt eats him from inside out. Yuuri tries not to think about it. He has never been attracted to anyone in particular, even if he knows he is attracted to man. He focuses on his skating and ballet dancing, opting to push himself more in the sport instead of the fact that he is gay. It helps. For awhile. He climbs the ranks and became the best male skater of Japan. He goes on overseas where he’s stationed there for five years in Detroit as he studies and skate. He leaves his beach behind (his emotional support). Anxiety consumes him from inside out. He falls. Hard onto the cold ice. In front of many spectators.  “Yuuri, Vicchan … he died in his sleep yesterday.”  He tries so hard to keep cool but he can't. Guilt overwhelms him. He couldn't see his dog, his closest friend, one last time. How can he leave for five years, never going back to Japan even once, to see his best friend? How heartless can Katsuki Yuuri be?  He can’t remember how the months passed. The season is gone, he doesn’t binge eat in pity for once because he doesn’t see the need to even eat right now. The sand feels the same from what Yuuri remembers five years ago. It is too cold for him to come out to the beach in just a shirt, but the prickling cold doesn’t bother Yuuri too much. He’s too numb to feel anything. Walking towards the ocean, Yuuri feels the freezing cold sea water against his bare feet. It is and almost comforting feeling, as he winces but continues walking deeping into the ocean. Waves crashes onto the shore, but Yuuri feels at peace. There is no reason he should be in this world. Why was he born? No one appreciates his existence. He wasn’t born like the rest. Why can his peers be living normal lives while he has to struggle internally with who he really is? If he has any regrets, it would be that he would be disappointing his family more. Yuuri knows that they care about him, but he can’t shake out the idea of them being disappointed and angry at him for not being heterosexual. He can see their disappointed expression vividly in his mind. They will be sad when he’s gone, yes, but at least he would still be ‘normal’ in their eyes. They would not have to deal with the gossips and shame he would bring to them if they knew that he is gay. The water is up to his chest, and Yuuri can already feel the pressure against his ribcage, making it harder for him to breathe. Every step becomes torturous and heavy. He is almost free. He loses balance after tripping on a rock on the seabed, and Yuuri feels himself being washed further away from shore as he falls down into the ocean. He feels weightless. And for a moment, he wants to cry (maybe he is crying, but how would he know where is the start of his tears, and where is the start of the ocean?). Deep inside, as he feels the suffocating pain in his lungs from the lack of oxygen, he wants to live. Maybe fall in love as well. Yuuri wanted to feel happy and loved for who he is. Who he truly is. His mind feels hazy and he resigns to his drowning fate, slowly closing his eyes and letting the waves push him further away. The last thing he saw before he loses consciousness is a glimmer of silver before he is embraced by darkness.   Cough.   Cough cough cough.  A deep breath is inhaled, and Yuuri’s eyes immediately flutters open. ‘Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?’ are his first thought. But he can still feel the prickling cold against his skin. His clothes are wet against him, clinging on him tightly, and above him is a stranger’s face. “Are you alright?” The man spoke in accented Japanese. His eyes are a pretty colour of green and blue, and silver locks are softly flowing with the wind. Yuuri has to blink for a while, not sure how he is to respond. “Am I dead?” He asks. The other man just shakes his head with a soft smile, before raising a hand to swipe a lock of hair away from Yuuri’s face. “I saved you from drowning. Don’t do that again.” His voice is laced with concern and relief (relief that he is there in time. Concerned about why would this man do such a dangerous thing as to wander so far into the ocean). “Why?” Yuuri manages to choke out, genuinely surprised to see a stranger who is willing to go so far out into the cold ocean waters to pull him back up shore. It is only then that he notices this man in front of him isn’t wearing anything. He can still feel the waves lapping against his ankle. This means that he is at the edge of the beach. The man just smiles warmly to him, “You are a very interesting person. And just as I thought I’ve not seen you in years, you end up in dangerous territory, Yuuri.” Yuuri grabs the man’s arm when he hears his name, “How do you know my name?” His eyes are now wide in shock, because he knows that he has never seen this person before. He doesn’t look Japanese, and the short sentence that he said seems to be loaded with information that Yuuri can’t seem to comprehend. It is only then that Yuuri looks down and he freezes on the spot. Instead of a pair of legs, the man’s lower half is covered in shimmering blue scales that reflects rainbows as light bounces off them. Yuuri opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no words manage to come out. His hand moves tentatively closer to the man’s tail, only to pull back, afraid of the unknown. The other man continues to smile gently, as he takes Yuuri’s hand and slowly placing it on his tail. “I'm Victor. And I’ve known you for a while now, Yuuri.” The scales feel cold and slimy under his fingers, and Yuuri marvels on the fact that he has been saved by a merman. “You’ve always come here to the beach when you were tiny,” Victor continues, “And I’ve always wanted to know what it is like to be above the ocean, and listening to you is always interesting and fascinating.” Yuuri blushes at that.  He has been listening to him. He knows things that Yuuri never told anyone before.  “I wanted to die, Victor.” The sentence comes out in a whisper. Yuuri’s eyes are casted down at Victor’s tail, his hand still against the cold surface. “Why did you save me?” “You should smile more, Yuuri.” Looking up, Yuuri is met with a chaste kiss on his forehead, making him blush a few shades darker. “I know you’ve talked a lot about sad things when you are here. And that you are struggling with a lot of things I do not understand.” Strong arms pulls him close, and Yuuri is surprised that Victor’s body isn't as cold as his tail. That doesn't stop him from flinching at the sudden closeness with this man. “But maybe, if you allow it, I can be here for you from now on. You can tell me about everything, like how you’ve done since forever, but I’ll be here to hold you when you need support, to laugh with you when you are happy.” “Why?” Why would you do this for me? “Because you made me learn a lot of things, Yuuri.” He can feel Victor’s fingers threading through his hair. “I don’t exactly have many people to talk to or listen to. And your visits to the beach are the only thing I’ve come to enjoy since years ago. You showed me feelings that I would have never knew if I didn’t come up to shore. You are important to me.” “I’m … important?” “You are.” The moment is cut off with Yuuri sneezing and shivering. “You should go back, Yuuri.” Victor releases the Japanese man from his hug. Pulling back, Victor flops back into the ocean as he motions for Yuuri to go back. “Will … I see you again, Victor?” “I’ll always be here, Yuuri. You’ll come by?” “I will.”
10404423
Shadowbun Bungle in the
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by JackFields", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-22T00:00:00", "words": "7,832", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "T3 Shadowbun stories", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Zootopia (2016), Shadowrun", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
From where he stood in front of her, the leader of the rodent war band would have made an easy target. She could had jumped onto him and battered him to a pulp with a handy stone. She could have snatched him up and flung him into one of the large trees that surrounded the village. She could have punted him into the air, and sliced him into ribbons with her machete as he descended. If worse came to worse, she could always pick him up and just bite his head off his shoulders; it couldn't be worse than the time she had eaten a live handful of rainforest grubs on a dare.All these things, and more she could think of, but none of them were going to happen. She was bound securely, hands behind her back and knees tucked up against her chest, something like a hundred meters of thin cord crisscrossing around each joint and immobilizing her completely. She stared viciously down at him, and strained at the lines that bound her, but they didn't budge a millimeter. What these little bastards didn't know about rope bondage to be used against larger mammals was probably not worth writing down. Still and all, he was a sight to behold, six inches tall and armed with a knobbly mahogany club, lines of white clay carefully worked into his fur giving him a tiger's stripes and a set of painted-on fangs to match. He wore pads of finely woven and lacquered armor, protecting his arms, shoulders and hips, and around his waist there was a knotted loincloth. He scowled up at her, brandishing his cudgel, and took an experimental swing at her big toe. She managed to swivel her hindpaw out of the way, and a surprisingly loud 'THUD' echoed through the clearing when it slammed into the ground. That definitely would have hurt, might have even been enough to break a toe, if she hadn't had a course of aluminum bone-lacing done a few years back. "Piss off, shorty," she growled, "before you get me really mad." Despite the language barrier, he seemed to get her drift, and grinned up at her as he raised the club over his head for another swing."Niruttu!" a high-pitched voice rang out, and the war chief checked his swing halfway, stumbling and going to one knee in the mud beside Judy's paw. She slipped her toes around it as it lay on the ground beside her foot, using her much greater weight to hold it in place as the native muttered and jerked to free it. She glanced over to where the voice had come from; it was the tree that Nikko was bound to. She saw the corner of his face as he strained to look backwards and around its trunk. He was mouthing something, but was moving too frantically for her to make it out.A flicker of motion caught her attention, and she saw that another of the rodents was moving slowly towards her. The warrior at her feet stopped struggling and made a ceremonial bow to this new figure, though his paw remained latched to his club where Judy's paw held it. The newcomer was dressed in a flowing skirt of grass fibers, dyed in bright colors and arranged to flutter artfully as she walked. Definitely a she, with hips like those, Judy noted; besides the skirt she wore a fantastically carved wooden mask. Her eyes where they peered through the mouth of the demonic visage were tiny obsidian flecks.The tiny priestess (or witch doctor, or hougan, or whatever she was, Judy thought) twirled a carved staff as she approached. Judy's eyes were drawn to it, staring at the complex carved patterns and inlaid tiny gemstones that covered its surface. The patterns seemed to swirl and grow within her vision, time slowed down as she watched the staff bob to and fro in the rodent's tiny paws. Stopping before the prostrating warrior, she spoke a few hushed words to him in their language. "Inta enkal, nanparka." he replied, bowing to her and pulling his cudgel free of Judy's unresisting toes. He leaned on it, and kept a wary eye on Judy, but didn't move to hit her again."Come, child of the stone trees." the priestess spoke to Judy this time, in a pidgin dialect of Meowlay, beginning to scramble up Judy's bound legs to stand in front of her face. "Put aside your anger, there is no need for it here." As she climbed, she continued to slowly twirl her staff, the patterns shifting and entrancing Judy, making her thoughts unwind and her breathing slow. Once at the top of Judy's bound calf, and directly in front of her slack muzzle, she asked "Why don't you start at the beginning, and tell Ashani all your troubles?" Judy felt her eyelids growing heavy, and she started to speak without really meaning to, the words just spun out of her as the arabesque patterns shifted endlessly along the shimmering wooden pole."All the trouble started this morning, when the plane lost an engine."--- TWELVE HOURS EARLIER ---The elderly turboprop airplane cruised slowly above the endless green expanse of rainforest canopy, like a gunmetal grey albatross sailing above green ocean waves. At one open side door, Judy held on to the overhead straps and leaned out, just enough to let the wind stream through her fur and relieve the heat. It whistled as it passed over and around the bright orange flight helmet that she wore, and tugged at the sleeves of the flight jacket tied around her waist. Her chest was bare, except for the ballistic armor vest she always wore.Nikko's voice crackled in one ear. "Much as I enjoy the show Carrots, you want to knock that off? I'm damn sure not gonna be leaping out after you if you lose your grip." She rolled her eyes as she swung around by the strap to face him. He was still strapped into his seat reading, even after four hours in the air. Didn't he have to piss? She stuck her tongue out and blew a wet-sounding raspberry, but did as he asked, moving instead to a steel case, waist-high to her and painted a drab green and stenciled with a faded camouflage pattern. She plucked at the heavy straps securing it to the deck, and then double-checked the electronic readout on its upper surface. Green lights glowed softly in their recessed LED sockets. Good, looked like the power cells were coping with the heat...From where he was sitting on the bumper of a palletized off-road vehicle, Finn shouted over the roar off the engines. "You not strong enough to hold on 'ta Judy anyway! You just drop her and 'den I got 'ta jump out after you both!" He had his earpiece in, but wasn't bothering to use it to speak to them, preferring to bellow."Thanks buddy," Nikko snickered into his mic, "always glad to know that you're here for use." He reached up to his radio headset, changed the channel, and asked "What's the radar situation, Money? Steef right about that hole in the coverage?"Switching frequencies to follow the conversation, Judy heard the hacker's voice mid-report. "--this is so far outside my skillset that it might as well be you doing it. Six hours of training from a drunken expat muskrat is not going to make me into an ELINT specialist.""Look, at least I got you those six hours." the fox grunted in reply. "That's gotta be better than just the instruction manual, right? You can't even read the damn thing, it's printed in Beagali!""Ehhh, whatever, as far as I can tell we're in the clear. Got a few blips here and there, but they were all commercial band radio sets." A pause, then Money continued "According to GPS, we passed the neutral zone about twenty minutes ago, if there were any Purrmese air defense units out here then we would have found out about it.""Okay then," Nikko sighed, "let's hope that they're all busy playing grabass with their counterparts across the border. Just keep doing what you're and we'll be back home before you know it." He released the intercom radio switch and stared back down at his tablet again.Judy chuckled, leaning back out the door as she remembered a few missions just like this back in the good old mercenary days. This part of the plan had actually been her idea, taking a page from the good old days of Tiger Transport. ZIA was a generous paymaster back then, and hadn't been overly concerned with their means and methods, just as long as the cargo went through...She was still looking down at the passing jungle canopy, when a warm drop of fluid slapped wetly into the side of her muzzle. She glanced up toward the starboard engine, another droplet splattering on the right lens of her sunglasses as she saw a stream of dark fluid streaming away into the void.She keyed her microphone to report what she was seeing. "Think we have a hydraulic leak on the right engine. Are there any warning lights in the cockpit?""For Lion's sake, Judy, it's been nothing but lights and sirens this whole time." Money complained. "Every time he just flips one switch or another and starts muttering in Catonese." Judy was turning to head up to the cockpit and check in personally, when the engine's roar suddenly changed to a frantic staccato banging. The plane immediately lurched in the air, then started to sink towards the forest below. Sirens began to wailing on the bulkheads, and her headset was filled with frantic voices.There wasn't enough time to get strapped in to one of the bulkhead seats, so she grabbed a double-armful of the heavy nylon cargo netting, suspended from floor to ceiling against the outer walls of the airplane. She wrapped her arms around it and locked her fingers together tightly, curling one ankle behind the other with another bundle of webbing between her thighs. It was almost like she was performing a Judoe joint lock, Judy thought grimly. The plane started to shudder as it collided with the upper layers of the trees. She shut her eyes tight, praying that whatever else happened, she wasn't left alive but crippled in the wreck.----Sunlight filtered into the cabin, dappling Judy's face and making her squint as it shone into her eyes. She slowly came back to herself, and uncoiled her aching arms and legs from the stands of nylon webbing where she had ridden out the crash. It had wrapped around her body, probably cushioning her from the worst of the impact, though she felt like she had just gone through twelve rounds of MMA combat with a hyena."Nikko? Finn? Can you hear me?" she croaked, blinking as she tried to make sense of the plane's disarrayed cargo hold. After a moment, she realized that what she had taken for the floor was actually the ceiling, most of the cargo had torn loose from its moorings and lay scattered throughout. The plane was shattered, daylight streaming in through a huge tear in the side.She could see a rolling river; it crossed the small clearing they had crashed into before vanishing back into the dark recesses of the jungle. She stripped the helmet off her head and let her ears unfurl, pins and needles shooting through them as the blood began to flow again. Underneath a chorus of creaking metal, dripping fluids, and the low crackle of unseen fires, she could hear the groans of mammals in distress.Following the first voice she heard, she started to dig through the scattered debris, finding Finn on his back, buried beneath a heavy heap of water filters that had come free from their shipping container. He groaned softly, turning one eye to face her, the other swollen shut underneath a welter of dark blood. His horn on that side had been splintered, but that had probably saved his skull from taking the impact against the metal.She knelt beside him, paws moving down his body, probing gently to seek any hidden injuries before she tried to move him. He winced as she felt around one thigh, then grinned and panted "Watch 'da paws, Judy, you gonna make Nikko jealous." She grinned, despite everything, and said "You'd like that, wouldn't you? I can't reach your other leg, can you get free of that pile?"He shut his one remaining eye and leaned forward, pulling himself partially free of the rubble as she tugged at his jacket, helping him along; soon he was on hooves and knees amidst the spilled cargo. He breathed heavily, and flexed his limbs, testing them as Judy patted experimentally at the deep gash on his forehead. Thankfully, it seemed to have stopped bleeding by itself.Leaving Finn to clean himself up, she continued forward into the darkness of the cargo hold, looking for Nikko. Her foot almost slipped sideways out from under her; when she looked down there was a slowly spreading puddle of crimson goo underfoot. She looked back up and squinted, trying to make out shapes in the gloom.Ahead of her, against the cockpit bulkhead, a large steel-sided crate had come to rest against the wall; more of the dark stains were splashed out to either side. With horror Judy realized that where the heavy case was lying, Nikko had been sitting in his jump seat."Oh Gods, Nikko!" she croaked as she hurried forward, grabbing onto the packing case and hauling it away from the wall with a screech of grinding metal. Another torrent of red slime cascaded out from it, spilling over her boots and dripping through the metal mesh that used to make up the ceiling. Cautiously, she peered around the corner of the crate, not knowing how bad it was but having to know.In the darkness, a pair of green cyber-eyes softly glowed, focusing on her and blinking twice. "Heya Carrots," Nikko panted, "glad to see you again. There wasn't much air left in here before you came along.""Nikko? You're alive in there? I saw all this red goo, thought you got squashed!" She tugged again, moving the crate a little further and letting a little more light shine behind it. She saw him lick his chops, then grimace. "Persimmon jelly. Always hated the stuff."As he struggled free of the restraint harness, Judy's memory flashed, recalling when she had idly inspected the cargo as they prepared for takeoff. She remembered this case, 500 liters of preserved fruit pulp, sealed into its lined packing case with a thin sheet of plastic. That had been the side that hit Nikko, she reasoned, the plastic tore and drenched him in jelly, but otherwise leaving him unharmed.She shook her head in disbelief at his luck, and left him to get himself untangled. She had to keep moving forward and get into the cockpit. It had originally been up a steep flight of stairs, but now was at the bottom of a twisted metal crater. She carefully climbed down the twisted metal frame, and crawled through the ruined hatchway on all four limbs.----Closer to their point of impact, the noise of the fires was louder, and she could smell burning kerosene on the breeze that came in through the shattered windscreen. Glancing over to the pilot's chair, she saw that he was long dead. A jagged shard of steel punched up through his chest and pinned him to his seat. She shuddered, and closed his staring eyes with one paw. That done, she turned to find Money was upside-down, still strapped into his seat at the navigator's bench. Holding two fingers to his throat, she carefully felt for a pulse.There it was, rapid and faster than it should have been, but steady. As gently as she could, she unbuckled him and lowered his unconscious form to the deck. She bent over him, searching for any major injuries, seeing him twitch away from her paws as she felt down his right arm. Looks like the old break had snapped again...Another puff of smoke wafted past her nose, and she realized that the background crackle of the flames had grown, it was now a soft roaring sound that drowned out the rest of the jungle's noises. "Shit," she muttered, scooping Money up in a fireman's lift and crawling for the exit, "we don't have much time before it reaches the fuel tanks."At the twisted passageway into the rest of the plane's space, she set him down, and shouted "Finn, come here and give me a hand, Money's hurt and I can't drag him up without making it worse." The big Troll trotted up to the hole, and slipped one oversized arm down to where the unconscious hacker lay. Judy held the broken limb in place while Finn carefully pulled him up, carrying him aft like a cub in its parent's arms. She scrambled up after, catching Nikko by one sticky shoulder and grunting "Fire's getting close. We gotta get out of here before the fuel tanks blow.""Shit," Nikko groaned, "all of our gear was stowed in the under-floor lockers. You think we have the time to get it?""Doubt it." Judy replied. "Fifty thousand liters capacity in this bird and it's getting hot out there. We might not even be able to salvage the cargo before it blows.""Yeah, no, that's not an option. If we lose that case, we may as well just stay in here and wait for the fireworks." He turned and raced back to where it was still strapped in place on the ceiling, calling for Finn to look for anything they might be able to use to cut the straps. Judy stood, popped the knots in her back, and followed along to help.Under a pile of spilled electronic components, she spied a bit of orange, digging through the pile she pulled out a notched but serviceable fire axe. Turning to where Nikko and Finn stood struggling with the straps holding it, she gave a sharp whistle, and then sprinted forward with the axe at the ready. Nikko and Finn barely had time to realize what she intended to so, and they braced themselves underneath the crate to catch it.Judy took a flying leap, bounding upwards and bringing the axe blade around in a whistling chop at the tensioner. It severed the heavy-duty nylon bands with a 'TWANG', and the cargo container began to descend as the crisscrossed material slid apart beneath it. Finn grunted, and Nikko squawked at its sudden weight in their arms, but to their credit they didn't let it fall.Landing with a heavy clatter of spilled machine parts, Judy swung the axe down into a wooden crate, and went to help them. Between the three of them it took only a few moments to haul the heavy case out the torn side of the plane, to the spot in the grass where Money lay in a fetal curl.The fire was roaring now, it was going to blow at any minute, Judy bent down and scooped up the unconscious hacker, thankful that he was uncommonly skinny for a badger or for an Ork. She stood, back creaking at the exertion, and saw Nikko scrambling out of the plane with her axe clutched in one paw. In the other, he held a few odds and ends of salvage; he was shouting something that she couldn't make out over the crackle of the flames.She turned, and started to run from the burning plane, it seemed like she had barely covered any distance before a 'WHOOMPF' resounded behind her The backs of her ears were bathed in the wave of heat as the fuel tanks finally ruptured, turning the smoldering wreck into a blazing inferno. Judy spared one glance over her shoulder, remembering a temple in a jungle valley far away, before she turned back and staggered onwards with Money over her shoulders.----As the sun rose above their clearing, Nikko sat on top of the metal case, watching the grass shrivel and turn black in the burning airplane's heat. Money's head rested in his lap, still unconscious despite Nikko and Judy's best attempts to rouse him. Nikko worried about that, the badger could have a hemorrhage or a fractured skull, but there was almost nothing that they could do to treat him. He shifted his tail a little, holding it up and using it to keep the sun off Money as he lay there.Finn reemerged into the clearing, carrying two more young trees neatly cut off at the base of their trunks. Judy came up to him with another length of creeper vine, and they worked together to lash the new logs onto the framework of an improvised raft. It wasn't much, but it would hopefully be enough to get them further down out of the highlands, where a more serviceable boat might be 'acquired'. She tugged savagely at the vines, their sap was an irritation on her fur, and she had stepped into an ant nest on the way back. There were still a few crawling around in her boot, which tickled in an even more irritating way.Finn held the cord in place while she finished the lashings, then asked "Think it's ready for a test?" Judy shoved it experimentally, it flexed but held, the vines holding taught where they had been wrapped around and back against each other. She nodded, and said "Let's try it without the crate first, but I think it's good to go. Still think that having been in the Junior Rangers was a waste of time?"Finn shrugged his shoulders, "You ask me any other day, I say 'Yeah.' But today it was handy, no mistake." He dragged the raft off the bank of the river, moving out into the current until he was waist deep. He pushed down experimentally, inspected how far it went down into the water, and then scrambled on top of it. The tree trunks creaked, but the raft held steady in the current, slowly drifting downstream while he cautiously moved from side to side, testing its balance in the water. He nodded again in satisfaction, and jumped back into the river to drag it back to the shore.In the meantime, Judy had trudged back to the cargo case where Nikko was still cradling the unconscious Money. She checked his pulse again, shook her head. "It's lower than before, though it might just be the adrenaline having worn off. Has he moved on his own, even a little bit?"Nikko shook his head, and answered "Only a few twitches, usually if I accidentally touch the arm." He reached out a paw and brushed it against the splinted limb. Money shuddered, and twisted on Nikko's lap, but that was all. Nikko looked back up at the gunbunny and asked "Is there anything we can do for him? Other than get him to a hospital?"Judy shook her head, "Tribal mammals used to perform trepanation, apparently it would sometimes work, since the skulls that they found had healing around the sites. But I have no idea how they would do it, and in any case we don't have any kind of tools for the job." She gestured over to where the Troll was pouring water out of one oversized boot and added "Unless you want to have Finn give it a go with the axe?""Not funny, Judy." Nikko sighed. He leaned over Money's face, and peeled one eyelid back. The pupil contracted in response to the noonday light, but there was no other reaction. Nikko tried the other side, just in case, then gently wormed his way out from underneath the badger and hopped down from the top of the box.Finn had trudged up, dripping slightly. He bent down and touched Money's forehead with one finger tip. Finn's bared his teeth and his eyes screwed shut in concentration, but he slumped in defeat a moment later. "Sorry Nikko, I try to call 'da sprits for help, but nothing. I never was good at healing..."Judy shaded her eyes with one paw, glancing up at the sun to measure its progress across the sky. It wasn't exactly at the zenith, but it was close, say a half hour before noon. She grunted, then turned to Nikko and Finn, who were standing over Money and discussing possible ways to temporarily boost Finn's magical prowess. "Guys, hate to break up the party, but we're gonna have about four, maybe five hours of daylight left. I suggest that we get a move on, if we want to find somewhere safe to camp at the end of the day."Nikko nodded to her, saying "Sure, Judy. You're our expert on non-concrete jungles." Stooping, he gathered up the few bits of salvage from the wreck, then helped Judy to lift Money off the chest again. Finn bent down and picked it up, letting out a pained grunt as he stood up again. "Lift with the legs, Finn, not the back." Nikko quipped, and the big Troll shot him an angry glare before stomping off with the heavy steel container. Onto the raft, a few loops of vine to secure it, then Money went back on top of it."Wish we had a pillow or something," Judy muttered, as she cinched the cords tight against the wood. "I don't know what it's going to do to have his head resting on the metal, getting jostled every time it moves.""Nothing to do for it," Nikko replied, as he carried the three long bamboo poles aboard. Finn had to range further away from the clearing to find them, but Judy had insisted that it would be worth it, they needed something light but strong to use as push-poles.Finn took his personal one from Nikko, and leaned into it as he pushed them away from the back. The raft stuck for a second in the shallow water, but soon broke free and drifted into the current, picking up speed as it found the main channel. Within a minute's time, the clearing and their last link to civilization vanished behind them, and the green walls of the rainforest closed in around them.-----They quickly fell into a routine as they punted their way downstream. Finn, with his advantage in height and strength, was in charge of the tiller. Nikko took the left side of the raft, and Judy was in charge of the right. Eventually, after enduring Nikko's badgering, she grudgingly agreed to call it the starboard side. Finn refused to play along when he was asked to call his section the poop deck...The jungle crept by slowly, and they had to watch for any obstructions in the water that might snag and damage something important. Nikko and Judy used their bamboo poles to shove the raft out of the way, and they would drift past the tree trunk or half-submerged boulder as Finn worked to keep the raft going in a forward course. The first few obstacles were occasioned by much shouting and confusion, which slowly gave way to caution and careful work, with more practice they eventually grew relaxed enough to let the sides of the raft scrape gently against the rocks.The sun crept lower in the sky, dipping behind the canopies of the trees at first, then slanting downwards so that it was blocked in the greater part by the heavy trunks and thicker branches. What had originally been a blazing spotlight over them was now reduced to a dappled glow, which left deep patches of shade that they cruised along underneath.One of the items that Nikko had managed to carry away from the plane before it had been destroyed was, improbably, a small mechanical music box. When you wound it and flipped up the cover, a tiny painted figurine of a decades-old gazelle pop star would dance on a little stage, its limbs jerking and jittering on nearly invisible metal rods. Judy had ribbed Nikko at first, of all the useless junk to bring along this had to be the most perfectly useless thing imaginable.He had flushed with embarrassment, and hotly countered that he thought it might have been a case of emergency equipment or first aid supplies, but excuse him for not checking this as the PLANE was exploding around them! He had continued to sulk afterwards, no matter how she tried to bait him into conversation. But as the afternoon wore on, leaving nothing but the sounds of babbling water and whining insects, the silence eventually got to her. When a stretch of open water gave her a bit of spare time, she set down her punting pole, and went over to the corner of the cargo case where Nikko had stashed the music box.Scooping it up, Judy found the key on the bottom side, and wound it up. She set it up on the lid of the case, wrapping Money's undamaged left arm around it to keep it in place. The song slowly plinked out as Judy took up her position at the raft's side, and soon each of them was humming along as it repeated.When the spring finally wound down, and the silence closed in around them again, it was Finn who picked it up to carefully wind it again. Nikko had grinned at his old friend, who shrugged and went back to punting as the song looped around to the beginning once again. Soon, the humming was replaced by snatches of song, as the three searched their memories and tried to remember the half-forgotten lyrics of the once-popular tune."Big as your ears are Finn," Judy cackled, "I can't believe you misheard that part of it. It's not "let her out so she can breeze", that doesn't even make sense! It's supposed to go 'let her out so she can breed'.""Dunno about that Judy." Nikko commented, as he lazily pushed the raft further out into the main channel, avoiding a snarl of thick vegetation on his side. "That's a little racy, even for her. I thought it was supposed to be 'let her out so she can dream'?""You two are impossible, you know that?" She stamped her foot in irritation, and then belted out the verse at the top of her voice. "There's a She-Wolf in your closet, let her out so she can--" Whatever came next was left uncertain, as a deep rumbling growl from the bank cut Judy's solo off in mid-verse. All three mammals spun towards the source of the noise; a huge scaly head was protruding from behind an uneven pile of mud and leaves on the river's bank. Pitch black eyes with vertically slit golden pupils stared out at them, and the creature hissed again in anger at their intrusion on territory."Judy, what the fuck is that thing?!?" Nikko hissed, his tail fluffed up behind him in an unconscious display of fear."Cocodrile." she whispered back, kneeling on the raft's deck with her bamboo pole held in a two-handed grip like a Zweihander sword. "That one's a female, I think. They, uh, they get bigger than the males."Finn slowly reached down to the deck and snatched up the axe in one paw as he stared back at the angry predator. "It looks pissed." he muttered, as he worked the punting pole frantically with his other paw, trying to steer them away from the nest.Judy kept both eyes on the beast as she whispered to Nikko. "You got anything else in your bag of tricks that might get us out of this mess?" He rapidly patted at his pockets, felt around in one and came up with a small cylinder; she recognized it as a self-lighting magnesium flare."This any use?" he asked, at her nod he scuttled up behind her on the raft's deck to place it in her outstretched paw. They were floating immediately past the big reptile's nest now, and she could smell the cloying stink of it, the ammoniac reek of its dung overlaid with the rotting flesh stench of its breath. From this angle, Judy could see the rest of its huge body, where it curled around the mud nest and hid most of its bulk in the riverside brush. She remembered that was how they took care of their young, remaining to guard them for months until the babies hatched in the monsoon season. Maybe if they drifted past quietly, it would leave them alone? It was worth a shot...Her hopes were shattered as it surged forward, plowing into the water behind them, disappearing for a moment under the surface before its eyes and snout reemerged. Finn didn't wait for her command, but tossed her the axe and grabbed his punting pole. With powerful strokes, he started pushing them faster and faster down the river, while Nikko frantically ran from one side of the bow to the other to steer them away from obstacles.In the middle of the raft, Judy weighted her options. The beast wasn't smart, but it was powerful and hormonally driven to defend its territory. With a firearm she could have blown the back of its head out as it came in for the kill, but in melee her chances were dire. She had to keep it at bay somehow; her discarded punting pole gave her an idea.She snatched it up, and slammed the end she had been holding butt-first against the axe's blade. It split down the middle, nearly gouging into her fingers; she turned the bamboo ninety degrees and chopped another perpendicular gash into it. She quickly threaded the flare into the gap, bent the bamboo back around the fiberboard tube, and lashed it into place with the last scrap of creeper vine left over from building the raft.Reversing the bamboo pole, she loosened the plastic cap over the end, exposing the phosphorous striking surface beneath. If the beast surfaced and came at them, she would whip the improvised fire-spear against the steel case to light it, then try to jab it in the eye or the mouth. Despite everything, a feral grin started to work across her muzzle, this was going to be one hell of a fight!Finn had just pulled in his pole for another stroke when it was wrenched backwards, nearly pulling him off his balance and into the water. He let it go with a shout of alarm, dove for the axe where it lay at Judy's feet. As he reached out for it, the raft bucked in the water, knocking them all off balance and pushing the raft along even faster. Finn scrabbled for the blade, but it had come to rest almost over the edge of the platform. The Cocodrile slammed into the raft's stern with another jolt, and he watched as it fell into the water, disappearing with a soft 'plop'.Cursing, he scrambled to his feet, eyes darting back and forth, scanning for the reptile in the murky depths. He began to work his fingers in complex patterns, following his years of training in the shamanistic arts to draw power from the environment, power that he could use for combat magic. Tiny flickers of green light began to swirl around him, and he started to softly chant in a forgotten language, waiting for his opportunity to strike...Nikko had abandoned trying to steer the raft, and was now holding tight to Money, trying to keep him from falling off the cargo case as it bucked beneath them. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the river was entering another clearing. It widened as it ran out from under the trees, but now there were more rocks directly ahead of them, and the current was becoming swifter as the river's depth reduced. He dragged Money down off the steel platform and squatted on his chest, holding him in place by sitting on him while he braced himself with the long pole against his shoulder.The rock caught the far end of the pole and jabbed it hard against Nikko, but he grunted and pushed back, turning the raft away from the boulder with inches to spare. As soon as he had regained his balance on the raft, he saw another obstacle, this time a huge pile of flood-washed debris in the crook of a fallen tree. With a snarl he leaned forward and braced for the impact...Judy spotted a glimmer of light from the water an instant before the Cocodrile surged out of it. It came up roaring its challenge, a prehistoric bellow that resonated with millions of years of prey survival instincts. She wanted to run, to scamper away and find a safe burrow to hide in. This was worse than being stalked by another mammal; the beast was a primeval horror, a sixty-five million year old killer just waiting to get its jaws around her and swallow her whole.She shook her head, trying to clear the animal fear that threatened to overwhelm her, thinking of how she was the only thing between it and the defenseless Money Badger behind her. She screamed in fury back into its jaws, and whipped the flare around in a wide arc. It scratched along the steel side of the cargo container, leaving a deep furrow in the paint, before coming to life with a cough and a bitter whiff of burning sulfur. Quickly, she carried the stroke through, slapping the beast in its muzzle with the fiery end, shoving it into the wrinkled hide where it would burn into the flesh beneath. The beast hissed, dodging away from her weapon as best it could, before coming onwards again. Judy brought the flare down across its snout this time, the burning end sending a gout of white-hot magnesium sparks into its nostrils. It reared back, howling in pain, and she took the opportunity to quickly follow up with a jab towards its elbow joint. The flare sizzled as the water boiled away beneath it, and another patch of armored scales burned away beneath the onslaught. The air was redolent with the smell of overcooked meat, and the stink of burning metal.From behind her, Judy heard Finn chanting, summoning power from the natural world to strike out at the reptile. He bellowed "DUCK!" and she threw herself down onto the wooden platform, over her head a brilliant green lightning bolt arced. The flare of the Mana Bolt dazzled her, when her vision cleared again she could see the Cocodrile was lying stunned, it's broad head halfway out of the water and resting on the raft. Its eye slowly opened, the pupil focused onto her, but it had had enough for one day. Hissing, it backed down into the water, disappearing beneath the small waves."That's right! Go back to your shitty little nest, and don't you EVER think of messing with Judy Nails again!" she shouted, the adrenaline surging through her veins in the moment of triumph. Behind her, she heard Finn collapse in exhaustion, the drain of the spellcasting having rendered him nearly unconscious. Torch in hand, not willing to turn her back on the skulking monster, she called back over one shoulder "How're we doing Nikko? Smooth sailing ahead?""Oh sure," he groaned, "For the next little bit it’s great. Then we hit the waterfall." She blinked in surprise, had he said waterfall? Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw a rising plume of mist, and over the sputtering roar of the flare at the end of her bamboo rapier she could hear a deeper roaring. The current was building speed, racing forward towards the precipice, Judy realized that there was no way they could stop the raft in time, even if they had the tools to brace it against the water's momentum.Making up her mind, she tossed away her torch and ran to where Nikko still sat astride Money's chest. She grabbed him by his collar, and started to tug him towards the raft's rear side. "We've got to get on the back end, we've got to get behind that fucking steel coffin or it'll pile-drive you into the bottom!" Nikko didn't understand, but he did as she ordered, dragging Money aft as Judy started tugging Finn into position. They all huddled together behind the heavy cargo container and clung to each other as the raft sailed over the edge of the falls, dropping into a boiling cauldron twenty meters below. As the water crashed into her, and she crashed into it, she had just enough time to take one gulp of air before she was pulled down into its depths.----Judy yawned, and continued sleepily. "Thas' about it. Went into the drink, next thing I know we're on the bank. Don't know where that befrigged casket went. T' hell with it..." She trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Instead, she just stared at the priestess's staff, wondering what pattern was going to come up next as it slowly revolved."This case, it is a city thing?" the priestess asked. "You carried it into the jungle, went to much trouble to secure it. What does it hold?"Judy hesitated for a second; this wasn't something that she was supposed to talk about. But as the patterns danced on the little magician's staff, she wavered, and then said "It's a cryo-suspension pod. There's a princess inside it." She giggled, that was a funny word. Princess...From his tree, Nikko was making a lot of noise, but someone must have gone over and shut him up again. Judy didn't like the thought of that, she wasn't supposed to let people do mean things to Nikko. She blinked, then shifted in her bindings, trying to get a little more comfortable where she sat. The priestess was almost pitched off Judy where she stood, and her staff went tumbling down out of Judy's line of sight. Its hypnotic influence gone, Judy realized that it was now full on night; she must have been talking for hours."Oh, for fuck's sake, did you really just put the whammy on me?" she snarled, struggling in earnest this time. Her tiny inquisitor dove for the ground, her mask coming off and tumbling away as she rolled across the muddy bank. "Yes, yes, I use the Talking Stick on you, that why we call it that." she huffed, getting to her feet and flicking at the grime that had spattered across her vestments. The warrior came up, her ritual mask in one paw, he offered it to her with an obsequious bow. She snatched it up and fixed it in place, but it was a little lopsided and the effect on Judy was less awe-inspiring this time. "Stop struggling or you hurt yourself. We let you go at dawn any way."Judy halted her frenzied attempts to loosen the cords, staring down at her captor. "Let us go? Then why did you bother to capture us in the first place? You tie us all up, brainwash me and debrief me under hypnosis, you know that's a war crime right?"The rat priestess tilted her head quizzically. "War crime? You say we at war?" she squeaked at Judy. "If we at war, then you prisoners instead of guests! Prisoners go to sacrifice mound, and become tiki skull! You still want war with us!?!" she squeaked in outrage."Ugh, never mind, no we don't want war with you." Judy muttered. A helicopter gunship loaded with napalm rockets, now that was something she did want, but there was no sense mentioning that just now. She forced herself to take a breath, let it out and continued in a more measured tone. "Look, our friend is badly hurt. We're stuck in the jungle with no food, no shelter, nothing but a fifty kilogram steel sarcophagus with some high muckety-muck's daughter frozen inside of it." Nikko started to make more noise; from the muffled tones she imagined that they had stuck a gag into his mouth."So right now," she continued, "we're out of options. We're in your power, and you can either help us, or turn us loose to die of starvation or disease or another big damn Cocodrile." Looking down, she saw that the priestess was paying attention, one hand on her muzzle as she weighted Judy's words."I'm thinking that maybe there are things that we can do for you." Judy hunched forward, moving her forepaws like the pans of a scale with the little bit of slack that she could manage. "Maybe you need some heavy lifting done, maybe there are more reptiles out there that need clobbering. Maybe you've got some enemy tribe that needs an attitude adjustment?" she offered, with a disarming smile. "Could be useful to have three big mammals at your beck and call, they'd say you must be a pretty powerful leader to command us."That sealed the deal, Judy knew it as she watched the tiny black eyes narrow to eager slits, and the paw at her muzzle start to furiously comb at the fur. 'Someone has a score to settle,' she thought, 'and we're going to be the doomsday weapons that do it.'"Outsider, swear your loyalty to me, Ashani of the Black Hills tribe! Your warriors obey you, and you will obey me, yes? I will heal your fallen one with root and mojo, I swear it, if you pledge yourself to me!" She rubbed her paws together in savage glee. "Oh yes, Bishwa. One day soon you know that Ashani is best! You so smug with your Speaking Stick, it just a copy of mine! But soon I put your skull on the tiki pile, oh yes--" She broke off, and squealed orders to her tribe, Judy was shocked to see dozens of loincloth-clad rats pouring out of the undergrowth. They had been perfectly concealed within it; she hadn't seen or heard them this whole time.The rodents scurried up her body, nibbling through the cords and pulling them from her limbs in coordinated order. Within seconds, she was free, and she rolled over onto her side, her body unable to respond as muscles cramped from long immobility. Summoning what control she could, Judy crawled forward on shaking paws and knees, to where Ashani stood. She offered one fingertip, and Ashani grasped it between both of hers as she muttered a few phrases in her own tongue. Satisfied, she released Judy's digit and demanded "What you like to eat? We untie your warriors and go to village, tonight we feast!"
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21st Century Lover
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Steve Rogers, James \"Bucky\" Barnes, Other(s)", "Fandom": "Captain America (Movies)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by sunrow", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-25T00:00:00", "words": "1,621", "Additional Tags": "Post-Avengers (2012), Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Gay Bar, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Identity Porn, Angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Other(s)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It was a couple of months after the attack on New York when Steve felt brave enough to finally visit the gay bar near his apartment. He hadn't known it was a gay bar at first, but after a while he noticed only men coming and going from the location, often hand-in-hand. He'd been shocked at first, seeing as only a few months ago he'd been in the 40s, a time when sodomy was illegal and gay relationships had to be kept a secret, like his relationship with Bucky.Bucky’s death was still fresh in his mind, but as much Steve hated to admit it, he’d been given a second chance at life in the new century and he’d have to eventually move on. Sooner rather than later.So that’s how he found himself at this bar, low lighting helping him stay at least a little unrecognisable from a distance. Some men did recognise him, if their stunned expressions were anything to go by, but nobody said anything. He figured they knew what it was like to still be in the closet.Steve wanted to come out, he did, but he wasn’t sure if he could. The world had an image of Captain America that he felt it was his duty to uphold - one of virtue and purity. Not a bisexual man who’d been his best friend’s lover since his late teens.Nobody approached him that night, nor the next, but Steve kept going back until eventually some started sidling up to him. He chatted with the ones that caught his eye, the ones with dark hair and mischievous blue eyes, charming grins and cleft chins. It was only women he’d been shy around, but men were easy for him to flirt with. And these men would invite him back to their apartments or to the back alley or the bathroom, but Steve turned them all down.No matter how similar, none of them were him .But that didn’t stop him from going back night after night, flirting and drinking, then heading home alone. It was after a month or two of that when he caught sight of a man that made him question his own sanity.Steve first noticed him because of how underdressed he was compared to the other men, wearing jeans and boots with a sweater under a cargo jacket, and gloves on both hands. His brown hair was shoulder-length and he had a bit of stubble, but he looked so much like Bucky that Steve thought he might be hallucinating. But he wasn’t hallucinating, watching as the man sat at the bar and ordered a drink. Steve knew it was him.He got out of his seat and made his way over before he could think. “Bucky?”The man turned and ogled Steve for a moment, a reaction he’d gotten used to. Then he snapped himself out of it and shook his head. “I’m sorry, you got the wrong person. I’m Sebastian.” His voice was laced with a faint Russian accent, not the strong Brooklyn one he’d expected to hear.“Oh, my mistake.” Steve would’ve usually blushed at his situation, but he was too busy focusing on how much Sebastian looked like his Bucky. “You just look like someone I used to know. Sorry.”“No, that’s okay.” Sebastian smiled a little, bashful, and gestured to the stool beside him. “Can I buy you a drink for your trouble?”“Sure. I’ll have a whiskey. Neat.” Steve felt hopeful. Sebastian might not be Bucky, but he looked so damn alike that moving on might not be so hard after all.They were so eerily similar, despite the hair; but Steve had fought aliens pouring out of a hole in the sky, so he figured that something as simple as a doppelganger could exist.As he and Sebastian chatted, the conversation mostly focused on Steve. Sebastian didn’t seem to want to talk about his life, but he also seemed to have no idea that Steve was Captain America either, and simply wanted to know about his interests and hobbies. When Steve told him he liked to draw, Sebastian’s eyes seemed to light up, and he revealed that he once had a friend that loved art, though he himself was never that good at it.They went their separate ways after that, but each night Sebastian would be at the bar, and Steve would chat and flirt with him. Eventually Sebastian started flirting back, and one night, many days later, he went home with Steve.Once they were inside his apartment, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Steve pushed Sebastian against the wall and kissed him deeply, putting all of his longing and starvation for intimate touch into it. And oh, Sebastian must’ve been Bucky’s doppelganger, because he kissed Steve just the same. And when they made it to the bedroom, even though he strangely demanded that his shirt and gloves stayed on, he fucked just the same as well.Steve thought he couldn’t get any luckier, having found this Russian man with the face of his ex-lover.They continued their little affair, meeting at the bar then going back to Steve’s apartment to fuck. And when Steve asked why Sebastian never took his shirt or gloves off during sex, Sebastian revealed it was because his arm was severely injured and he didn’t want anyone seeing it. Steve didn’t push the matter further.There was a problem, though, and that was the fact that Steve was starting to fall in love with Sebastian, but Sebastian was starting to withdraw. It started with just a sense of unease, looking over his shoulder every so often when they were at the bar, then leaving Steve’s apartment before he woke up. Eventually he missed a few of their dates, claiming he was busy and looking a little worse for wear. He wouldn’t tell Steve what was wrong when he asked.Guilt started eating away at Steve as well. It was wrong, he thought, to be falling for a man that looked like his dead lover. How could he tell Sebastian the truth? He was already distancing himself, and it’d be the last push for him to leave entirely.But was he even falling for Sebastian’s personality, or just his face? He had similarities to Bucky, yes, but he was so different all the same. And if Bucky knew this was how Steve was trying to move on, he’d smack some sense into him for having the world’s shittiest coping mechanisms.Steve couldn’t do it anymore. The more he fell for Sebastian, the more he longed for Bucky, to be able to hold him again. So one day, when they got back to Steve’s apartment as usual, he didn’t lead him to the bedroom.“I’m sorry, Sebastian, but I don’t think it’s working out.” Steve felt horrible, but he knew it had to be done. Being with him was as wonderful as it was painful. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”Sebastian smiled ruefully, nodding a little. “I was wondering if this was going to happen soon. But I get it, I do. It’s for the best.”Steve never saw Sebastian again.  Two years later, when Steve had healed from his post-Project Insight injuries and moved into a new apartment, he was visited by the Winter Soldier. Yet another of Bucky’s doppelgangers. He swore the universe just wanted to hurt him.“Hi, Steve,” the Soldier greeted him, sitting in his armchair much like Fury had before he’d been shot.Steve made his way over slowly, cautiously, then sat on the other armchair across from him. “What do you want?”“To talk to you. And to apologise.” He leaned forward in his seat, and when his face hit the light, Steve’s breath caught in his throat. The Soldier had cut his hair and shaved his stubble, now looking more like Bucky than Sebastian ever had. “I remember a lot of things, now.”“What things?”“Like my name is Bucky, for a start, not Sebastian.”Steve frowned, not sure what he was getting at. “What’re you saying? You’re just Bucky’s doppelganger.”“No, I’m not.” His brows drew together, eyes pleading for Steve to believe him. “I’m Bucky, Steve. I remember falling from the train, and losing my arm. I remember Zola giving me this one. I remember bits and pieces from missions, and then escaping one day right after they wiped me. I thought my name was Sebastian, and I met you at a bar, and I fell in love with you all over again. But Hydra had caught onto my location, and you ended things with me right before I was captured again.”He was teary-eyed now, and so was Steve, who couldn’t believe what was happening. “You were him? You were Sebastian?”Bucky nodded eagerly. “Yes, I was. That’s why I didn’t want to show you my arm. I’m sorry my memories didn’t come back then, but they have now, at least.”“I loved you as Sebastian,” Steve admitted, not wanting to keep that from him. “I felt horrible, like I was using him and disrespecting you, but I couldn’t help how I felt. That’s why I ended it.”“I know. But it’s okay, Steve, because even though I know who I am again, there’s still bits missing, and there are still parts of Sebastian in me. I’d forgive you, if there were anything to forgive.”“God, Bucky, c’mere.” Steve held his arms out and Bucky fell into them. They embraced, all the years of separation falling away as they were finally able to be together again.Steve had his Bucky back and he was never going to let him go.
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Why The Galaxy Within Me
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke", "Fandom": "Naruto", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Exoamik", "chapters": "11/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-26T00:00:00", "words": "25,999", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Romance, Tragic Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism", "Relationship": "Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Disclaimer - I Don't own! All characters belong to Kishi, this is just my own story with use of his characters, obviously. That would be how fanfiction works lmao. Enjoy. Why? The Galaxy Within Me (A Novel by ExoAmiK (Ami K.)) Why. A one worded question that we all seem to ask during the roughest parts of our lives. A question and an answer all in the same. Why. Why? Why... Look around inside your soul, inside of who you are and tell me what love has done to you. Has it moved you? Has it changed you? Has it strengthened you? Has it hurt you? Has it done all of that? What is it, anyway?To feel this word 'love'? Why is it not only a word, but an emotion? Why is it not only an emotion but a way to live? Why is it not only a way to live, but the only reason why you're living? Naruto lay outside - the darkest of nights, the early morning before the sun came up. It was around 3am when he rolled out of his bed when he awoke with his heart pounding in his chest, and decided to go out . It was one of his coping mechanisms ever since his relapses started happening. He could never sleep anymore. All dreams ended the same - him reaching out to that face; that same face that haunted him in the best and worst way possible. "Sasuke." The air moved and whistled softly around his figure as he lay on the cold frosty grass outside his childhood apartment in Konoha. Nights like these reminded him of why fall and winter were his favorite seasons. "The cold numbs me." Naruto faintly whispered, as the rustling wind around him picked up his words as they were breathed out, he hoped they would fly off like weightless leaves, and reach a certain someone. He closed his eyes with his hands resting behind his head. The night was quiet, and the only lights that were visible from his side of town were the stars. Opening his eyes, his gazed fixed on a certain constellation. It's figure resembled the one in his heart. Him. The reason Naruto was out here in the cold, shivering, pleading with the fall weather to make it end - to numb his pain. This constellation was what brought him and his soulmate together. Although these days, it didn't seem like Sasuke would remember, Naruto could never forget it. Not even for a second. Figuring it was enough numbness to get him through the rest of the night, he said one last goodbye to his constellation and headed back inside. Living alone didn't make the pain any better. Naruto tried to make every day good and stay positive, but as time grew, he had only managed to have one good day a week, and the rest were awful and full of relapse. Adding to that, it was getting harder to pretend he was happy. His smiles started fading more and more, and he had started becoming more distant towards Sasuke since about a year ago; and since 5 months ago, it only grew worse. But it wasn't like Sasuke didn't know the reason Naruto became like that. He knew. Although it was vague - Naruto told him several times in an attempt to be honest with his best friend,and to be honest with himself. Sasuke just didn't seem to care. At least not anymore.. It happened 3 years ago. That's when Naruto's life changed for the better, and for the worse. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- November 7 2012 They were seniors in high school. Naruto and Sasuke . The inseparable pair; two peas in a pod. Even though their personalities were completely opposite, it seemed to only balance them and complete the pair. What Naruto lacked ,Sasuke picked up for, and vice versa. They would always be seen together. Wherever Sasuke would go, Naruto was never too far behind. Sasuke's POV "Sasuke!" Running to room 63, Naruto chuckled, knowing his best friend would be there waiting for him, as he did everyday. Looking up from his notes, Sasuke found Naruto rushing towards him with a big grin plastered across his face. He smirked. It always lifted his mood to see Naruto like that. Always perfectly content and happy. Glancing at his watch, he breathed "What dobe. You're late." Sasuke smiled mentally. "I just got invited to the biggest party of the year! And you're coming with me!" Exclaiming in exhausted breaths, Naruto made his way to his best friend. Sitting on the table in front of Sasuke he put his hand on Sasuke's shoulder, continuing to grin. "You mean like a date? Sorry, Naruto, as much as Itatchi would love for me to start dating, I'm pretty sure dating you isn't what he had in mind." Sasuke smirked. "Are you sure about that? I have everything a guy OR GIRL could possibly want in a relationship! I'm the full package! Besides, I'm pretty sure Itatchi would be happy if you dated a damn cardboard cutout as long as u stopped mopping around here alone." Laughing, Naruto weakly punched Sasuke in the same shoulder he previously held. "Tch. Idiot." Sasuke laughed weakly. "I'm not mopping, and I'm not alone. I have you, remember?" He jokingly winked. Although he never showed it, this is what Sasuke craved about their relationship. It was so easy to joke around about any,and or, everything. It was so comfortable it was almost like breathing. "So you'll go out with me then, Sasuke Uchiha!?" Bating his eyes Naruto let out a hearty laugh. He held his stomach still grinning at his best friend. It had always been like this with them. Always felt like home. "Ugghh" Rubbing the back of his neck, Sasuke sighed heavily. He was never one for huge gatherings of people he didn't care about. Ever since him and Naruto were kids, they were always treated differently. Either because his family had too much money, or because Naruto's family didn't. Or because - ... Sasuke rubbed his hands over his eyes, furrowing his brows. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." "You always do this. You can't keep bottling stuff up Sasuke. I'm your best friend, you have me. You've always had me. You can talk to me about anything. No, you should talk to me about everything!" Naruto exclaimed, flailing his arms. "You're going to make yourself sick holding all that crap inside all the time." Jerking up from his seat on the table, Naruto slid a chair over to sit slightly in front/side by side with Sasuke. Their knees touched - neither pulled away from the contact. "Tell me." His voice seemed to grow a pitch deeper, as his level of concern for his best friend erased all previous thoughts of the party. Sasuke breathed heavily locking Naruto's gaze with his own. "These people have wanted nothing to do with us our whole lives, and now, all of a sudden they want us to hang out with them and pretend that nothing happened? Bullshit." Naruto sighed worriedly, holding Sasuke's gaze. "I Know. I know it's weird for you, but it's already been a few years since they've accepted us-" "Accepted you." "Sasuke." "It's not easy for me Naruto." "I know it isn't. But you've always been pretty popular. They accept you too now." "Well I'm sorry Naruto, but a few years of them being fake towards us doesn't change the past." "It doesn't" Naruto rested his hand on his best friend's shoulder. " But at least we can try to be positive regardless." He smiled. "Oh! And by the way, I brought you a tomato! And how 'bout we go for ramen later?" he smiled genuinely, trying to cheer Sasuke up. Sasuke just gazed at him. To anyone else, it would seem as if Sasuke was uninterested. But Naruto wasn't anyone else. He knew what it meant. He could read Sasuke better than he could read his high school textbooks, let's be honest. Sasuke chuckled and shook his head in amusement. His constantly stern features seemed to always soften when around Naruto. This was what Naruto meant to him. He always made the best out of every situation. "Hn." Getting up from his seat next to Naruto, Sasuke walked over to the large full wall windows that the class room had. It was where him and Naruto first met. That same classroom. They were both broken kids, coming from broken homes. Flashback Naruto snuck into Konoha's high school one night to steal some Ramen. He hadn't gotten his monthly allowance yet (He had received an allowance from Konoha's Mayor ever since he lost his parents in a fire. Despite his desperate circumstances, no one offered to take care of him after it happened; he'd been left alone to care for himself with the exception of the monthly allowance). That fateful night, Naruto was hungry, and had no where else to go. Everyone treated him badly because he was an orphan, so going to someone else for sustenance was out of the question. He had run out of food a few days prior and it began to be too much to bear. Coincidentally, Sasuke broke in a few hours earlier to get away from his brother. He loved his brother more than anything, but on nights like that one, Itatchi acted irrationally. He began drinking after him and Sasuke's parents passed away in a car accident a few years earlier. He didn't drink often. But when he did, it was because he was remembering the night it happened. Itatchi always blamed himself because he was in the car with them, but he was the only one who survived. Drinking, crying hysterically, breaking things - it was all he could do to cope with the loss and guilt. He never hurt Sasuke, he would never do anything like that. If anything, he'd lock himself in his bedroom, so Sasuke didn't have to see everything he went through. On good days he could pull himself together and hold it in, but that day was not a good one. It was a constant thing for Sasuke, whenever his brother got like that, he would leave for a few hours, only returning when he'd known Itatchi would be calm. And to be honest, Sasuke couldn't handle hearing his brother like that. It hurt too much. Itatchi would never let Sasuke comfort him. Figuring it was just to protect him, Sasuke never took it the wrong way. He was just worried... Even though he was a young boy then, he wanted to protect Itatchi. After his drinking episodes, he would find Itatchi sprawled out on the kitchen floor covered in small scratches with bruised knuckles. He wanted to do something to help, but there was only so much he could do. He was only 7. That night, Sasuke wanted to do what he could to help his brother. And his plan: to break into the high school to get some medical supplies from the nurses office. Konoha high was located not too far off from his family mansion. Nothing from his school would be enough to actually help Itatchi, so he decided to go to the second best place. It was the least he could do. Sasuke always tried his best to gain Itatchi's love and approval no matter what. He just wanted to show him how much he was grateful for everything he did for Sasuke. No one could know about Itatchi's outbursts or they would separate him and Sasuke. In his small mind he figured it was what it meant to take care of someone. To protect the only thing that was precious. Wandering through the halls with his phone's flashlight on, Sasuke searched for the nurses office. The school's floors were covered in white square tiles, with low bluish white office ceilings and dark blue metal lockers. Though it didn't appear from the outside - this school in itself was pretty big for a small town Highschool. Rustling noises from one of the storage pantries near the cafeteria kitchen caught him off guard. He didn't have time to get caught. That would cause trouble for him and his brother's already messed up situation if Sasuke were to get in any major trouble. And breaking and stealing from a public, State taxed Highschool, weren't exactly job requirements for getting on Santa's nice list. Evading the noise, he turned the opposite way, heading swiftly and soundlessly to the nurses office. The white compartments and exam table, gave heads up that he finally reached his destination. He didn't have time to waste, he needed to get in and get out - considering he knew for a fact he wasn't alone. The top drawer on the left of the exam table was cracked open and he could see it contained all the supplies he was looking for. Gauze? Check. Tape? Check. Alcohol pads? Check. After gathering his supplies he put them into his dark blue backpack and walked around a little. He knew Itatchi would be out of it ,probably, no less than all night. Which gave him plenty of time to spare in the meantime. Whether that was a good or bad thing, depended on the day. Sasuke never liked to be alone. But it seemed some sort of twist of fate always made it become that way. His parents left him to die. No matter what they just couldn't wait for him, could they? His brother - although he tried to spend as much time with Sasuke as he could, he had to keep up his work and maintain their family company. Sasuke rarely saw him much. Nights Itatchi got off of work, Sasuke was either already sleep or about to head off. Not that he could sleep much anyway. His dreams were filled with nightmares of his past, and his future. "When I get older, I guess I'll come here" He breathed quietly. Walking around he noticed from his peripheral - Stars. Turning his head, Sasuke looked into what appeared to be room 63. There were windows covering the entire left wall, and from where he stood all he could see was the galaxy. Almost like it was raining down on him. Or begging him forward. "Ramen! Yes I'm ready!" He heard yelling coming from inside of the room. Almost like a reflex he graced inside. To this day, Sasuke never understood what pulled him to that voice inside that small but spacious room. It seemed almost like it belonged to him - not as in it felt like his own voice, but as in a voice from someone else that seems to mesh so perfectly with his own being. Like the voice - it was a part of him. Reaching the voice, he saw the owner of it - a blonde boy around his age - sitting around 5 cups of unopened ramen, one which he was currently devouring, not seeming to notice Sasuke. "Have you never eaten before? I'm sure it's not going anywhere." Sasuke chuckled to much of his own surprise, as he never was much talkative , let alone was he known to laugh. Sitting next to the blonde on the floor right next to the windows, he relaxed with his legs folded, hands resting behind his back on the floor. Looking up at the then obvious other person in the room, Naruto frowned "I actually haven't eaten in a while.." He sat his ramen down and whipped his mouth with the back of his hand. As soon as his frown faded, his smile appeared like it - the frown, never happened. Like awakening. "I'm Naruto Uzumaki! Nice to meet you!" "Sasuke." He smiled a faint but noticeable smile. He noted what the blonde said, and felt a little ache of pain inside at the words. Though the smile and burst of joy from the other eased his concern. What was this feeling he felt? He was... content..? For once in his life he knew what it felt like. Contentment. And God be real, in that moment it was like a rush - of pain to let go, and of pleasure to hold on. He'd never let his guard down before enough to feel that. "It's pretty isn't it." Naruto broke the silence glancing out the window at all the stars. "Hn." Sasuke joined. They sat there for a while. It wasn't awkward. It was a perfect endearing silence. Each other's presences seemed to fill the unknown voids they carried within each other. Inching closer, Naruto sat side by side to Sasuke, their arms brushed lightly. Neither moving away from the contact. "That one looks like you" He grinned pointing up at the constellation. Sasuke didn't say anything. Because in that moment - everything stopped. Who was this person that seemed to move him? Why was he here? Why did they meet? Why did time seem to stand still when they were together? Why did all his problems fade away with just one smile of his? "Why." he stared at Naruto. That moment seemed to last forever. Just enjoying being together. It seemed like He knew him all along. And maybe all the questions and answers he had, belonged inside of this blonde - bright eyed boy.. Rubbing his eyes, he lay on his side, resting his head on Naruto's thigh. Both watching the constellation - The same one that seemed to bring them together. Before he knew it , he fell asleep, not realizing until it hit him how exhausted he was from earlier. From life in general, even. He had never fallen asleep so easily, so peacefully. "Thank you Naruto." Flashback End Though he didn't think Naruto would remember - Sasuke would never forget. Not even for a second. That was the day that changed his life for the better, and for the worse. Naruto's happiness might've been never-ending. But the only reason Sasuke could ever smile, or laugh was because of Naruto. He was his light. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Naruto's POV Saturday rolled around the corner faster than Minato's flying raijan.As much as Sasuke didn't like to socialize with random people, he had eventually - much not to Naruto's surprise, agreed to accompany him to the party that evening.It wasn't a surprise because that's pretty much how their relationship worked; although they had different interests most of the time, they would enjoy and participate in each other's enjoyments.Give and take.Naruto eyed his outfit for 6th time that night, standing in front of his bedroom mirror.He didn't really understand what compelled him to dress up extra nice tonight, but the past few days he'd been feeling weird towards Sasuke.He would find himself wanting to be closer to him and would get extra anxious if he didn't get to see him for a few days.It was like he thrived off of his best friend.He had always been pretty needy towards Sasuke and vice versa, and they didn't care much to make close relationships with other people. They were perfectly fine with just each other, always.But it just seemed different now, like more intense.He didn't understand it. He never felt this way with anyone else.Of course Sasuke wasn't just anyone, he was his best friend. No one else could even come close to Sasuke and what they'd been through together as kids, as teens, and now as the young Adults they were. But in the sense of how things were now, He felt like their relationship was expanding. Like if it was even possible for them to get closer, they were becoming more close.Sometimes Naruto would feel bad, like maybe he was pushing it and expecting too much. Or giving too much of himself without it being reciprocated. But In small ways Sasuke would randomly, out of the blue show that he needed the same things Naruto needed from him, and it would ease Naruto and erase those negative thoughts he had.The friends grew into being with each other constantly, so being apart was kind of alien.Fixing his hair a bit with some gel, Naruto grabbed his phone off the tall dark mahogany dresser and shot Sasuke a quick text."I'm leaving now, be there soon babe;)" He smiled at himself.He was excited to see his friend. They hadn't been able to meet up since they went for ramen the prior day.They talked on the phone sometimes, and texted, but it wasn't the same as physical contact.Naruto couldn't place why he was feeling that way. He just knew he had always thrived from his best friend, and recently it had started to surface more and more.Or maybe it had always been like that and he just started noticing it.Either way, it was an alive and well part of him, and he just wasn't sure if it was okay to be so co-dependent on someone else. He knew Sasuke wasn't just anyone else, but..."I don't know.." He sighed, scrubbing his hands throughout his hair, shaking himself out of his thoughts.Sasuke did reciprocate well, so he didn't need to be so up his own ass about the whole thing. He didn't understand why he was making such a big deal about everything anyway.He grabbed his jacket off his desktop chair and headed down the stairs and out the door.A red jeep wrangler sat altruistically in the parking lot.He had saved up and finally bought it at least half a year ago, from months and months of working at the local construction site on Yondaime Street.He didn't work construction anymore, although it paid pretty well and helped Naruto get by through a lot of his financial troubles.These days he worked as an editor for the world famous novelist, Jiraya Sanin.He was a mentor of Naruto's father before he passed away, and saw Naruto's potential when he had a writer's workshop at Konoha High one year. Ever since he read the blonde's work, he decided to take him as his editor first, and apprentice later.Although Naruto didn't think much of his own writings, and did it for school mostly and occasionally as a hobby, Jiraya saw what Naruto couldn't. And figured he'd owed it to him to help him mend his craft, being Minato's son and all. Besides, altogether he pretty much liked the kid.Getting in his car and closing the door, he felt his phone buzz from his right butt pocket. Unlocking , he noticed it was a reply text from Sasuke.*Shivers*Naruto got that feeling in his gut again.It always happened when he got a text or call from his best friend, or whenever he would see him around unexpectedly without fair warning.What a weird feeling, he thought to himself. He didn't understand it, but he kind of liked it.It was almost like a high he never got down from - being with Sasuke.He opened the text, "Tch, just don't be late dobe."He smiled, starting the engine he made his way to Sasuke's place, singing loudly some old pop favorite of his from some random station he had programmed in his radio.He was in such a good mood.Tonight was going to be a good night. He'd get to hang out with Sasuke and have a good time at the party together.That's all that mattered.Nothing could bring him down.He drove into Sasuke's driveway, and much to his expectance the gate was already open for him.Sasuke appeared out of the darkness and knocked on the passenger side window for Naruto to unlocked the door."Shit! You scared the Christ out of me." Naruto jumped holding his chest. Blowing out a faint laugh of amusement, he reached over the passenger seat and opened the door.Sasuke chuckled, " Not a man of God anymore, Naruto? I have more impact on you than I thought.""Jashin is enough for me." Naruto jokingly put his hands up. "Good to see you, I missed you."They locked eyes, and Naruto gave Sasuke a genuine smile."Hn." Sasuke sighed as he climbed into the car shutting the door as he turned from Naruto's gaze to look out of the front window. "Let's get going, we're going to be late.""For one who doesn't like parties that much, you're pretty good at rushing me to get there.""Dobe. That's only because I want to get there as soon as possible so we can leave as soon as possible.""Of course you do." Naruto laughed, starting the engine and backing out."So what you been up to." Naruto asked, making his way into a double lane. The house wasn't that far from where they were, even though it was on the other side of Konoha, since the city in itself wasn't that big.It would only take them about 15 minutes or less to get there."Nothing much... I do have to tell you something though..""What's up?" Naruto slowed down at a yellow, glancing back and forth from the road to Sasuke.Sasuke breathed out and raked his fingers though his hair."You okay? Is everything okay? You look nervous." Naruto said casually.He was used to everything about Sasuke. His best friend wasn't in such a mood that it could be something too bad that he seemed nervous about.It could be something as little as his test scores or work it seemed.Or at worst it could be, Itatchi.."Hn. I uhh.." Was all Sasuke managed to get out as they made their way onto the street that the house for the party was.Naruto opened his phone to check the address, and drove a few more houses before finding the right one and parking by the curb.Stopping the car and pulling out they key, Naruto turned to give his full attention to Sasuke. Maybe it hadn't been the right moment for him to start feeling it, but it was happening.Just looking at Sasuke was giving him all kinds of chills he couldn't explain. Just looking at him relaxed him and gave him peace.It was a pleasure far beyond anything he could put to words.He tried for it to not show on his face, but he figured Sasuke could read him just as well as he could read Sasuke. Besides it's not like he was trying to hide it so much. He never hid anything from Sasuke."So..what's up?" He placed an endearing hand on Sasuke's wrist and gave it a squeeze."Maybe I'll tell you after we leave." Sasuke breathed."Are you just trying to get out of going to the party?" Naruto joked outwardly, but inside he knew. If it meant a lot to Sasuke he'd do anything.Leaving a party for an important talk was nothing to him. Anything that was important to Sasuke, was important to Naruto.He'd do anything."Ha. ha. Very funny. Can we just get in and get out. I really don't want to stay here that long. I had a long day.""We don't have to go in, if you want we can just head back to my place and get some rest." Naruto said, concern and understanding washing through his voice."Trying to get me in your bed on the first date, Naruto? I expected more from you." Sasuke smirked, breaking his wrist free of Naruto's grip and getting out of the jeep. Naruto following not too far behind, laughing.He reached Sasuke, putting his arm around his best friend's shoulders. "We'll leave as soon as you give the word.""Ok, let's go." Sasuke jokingly started turning around back towards the jeep.Naruto barked out laughing. "Stop! You're killing me."Sasuke only smiled a thin, genuine smile, eyeing his best friend. "Hn."They walked into the party and were immediately immersed in a sea of bodies and loud vibrating music.Few lights were on in the house; the only good lighting coming from colorful party strobes. The strobes lit up the darkness at random intervals, giving second- long glimpses of people moving, shaking, and grinding their bodies together to the loud music.Naruto grinned. Grabbing Sasuke by the wrist, he pulled his best friend without warning to the large living room area where everyone seemed to be lost in.Engrossed in each other like an ocean of rhythmic bodies, people hadn't time to notice the pair's addition to the scene.Naruto and Sasuke stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by everyone else. A quick, accidental push from some random girl dancing, had Sasuke and Naruto almost squished together. Sasuke grabbed onto Naruto's shoulders to find his balance, and their eyes locked.Everything stopped like slow motion for Naruto. It all seemed so surreal; only like moments you would've seen in movies.Him and Sasuke.They kept close together despite the option and free will to pull apart, only separated by a few inches as they began dancing to the music.Naruto could tell, Sasuke was relaxed a lot and let Naruto and the music guide him. His more commonly shut down personality and body seemed so fluid and free in that moment. Naruto almost felt jealous.On any other occasion he was the only one who was allowed to see Sasuke like that, and now everyone in the room was witnessing it too.It wasn't fair.But even so - in that moment it felt like even though there were tons of people surrounding them , moving and dancing to the music - only Naruto and Sasuke were there, no one else. It didn't seem like anyone noticed or cared what Sasuke was doing enough for Naruto to be too jealous, but he couldn't help it.Smiling widely at one another, they touched each other. Sasuke sometimes holding onto Naruto's hips or waist, and Naruto doing the same.Bodies close. Dancing in sync with the music. Only inches apart.Naruto almost felt light headed at the amount of contact him and Sasuke had in that moment. Glancing shortly around to the other people in their vicinity, he was glad that he was the only one Sasuke's attention was directed on."Fuck yes." He felt to himself. This is heaven. This is heaven.Minutes later the song finished and the bodies died down and scattered around the house to grab drinks, hook up, or talk to friends.Naruto and Sasuke still stood in the middle of the floor, smiling, panting and gazing at each other; Sasuke's hands on Naruto's hips and Naruto holding onto Sasuke's biceps.Naruto couldn't remember a time recently where Sasuke looked so carefree and happy. With all the stress he was under from school, his brother and their family business, it was rare these days to see him relax and put down his guard.Naruto absorbed this moment like his life depended on it.Because, maybe it did. Maybe his life depended on Sasuke."Sasuke! I didn't know you were coming!"A cry came from not too far behind Sasuke, breaking him and Naruto's physical contact and their gaze.Moving his eyes to look over Sasuke's shoulder, Naruto found a random pink haired girl making her way towards them.Sasuke stiffened.Naruto could tell the change in him immediately, just by slight body language alone. Almost on instinct, without even thinking , he knew he needed to get Sasuke far away. Because, whoever this person was, she was not having a positive effect on Sasuke. And that was unacceptable. It was Naruto's job to protect him from these kind of situations, and Sasuke always did the same.Grabbing Sasuke by the wrist, Naruto ushered him into the opposite direction of the pink haired girl, moving fast so she wouldn't see or catch up to them through the sea of other bodies.Without comment or hesitation, Sasuke ran along with Naruto.Before he could process it, he felt that he wasn't holding Sasuke's wrist anymore.They were holding hands.Running through the house to find another exit, they somehow by magic, reached the kitchen and slowed down but continued to search.Houses on that part of town weren't far off from Sasuke's mansion when it came to how big they were; they were lucky they didn't get lost, especially since it was practically dark all around, exception of random pops of color from the lights.Small beads of sweat glistened off of Naruto's and Sasuke's bodies from the dancing and running all over the place.Without thinking, Naruto found himself eyeing his best friend's glistening skin, watching the trickle of sweat make it's way from his forehead to his cheek. Lifting his hand to wipe it away, Naruto noticed Sasuke's gaze run from his eyes, down to his throat and back up.The blonde lifted his eye brows in question. Neither said anything.The temperature around them seemed to spike at alarming rates.*Smash*The sound of something breaking broke them out of the contact.Looking around, Naruto managed to find the kitchen's back door that led outside.Finally."Let's go." He smiled to Sasuke as they walked casually out of the door and searched for Naruto's jeep in the darkness.They still held hands. It didn't feel awkward in the slightest.It felt natural, and pleasurable. Like laughing when you're sad, or crying when you're happy.Finding the jeep, they broke the contact as Naruto got in his side of the car and Sasuke got in the passenger.They closed the doors, Naruto starting the engine and turning on the heat to warm them up, considering the night began to get cold and a small drizzle started coming down."I'm sorry I brought you here. I didn't know there was someone coming that you didn't want to see." Naruto began, turning to Sasuke who glanced back but stayed silent.He looked nervous and a little sad."But why I don't know about this is what concerns me most. Sasuke, we tell each other everything. So why do I feel completely left out, like something really important just happened but I don't know what it is. It's not fair to make me feel this way." Naruto pouted. And his constant negative feelings of him giving too much and expecting it back started to resurface."I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. It just happened today, I was going to tell you after the party." Sasuke shifted nervously in his seat."Alright." Naruto smiled. "how 'bout we get out of here and go back to your place and talk?""Hn." Sasuke rested his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes. The rain began to pour harder on the car and almost send vibrations through him."Don't worry. Whatever it is, we'll get through this okay?" Naruto breathed, starting out from the curb and onto traffic.They reached Sasuke's house in complete silence. But it was a good silence.Naruto figured Sasuke just wanted time to rest or think through whatever happened and was going on. He hadn't opened his eyes once since they left.Parking close to the gate, Naruto left the engine on and keys in the car.Finally opening his eyes, realizing they arrived, Sasuke unbuckled his seat belt and turned his head - sad eyes looking at Naruto.Pleading silently."I'm engaged." He swallowed hard, biting his lip and immediately looking away - staring out of his passenger-side window.Naruto sat there, brows furrowed. Still. Looking at Sasuke.They sat in silence for a few moments until Naruto let out a almost silent laugh. And then it grew.He laughed.Tears falling down his face, unaware of them even there - he laughed.He stopped abruptly, sadness showing from every crease and inch of his face."What...?... No... Really?..""Itatchi set it up today. It's for political reasons, so our stocks can go up or some shit.The girl's family owns a large company as well, and Itatchi thought the two of us together would increase our shares for both companies.It's pretty fucked up. I had no idea he was going to do this Naruto or I would have told you. It just happened today." He turned to Naruto, the pleading engulfing his voice and his eyes, searching for validation, acceptance of the situation, understanding, or comfort.But Naruto just sat there in silence, not even looking or trying to meet Sasuke's gaze anymore.He rested his head against the back of the seat with both his hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life - his fingers beginning to fade color."Oh... Wow... Wow... I just-" Tears continued to stream down his face. He not once noticed them.Sasuke reached out to touch Naruto, but before he could make contact, his phone rang.Pulling back he grabbed it from his jacket pocket and noted that it was Itatchi. He answered."Yeah I'm out here with Naruto... Yeah she was there.I didn't go with her, I went with Naruto... Hn... Ok fine, I'll be in in a second." Hanging up, he put his phone back in his pocket."I gotta go, Itatchi's pretty messed up tonight. But I'll call you later when everything dies down, okay?""Yeah." Naruto still looking dazed, but managed to turn towards Sasuke and give him a small smile of reassurance that he wasn't mad. At least the tears had stopped.Sasuke hesistated to leave, smiling back but still noticing the space the new information had put between him and Naruto.He wanted to hug him or show some kind of apology about it all, but before he could say or do anything else, he got another call from Itatchi. Picking up, "Yeah, I'm coming..." He sighed opening the passenger door, and sliding out."Bye Naruto, I'll call you tonight."Naruto shook his head and waved as Sasuke left the car, slamming it softly behind as he ran the short distance from the gate to his front door - trying not to get too soaked by the rain.Naruto sat there for a while, alone in the darkness as the night grew darker and the rain grew heavier and heavier around him.He didn't know what he was feeling, but he felt almost empty.He knew he was in shock, but he couldn't understand why. He knew Sasuke hadn't wanted to get engaged, but it still didn't change the fact that he was, and this was going to change every aspect of their relationship.He was going to lose his best friend.After a few more minutes of him sitting there with his hands on the steering wheel, looking out the window. He backed up , and headed out onto the main street.And then it all came out.He began to cry. Fully aware of it now.Choked up gasps and loud cries escaped his throat as he drove the rest of the way to his house.He could barely see through the tears in his eyes, along with the added rain.His head was so messed up in that moment, he could barely function.Letting out another long, deep gasp - his body shaking from grief, he began to take the last the turn to get onto the road to his house, not noticing the light was red.Naruto only saw a blinding white light before his car was smashed on impact - his body slamming into the side door, head hitting the window - almost instantly blacking him out. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- When I think of happiness, all I can see is Sasuke's face.When I think of all the reasons I've smiled, every scene that plays in my mind involves him.From the first time I laughed, Sasuke.The first time I remember genuinely smiling, Sasuke.My first kiss -Err.. Naruto scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. He chuckled to himself."No need to feel weird about it. Sasuke never felt weird about it." Whispering to no one in particular, the blond smiled - feeling at ease.Throughout my whole life, everything that's happened , all I can see is Sasuke's face. Why have I never realized it before that I need this person to survive? Why have I never realized it until now - when I can't have him anymore...sitting up in his window - side hospital bed, Naruto sighed, looking out the window onto the crowded parking lot. The area was full of ambulances pulling up, bringing in more patients, while old patients with healed bodies were cast outside to live their lives.Everything leading up to him being in the hospital was a blur. He had no recollection of how he'd even gotten there in the first place.All he remembered was what happened the night before... And that memory in itself - he didn't even want to think about, realizing he was still in too much shock to come to actual terms with it. Even so, he could feel it inside himself, that once his initial shock was over, the hurt from the whole thing would hit him like a ton of bricks.Maybe he was a dumbass for getting too emotional over it. But being a dumbass, it didn't mean he wasn't entitled to feel emotions.And what he felt was real.He Just wasn't sure why or when he started feeling like that. But it was real.Confusion swallowed him whole.Trying to wrap his mind around it was stressing Naruto out. It was just so much to handle at one time. It felt like everything from over his entire life with Sasuke was hidden, and now it was being forced out like vomit.It was making his head hurt, trying to think everything through and figure out just what exactly was going on with him.The blonde figured he didn't really have to worry about why he was feeling that way right now, just to focus on the fact that he was, and go from there.A knock on the door snapped Naruto out of his thoughts, as a nurse with bright eyes smiled and walked over to his bed, ready to give him his medicine for the day.Flicking the cap off a syringe, she pushed the air out and skillfully stuck the needle into the IV, emptying the medicine.By some sort of miracle, Naruto not only managed to end up with minor damage from the crash, but managed to only have few scratches exception of his head wound from hitting the window.The ER. had managed to stitch up his head way before he was actually awake and aware of what was happening, and suprising he was healing rather fast. It would only take about a week before he was ready to be discharged."You feeling okay? Is anything hurting you?"Naruto smiled, trying to push his previous thoughts and feelings down... "I'm fine..." Forcing a small smile, he added ".. just a little headache.""Well that's normal hun." The nurse said cheerfully.She was a bright young lady with short, light brown hair and a skip in her step! She reminded Naruto a lot of himself. But only the him that he was when Sasuke was around... Otherwise he was a mess. And he could tell it was starting again. Just like when he was a child.."You're lucky you don't have worse things wrong with you, young man." she shook her hand at him in a playfully stern way."Yeah. I guess you're right..." Naruto chuckled, fading off into light thought."Oh! Uzumaki!" The nurse caught herself before exiting the room - tapping her index finger to her forehead like she had just remembered something important."Someone came by earlier to see you. But at the time, we weren't letting anyone in until you were fully conscious.""Oh?" Curiosity peaked in Naruto's voice. "Who was it?" Maybe it was Jiraya, he thought excitedly. At least he had one person who still cared about him if not Sasuke. Someone who he could turn to, and possibly lean on while he was feeling so vulnerable and raw at the moment."He said, he was your brother?"Ouch. Not what he was expecting."Sasuke." Naruto sniffled out of sheer reflex for what he was feeling - what was building up."I see."Breathing out, the blonde turned his head away from the nurse. He didn't understand why, but he felt sick. Going down on his side with his back towards her, Naruto shut his eyes, controlling his breathing. He wasn't trying to be rude, he just didn't feel well anymore.She nodded her head figuring he was still tired physically. Hell, she would've been worse off if she got into a wreck as bad as he did. She exited the room completely, turning off the light and closing the door with a slight crack.Naruto sighed.All he could hear now was silence. Darkness and silence. It enveloped him now.It always ended up like this for him. Except for when Sasuke was around.But not anymore.Tears welled up in his eyes, beginning to fall from the corners, warming his cold cheeks.No matter how hard he tried to push his feelings aside, even the smallest things could trigger them back up.Brother? Really? That's all Sasuke thought of him as after all those years?Fuck that.Fuck it all. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sasuke's POV It was late Friday night and Sasuke found himself in bed - a white cotton comforter covering most of his body, only exposing his toned pale skin from a few inches bellow the collar bone and up.He shifted a bit , adjusting his position, before he settled down.Sigh.He knew his nights were constantly growing worse, but there wasn't much he could do about it anymore..Earlier that day he had made sure he got all his errands, homework and business signings out of the way so he could go to sleep early that night.Tomorrow was really special, so getting rest was adamant. He might not have admitted it to the blonde, but he was excited they were going to the party together.It would be his first time going partying.He always tended to leave Naruto to those kinds of things, but this time was different.And besides the party, he wanted to spend the whole day together.It was just aggravating that now, the only time in the world when he actually needed it, he was having a really hard time falling asleep even though he was tired.Pulling the covers down lower, Sasuke searched for his phone underneath. Finding it, he turned on his side to get more comfortable, unlocking it to see the time.2:30.Fuck.Sighing, he mentally wished things were like how they used to be. He would never admit it out loud, but he missed it when Naruto and him used to share a bed at night."That's not weird at all, Sasuke." He whispered to himself, trying to give himself excuses.Nowadays His dreams were mostly bad, and his nights mostly restless without the dumb blonde there.He would admit it to himself, but only to himself of course, and sometimes Naruto, he needed his best friend.Although they were older now, he still wished Naruto was around even at nights, otherwise his sleep was almost non-existent. And besides sleep, it was just extremely comforting for him to be around - all the time.Twirling his phone around a few times, he quickly speed dialed Naruto's number, giving himself no room for hesitation."Mmmm Sasuke." Naruto groaned, surprising Sasuke, who on the other line was beyond glad his best friend answered, despite how late it was."Dreaming about me, dobe?" Sasuke replied, almost immediately feeling better just knowing Naruto was on the other line.Rubbing his eyes Naruto, stretched under the sheets and moved the phone closer. Still eyes closed, but paying full attention to Sasuke now."I'll always pick up when you call, if that's what you're worried about. It doesn't matter what time, I'll always pick up." Naruto exhaled softly, he could read between Sasuke's banter. He could tell what was bothering him, even if he didn't say it."It's late, are you okay? Can't sleep?""Yeah.. couldn't sleep." Sasuke shifted, moving his neck from side to side - restless."Want me to come over?""That's dumb usratonkachi. We haven't slept in the same bed since we were kids." Sasuke shifted, almost boarder-line nervously. But he wasn't nervous of course, even though he knew himself that he was lying.He wanted him to come over. He wanted his anxiety, and sleeplessness to fade away in the presence of Naruto, but it was already too late in the night. He didn't want Naruto to come all the way there just for him.Naruto laughed, "Yeah, since we were like 14. It's not a big deal if you don't wanna Sas. I just thought... I don't want your nightmares to get worse again..""I'm fine... Just.. don't hang up okay?""Of course baby. Never." Naruto smiled through the phone - Sasuke could hear it in his voice. His once exploding nerves began to calm, and he finally felt himself drifting off to sleep."Shut up, idiot." Sasuke smiled.Thank you, Naruto.Sasuke woke up the next morning bright and early, feeling rejuvenated.He sat himself up in the bed, the covers drifting down to his waist, and noticed Naruto was still on the line from last night.."This idiot really didn't hang up," he thought, and smiled."Hey Idiot. You up yet?""mhhmmm." Naruto replied groggily in a light voice. He yawned and stretched, adding "I'm gonna go back to sleep, you hang up first.""Who said I wanted to hang up,dobe. I'm going to shower." Sasuke climbed out of bed, beginning to pick out his clothes from his grayish silver, modern style dresser. Him and Naruto had matching Dressers, just different styles to fit their different personalities."Okay that's good and all, but what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Naruto laughed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, forcing himself to wake up more.He didn't know why Sasuke was being so attached that morning, but he liked it. These were the moments that Naruto loved, and got excited for.It didn't happen often, but when it did, it meant everything to him."Just talk to me, duh. Tch, idiot.""Riggghhhhttt..." Naruto's eyes opened as he woke himself fully up and climbed out of bed."Hey! stop calling me idiot, teme.""Okay dumbass.""You're the dumbass, dumbass.""Tch." Sasuke laughed lightly.Naruto joined, stretching his arms up. He figured he might as well get ready, that way he'd be showered and dressed around the same time Sasuke finished, and hopefully hang out with him for the rest of the day.Sasuke made his way into the bathroom, turning the shower on waiting for it to heat up. He sat at the side of the tub, and turned his phone on speaker."Excited about tonight?" Sasuke asked, beginning to take his clothes off."Hell yeah!" Naruto perked up, "Thanks for agreeing to go with me. It's gonna be a blast!" He walked into the bathroom, orange and black pajama pants hanging low on his waist, showing his defined muscles in his abdomen.Turning the faucet on, he got out his toothbrush and toothpaste and began brushing his teeth with one hand while holding the phone with the other.He was so happy.Falling asleep to Sasuke's breathing just made life better.And then waking up to him still on the phone, just made the better life even better.He couldn't stop smiling. He felt like he could conquer the world."Tch. It's not a big deal.." Sasuke smiled.He wasn't good at expressing it, but he liked to make Naruto happy.Climbing into the shower, Sasuke hissed at the new found heat on his body. Grabbing his phone from off of the edge of the tub, he placed it in the shower window, away from the water so it wouldn't get wet, but close enough so he could still hear and talk to Naruto."You okay?" Naruto's voice seemed to grow an octave deeper.."Hn. Just wasn't ready. The water was hotter than I thought." Sasuke began lathering himself up.Naruto could hear the amount of relaxed that Sasuke was, just by his breathing.Naruto's movements grew slower as he found himself listening intently to Sasuke on the other side.He didn't know why, but he was feeling really lightheaded just knowing Sasuke was... Naked and soapy on the other line.Shaking his head, he tried to get those thoughts out of his brain.He felt disgusted thinking of his best friend in that way. It made him feel like the worst person. But recently, he started feeling weird about Sasuke, and he couldn't help it. It just kept growing.He didn't dislike the feeling so much, it was just kind of odd. And he felt bad, like he was hiding it from Sasuke.So he made a promise to himself that he would talk to Sasuke about it that night after the party. Sasuke would never judge him for what he was feeling, Naruto knew that. Naruto wasn't even sure what it was that he was feeling, considering he'd never felt that way before and it was so foreign to him, but he knew it was a good idea to talk to his best friend about it.He finished brushing and threw some water over his face, trying to cool his spiked temperature down."Mmm fuck yes." Sasuke moaned as he hit a sore spot on his shoulder that was bothering him the last few days. The water seemed to give his muscles the umph he needed to sooth his aching.Naruto's eyes widened at hearing that, nearly dropping his phone."*cough cough*""Naruto? You still there?""*Cough* yeah... I umm *cough* I should uhh."Sasuke broke out into a light laughter. His best friend was such an idiot. But always managed to keep a smile on his face and laughter in his lungs.A knock on the bathroom door broke Sasuke out of his laughter."Hurry up Sasuke we have business to attend to today.""Hn." Sasuke replied over the shower water, not sure whether Itatchi would've heard him or not, but he didn't bother repeating himself or saying anything else.He knew he needed to start being more involved in their company since years ago.Compared to Itatchi, he was nowhere near to where his brother was as far as company status at Sasuke's age, but he felt like it was a lot of pressure on him to be this amazing Uchiha clone.And everyone would be looking at him, comparing him to his older brother. It was just a lot to deal with along with school.He was really hoping he could just hang out with Naruto all day up until the party.It was the fucking weekend for Christ sake, Sasuke just wanted to relax with his dumb idiot. But apparently Itatchi had other plans.Very unfortunately."Itatchi?" Naruto managed to get breathe out, after skillfully composing himself.He pulled off his pajama pants and boxers and got into the shower, placing his phone in the soap rack on speaker, turning the water on while he was inside."Yes. Apparently we have plans today.""Awww, is my Sasuke upset? Wanted to hang out with me instead didn't you?" Naruto teased in a cutesy voice."Shut up dobe. I'll see you tonight though, I need to get ready." Turning off the water and wrapping his towel around his waist, Sasuke grabbed his phone and walked out of the shower and over to the sink and mirror.Wiping the fog off of the mirror, he gazed at his reflection."Okay." Naruto grew sour, chewing his bottom lip. His upset feelings bleeding through his voice.Even though he teased, he wanted to see Sasuke as soon as he could. It had been way too long since they hung out."Ok. So, you gonna hang up now or just sulk?""Shut up, bastard." Naruto chuckled, feeling a bit better. Sasuke always knew how to lighten his mood. "I'll leave you too it then. See you later." Naruto beamed."Hn." Sasuke breathed, and they both hung up.Sasuke stood fully up, leaning his back against the bathroom door - Just staying like that for a bit longer, smiling to himself.He was so relaxed, and His mood was so much better. Itatchi had better not ruin it.He loved his brother, but when it came to business and the company, he knew Itatchi had his best interest at heart, but the way he went about dealing with things just... made Sasuke stressed and anxious.He just hoped he didn't have to deal with a lot today, and could excuse himself early enough to hang out with Naruto before the party.Sasuke and Itatchi sat outside in a black limo, in front of a place with red carpet lined stairs, and golden framed glass doors - what appeared like a restaurant?Sasuke's brows furrowed.He was definitely confused.Itatchi said they had business; he made no mention of them having dinner.In any case, it could be a business dinner.Sighing inwardly, he clicked his seat belt off and ran his fingers through his hair - implying to Itatchi that he was ready to go inside.He just wanted to get it over with, he was mentally and physically exhausted from the past week ,and just wanted to see his best friend."This is an important meeting, so be on your best behavior. No outbursts." Itatchi broke the silence as he fluidly offed his seat belt and reached for his briefcase."Outbursts? Tch, I'm not 12 Itatchi. I can handle myself just fine." Sasuke scoffed.He really disliked it when Itatchi would treat him like that. He might've been his older brother, but that didn't change the fact that Sasuke was a senior in high school, and could easily manage running half of the company on his own.He didn't need to be treated like a child. He felt it demeaning.Itatchi just eyed his brother and smiled. "Otouto," He placed a loving hand on Sasuke's head, ruffling his hair a bit.Sasuke frowned, but reveled in the contact. It still comforted him, ever since he was little."Just know, everything I'm doing is for you is for your future and for your happiness. I just want you to remember that.""I know." Sasuke sighed.He had always known this from his brother, and he loved him for it. It was just hard to handle the way Itatchi did things. But, life.He shrugged.They collected themselves, exiting the limo as the chauffeur opened the doors for them.The two walked out of the black limousine, up the red carpet lined stairs, and into the 5 star restaurant.Immediately entering, Sasuke noted the high ceilings with beautifully hanging yellow gold and diamond colored chandeliers.They were greeted by a worker and were immediately ushered to a table which already seemed to have occupants at it."Must be the business clients." Sasuke mentally noted, but furrowed his brows after noticing one of the occupants was a young woman who appeared to be a bit younger than him."Hn."The dinning area contained an intimate few tables with beautifully draped cream tablecloths.A cellist and harpist who happened to be located at the far end of where the brothers were currently located, flooded the small dinning area with quiet sounds of peaceful music.Warmth.A bright pink haired young woman, and an older, interesting haired man with a beaming smile sat at the table Sasuke and Itatchi were ushered to.Itatchi reached out his hand to shake the older man's, "It's good to finally meet you Mr. Haruno. This is my brother, whom I was telling you of, Sasuke." Itachi nodded his head towards his brother.Sasuke pulled his hand out of his pocket to shake the other man's hand.All the while, the pink haired girl seemed to never take her eyes off of Sasuke.He didn't miss the looks she gave him."So annoying." He mentally sighed, making a note to just agree with whatever Itatchi would say that evening, that way the night would go faster and he could escape."This is my daughter, Sakura!" Mr. Haruno exclaimed putting his hand on Sakura's right shoulder.Sasuke nodded blankly. He didn't understand why she was here for a business deal. It was so out of the ordinary - all of it was to be honest.What was Itatchi thinking? Sasuke turned his head, eyeing his brother questioningly. Itatchi just shrugged.Him and Itatchi went to take their seats on the opposite end of table from the other party - Sasuke in front of Sakura and Itatchi in front of Mr. Haruno."I took the liberty of ordering us some wine, red and white. 'Didn't know your preference." Mr. Haruno commented smiling at Itatchi."Either is fine, Mr. Haruno -""Kizashi. Call me Kizashi." He interrupted Itatchi, proudly."Hn." Itatchi smiled elegantly."From what I was telling you," Itatchi began, as their wine and a few glasses were brought and poured.Although Sasuke and Sakura were both underage, they were both very well accustomed to being around and indulging in alcohol at company parties. However, neither parent nor guardian much agreed with it, but it was sometimes how things worked.So in this circumstance, Itatchi and Kizashi opted to the contrary and allowed them some sparkling water."Sasuke is at the top of his classes. He's also very athletic. ""Hmm! I see." Kizashi shook his head enthusatically, seeming to be very happy about what he was hearing.Sasuke looked back and forth from Kizashi and Itatchi, feeling very strongly, that he was missing something...He was very confused as to why his brother randomly decided to talk about him during their dinner. Wasn't it a business arrangement?What did it have to do with Sasuke's academic accomplishments?Sasuke sipped his water slowly, listening intently when suddenly he felt a kick under the table.Looking up , he noticed the pink haired smiling. Her cheeks turned red as she gave him an attempted seductive wink.Sasuke rolled his eyes, internally cringing.So fucking annoying."He's also excelled tremendously in our company at such a young age. I'm very proud of him. He could easily run the northern branch at this point by himself, and ultimately take it over. We talked about it a few times, and he told me he could handle it, but I just want him to enjoy his years as a teenager as much as possible right now. He already has so much on his plate." Itatchi said after taking a swing of his alcohol, lovingly rubbing the back of Sasuke's neck.Sasuke just gave a welcoming nod. He felt happy when Itatchi would be warm towards him. He rarely got to spend a ton of time with his brother, and enjoyed moments like that one where he showed his happiness towards him, instead of pressuring him and making him anxious.Of course Itatchi never did those things on purpose, it's just kind of how things worked in Sasuke's brain."Yes, yes. That would be best." Kizashi smiled. "I can't say Sakura is very accomplished when it comes to knowing the ropes of our company,"Sasukra shifted in her seat, obviously a bit embarrassed at her father's statement."but she is to inherit it once she turns 20. That's why I thought this arrangement between her and Sasuke would greatly benefit both of us." Kizashi finished, rubbing his hands together seriously.Sasuke's head immediately snapped up. What the fuck was he hearing? He shot a look at Itatchi."I'm sorry, what arrangement exactly?" He knew this whole ordeal was a bit fishy. Itatchi was keeping something from him. What the fuck."I failed to mention, Otouto""Itatchi." Sasuke bit out."We are arranging for you and Sakura here, to be engaged." Itatchi met Sasuke's glare with a warm glance, "Our head of business researched a bit and came to the conclusion that an engagement of both heirs of two of the biggest finance companies in Konoha would ultimately result in sky rocketing of stocks. You both could be well off into retirement at age 30 or younger." Itatchi finished, searching Sasuke's face for something important he needed to confirm.Sasuke stared at Itatchi with a questioning, hurtful look. Anger building slowly but surely."Me. Marry her? HAHAHA" Sasuke threw his head back, grabbing his stomach, howling out laughter - much to Itatchi's surprise."Not. fucking. interested." Sasuke's face almost instantly went back to it's original stern blank features, as he began to rise from his seat, removing the napkin from his lap."You've pulled a lot of shit before Nisan, but this is crossing the fucking line. It's my life! Who gives a shit about whether I have enough money or not if in the end I'm not actually happy. I might as well just die for that matter, because that's not a life worth living. I don't care about money Itatchi, you should know me better than that." Sasuke spat out."I do know that very well about you, Otouto." Itatchi said calmly, resting the back of his hands fingers intertwined, underneath his chin"And what about Naruto?! Did you even once think about him when you decided to play games with my life!?" Sasuke added as he fluidly tossed his napkin on the table.Sakura and Kizashi sat mouths wide open, shocked at the outburst."And what does Naruto have to do with this, Sasuke?" Itatchi turned his head slightly sideways.Got it. He smirked. His brother was so clueless it was almost painful. He wished Sasuke could've figured these things out on his own. Itatchi sighed."You know exactly what I'm talking about!"Sasuke cleared the area, walking out of the dinning hall and completely storming out of the restaurant.He couldn't believe Itatchi would do such a shitty fucking thing. What the actual fuck.Sasuke was beyond livid, and honestly really hurt that his brother would take his life choices, and one as big as marriage so casually.It was his life to live, not Itatchi's.Sasuke would be the only person in charge of who or whoever he wanted to marry in the future, and it sure as hell wasn't that annoying pink haired.No way in hell.And he'd be damned if he married for fucking money, who would do that? Fucking shallow."What the fuck Itatchi." He whispered out, exasperated, rubbing his temples trying to calm himself down.He just needed to go home, right now. Later he would make sure Itatchi knew for a fact he wasn't going to go through with it, then he'd hang out later with Naruto at the party. It would be fine.It would be fine, he just needed to calm down.He pulled out his phone from the inside of his suit jacket pocket, checking the time.It was a lot later than he realized. He wasn't even almost ready to meet Naruto.He had to get home and showered and changed.Walking down the stairs of the restaurant, he hailed a taxi.Getting in, he felt his phone buzz , but ignored it.Itatchi could fucking wait, he needed to calm down some more before he did something he would regret. Sasuke wasn't even close to ready to talk to Itatchi.He just couldn't believe him.And what the fuck did he mean 'what about Naruto?'Naruto had everything to do with everything! What would his best friend think if he knew Sasuke was engaged?Sasuke began panicking.Rubbing his hands through his hair, he exhaled deeply.Resting his head on the back of the taxi seat, he closed his eyes. It was a habit of his when he felt overwhelmed.He'd explain everything to Naruto later tonight.He'd understand.He'd understand. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sasuke's POV  "I gotta go, Itatchi's pretty messed up tonight. But I'll call you later when everything dies down, okay?""Yeah."Naruto still looking dazed, but managed to turn towards Sasuke and givehim a small smile of reassurance that he wasn't mad. At least the tears had stopped.Sasuke hesitated to leave, smiling back but still noticing the space the new information had put between him and Naruto.He wanted to hug him or show some kind of apology about it all, but beforehe could say or do anything else, he got another call from Itatchi.Picking up, "Yeah, I'm coming..." He sighed opening the passenger door, and sliding out."Bye Naruto, I'll call you tonight."Naruto shook his head and waved as Sasuke left the car, slamming it softly behind as he ran the short distance from the gate to his front door -trying not to get too soaked by the rain.He reached his porch, noticing he door was already open - Itatchi waiting on the other end with stern features plastering his normally subtle face.Sasuke walked in, closing the door behind him, keeping his hands on the knob and resting his back and head against the door.He was so over that whole day. He couldn't deal.Exhaling deeply, Sasuke felt his anxiety reaching it's peak, and Itatchi wasn't making it any better.Why the fuck did he have to call him when he was in he middle of an important talk with Naruto?First he ruins his whole day, then he ruins his time with his best friend.Sasuke just couldn't deal with it right now. With any of the bullshit.Itatchi looked Sasuke over, sighing heavily."Come. Sit, little brother."Pushing himself off of the door,the pair walked over to the open kitchen, Sasuke lifting himself to sit on one of the stools at their long blue and white marble Island."Why'd you call me. You knew I was going out with Naruto tonight. What, was it your point to ruin that too?" Sasuke started, aggravated and not even trying to mask how angry he was with Itatchi.Not only that, but Itatchi called him like it was the end of the world and he'd die if Sasuke didn't make it in the house in time.And now, not to anyone's surprise, especially not Sasuke's, now that he was well and comfortable in the house, Itatchi seemed perfectly fine.Sighing heavily, Sasuke thought to himself, Just why the fuck was his brother being such a manipulative bastard today.It fucking pissed Sasuke off.Balling his left hand into a fist under the table, he tried to calm himself down enough to have a rational talk with Itatchi, and say what was needed without anger clouding his speech.Itachi walked over to the cupboard, grabbing two glasses and poured some ciroc in both. Walking over to the Island, he stood on the opposite side of Sasuke, making the Island the only distance between them.Handing Sasuke a glass, he began to drink from the other.Sasuke leaned his right forearm on the Island, putting his weight on his right side. "What's the occasion? You never like for me to drink." Sasuke asked tiredly, trying to ignore the fact that Itatchi had seemed to let all of Sasuke's previous questions go in one ear and out the other.He was really tired of being treated that way. It was starting to get old and Sasuke was on his last thread.Grabbing the drink from the counter, Sasuke poured back, downing half of it in one gulp. He wasn't complaining his brother gave him something, in fact he was glad, it was just what he needed. Sasuke was just... curious."Figured you could use it after today.""HA" Sasuke howled out a hearty - short laugh, "No shit." Throwing his head back, the raven downed the rest of his alcohol. Sighing heavily after, he rubbed the palms of his hands over his face."Of course you would understand the reason I'd need it, considering you're the reason." Sasuke smirked darkly. Adding, "So enlighten me Niisan, just what the fuck were you thinking today?! How could you do this to me?!" Sasuke's voice began to break down. He couldn't admit to himself how upset he was, but it poured out in his voice without warning."I was going to talk to you after our meeting, but you left. And when I got back you were gone..""Meeting? Meeting my ass you lying fuck. More like your little game with my life." Sasuke firmly placed his glass on the marble counter, beginning to get himself up from his seat.He was so past done. He had to hurry and talk to Naruto, he promised he would finish their talk that night."Sasuke, sit down. I'm not finished with you." Itatchi firmly sated.Sasuke eyed his brother, figuring he could spare to listen to what he had to say considering he was very eager to learn the reason Itatchi decided to play with his life. Besides, he had to let him know anyway that he wasn't going to through with the engagement.Of course."What." Sasuke spit out. Sitting back down, he turned to face his brother, looking him in the eyes, searching for every reason not to hate his beloved brother. Waiting for the right answer to give him an excuse to let it slide. Looking for the right words for it all to blow over."Well, after your little outburst tonight, Kizashi called me to see if everything was okay and if we were still going to go through with the engagement," Itachi stated, taking a swig of his alcohol."You told him no right?" Sasuke asked sincerely, walking towards his brother. "I will never marry her, Itatchi. You told him right?" Sasuke pleaded.Looking to his brother for the protection that he always gave him his whole life up until now. Searching to try and find it, to make sure that he was still the same brother he looked up to since he was little. The same brother that took care of him after their parents died, protected Sasuke from harm, from everything bad."You don't even know her.. It doesn't make sense that you would feel so strongly about not being with or even getting to know her at least... Unless of course, you already love someone?"Sasuke stared blankly at Itatchi but said nothing."What are you talking about?" Sasuke finally broke the long silence, honestly confused. His voice losing it's anger, flowing in instead was restlessness and pain. No more anger left.Just hurt."Besides," Itatchi ignored Sasuke's last comment, noting Sasuke's reaction. "my point is, I told him yes."Sasuke's face twisted in response, resembled the most pain you could ever witness in one human being.Innocence and ache.He couldn't believe his brother would do this to him. He hoped Itatchi would say or do something to reassure that he was still the same brother who kept him safe, but at this moment, he was like an entirely different person.He didn't know who this stranger was.Sasuke couldn't even say anything. He was blank, but everything he felt was written all over his face in the darkest ink.Itatchi shifted, sighing and continuing, "Afterwards, he said Sakura went out tonight and said she saw you but you turned away from her. Is this correct?""I don't have anything left to say to you." Sasuke said softly, Staring off into space.. His body was feeling heavy and his anxiety was in shambles, he could hardly stand properly. It was building up."You need to start treating her like your fiancé, Otouto. Whether you like it or not, you will be engaged to her. Even if you don't end up marrying her in the long run, you will stay engaged until three years.That's final.It will last until around the time when she will inherit her father's company, and you will inherit the northern branch of our family's company.""Money right?" Sasuke voice croaked.. He turned his head away from his brother, he was beyond disgusted. His eyes began to well up, unable to hold it in any longer. He pushed his body up slowly, starting towards his room. He needed to take his medicine before he had a panic attack on spot.Itatchi grabbed Sasuke's arm, attempting to finish the conversation."That's all you care about right? Because I thought you actually cared about me." Sasuke yanked his arm out of Itatchi's grip."And I'm sorry, at this point, I don't want anything do with this company or you." Sasuke placed his hand on the stairs rail with his back towards Itatchi."Sasuke this has more to do with you and your decisions, than it has to do with you being engaged or stocks rising. I'm trying to help you figure things out that you want to ignore. That you've been ignoring for years. It's time to grow up.""I don't know what you're talking about." Sasuke shifted, feeling a little heavy from the alcohol, considering he was a lightweight."Okay, keep lying to yourself. But Naruto isn't going to be there forever waiting for you to figure things out. So be engaged to Sakura. Then you'll realize it for yourself."Sasuke stood still, trying to understand what his brother was getting at. But he could barely concentrate at that point.Sighing, "It's getting late." Itatchi sat his glass down on the table eyeing his baby brother."What are you talking about? I don't understand what you're talking about." Sasuke began walking up the stairs slowly."Just accept the engagement. This way you'll understand things faster. Everything I do is for you Sasuke. I'm doing this because I do care about you. Not the other way around."I doubt that.Sasuke woke up with a pounding headache. Grabbing his head, he could barely stand the sunlight pouring into his room and pulled the comforter over his head.He began replaying the occurrences that happened the prior day.Sigh.How more fucked up could his life get at this point.Feeling around in his bed, Sasuke searched for his phone, not even remembering how he got to his room last night. All he remembered from after he got back home was the conversation he had with Itatchi."Ughhhhh." he moaned quitely.His brother made no sense last night. Whatexactly did he mean figure things out with Naruto?And Sasuke couldn't put two and two together concerning what him and Naruto had to do with him being forced to get engaged to some random annoying girl. ?Grabbing his head, he tried to brace himself - moving little by little.He needed to call Naruto asap and straighten things out, never having the chance to finish talking to Naruto about everything.He wanted to last night, but Sasuke honestly didn't even remembering going to bed.Shit.The pounding in his head began getting worse, he felt sick.Itatchi knocked softly before entering with a glass of water and a few pain killers. Walking over to the bed, he held slight uneasiness in his demeanor."Otouto... I have bad news." Sitting the water and pills on the bedside table, he took a seat at the edge of Sasuke's bed."What.." Sasuke mumbled underneath his comforter, head still aching."Well.. Naruto was in a car wreck last night, he's in the hospital.""WHAT!?" Sasuke immediately jerked up, shock written all over his face - immediately grabbing his head afterwards, regretting the sudden movement."Ahhhh fuck. Fuck, Itatchi, this is all my fault." Sasuke pleaded, shuffling his covers off and moving to get up."Don't pity yourself Otouto, you had nothing to do with it.""I did! Fuck, I have to go and see him." He attempted to get up but moaned in pain, cradling his head in his hands, trying to deal with the massive ache, he could barely move fast enough."You are in no condition to go anywhere right now, take these and I'll go and make sure everything is fine." Itatchi motioned toward the pills and water."No. I have to go." Sasuke's voice grew in panic, filling with choked back tears. "Ahh fuck." Managing to get up, Sasuke toke the pills and water in one gulp and went through his dresser to find something quick to pull on."Otouto, calm down. I'll go""So you can ruin that too? No thanks, I'm going .. ahhh." He tried to move as fast as he could through the pain and nausea.Throwing on some sweats and a hoodie, he took out his tooth brush and paste and walked towards the bathroom, pausing every no and then to cradle his head.That was the worst shape Itatchi had ever seen his brother. Sasuke was usually beyond composed, but in this moment he was so open and exposed, emotions flying everywhere, sniffling through constant tears falling down his face.It was a once in a lifetime sight. He only ever saw Sasuke that messed up last time Naruto ended up in the hospital, when they were kids.Of course.They were inseparable after all. Naruto would've reacted the same - even worse to be honest."Okay. Go and wash up a bit. I'll be in the car waiting for you." Itatchi left him to it and went out to the car.Meanwhile, Sasuke went into the bathroom, washed his face and brushed his teeth the fastest he could.Slipping on the nearest shoes he could find, Sasuke ran down the stairs despite his massive headache.Running out the door and into the car with his brother, Sasuke put on his seat belt, lifting his hoodie over his head.He leaned his head against the door, as Itatchi began to pull out.They arrived at the hospital in under 7 minutes. Sasuke wasting no time in getting out the car and running into the hospital before Itatchi could even put on the parking breaks.Itatchi sighed, watching his brother go. He didn't even close the car door behind him. "What a wreck." Itatchi smiled sadly."Only Naruto could make Sasuke lose himself in the best way."Sasuke reached the nurses office with Itatchi not too far behind."Naruto Uzumaki's room!" He blurted, out of breath."Yes, we have a Naruto Uzumaki here. Who are you?" A young nurse responded, not seeming to notice Sasuke's pained state.Sasuke thought frantically - quickly.They probably wouldn't let him in to see the idiot unless they were family.Saying the first thing that came to his tongue -"His brother! I'm his brother!" Sasuke panted, hair matted to his forehead from the misty dewy morning air, and his anxious perspiration."Okay wait one moment, alright?" The nurse said with a smile, picking up the phone, she said something brief to whoever was on the other line and hung up."I'm sorry Sir, we aren't able to let any visitors in, not even family, to see Mr. Uzumaki yet since the patient is still unconscious.""Unconscious?!" Sasuke dropped to his knees.His head was spinning out of control. This was all his fault.Naruto was really upset after they parted last night. If he hadn't left Naruto in that condition, none of this would've happened.Small sobs escaped his throat, as he cradled his head in his hands, unable to believe he hurt his Naruto like this.Itatchi reached him finally, grabbing his little brother firmly in his arms."It's not your fault. It's mine." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Naruto's POV Naruto awoke, gasping for his breath, darkness surrounding."Fuck. Not again," grabbing his temples with his left hand, the blonde slowly sat up leaning on his left elbow, remembering his current situation, constantly replaying in his head over and over, this place that only existed in his memories.A smile, a hand, a voice..His smile, his hand, his voice."Sasuke."It had to be at least 2 am at this point. This constantly had been happening ever since the nurse had told him of Sasuke's 'visit.'He still couldn't believe what was happening, he couldn't believe he was losing his place with Sasuke.It all was just too much to handle, too much all at one time.He grimaced."If I even had a place to begin with." Naruto sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes.Sitting up in his hospital bed, the blonde opened up the blinds at his bedside window to look out into the night sky.Those past few days all he could think about was Sasuke.Of fucking course. What else would he be thinking about, his grades?Memories of him and his best friend, his other half even, kept creeping up into his mind during the most unwanted times.Uzumaki laughed weakly.He didn't understand what was happening to him, why he was feeling this way,but he couldn't stop it to save his life. And even if he could stop it, he didn't want to.It was too good, it was too beautiful.He cringed even at the thought. What was happening to him...?Staying in that hospital for all those days gave him time to think and to really grasp what he was feeling and why.Why.A question we always ask at some of the hardest and happiest times of our lives.Why was he feeling that way?Naruto lie back down, making sure he lay right under the moon, so it could shine on him and give him peace. That's all he could hope for.So, what in fact, was he feeling?He knew he loved Sasuke since they were young, but he understood now that this wasn't just friendship love anymore. And he didn't know when it started,...maybe it had always been there but he just began to realize it?He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts out. Because even if it had always been there it didn't matter did it.It didn't matter now.Because it was too late.Too fucking late."Fuck. why."The blonde hissed at the moon, salt water burning his eyes.He was angry.It didn't matter if it had always been there because fuck did it hurt now.Angry with himself, with his feelings, with Sasuke.- To understand that you love someone, and right when you understand these feelings, the person you love gets taken away."Why does life have to be like that. Why do we have to suffer in this world."A warm tear left Naruto's eye to stain his cold cheek.He needed sleep. So he would sleep and hope for a better tomorrow.The sun shone brightly through and into hospital room #7, pulling light into every corner.-Almost a mirror image of what Naruto was to other people.At his bedside tying his shoes, the blonde waited to be brought his discharge papers.Today was finally the day he could get out the damned hospital. Naruto had shot Jiraya a text earlier that morning seeing if he was in town to come and pick him up from the hospital.Luckily the old perve had taken a break from his 'research' to come and see Naruto after he heard what happened. Jiraya would have rushed to get there sooner, but he couldn't catch a flight.*BzzzUzumaki lifted up from tying his black and red tennis that Sasuke had forced him to get a few months ago, since Naruto's old orange ones started falling apart."Ahhhh.." Naruto closed his eyes at the memory.Even memories hurt at this point.Reaching into his back pocket, the blonde pulled out his phone, noting a text from Jiraya stating he was at the hospital and would be up to his floor in a few minutes.Returning the phone to his pocket, the same spunky nurse from last, peaked her head in to tell him he was free to leave."Fina-fucking-lly."He smiled at her, trying to erase everything he felt from showing on his face.She didn't seem to notice anything was wrong, his million dollar smile seeming to work wonders to fake his happiness as usual, and handed him some hospital papers, "There you go Mr. Uzumaki," she smiled, "And be more careful next time. We sure don't want anything really bad to happen to you. You were really lucky this time sprout!" She chuckled, turning to leave the room."Well maybe I do want something bad to happen to me." Naruto thought, immediately putting his hands up to his mouth in shock.He didn't understand where all those dark thoughts were coming from... they just started pouring out of him like black tar, erasing every sunlight from every corner inside him. It was so unlike him."Hey Blondie, you gonna stand there all day or are we leaving?" Jiraya smiled, standing at the opening of the door, leaning against the frame."Pervy Sage!" Naruto smiled his famous mega-watt smile, big and bright enough to blind any onlooker, walking swiftly up to Jiraya he grabbed the older guy into a bear hug.He was genuinely so happy to see his mentor after so long. It had been such a rough week, he was just so glad Jiraya was there. Glad that someone was there who could be on his side.A hug. A much needed one."What's with all the touchy-feely stuff bratt, you're not going soft on me after your little brush with death, are you?" Jiraya joked, hugging the blonde back and letting go."Long week," Naruto sighed smiling weakly as he let go, adding "And it wasn't a brush with death you old perve, it was just a car wreck.""Well you look like you've been through hell and back... Noah fence." Jiraya put his hands up in a joking manner. The older man wrapped his right arm around Naruto's shoulders as they began to walk down the hall to the elevators."Really? The nurse said I looked fine." Naruto's eyes windened as he put his hands up to his face in a way to examine himself.Jiraya noticed the uncharacteristic display... The kid seemed dazed over.. He did know he was joking, right?"No you look perfectly fine actually, you just look stressed as hell. How long has it been since you've been laid? You need to stop stressing so much. You're young kid. Live a little!" Jiraya slapped Naruto on the back."Jesus Christ, Perve I'm not like you." Naruto stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders. "Besides, if by some chance do I look like I'm stressing, that's sure as hell not why." Darkness washed over the last few words without warning. The blonde breathed out, he hoped the old perve didn't notice." Well kid, if it's the old jeep you're stressing about, we can get you a new one. No need to pop a vessel over something like that." The pair entered the elevator, Jiraya pressing the ground floor as Naruto leaned against the wall, hands on the rail.He eyes glazed over for a split second imagining him and Sasuke in the elevator, pressed up agai-"It's not that. I actually haven't even thought about the car. Ughhhh." Naruto rubbed the back of his head out of frustration.It hadn't crossed his mind once that his car was actually wrecked. And now that he thought about it, he also had a hospital bill he had to pay. His week just couldn't get anymore worse."Don't test me Jashin." He whispered under his breath, glancing up to the ceiling hoping he didn't just jinx himself.Jiraya laughed, scratching his face, realizing he just made things worse."Like I said Kiddo, we'll sort through all of that together, don't stress over it. I'll handle it.""Okay." The blonde breathed.Naruto usually wouldn't accept help from Jiraya without himself actually doing something to earn the help. Like helping edit or helping out with whatever Jiraya needed. So, the perve picked up on the the change in Naruto's demeanor, like he just agreed without question.He knew Naruto wasn't himself, he didn't even seem like he knew what the conversation they were having was about, - like he was somewhere else."Okay... So, if that was never the problem, then what is the problem?" Jiraya crossed his arms, furrowing his brows.Their elevator stopped - the pair walking out towards the hospital exit doors.Adding "And where's your little boyfriend by the way? I haven't seen him once since I got here – you two are usually attached at the hip." Jiraya snickered."Well... he's definitely not my boyfriend." Naruto bit his lip out of hurtful frustration."What?""Nothing." Naruto snapped up, " I don't want to talk about it." He flipped his hoodie over his head and zipped it up, sticking his hands in his pockets.He still couldn't believe Sasuke hadn't reached out to him since the accident. And the fact that he called Naruto his brother. Like... ? What the fuck.Uzumaki breathed slowly, trying to control himself. Trying to stay calm.Just...what? a day and some change since Sasuke's engagement, and it already seemed like his priorities had changed.He already was showing how important Naruto was to him, and apparently he wasn't that important.Even though Naruto could've died in that accident, Sasuke couldn't fucking care less. Because now he was engaged and in love or some shit.Finger nails dug into his palms, Naruto's breathing hiked. He needed to sit down and control his thoughts before things got worse.They reached the perve's messed up volkswagon, filled with books and literature in the back.They climbed in, Jiraya turned on the engine before turning to face Naruto who had buckled his seat belt and rested his head against the car door."Kiddo, I don't know what's going on with you, but I haven't seen you like this in years. Whatever it is you can always talk to me about it, or if you don't want to talk to me, you have Sasuke, talk to him."Naruto tightened his jaw, clenching his fists inside his pockets. Fighting the urge to fucking punch himself.Wait.. What?Why the fuck did he keep thinking like that?He cleared his throat. "It's nothing, honestly. I'm just a little banged up and tired from the wreck. I'll be fine in a day or two." Focusing on whatever he could to lighten his thoughts, the blonde looked out the passenger window.The older man took a hard long look at his 'grandson' and shrugged "...If you say so kid." Jiraya started backing out and onto the street. Naruto had always been the type to get through things on his own.He was a strong kid, Jiraya thought to himself.If only he knew...He wasn't all that strong.They sat in silence for a little until Jiraya turned on the radio. He didn't want to push Naruto so much and figured he really did need some rest.Attempting to level his breathing and think of other things, Naruto bit his inner cheek and just looked out the window. He wasn't usually like that, he rarely ever cried about anything.. but... He was just so hurt.The pair drove a little while...Naruto's phone went off in his pocket.Pulling it out, he almost choked at the name the text was from.Sasuke.The blonde's heart began to beat fast and flutter.He was so...anxious?It was insane how just this one person could change Naruto's mood almost instantly.…...but... he didn't want to get his hopes up if it was only going to make him feel worse. He didn't know what the text could've said... but he couldn't help the feeling he got that Sasuke actually reached out to him.That meant he was thinking about him..Naruto smiled.Opening the text with fingers crossed on his left hand in his jacket pocket, he silently prayed to whoever was watching him."Dobe... I know you're probably mad at me that I wasn't really there for you with all of this. But I can explain everything. Come over my place today, I heared you got out. Itachi's out of town for the next few days. Let me make it up to you."Well FUCK.Naruto started grinning ear to ear.He didn't know why he let his bad thoughts get the best of him. Sasuke was his.No matter what, Sasuke was Naruto's. Right?Maybe he wouldn't even go through with the engagement. Maybe he already broke it off?The Uzumaki got excited. He had hope.He would fight for what belonged to him.Taking down his hoodie, the blonde still grinning, turned to Jiraya, "Hey can you drop me off at Sasuke's.""Sure thing kiddo." Jiraya turned to Naruto and shot him a smile and a wink.Now that's the Naruto he knew. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Naruto's POV "Thanks pervy sage."Naruto shot Jiraya a smile as he quickly unbuckled his seat belt and hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Jiraya smiled back, shaking his head in amusement. "Some things never change." Arm behind the passenger seat, he looked out the rear – backing out. Racing over the dark black asphalt - a foot hitting the pavement sparked a fire within the blonde. With every step, with every landing, a memory of him and Sasuke fuzzed over his mind. Everything happened in slow motion, with a golden sun above a golden wide - grinned boy. Running to see the love of his life. The driveway was gated and long with a roundabout containing a huge pot of plants in the center. The Uzumaki almost could feel his legs giving way from being so unexcersied over the last week, but he didn't care. Reaching the front door that had already been thrown open, the blond's eye brows raised high, grin still plastered on his face as he saw Sasuke waiting on the other side of the door , smiling at the sight of Naruto running towards him. He was waiting for him... Waiting for him to get there. Something inside Naruto twisted painfullu Finally getting inside, inside of the house – inside of Sasuke's waiting arms. The force of Naruto running so enthusiastically was so much that the pair collapsed entwined, on the ground, on impact. Laughing, Sasuke just lay there watching Naruto. He reached out to put his hands in Naruto's hair, while Naruto still lay there with his arms around Sasuke, smiling. The pair lay on their sides, in a fog of happiness elixir. Naruto shifted over more close, getting up on his forearm so he could look down at Sasuke in the eyes as the raven lay staring up at the dobe. "Hey." Naruto smiled. "Hey." Sasuke Chuckled. "Happy much?" "Never. Especially not to see you." Naruto joked, pushing up from his place on the ground – he sat up, grin never fading. God he felt light headed just realizing what had happened. He was getting that feeling in the pit of his stomach, but much stronger now.. He could almost pass out at how strong his feelings were coming on for this raven haired bastard. Fuck why was this happening. "Ughhh" The blonde breathed, grunting almost silently. "Come on," Sasuke stood up from his place on the floor, and started leading the way to his bedroom. "let's go upstairs." Naruto started getting up, thoughts flooding his head of the fact that he was going up to Sasuke's bedroom, and it was only the two of them in the house... Alone. "Ugh," Naruto shook his head, trying to expel the thoughts, walking up behind Sasuke's lead. But as he managed to erase the thoughts, he glanced up watching the figure of his best friend - Sasuke looking back at him smiling a very faint, almost unnoticeable smile, and the blonde was almost brought to tears. He loved him so bad it hurt. He was in love with Sasuke. There was no question, there was nothing to wonder about anymore. Sasuke was beautiful and perfect. And the only person who ever thought of him or did anything for him. He had hope inside of his bright blue eyes, that Sasuke wouldn't stay engaged. Sasuke belonged to Naruto, and Naruto would make sure it stayed that way. They'd been through far too much for some random person to enter into their lives and ruin that. Ruin everything. They walked in comfortable silence up to Sasuke's room, the palms of Naruto's hands getting sweatier, his breath growing heavier. He was so nervous and excited. Just damn. The pair entered into Sasuke's room. It was just how Naruto had remembered it since when they were kids. He hadn't went over Sasuke's house in a while only because of Itachi's outbursts sometimes, and honestly because the two of them were busy most of the time with school and work - he hadn't made it out to come over. Which of course he regretted. He wished he could've spent all the time he could with Sasuke. Every day if he could... The blonde stood by the door just taking it all in. The memories of them spending time together , playing games when they were kids, looking out at the stars and falling asleep together in that same room. In that same bed. He could almost punch himself in the face, reprimanding himself on why the hell he had just realized his feelings. Sigh "No point in getting worked up over it now." Naruto breathed as he watched Sasuke who was at the window. "We have the rest of our lives... hopefully." He smiled, hands in his pockets. "Hey dobe, are you just gonna stand there all day or are you gonna come over here with me?" Sasuke stood with his back towards the blonde, looking out his large sliding glass windows, the sun beaming on him as it began to set. Walking over slowly towards his best friend, The blonde soaked in the beautiful sight of him. The beautiful sight of the golden sun over the city, engulfing Sasuke. And not even the sun could hold a finger to Sasuke's perfection. Naruto reached Sasuke, instead of looking out the window, he just looked at his raven. Sasuke slowly turned his head to meet Naruto's eyes. They smiled. Sasuke retracted, face slowly went blank, head turned to face the outside scenery. "Naruto...Listen.." Sasuke's eyes softened. "I'm sorry about everything... I'm sorry you got into an accident... I'm sorry, I got engaged and didn't tell you. I'm sorry I'm a terrible best friend. I know it's my fault... It's all my fault, and I should have talked to you first, I shouldn't have let Itatchi run the entire situation, and run my life. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-" The usual short worded Sasuke blurted it all out so fast, his face tinged red, showing emotions no one else had ever seen of the raven - face softened. Remorse written all over it, covering every angle, in waves. He stood with his head looking out the window as the sun began to set on them, lowering down. "Look at me Sas," Naruto moved closer to his best friend, grabbing his arm, forcing him to look him in the eye. They met each other's gaze. "It's fine. I'm fine. Don't make a big deal of it. It's not your fault." Naruto's thoughts quickly turned to the memory of him driving in the rain, tears down his face, chest aching, out of breath - "I just-" "I said it's not your fault." Naruto pulled Sasuke's arm towards him, Sasuke's feet stumbling over the furry white carpet towards Naruto who grabbed him into a tight hug. He hugged Sasuke. Stopping him from blaming himself. Stopping him from falling back into his old habits. Just to stop him at all, from thinking even. "Just breathe." Sasuke rested his chin on the blonde's shoulder, relaxing his muscles and getting comfortable – he breathed , closing his eyes. Naruto didn't really lie. He never blamed Sasuke for what happened. If anything, Naruto felt like he over reacted based off of shock and undealt with feelings. It was his fault for not knowing what it was he was feeling and letting his emotions explode everywhere. It was his own fault, not Sasuke's. Now that he knew what the fuck he was dealing with, he made a mental promise to himself to deal with it the best he could. Whatever the fuck that was. The pair broke apart. Sasuke chuckled, a soft smile crossing his lips. "Hmph. Dobe." "Teme." Naruto retracted. They smiled. That evening, they did everything. Ordered pizza, played truth or dare – a game which ended in Sasuke having baby powder in his hair. Don't ask. They, played board games, prank called people (Naruto's idea) (and Sasuke who just laughed weakly as the blonde had the time of his laugh pretending to be 'James bond' and God knows whatever else he was saying over those prank calls). The two, battled to the death for hours and hours on Halo and ended up laying on the furry carpet listening to a playlist Naruto had been meaning to send Sasuke before everything had happened. One ear bud and each of the boy's ears, laying on their backs just listening to the music. And most importantly, they talked. And laughed. Naruto had missed it so fucking much. It had been far too long since they spent so much time together at one instance. It was almost sickening, how good it felt now. Sasuke stretched, getting up from his place on the floor to close his dark red sun had gone down a long while ago, but he had just noticed. Glancing at his night stand watch, "It's getting pretty late... Naruto... Did you want to stay?" Naruto choked on his spit just hearing those words. Twisting his body, he coughed, putting his hand up to his mouth trying to compose himself. He lay on his stomach facing the raven. "Y- Yeah. Yeah I'll stay... Ahem.. I'll be right back." Excusing himself, Naruto quickly swift walked to the bedroom's bathroom to clear his thoughts. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fucktiy fuck. He paced back and forth, holding his head in his hands. On one end he was beyond happy. Like happy couldn't even describe what he felt in this moment. And just damn - the day they had. And now... and now he was going to stay over? Naruto turned on the faucet, cold water pouring out tip taping on the stainless steel stopper in the faucet bowl. The sound soothed his thoughts a little. Putting his hands under the cold water, the blonde splashed some over his face. It was going to be okay. It was going to be more than fucking okay, actually. It was going to fucking perfect. Fucking fantastic. If you would've told the blonde after a hell of a week, after finding out the person you've been in love with since God knows when it started, was getting engaged and after ending up in the hospital, if you would've told him after all of that ,that he would've had one of the best days in his life with the same person, and now... They hadn't slept together since they were kids.. Naruto started freaking. "No... not slept together." He tried to fix his thoughts to become something more of what Jashin would approve. "Like slept in the same bed... Heh." Naruto tried to shake his thoughts. He couldn't help but feel an ache in his gut at the knowledge him and his raven would be so close.. all night. Fuck. All fucking night. Composing himself, or at least attempting to, the blonde wiped his face off with one of the bathroom towels and fixed his hair up a little. He could do this. Walking out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom which was connected to it, Naruto noted the lights were dimmed almost - completely off. The only light coming from a dim lamp that rested on top of the dresser. The blonde eased into the room... Noticing Sasuke on the opposite side of the bed, only the mattress in between them , back turned towards Naruto. The raven slowly began pulling up his dark-wash t-shirt. Naruto's swallowed – hard. Heart sank. What must've lasted a second, seemed like minutes to the blonde. He froze as he saw the pale slim back being uncovered. Fuck. "Hey." He slowly walked closer to the bed, not even attempting to control his thoughts. He basically was at 100 now, and there was no getting down from this. It was now or never. He was going to confess his feelings before he started acting on impulse, and did something he couldn't take back. "Oi" Sasuke turned around, shirt in one hand. Wearing only his boxer briefs. Naruto shouldn't have been surprised. He knew Sasuke didn't wear much to bed. It just... Caught him off guard. ? The blond stood still, eyes half mast. Lips slightly apart, eyes gazing into his raven's eyes, until they betrayed him and started moving south. He ate up the damn sight of him, letting his eyes wander on every beautiful part of Sasuke. Fuck, he was so beautiful, Naruto was almost shaking at this point. God, how did this happen. He felt so guilty. He didn't even think once about talking to Sasuke earlier. They'd been having too much fun, it didn't even cross his mind to bring up how he was feeling recently. "You gonna just stand there Dobe," Sasuke folded his shirt placing it in his bedside drawer along with the pants he wore earlier, "or are you gonna get in and lay down?" Sasuke smirked, climbing in bed. "Y-yeah. Righhhht.. Heh." Naruto laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck, he grabbed the two ends of his shirt , lifting it over his head. Sasuke quirked a brow, noting his best friend's off body language and hesitency. "Why do you look nervous, Naruto?" Sasuke's voice came out softer than Naruto would have liked, almost like a pur. It was doing all types of things to his psyche. "Huh?" Naruto almost stumbled on his own feet, trying to break himself out of his racing thoughts. Not noticing the obsidian eyes gazing all over his tanned toned physic, the blonde dropped his shirt on the floor and pulled the comforter back on his side of the bed exposing, the under-sheet and some of Sasuke's right thigh. The raven shifted his legs wider apart... Coming out a bit raspy, Sasuke breathed, "I said, why do you look Nervous, idiot. ? It's not like we're about to fuck or anything." Naruto choked. Jesus fucking Christ. Two can play that game, bastard. The blonde laughed. "We're not? Are you sure about that?" Smirking, Naruto made use of his right hand and slowly , very slowly unbuttoned his his pants. And slowly, very slowly, began pulling them off. The pair laughed. "Idiot." Sasuke smiled and laid on his back with a hand behind his head. Naruto climbed into bed. Much less nervous, just really fucking comfortable, and at fucking peace to be honest. He forgot how good it felt to be with Sasuke – to sleep in the same bed. In the same - They just laid there for a bit in silence, before they both turned towards each other, only a breath away. Naruto could feel the warm puffs of air coming from Sasuke's slim nose. They looked into each other's eyes. "I'm sorry about everything." Sasuke broke the silence, adding "You're my favorite person, Naruto." "I know." Naruto grinned. He was on top of the world. "You're my favorite too, Sasuke." I promise you that, Uzumaki thought to himself. Closing their eyes for what seemed a minute. Slow steady breaths of two - heat of the comforter blankets on them. Heat of each other. "I love you Sasuke. I love you so much it fucking hurts." Naruto whispered. No response. One second. Two. Three - The blonde freaked out, opening his eyes only to find the raven, eyes closed, evened breathing. He was sleep. Well fuck. Naruto just laughed to himself. It was okay. He'd just tell him tomorrow, how he felt. He was so comfortable in that moment, he felt like all his troubles didn't exist. Turning on his back, the blonde felt the pull of sleep and just let it take it's course. Dream sequence Coming out a bit raspy, Sasuke breathed, "I said, why do you look Nervous, idiot. ? It's not like we're about to fuck or anything." The blonde laughed. "We're not? Are you sure about that?" Smirking, The blonde made use of his right hand and slowly , very slowly unbuttoned his his pants. And slowly, very slowly, began pulling them off. Climbing in bed, he reached the raven. Massaging his hands softly over the side of the raven's neck, hitting a soft spot at Sasuke's neck – the Uchiha letting out a choked groan. Naruto eyes rolled back in his head at the sound. Fucking bliss. Leaning down , he waited for a response - a nod of approval had their lips meeting. Pink full lips moved with pale ones, Sasuke sucking and bitting Naruto's bottom lip, - the blonde moaned sofly. Picking up the movement of his lips, he almost couldn't breathe. Neither of them could. Licking Sasuke's, he begged for entrance. Sasuke gladly opened his mouth a little as their breaths hiked. Tongues searching each other's, and feeling around the new territory. Naruto felt the heat of a thousand suns. Moving around the blond shifted his body to be smack in between Sasuke's legs- the pair moaned at the new closer contact. The only thing separating them being their light cotton undergarments. The kissing turned from searching, to needing, as rough lips met with a pale neck. Sasuke in response rocked his hips up begging for the contact. "Fuck Sasuke!" Naruto moaned as he began rocking harder, meeting Sasuke's movements, until their movements became like a song. "Ughnnnh Naruto. Fuck. I'm close-" Naruto grabbed one hand to the head board, head buried deep in the crook of Sasuke's shoulder and neck as he rocked hard. He licked, he tasted the pale neck. A tan hand held onto the head board for dear life, losing all it's color, a tan neck thrown back in ecstasy, a gasp. "AHHHH" Reality Naruto couldn't tell what was real from the dream at this point. Drenched in sweat, he felt a coil in his stomach. He was going to - "Aghhnnnnnnn Sasuke! Fuuckk" Naruto's eyes shot open, as his nails dug into the bed sheets, eyes rolled back into his skull, back arched, mouth open to silently scream out the rest of one of the best orgasms he had ever had. "Uhhhhhhhh" Shaking his head, he bucked up almost on instinct riding out the rest of the orgasm. Calming down, releasing his hands from their death grip, heavy breathing, only to scan his eyes over the ceiling to notice from his peripheral, obsidian eyes full of something he couldn't place glaring above him. A warm hand on his chest. "N- Naruto?" A/N: Cliffhanger-no-Justsu! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Naruto's Pov Naruto couldn't tell what was real from the dream at this point.Drenched in sweat, he felt a coil in his stomach. He was going to -"Aghhnnnnnnn Sasuke! Fuuckk" Naruto's eyes shot open, as his nails dug into the bed sheets, eyes rolled back into his skull, back arched, mouth open to silently scream out the rest of one of the best orgasms he had ever had."Uhhhhhhhh" Shaking his head, he bucked up almost on instinct riding out the rest of the orgasm.Calming down, releasing his hands from their death grip, heavy breathing, only to scan his eyes over the ceiling to notice from his peripheral, obsidian eyes full of something he couldn't place glaring above him.A warm hand on his chest."N- Naruto?"..."Oh shit" Naruto mentally threw himself off of a cliff. What the fuck just happened? Oh shit Ohshitohshitohshit He still couldn't mentally grasp what was going on, still coming down slightly from the high. All he knew was : he fucked up."Sas - Sasuke?" Slowly turning his head, the Uzumaki searched to face Sasuke.Sasuke looked back, face stern yet soft at the same time.Black eyes filled with... Lust? Or?"Yeah, Naruto..." His voice came out a bit rusty, like he was holding something back.Naruto noted Sasuke's hand still placed palm on his bare chest. The warmth of just his one hand heating up the blonde's entire body.The amount of pleasure he was feeling just being touched like this from Sasuke.. Sasuke had never touched him like this before...And then his hand started to move.Sasuke rubbed his hand softly up and down Naruto's chest. "...re you with me Naruto?"The blonde must've spaced out or something.The raven didn't stop his movements even though Naruto was concentrated so hard on him at that moment.Throwing his head back against the pillow, "Fuck Sasuke, if you keep touching me like that I might just come again." Naruto choked out through hollow, evened breaths, not even trying to make a joke out of it. He was fucking serious."AHAHAHAHA." Throwing his head back, Sasuke howled out in laughter.The blonde weakly smiled, breathing.Sasuke hadn't laughed like that in a while. It was nice, so beautiful, so perfect.So wide and bright and shinning. Like the whole world was him and he was the whole world.His laughter calmed, and he got down from his elbow and scooted closer to Naruto, placing his face almost face down in the pillow/ the crook of Naruto's neck and shoulder, still chuckling.Naruto stilled. Trying to control his thoughts.He couldn't concentrate. Willing his body not to fail him again."Naruto..." Sasuke breathed deeply before he added "Is this the first time... Has that ever happened before?"Furrowing his brows, the blonde answered, "Definitely the first Sas."They sat in a welcoming silence. Any other person would've been a hell-of-embarrassed and scared about what the reaction would be, but Naruto knew Sasuke better than that.He wasn't scared so much that Sasuke would be weird about it... Well... Sasuke was being weird, but not in a negative way.What Naruto was scared about was about finally letting Sasuke know his feelings, about what would happen if Sasuke never felt the same. And It hurt like hell just thinking about it, but he couldn't rest like this anymore. He had to get it out, it was only fair to himself and to Sasuke.They never kept secrets.He knew Sasuke would understand why he didn't tell him right away, but that didn't make it right to keep holding it in like he was.Closing his eyes just to rest a little, the blonde let out a hollow chuckle.Fuck, what an orgasm. What the fuck and how the fuck did that even happen so good?And fuck, Sasuke.The man who hated physical contact and showing emotion was practically cuddling him. Hand still on Naruto's chest, face in the small of Naruto's neck and shoulder. Breathing.Naruto could literally feel the puffs of air from his breathing, hitting his skin like the most beautiful acid. It burned because it wasn't his yet, but it was perfect because even if it didn't belong to him yet, it was belonging to the one he looked for most out of anyone else in the world.The only one he looked at.Lifting his right arm, Uzumaki placed his palm on top of Sasuke's hand, entwined his fingers with his love's.He smiled.What did he do to deserve this."I've never.." Sasuke broke, "Ive never heard that from you before... As much as we've been together, that's never happened before?""Never... I mean, not like this... This was -""Amazing?""Heh,,, yeah..." Naruto inwardly scratched his head out of casual embarrassment."Yeah, I could tell by the way you screamed my name."They laughed."Shut up teme.""Have you ever dreamt about me before? Before this?" Sasuke added."Always.. Just not like this... Is it weird for you? I'm sorry if-""It's not weird.""Okay.." Naruto felt a weight lift off his shoulders.. he smiled weakly."I'm actually glad... 'Don't know how I would've felt if I heard someone else's name on your lips when you-""I'm sorry, W-Whhhat...?" Naruto almost broke his neck as fast as he turned his head to come to terms with whatever the fuck Sasuke was saying.And what actually the fuck was coming out of his beautiful fucking mouth.That dream had fucked him up, he was thinking all types of things he shouldn't have.Thinking of doing all types of things he shouldn't. He hoped Sasuke would back off a little, as odd as that sounded, so he could control himself."I've dreamt about you too, Naruto." The raven exhaled deeply, as if all his stress was leaving him.Naruto could even tell, he was less tense, more relaxed – and that was such a oddity for the Uchiha who rarely gave himself time to be vulnerable and relaxed. He was always stressed out about something, or worried about not being the best or good enough compared to his brother."What do you dream?""What haven't I dreamt?"Naruto snorted, mentally agreeing."Naruto... Do you like.. masturbate?""Sasuke! What the fuck?" the blonde burst out in laughter. Eyes widened in shock he didn't know whether he should laugh or?Calming down, "Well," He shifted his position in the bed, "I think you would know already if I did.""Well yeah, it's just... We've never talked about this kind of stuff before.""Probably because it's never happened before.""You have a point there." Sasuke pointed his index finger, comically nodding in agreement, a small almost invisible smile creasing his lips."It hasnt ever happened before right? With you either right?""Masturbated? I've never felt a desire for it until now."Naruto choked.Coughing, he tried to compose himself."Why now?" The blonde tried to pre-calculate all the possibilities in his mind before -Sasuke shifted from his place and positioned himself to be leaning on his elbow, right hand cradling his head.Looking Naruto dead in the eyes, "The way you looked when you-""When. I?" Naruto couldn't believe what was happening. Did he actually make Sasuke feel a certain way?Whatever way he felt, the blonde was unsure, but dying to know.Sasuke laughed. "Yeah.. When you came...I – I've never seen you like that before... You looked like..." Searching for words, the raven furrowed his brows, "It was a beautiful side of you, ethereal. It made me feel something I've never felt before. Not this strongly before.""Are you?""I think so..."The unasked question hung in the air, becoming answered through Naruto and Sasuke's regular familiarity."I've never felt like I wanted to do anything before. I felt enough pleasure just being with you." Pulling his free arm up, he put his fingers in Naruto's hair – playing with it."Me too Sasuke. You were always enough for me.""Yeah... but just imagine.. I've been thinking... Itachi said something to me, and I've been thinking a lot. Do you feel like we're enough for each other? I feel like we've always been enough for each other.""Always.""Of course, it's always been like this, so we've never had to say much about it.. Like to speak about it. It was always just there, right?""Right."Naruto didn't know where Sasuke was going with this, but he didn't want him to stop."We've always felt this pleasure just by being together," Sasuke lay back down onto his own pillow, looking up at the ceiling "So what would it be like if we did it together...?"Naruto choked, eyes widened, he almost gasped at what Sasuke was saying.Sasuke raised his eyebrows at the gasp and chucked one hollow laugh.".. I just mean, dobe, if we're already whole now, what would it be like if we you know... Did everything together."Naruto was kind of speechless... He honestly ran a blank.He understood everything Sasuke was feeling because that's exactly how he felt.But what he didn't understand was, where was all this coming from?And what did Itachi say to Sasuke to have him coming so far out of his skin all in one night?"Sasuke... I just need you to know, I'll never be like everyone else. I don't want anything from you. I just want you. I love you." The blonde took glazed into Sasuke's eyes, filled with so much love for the man before him. He moved his arm for it to be resting lightly on Sasuke's waist."I love you too Naruto. I know you don't, want anything.." Sasuke sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, lost in an internal struggle.And Naruto could feel it. Just let it out. Tell me what's going on inside. "No, Sasuke you don't understand. I love you so much it hurts sometimes." Naruto almost choked out, unable to control what he was feeling anymore."It hurts you?" Sasuke turned his head, eye brows furrowed."Sasuke …...I've been meaning to tell you something. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner, it was just... I just need to talk to you..." The blonde pushed himself up and rested on his elbows, head hanging back loosely between his shoulder blades.Sasuke snorted, "We can talk. Sure.. But, you should probably wash off first dobe." The raven grabbed his pillow from under his head and threw it at the Uzumaki.Naruto just laughed and stuck out his tongue."Go shower, you're gross. Then, we talk.""Rigghttttt." Naruto snickered, mentally slapped himself. He had almost forgot he needed to clean himself off.Getting up from his place in the bed , the blonde casually walked towards the bathroom, going in and closing the door behind him.Not noticing the dark eyes glancing over his person, an unreadable glance. Glassed over eyes.…...He couldn't believe what the fuck just happened.For the day to start of so shitty thinking Sasuke didn't give a shit about him anymore, to him saying stuff like that? Doing stuff like that?Blowing out a held in breath of air, Naruto pressed his back against the wall.This was one of the many times Sasuke did reciprocate.Pulling off his boxers, the blonde pulled an extra towel and wash cloth out from the bottom of the sink. Turning on the shower he stepped in and just stood underneath the warmish hot water, letting it sooth him. Hard drop after drop falling on his skin relieving his stress.But all he could think about was his day."Sasuke."That whole day just gave him hope that him and Sasuke could actually be together – hope that Sasuke actually would end up feeling the same way Naruto did.He smiled.He was so speechless, so happy and so light hearted in that moment. It didn't matter what he was feeling, just one glance or smile or word Sasuke would say to him and it would just turn his mood upside down. It was almost scary the amount of power the raven held over the Uzumaki.Hurriedly washing his previous dream off of him, Naruto got out of the shower. He didn't want to waste any time.It was now or never.He would tell Sasuke what he'd been holding in since forever.It was time.Drying off, Uzumaki wrapped the towel around his waist and shagged his fingers through his wet hair, walking out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that happened to be empty?Shrugging his shoulders, Naruto walked over to the dresser to rummage through some of Sasuke's stuff, grabbing some clothes to put on.… Sliding into a pair of grey and black fitted sweats with stretch elastic at the bottom, and a black fitted tee,Naruto stilled.Was that Sasuke outside the door?He could vaguely hear Sasuke and... Itachi?What was Itachi doing back? He wasn't supposed to be back for some days."Hmm..."Creeping over to the bedroom door, the blonde stood arms crossed , back pressed against the nearing wall and listened.Whenever it came to Itachi, Sasuke was bound to get some kind of upset, and Naruto needed to know if this was a situation where he needed to middle in or not - If that the conversation they were having was fine, and he didn't need to get Sasuke out."... It's only a matter of time before he finds out. I can't believe you haven't told him yet." Itachi spoke lightly, as if he was tired and nonchalant. "It's not that big of deal...""You never keep things from Naruto, so why are you keeping this? Don't you think it's his business?""Itachi, just shut the fuck up and stay out of it okay."Naruto's brows furrowed... Keeping what from him? He was starting to feel sick. What was going on?This wasn't right. This didn't sound right.Inhaling deepening, the blond held his stomach tight, steadying himself, trying not to make himself sick with overreacting - with panic." Well you and Sakura are going to have an engagement party next weekend to make it known, so I'd rather you tell him now before it gets out." Itachi breathed, before rubbing his hands over his hair taking out the low pony tail. Loose brown locks flowed down his shoulders like honey. That's all Naruto needed to hear before he was rushing away from the door and gathering his stuff to leave. It was almost like slow motion, like everything in his world had stopped and started literally moving upside down.Like he was in space.He laughed to himself. He was in too much shock to feel anything else.He'd deal with these emotions later. He just had to get the hell out of there so he could process what the fuck was going on.Engagement party? So it was fucking official?There was a rush building from the bottom of his stomach coming up, and it was a great fucking time to have an anxiety attack.He could feel tears burning their way up to his eyes, but he fought them back.He never fucking cried. And he sure wasn't going to waste anymore tears over someone who didn't care for him.Pulling on his shoes, he tried to steady his body and calm down before he couldn't even move and escape.The blonde pulled open one of the windows and climbed out into the cold night air onto the small black iron balcony.A gust of wind gushed almost through him, rustling his clothes and hair in the most rough yet gentle way.A single tear staining his cheek.The cold was numbing him.This was good. This was better.He could barely feel anything, now.He laughed.And maybe it was better that way. Maybe if he was numb on the outside, it would distract him from what he felt on the inside.Climbing down the front of balcony, Naruto free-fell a short distance onto the dewy grass below.He lay like that for some time, just letting the cold free him from his ailments – even if it was just for a little while.Looking up into the sky, the blonde noticed the same constellation that brought him and Sasuke together was out and shinning brighter than ever.Just fucking perfect.It's like the universe had it out for him.If he found one way to feel better, there was always something that happened to make him feel 80x worse.Getting up from his spot on the grass, Naruto ran.Ran and never looked back.Why.Why was this happening to him.Step after step reminded him of just how he ran towards Sasuke earlier that day.With every step came a flash back, and it hurt like every bone in his body was being broken one by one, slowly.But, except for his bones, ...it was his heart.So he ran, in the dark, because to him that was a literal explanation of his life at that moment.Dark and cold.He ran.Ran out of Sasuke's estate. Out of his neighborhood, out of Sasuke's life even.In Naruto's mind, it's like he wasn't even there to begin with. He couldn't have been if they were so easily broken.All that time they shared, Sasuke didn't say a thing.It hurt so much.Like Itachi said, it must've just not been any of Naruto's business.He finally understood his place, and where he belonged.And it wasn't anywhere or any place that was nice or good.This was pain.This was heartache. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sasuke's POV "Well you and Sakura are going to have an engagement party next weekend to make it known, so I'd rather you tell him now before it gets out." Itachi breathed, before rubbing his hands over his hair taking out the low pony tail. Loose brown locks flowed down his shoulders like honey. "What the fuck are you talking about Itachi? I never agreed to this." Sasuke's voice rose almost as much as his anger. Clenching his fists tighter he tried his best to maintain his Uchiha calm."It needed to be done, Sasuke.." Itachi sighed, turning his back to walk down the stairs."Fuck you Itachi how could you ruin my life like this!" Sasuke opened his bedroom door and slammed it behind him.Sliding down the door his mind raced like wildfire over what had happened in such a short amount of time to change the course of his life like that. He never would've expected his brother to go that far... To do that much.The raven sat like that with his head resting against the door. He just needed to breathe and calm down.It was all his own decision in the end, right?But Itachi had done so much for him...How could Sasuke just let him down like that?"Dammit," The raven cursed under his breath.And what did he mean tell Naruto? How could he have told Naruto something he didn't even know until just two seconds ago.Speaking of Naruto...Getting up from his place on the ground, Sasuke walked tiredly over to the bathroom door.He was tired. He just wanted this all to go away.Naruto.Naruto was what he needed right then. That's all he ever needed to be honest.He just wanted to be with his dumb blonde. He didn't want to feel that stress anymore. He just needed Naruto.Knocking, "Naruto come out please.. I need you..."No answer."Dobe." Sasuke's voice broke under him, twisting the door knob open, only to notice that inside was no one.Turning his head quickly in confusion, he eyed his room - just noticing that not only was Naruto's stuff gone, but so was he.And the window was open."Fuck."Running over tho his bedside table, Sasuke grabbed his cell and sped dailed Naruto.."Answer Dobe" Naruto's POV The more he ran, the darker it seemed to become; the colder it seemed to become; the more empty he became.Cold air and night surrounded him, aiding to his hurt - aiding to his numbness.Finally reaching his house, Naruto slowed down; he wasn't in a rush.Movements became slow and rhythmic – like the saddest song you've ever listened to had formed into one moment, formed into one person.Naruto Uzumaki.He had made up his mind at this point. He danced in his own sorrow. Breathed in it.Walking up the stairs, he grimaced. Palm holding tight to the rail, recalling a memory.He was far enough from Sasuke, is what he originally had planned, originally had thought.But that wasn't even completely true.Even though Sasuke wasn't there, they still had shared too many memories in every part of that town. Naruto's place being a prime example.He remembered the night they accidentally kissed right on those same steps he was standing on.Closing his eyes tight, Naruto braced himself.He couldn't fucking escape him.Unlocking his front door, he slowly closed it behind him, taking off his shoes and walking to the bathroom.This was so funny. This was fucking hilarious.The blonde chuckled softly.There was nothing good left for him anymore. He glanced around his room.Every space held a memory.And in that moment he realized something he hadn't noticed before.He hated himself.And why would bubbly, happy-go-lucky, inspirational, brightening everyone's day Naruto hate himself?He hated himself because he wasn't the one who was with Sasuke.He hated himself because he would never be that person.He would never be the reason he smiled.He would never be the one he looked to for comfort when he was sad, or for company when he was happy.He would never get to spend his intimate time with him, touching him, loving him and being with him.Sasuke would never look at him that way.Sasuke would never love him.He would love someone else.And that was enough for him to contemplate bad things.He hated everything about himself because he wasn't her.That pink haired girl.But he would never hate her. She had nothing to do with it.He just hated the fact that he wasn't her. That he was born his unfortunate self.And he would never be anything like her. She was a girl for fucks sake, how could he?They were polar opposites in every way even down to personality. He could tell from the first time he saw her at the party."Fuck!" The blond rubbed his hands through his hair.He hated himself more than anything."Why am I even alive." he kept thinking to himself.Why was he even made.He wished he was never born.Streaming down his face was what felt like warm acid.Is this what his heart contained?Bad thoughts drowned his mind and heart, as he closed his eyes, brows furrowed, holding onto the bathroom door frame for support as he began to break down.What a time in the world to be alone and have no one care for you.And he really didn't.Naruto had no one.Every day he came home to the same empty house.And now he lost Sasuke..There was nothing for him anymore. There was no reason left to be alive.Silding down to the floor Naruto silently let his feelings escape.This was too much.He hated himself so much he couldn't take it.Opening his eyes, he wiped his tears with the sleeves on – fuck. Sasuke's black shirt...Pulling the shirt over his head, he held it into his hand and pushed it close to his heart.This would be the last time.He wanted to be numb.Naruto walked on his knees over to the bathroom sink, rummaging through the drawers looking for something good.Something beautiful that would numb the pain.Something delicious and something that would never let him down or betray him. Something that would never leave him unloved or left feeling unwanted.Breaking open the object very carefully not to hurt his fingers, two shiny pieces of metal fell to the floor – calling out his name for skin to be opened.Blades.Picking them up with the utmost carefulness, ironically trying not to hurt himself holding them, the blonde pulled out some alcohol pads from his first aid kit and wiped them off - making sure they were clean and pure......unlike his disgusting self and soul.Wrapping the two blades carefully in a paper towel, Naruto carried it into his bedroom.He walked over to one of his bedside tables, the one on the furthest side of the room, and turned on the lamp, adjusting the brightness so that it gave the room a glow.It wasn't enough light to brighten the room, but just enough to leave him in darkness - to drown him. He needed it.This moment needed the darkness.... because all he felt was sorrow.His tall dresser sat by the window, blinds open, with just enough of the window open to let a little breeze in.He needed the cold too. To numb him.Because what he was about to do would leave him breathless.The light was coming from the far end of the room, as Naruto went to turnoff the bathroom light.Walking over to his speakers, the blonde numbly placed a cd in and turned the volume up as high as it could go.Blaring out of the speakers was It's Myself VS Being A Man by Inhale Exhale.Walking over to sit up against the wall by his bathroom, Naruto dropped Sasuke's shirt out of his hand, pushing it away from him, and unwrapped the blades from the paper towel.He felt so bad inside, it hurt too much. He felt such an ache.This needed to be done.Stretching out his left arm, the blonde took one blade in his right hand and pressed it to his skin, careful not to slid it just yet.The song changed to When The Sun Sleeps by Underoath, and that was enough to send him over the edge." I thought you'd come back, so I prayed...Close my eyes, just for tonight. The sun still sleeps, and when she wakes ,you'll be a memory."Biting his lip, he prepared for what was to come.Brows furrowed, tears coming down, Naruto stretched his arm out long, pressed the blade down hard on his skin and slid."Ahhhhh." His eyes clammed shut, acid ruining his skin, running down his cold cheeks, falling on his bare chest. Bare skin.Bare arms, dripping acid. Dripping pain.The burning sensation wrecked his being.A line of blood forming, and turning into drops rolling down his arm."Oh my god." He choked when he looked down at what he'd done.What was he doing to himself?"No shut up. It has to be done." He whispered to himself.It wasn't enough.It wasn't enough until his self hate subsided.Firmly holding the blade, Naruto cut again."Ughhhh." He watched the blade slice through his skin, tearing it open.It hurt so much, but what he felt inside hurt even worse.He dragged the blade again and again. Reveling in the hurtful, burning sensation that somehow seemed to ease his pain. It made him feel lighter, if even for a moment."Because maybe if you feel pain on the outside, it'll numb the pain on the inside."Blood poured all down his arm, "fuck,"he used the previous paper towel to try to wipe it up, but the first cut he did was so deep it wouldn't stop bleeding, so he just held his hand over it, with his head against the wall and eyes closed.Just listening to the music, with a cold breeze blowing through his room, making him almost shiver.And for once he actually felt like he could make it through.Just maybe.Sitting like that for some time, the blonde lifted up the paper towel noting the blood had started to scab over.He sighed, getting up Naruto went to fetch an alcohol pad from the first aid kit and wiped his arm down."What a day." He sniffed, whipping his wet face with the back of his right hand.Walking into the bathroom, the blond got another paper towel and held it onto his arm, going over to the bed and climbing inside.He had closed his eyes for a split moment to finally rest, before he felt his phone buzzing.Grabbing it out of his back pocket, he noted a few missed calls from Sasuke.He almost choked. But it wasn't good choke, it was a pained one.Like what was the point, at this point?If he never loved him, if he didn't care about him, what was the point.It was all just deceit. Maybe not on purpose - he would never accuse Sasuke of anything, but he sure hadn't been honest about it.It was like he was hiding something.Naruto wasn't being a hypocrite, he knew he wasn't honest either, but it wasn't the same thing.He was so angry. Just angry at life in general. And so hurt."...'M sorry Sasuke, it's too late." The blonde said sadly, tiredness drenching his voice, as he put his phone on the night table and closed his eyes to go to sleep.At least maybe for once he could sleep.…...A ringing woke Naruto up, yawning he stretched checking for the sound and it was his phone..He internally wished and hoped to hell it wasn't Sasuke. He wasn't cocky or anything – knowing that Sasuke would call or try to reach him. It was just normally how their relationship worked.."..Before all of this started happening."The blonde just couldn't deal right now.Every time he thought of Sasuke he just, he hated himself so much and – he just couldn't deal with that so early in the morning. He wanted to at least try to live that day.Looking at his phone, he sighed relieved – it was just his alarm.This was the last year of school and being out for all those days had really put a toll on his record. He really needed to make it up and do a little extra credit even. Naruto had to graduate this year and move the hell on.Getting up he rubbed his eyes, wincing when he felt the taut feeling on his left arm, almost ripping and a burning from moving his arm around the wrong way.He had almost forget what he'd done last night.He sighed. Feeling a little remorse, a little regret.But he'd deal with that later.Looking down at his arm, he laughed.In a weird way it was actually pretty beautiful. The redness of it, made him feel alive. Like even though he felt so dead inside, this was a reminder that he was alive. So bright and red.If anything, this was one thing that was worthwhile about him. The only thing he could like about himself.Getting up, he began to prepare himself for school, when he abruptly saw a text from Jiraya telling him to check outside in an hour.He snorted, twisting his eye brows in confusion.Whatever the hell that was all about...…...Finishing up, the blond checked himself in the mirror, tugging down his sleeves an extra three times, he sighed. This was going to be hell to keep up with and hide.What had his life come to.Sighing.Grabbing his keys and backpack off of his desk chair, Naruto walked out of the door locking it on his way out.And there it was, he froze.HIS TRUCK. It was fixed and shiny and sitting perfectly in his little parking area.Naruto smiled "Pervy sage."…... *Sleepover by Hailey Kiyoko Arriving at school, the blond parked, and put his hood over his head.This was going to be a trying as hell day.Grabbing the keys out of the ignition, Naruto reached over to the back seat and grabbed his backpack and exited his truck.Fixing his hoodie more over his head, the blonde slung his bag over his right shoulder and put his head down. He was glad it was a cloudy cold day. He was glad it was November.Now all he had to do was think of how he was going to avoid Sasuke for the rest of the day.He just couldn't bare seeing his face.He loved it too much.And his eyes.He needed them so much.But he could never have them right?"Fuck life."Walking past the crowd of kids to get inside, Naruto kept his head down but kept his eyes open and surveying the area. Just to be safe.It wouldn't have been that hard, to avoid him, considering Sasuke was an honors student.They didn't exactly run in the same classes, but they did always make time for each other. And sometimes Sasuke would take the same classes as Naruto, just because.That was certain. They'd always end up together. That's why people always called them two peas in the same pod.There was just one thought racing the blonde's mind.: That it wasn't Sasuke's fault that he all of sudden got feelings for him, and it wasn't his fault that he hated himself.So when would it ever be fair to just start avoiding him out of the blue? That would be so mean and heartless without a reason.So he couldn't necessarily avoid him...Walking through the halls, reaching his first class, the blonde lifted his head up, classroom light hitting his ice blue eyes making them glisten, and walked through the open door."What to do. What to do." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sasuke's POVSasuke Uchiha awoke with sadness. Eyes open before his alarm even sounded.He had always been the type to not rely on things. He didn't rely on his alarm to wake up him. He didn't rely on his teachers too much for him to get a good grade in his classes. He didn't rely on his brother to do things for him – he always tried to be independent no matter what.But one thing he did rely on was Naruto.Naruto was out of reach for some reason, and ever since the prior night – the raven hadn't heard from him. He didn't even know what the reason for the blonde's disappearance was that night. It was fucking worrisome.He wasn't stupid enough to think that "oh maybe something bad happened to him." Sasuke wasn't naive. Konoha was one of the safest cities in the Land of Fire. But he had noticed, ever since the blonde had found out about his apparent "thing" with Sakura, he had been acting distant.Onyx eyes looked up at the ceiling, eyes glaring hard enough to burn a hole through it. A pale chest exposed, comforter placed right above a tight abdomen. Sasuke glanced to see the time on the clock.4am.2 hours too early to be up and hurting.To be up and anxious, and tired, and worried, and angry.Eyes closed to an early morning air. A calmness surrounding him playing toy with the disarray that was going on inside. Sasuke closed his eyes to sleep. He would deal with this when he had to.Blue breeze settled softly on his forehead wisping slightly his bangs.Two hours. "Two hours, Naruto."Naruto's POVYou would've thought by the blue eyes that stared at the board, the hand placed hard under his chin, caressing his face. You would've thought Naruto Uzumaki was paying the utmost attention to his class. But my dear, you are sadly mistaken.Naruto couldn't concentrate. Thoughts raced his mind about what the hell to do.He knew what he had to do, on one hand, but on the other hand he knew that he couldn't hurt himself worse.But he couldn't hurt Sasuke either.Blowing out a held in breath, Naruto realized he finally came to a decision.A loud bell shook Naruto out of his racing thoughts, a smiling teacher looking very pleased at how "attentive" Naruto seemed, met eyes with the blonde, the blonde glanced back, furrowed his brows and tried to paint a smile across his face, only ending up looking very humorously confused – confused as to why that teacher was looking at him like that.He was aching so much inside.Crowds of kids rushed passed Naruto on his way out, and down the hall, but it all seemed like slow motion. Naruto hated this. He hated after all these years he was going back to the way it was. Back to pretending and faking it. But this is what it took for him to man the fuck up, he supposed.This is what it took for him to care and love Sasuke.If he loved him the way he knew he did, he could never ignore him. He could never. He could never fucking hurt his best friend. His heart.Moving along with the crowd on his way to his next class, Naruto picked up his phone and sent a text.Sighing, he walked over to rest his back, leaning up against the same room where it all started.He'd get through this.Sasuke's Pov"Itachi I swear to fucking God!" Sasuke was shaking at this point, trying to grab his things and rush out of the door.Hands trembling, hair a mess – the raven ran out, leaving his brother mid-sentence – mouth agape.A door swung open, letting cold air in and an anxious ridden raven, full of disarray, out."Foolish little brother."Sasuke exited his class, still shook up about what Itachi had said to him earlier.Walking down the hallway, eyes of girls and guys found their way onto him. But he ignored everything.He never cared for ones who only addressed him because of his family or because of his money or because of his looks.He walked down the hallway and just remembered the last thing his brother told him..."I moved the engagement to tomorrow. This is what's best for you."He blurred everything else out.The raven's body started shaking at just the sudden onset of emotions that poured out from one memory. But that memory was going to be a change in his life.Possibly.He wondered to himself, -why couldn't he stop this. ?He wondered to himself, -what was the reason this was such a bad idea? – what was the reason behind why he wanted to end this? And what was the reason why he couldn't?A soft tone escaped from his pocket - pulling it out, it raven exhaled slowly and paused in his steps."Meet me at our place..."Pale thin lips slowly parted,"Naruto."Naruto, lost in thought didn't notice when the raven appeared at the end of the hallway. Only the thump of soft footsteps broke him out of his thoughts as he glanced his eyes over to see Sasuke, his body kept still in motion.Just seeing Sasuke's face fucked him up so bad and gave him an ache in his stomach.It hurt so much he had to look away, but it felt so good he couldn't stop looking."I got your text." Sasuke started.Naruto put his head down and slowly pulled away from the wall.Without uttering words, the blonde moved to go inside of the famous room.Room 63.Without saying another word, Sasuke just followed behind – closing the door behind them as they entered.Standing back towards Sasuke, the blonde stood at the windows. Peering out. Looking as if he was searching for something. But really, he was just searching for the right words."Sasuke... I uh..." Naruto rubbed his hands together, not out of anxiety, but out of carefulness. Naruto was the last person to think carefully of his words, he was usually extremely blunt and straightforward. But something about this love. Something about this feeling. Something about looking at the face of the only person you will ever need. It scared the shit out of him...A warm hand appeared on Naruto's shoulder, a warm sun shining on a bright blue-eyed boy who turned to look into the warm eyes of a Sasuke Uchiha.Naruto's breath was taken away, as a voice inside him screamed to just spit it out. Sasuke's mouth formed a slight almost invisble smile as his lips parted -"Naruto, I love you."
10400250
the one with ghost
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont", "Fandom": "Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by JkWriter", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-21T00:00:00", "words": "1,056", "Additional Tags": "Maco Light, Ghost Hunting, Ghosts Stories, Alternate Universe", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“This has got to be the worst idea you have ever had. And that’s saying something because most of the ideas you have in general are pretty garbage.”“Psh, this is a great idea! What better way to spend our Spring Break than going on a ghost hunt in an unknown city?” Yuuri looked around them.They were in the middle of a swamp following along old train tracks that look as though they haven't been in use for decades. Certainly no city here.“Oh, I don't know. Perhaps we could be finish the paper that’s due when we get back? Or maybe going home to visit our families we never get to see? Oh, I’ve got it! Binge watching Netflix until we can quote Fairy Tail word for word, how does that sound? Phichit, literally anything other than this!”Phichit abruptly stopped and turned to face Yuuri. He had his hands on his hips and was staring the Japanese man in the eye. Yuuri stared right back. The single flashlight lamp they had flicked. Phichit’s eyes lit up in glee and his head shot around looking for something in the murky waters of the swamp.In that moment Yuuri decided his friend was insane. No normal person choose to put themselves in this position. No normal person travelled nearly six hundred miles just to look for a ghost that may or may not exist. Yuuri supposed in a way that did say something about him. After all he followed Phichit all this way. Granted he only did it so he wasn't alone in their apartment over Spring Break. Typically he'd spend the week with his boyfriend, but Viktor just had to schedule a visit home the same week as Spring Break leaving Yuuri with the two options he had to choose from.Looking at it now Yuuri was beginning to suspect he choose the wrong one. Phichit was wandering away from him at an alarming rate. If it wasn't for the fact that it was dark out and on either side of them was muddy swamp waters with questionable animals lurking about he would have let him. But Yuuri wasn't too keen on having to jump in after Phichit because he fell in. “Phichit! Wait for me.” Phichit slowed enough that Yuuri could catch up so they were walking side by side. The sound of crickets echoed around them. There was some sort of low growling noise that Yuuri was trying to ignore. And were those eyes in the distance? They definitely were. Yeah, okay no. He wasn't going to do this. Phichit was right when he said Yuuri was too scared to take a midnight stroll. He was too scared. Not of the ‘ghost’ but of the surplus number of other things that could easily kill them before the sun rises in the morning.“Let’s go back? We haven't seen anything yet. I doubt we’ll see anything at all.” He tried not to look at the way Phichit was pouting. He really did. Because Phichit pouting meant two things. Phichit calling Seung-gil sadly when they got back to the hotel room and then Seung-gil glaring at Yuuri for the next month every time they saw each other (which was quite a lot for the two music majors) or Yuuri giving in and continuing on this path. It was starting to look a lot more like the second option as Phichit’s lip wobbled in a way that melted Yuuri’s heart. (He always it was ultimately his choice but Phichit had Yuuri wrapped around his finger). Yuuri was about to say something when he saw it.Directly behind Phichit, above the waters, was a light. It wasn't very bright, too far away, but it’s brightness grew the closer it drew. Phichit noticed how tense Yuuri had become. He also noticed that Yuuri wasn't looking at him anymore, but rather over his shoulder. He slowly turned, following his friend's gaze. (He may or may not have yelped upon seeing the light in the distance, but who could blame him? He hadn't actually expected to see any ghosts on this trip).“Yuuri, is that?”“I think so.” Their hands found each other. They were both clinging to the other as the light drifted closer. They could make out more features of the figure. They were half in the water, on hand holding the light above while the other dug through as though it was looking for something. “The story goes that Joe Baldwin was the single passenger on a locomotive train on the Wilmington and Manchester Railroad. Something happened and the caboose disconnected from the rest of the train. Knowing that a passenger train was due he ran to the back and frantically began waving his lantern to signal he was there, but it was too late. The conductor saw the light but was unable to stop in time. The two trains collided a and Baldwin was killed in the crash. He was the only victim.Legend says he lost his head on the impact. It flew into the nearby swamp and they were never able to find it. Eventually they gave up the search and buried his body, minus his head. To this day Joe Baldwin wanders the tracks looking for his lost head.” “Yeah right, Phichit. It’s just a ghost story. Holds no merit.” “Then you’d be down for a little investigating?” “I didn’t say that.” The figure stepped onto the tracks in front of them. They could clearly see that the body was missing it’s head. According to the legend, that's why he wasn't at peace. The figure walked right past them and stepped down into the swamp on the other side of the tracks. As it passed their light went out, the only thing illuminating the night was the ghostly glow of the headless figure. Phichit used his free hand to flick the switch a few times until their light snapped back on. By then the figure was gone. The only indication it had ever been there being the grasses pushed out of the way. The two of them stood frozen in fear, clinging to each other like if they let go the other would drift away just as the light had. “That hotel room sounds nice now.” “Yeah,” Yuuri agreed. “Let’s go back.”
10482903
better off without
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto", "Fandom": "Naruto", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by taedislumina", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-28T00:00:00", "words": "1,384", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Adultery, anti-ending, post-fourth ninja war, this is terrible and sad im sorry", "Relationship": "Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Naruto knows he’s fine.   His long awaited dreaming of claiming the title of hokage has been achieved. He married the unknown heroine of his academy days and the head of the legendary Hyuga clan. Together, they had two, healthy, happy, and rambunctious children. He had the life of any ninja’s dream, and more importantly, he was able to give his children the life he was robbed of. Yeah. Naruto Uzumaki knows he’s fine.   The 7th sits at his desk drowning in reports and files as the sun begins to disappear behind the hills, casting a warm yellow and pink glow against the walls of his empty office. And he reminds himself - almost as routinely as he wakes up and makes himself morning coffee - that he’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s-   He runs his hands through his short hair, vaguely remembering when it had been longer and Sakura had first suggested he cut it. She had said he needed to freshen and shake up his look; Naruto inwardly mocked himself for becoming one of those girls that cut their hair as a defiant act post-breakup with their boyfriend. He had never been in such a position, but he may as well have. God knows how much every bone in his body ached for the loss of someone he never had in the first place.   Sighing, he lets his hands fall to cover and rub at his eyes; exhaustion from the day finally settling in. He didn’t need these thoughts right now. Hinata and the kids would be waiting for him at home and he couldn’t let another day slip by without organizing these pending mission requests. He told himself again - and with a weak sense of finality - that he was fine; to finish the job and to stop thinking about…   Sasuke.   Blinking his eyes once...twice...three times, it took everything in the blonde not to explode at the irony of what he was seeing. Had he really sunk so low into his daydreaming that he was actually hallucinating the Uchiha?   He tried to shake himself out of it... the sunset was just playing tricks on his presumably poor eyesight. But in the moments that elapsed between them, Naruto was forced to realize that, in fact, what he was seeing was no joke.   Sasuke Uchiha, draped in black and staring in the distant, empty way he always did towards the present hokage, was really standing right there. And Naruto was all but begging to be as fine as he thought he was.   “You look fucking terrible.” Sasuke finally cut through the silence between them, and Naruto couldn’t help but laugh. It came out more as an overexaggerated chuckle, more forced than natural, and Sasuke noticed it almost immediately. But still, Naruto couldn’t deny he was right. He didn’t need a mirror to know he looked as terrible as he felt.   “Always observant as ever, Sasuke…” Naruto plastered on a smile, hoping it wouldn’t give away his already broken heart. “Did you come to just make fun of my looks or...do you... have business here?” He hoped it was the latter.   Sasuke remained silent, staring down his former teammate. Naruto was trained not to squirm under such an uncomfortable gaze, but he still wished Sasuke would look away. Not see how much of a mess he really was. He knew Sasuke’s eyes saw more than his words and body language let on, and he cursed him for that. Standing, he swiftly turned and made his way towards the windows on the far left of the office. He felt that burning stare with every step he made. “Beautiful, isn’t it? The village really looks nothing like it did back in the old days.”   The looming silence was suffocating, and all Naruto felt like doing was screaming. Why now of all times? Why did Sasuke always show up when Naruto was at his weakest? Or, was it, that he just showed up when Naruto needed him most?   “What are you up to Sasuke?” Naruto tried again, his voice more on pointed and on guard than a simple passing question. No, he knew the Uchiha was up to something, and it was really getting under his skin. Acting all calm, cool, and collected when Naruto was on the edge of destruction. He turned around to see Sasuke was already standing in the reserved space of Naruto’s desk; holding a framed picture that Naruto had added for decoration, and as of lately, had become another tool for his ritualized motivation. He held his breath as he watched Sasuke observe the photo. He already knew exactly which photo it was. It was an arranged and traditional snapshot of him, Hinata, Boruto, and Himawari. He had starred and agonized over that photograph countless times...coaxing himself through his strenuous duties, deluding himself that he was excited to go home to them.   He couldn’t even count how many times he wished it was Sasuke and him in that photo; linked, smiling, and happy. But he knew fate would never grant him that dream. He and Sasuke would never have a photo of them together.   “You know why I’m here.”   Ah yes. He knew this was all they would ever have.   But even so, although he had been masquerading his desire and attempted not to get his hopes up, he always knew Sasuke’s visits meant one of two things. Either he was in Konoha to meet his tri-monthly requirement of checking up on Sakura and Sarada, or he was here for him.   In the dark, protected, and concealed area of the hokage’s office, their secret was guarded and the pent up flames of their burning desire unleashed.   “I was hoping it was that…” Naruto barely whispered, but he knew Sasuke had heard him. He took full strides towards his desk and watched Sasuke set the picture frame down, finally tearing his gaze away from the wretched thing. Sasuke hated that photo.   “...Do you ever miss me when I’m not here…?” Sasuke asks tentatively. He counts every footstep as he lets his gaze drag across the various items on Naruto’s desk. He doesn’t really know why he bothered to ask, since he already knows the painful truth. Because Sasuke feels the same, painful way. And he knows this is all they’ll ever have to reconcile that.   Naruto is close now, slipping his hands around Sasuke’s hips and turning him around gently and swiftly. His heart has never learned to stop beating so fast when met with the comforting smell of Sasuke’s cologne or the smoothness of his skin, and he knows it never will. Sasuke’s senses are heightened by their nearness and he instantly realizes his desire is mere inches away from falling off the edge and devouring the blonde man in front of him whole. He craves Naruto more than he ever craved revenge, and he wonders yet again why such an overwhelmingly powerful force hasn’t taken over every cell in his body? Why hasn’t this desire overthrown his reserve and pushed him farther than the drive that pushed him for vengeance? Why does he stay so far away from the one thing in this world he has loved the most?   Ah. He remembers.   Because it's Naruto. And he’s convinced himself too, that Naruto is better off without him.   “You have no idea.” And with those words of finality wrapped in a inexplicable layer of relief, Naruto - now fully facing and only focused on the infatuating, dark haired man in front of him - drops the mask that he’s built and refined for himself, forgets his own lies, and forgets about dinner at seven. He collapses into the despair and desire that awaits him on the edge of those lips, and for now, he lets himself pretend it’s just the two of them in the whole world.   As their lips - desperate and soft - capture the other’s slowly and their hands wander to find the spaces and curves they’ve already memorized a thousand times, the fire they keep at bay burns them from the inside out. And they know there's no going back on the inevitable. They are tragically, disastrously, hopelessly in love.   Naruto knows he’s fine. But for one more night, he allows himself to come face-to-face with the reality that he isn’t.
10434300
Irreplaceable
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Saitama (One-Punch Man), Genos (One-Punch Man)", "Fandom": "ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by batneko", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-25T00:00:00", "words": "1,116", "Additional Tags": "Birthday, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship", "Relationship": "Genos/Saitama (One-Punch Man)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Saitama x Genos Week 2017", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The piggy bank had seen better days, Saitama had to admit. It was held together with more glue and band-aids now than pottery, and large chips were missing, big enough that the coins could fall out if you tipped it the wrong way. But Saitama only put random change in it when his coin bag got too full, which was rare, so there was no need to replace it.The heart-print comforter, too, was on its last legs. The colors had faded over the years until the hearts were more orange than red, and it was patched in several places and stained with tea or oil or monster blood. But it was still intact, and the lumps provided easy places to grip rather than any discomfort, so there was no need to replace it.Saitama did not seek out change in his life. He liked things the way they were, and if he didn't like them he'd change only what he didn't like.That was perhaps why it had taken so long to tell Genos how he felt. It was easy having Genos around to talk to, and do things with, and share chores. It wasn't very long before Saitama realized his feelings for Genos were different from friendship. But he didn't say anything, didn't change anything, because he was happy. There was no need. "Sensei," Genos said, chiding, "You need to do something about your pig.""Huh? Why?"Genos gestured at the bank, which had toppled over on its side after one entire leg crumbled."He's fine. He's resting.""Sensei, they still make that design. We can purchase a new one very cheaply.""Nah," Saitama said, balancing the pig on three legs and a manga volume he'd already read. "This one is fine."A week later the pig disappeared.“Genos?” Saitama peered behind the TV stand, in case it had fallen. “Where's my piggy bank?”The silence from the table was discouraging. “The- the one by the TV, sensei?”“The only one I have. Did you move it to dust, or something?”“No...” Genos' pencil scratched on the page of his journal.“Genos.”“Yes sensei?”“Did you throw away my piggy bank?”The pencil stopped. Saitama had put off confessing his feelings because he was content to keep things the way they were. What he forgot, and what he kicked himself for every day after he realized, was that Genos might not be happy. He was younger, he was more impulsive, he questioned himself more. It was easy for Saitama to tell Genos cared for him, but Genos couldn't tell Saitama felt the same.When Genos, tearfully, admitted he couldn't stop falling in love with Saitama, Saitama had replied, “Then don't stop?”They fell into their new arrangement, much the same as the old one but with only one futon. There was some adjustment, some growing pains, but once they got used to each other Saitama never made a move to change it, because he was content. “I'm sorry sensei,” Genos said quickly. “I- I broke it, worse than before. I can buy you a new one.”“I could have fixed it,” Saitama said. “You didn't have to throw it out.”“I'm sorry, sensei.”He sighed. “It's... it's okay. It's not a big deal. I just had that since I was a kid, you know?” Saitama brushed a little ceramic powder off the shelf. “But it's not a big deal.” For the next week, Saitama couldn't stop his mood from sinking every time he looked at the TV stand. Once they passed by a display of banks at the department store; it was just like Genos said, they still made the same design. But they'd changed the eyes, modernized it a little.Even if they hadn't Saitama didn't think he'd have bought one. Genos offered, but Saitama refused. On Friday Saitama was a little surprised to be woken up with a full course breakfast. Genos had let him sleep in, so it was more like lunch, and when he was finished Genos encouraged him to get dressed.“I made plans, sensei.”“Plans? For what?”Genos tilted his head. “For your birthday.”“It's my birth- What's today?”Genos laughed this time. “The 24th.”“Holy shit it is my birthday.”They went to the park, and the aquarium, and the fanciest coffee shop Saitama had ever seen, and then the market to pick up anything Saitama wanted to put in a hot pot. That last part wasn't too different from Sale Day, but this time Saitama wasn't allowed to look at prices.Considering he hadn't celebrated his birthday in over three years, it was the best one he'd had in a long time.Finally, after dinner when Saitama was too full to keep his eyes open much longer, Genos gave him a small gold-wrapped package.“I thought the whole day was my present.” He didn't try to refuse it, though. Genos had almost gotten him used to getting spoiled.“Well, I planned this for you weeks ago. I felt bad though, because I had to mislead you a little.”“Mislead? What?”Genos handed him the scissors. “Open it, sensei.”Carefully packed away in a little wooden box and cotton fluff, was his piggy bank. The same exact one, cracked and chipped and missing a leg, but all the damage had been repaired. Saitama took the little round pig in his hands, turning it over and watching the way the new patches caught the light. It looked like the cracks had been filled with gold.“Genos? What... How...”“It's called kintsugi, sensei, have you heard of it? They mix gold dust in with the lacquer as a way of embracing the flaws. Celebrating imperfection.”“It looks amazing.” Where the flowers had been scraped off was repainted, and the missing foot was completely replaced with a gold one. “Geez. It's like it's worth more than when I got it the first time.”“Possibly,” Genos said carefully. Saitama finally looked up at him, and saw he was sitting in tight seiza. “I'm sorry I made you think I'd thrown it away. I didn't want to ruin the surprise.”“I love it, Genos. I- I was just gonna let it sit around and be broken forever. But you made it better.” Saitama placed the pig where it belonged before returning to sit beside Genos and hug him. “Thank you. I love you.”“I love you too, sensei.” Genos turned his head to accept a kiss.“I'm not gonna be able to top this for your birthday.”“It's not a contest, sensei.” He smirked. “I'd win, anyway.”Saitama laughed. “Just for that, I'm gonna blow you away.”“Sure, sensei.”“You'll see!”
10489152
When the Garrison Came
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "d'Artagnan, Captain Treville, Athos, Porthos, Aramis, Cardinal Richelieu, Constance, King Louis - Character, Queen Anne, Original and OC characters", "Fandom": "The Musketeers (2014)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by DebbieF", "chapters": "15/15", "completed": "2017-07-06", "published": "2017-03-29T00:00:00", "words": "38,480", "Additional Tags": "Takes place shortly after season one, episode 10 - “Musketeers Don’t Die Easily”, also of course there's violence in the story but there will be more in the final chapter, hence the changed rating to teen", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
This was the prompt given: Set before season 2 The Garrison bombed. A disbanded Red Guard. And an angry king. The trio are sent on a mission, leaving an ill little brother behind. Not a day later the Garrison is bombed. Leaving many injured and a captain & a young Gascon trapped beneath the rubble. Louis is not amused, not only is his favorite Musketeer and a captain he considered family missing, but the one behind it all is one of the main men he has ever fully trusted the most. The cardinal (and his guard). Meanwhile, d'Artagnan is trying to keep a very concussed captain awake, whilst hiding his own injuries and illness. Hoping his brothers find them soon. - King Louis slowly maturing/becoming more competent - Family/BAMF Musketeers (all) - Treville and D'artagnan have "bonding" moments - BAMF! Queen Anne - The Dauphin is not Aramis' son. He never slept with Anne, but is the one that figured out she is pregnant. - Constance is more like a sister to d'Art, and an honorary Musketeer (unofficially). - D'Artagnan means a lot to everyone, not just the Inseparables. Doesn't help he's the youngest, much to his chagrin. - Cardinal getting his dues - Louis also find out he tried to kill his queen, adding more salt to his wound of betrayal. - Milady is dead ++++ Very early morning - Garrison stables “I don’t like going off not knowing how d’Artagnan is.” Tightening the cinch on Belle, Aramis glanced at Athos knowing the older man felt the same way. Matter of fact Athos had given Captain Treville quite an earful before leaving to get supplies for their mission. “I knew the whelp was goin' ta get sick from all the rain we 'ad ta ride back in.” Throwing two satchels over Roulette’s back, Porthos thought back to their last assignment. “It was like the heaven’s opened up just on d’Art.” “Tis because the lad doesn’t where a chapeau,” Aramis tisked. “That’s why he resembled a drowned rat by the time we came home.” “Enough talk on this!” Athos shouted. “We cannot do anything about it.” He pinned both his brothers with a sharp look. “Tis a short assignment so the sooner we get to Fountainebleau and back again the sooner we can be with d’Artagnan.” “Sound thinking, Athos.” Dipping his head in agreement, Aramis mounted Belle. Likewise Porthos did the same with Roulette. Riding out of the stables, all three Musketeers cast their eyes toward the infirmary where their sick little brother laid. ++++ Infirmary Coughing up what felt like a lung to him, d’Artagnan was so tired. He had a fever that still raged and a sticking pain in his side that hurt like a bitch. It didn’t help that Doctor Devereaux kept dosing him with concoctions that tasted even worse than Aramis' draughts. Even though he had yet to tend another Musketeer that had stopped in with a minor injury, Devereaux wanted to keep a close eye on the young Gascon. Heaven help him if he let anything happen to the lad, or the inseparables just may run him through with their blades without listening to what he had to say first. Devereaux knew the instant they brought d’Artagnan to him that he was suffering from pneumonia. Which meant the boy’s lungs were inflamed. He wasn’t happy with the short rapids breath coming out of the youth either. Why the deuce didn’t the king give more money to Captain Treville to make sure the men could stay on at an inn when it poured like the very dickens? Ah, bien, that was a question Devereaux may pose to King Louis when the young Monarch was in a good mood. It would certainly make his life easier instead of having to treat cases like d’Artagnan’s simply because the lad had the misfortune to ride home in a downpour. Checking his patient once more, Devereaux could feel the heat still radiating from the Gascon’s forehead even before he touched it. Clucking his tongue he went to warm some towels to place on d’Artagnan’s chest. If anything it would help the chills wracking the boy’s slender frame. When Devereaux laid the towels on the youngster, d’Artagnan looked up at him gratefully. “Try to rest.” He smiled down at him, patting the lad’s arm before returning to the other Musketeer that was whining about a splinter, of all things, being lodged in his hand. ++++ Palais-Cardinal “I don’t care how hard it will be!” Shouting until he was nearly purple in the face, Richelieu glared at one of his hirelings. “Just get it done!” Looking with disgust upon the man who had already done prior dirty work for him, Richelieu began to think that perhaps next time he'd seek someone else out. “Now get out of my sight and make sure none of the Musketeers see you leaving from here!” Sliding into his chair Richelieu leaned into the cushioned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Good help is so hard to come by these days,” he murmured into the silence of his office. If it hadn't been for Treville whispering in Louis' ear everytime there had been a misstep made by his men, Richelieu's Red Guards wouldn't have been disbanded. The king had graciously allowed for him to have a small retainer of Red Guards for his own protection but the rest had to go. He would get his own back soon. If all went well on the morrow, Richelieu would be comforting His Majesty. Then the young monarch would have to rely heavily on Richelieu’s own guards and not those damned Musketeers! ++++ Infirmary “I’ve lost count of how many of Treville’s men have stopped in to see you, d’Artagnan.” Watching the boy’s last visitor leave, Devereaux smiled at the Gascon. “You’re quite the favorite around here. Tis good to see.” “Oui.” Beginning to violently cough again, the doctor helped d’Artagnan to sit up. When gaining his breath he added, “But tis hard… being… the youngest.” “I can understand the teasing you'd get rather rubs you up the wrong way at times.” When the lad wearily nodded his agreement, it was then a young woman strode in. “Charles d’Artagnan!” Standing at the foot of her friend’s bed, Constance frowned. Worry filled her because he looked white as the flour she baked with. She heard the coughing fit he had, as Constance climbed the steps to the infirmary. “You’ll do anything to get out of helping me deliver my orders.” Gently teasing him, Constance hoped to bring a smile to his lips. “Apologies, my lady.” Trying to give her a cheeky grin, d’Artagnan failed miserably when he began hacking again. Scared, she glanced at the physician. But upon noting Doctor Devereaux was taking d'Artagnan's illness in stride, Constance tried to do the same. Still the young Gascon was like a brother to her and it was hard not to make a fuss over him. Especially when he was sick like this. "Constance, would you be so kind as to ask Serge for a bowl of warm broth. If d'Artagnan can keep that down I believe it shall help warm him from the inside out." Observing the looks the young woman was giving the boy, Devereaux thought it better to put her to work. Her eyes betrayed the fear she held for him. Taking Constance's hand into his own, d'Artagnan placed a chaste kiss upon her palm. "Do not worry... so." Gliding her hand through his long, sweaty hair Constance reciprocated, placing a kiss on d'Artagnan's forehead. "I won't be long," she whispered, drawing some of the blankets up to his chin. After she left d'Artagnan caught the doctor's arched brow as the other man watched Constance leave. "It's not what... you're... thinking." He tried to chuckle in-between coughing fits. "Constance is... the... sister of my heart... and unofficially an... honorary Musketeer... too." "That I am not surprised to hear," Devereaux chuckled. "I have heard quite a lot about how Mademoiselle Constance has helped you and the inseparables out." Rubbing his chin, Devereaux gazed down at the Gascon. "Sister, eh?" "Mmmmm," d'Artagnan hummed. "I've lost... count at... the many... times she's tried to play... matchmaker for... me." "I can only imagine what a trying experience that would be for you, young man." Eyes slowly roaming the room they shifted to fall once more on the ill lad. "It would appear that you are now my only patient. Which means you'll receive my undivided attention." Checking d'Artagnan's fever, Devereaux winked at the Gascon. "Aren't you the lucky one?" "Right now I feel... anything... but lucky." Chills overcame d'Artagnan and he huddled under the mounds of blankets piled on top of him. "Perhaps I should fetch more blankets." About to do just that Devereaux turned back around when the boy groaned. "What did you say?" "Do you want to... suffocate...me?" Managing a slight huff of annoyance, d'Artagnan pointed to the many blankets he already had. "And have the wrath of Athos, Porthos and Aramis fall on me." Eyebrows shooting up, Devereaux shook his head. "I don't think so." Patting the Gascon on the shoulder he walked away. "Soon Constance will be here with that soup. Then it will be time for more medicine." When d'Artagnan scrunched up his face at that news, Devereaux waved a finger at him. "How old did you say you were?" "Old enough," d'Artagnan shot back. Lungs aching, side still paining him and now his throat felt raw from all his coughing, weary beyond belief his eyes drifted shut. When Constance returned, Devereaux placed a finger on his lips indicating for her to be quiet as d'Artagnan had fallen asleep. Whispering she said, "But the soup is hot now." "I can always have it heated up but the boy needs to rest when he can." Taking the bowl from her Devereaux placed it on a tray. "I'll check on him later." With a last look over her shoulder at d'Artagnan, Constance departed. ++++ Next day - Infirmary "How are you feeling, son?" Pulling up a chair, Treville sat down. His eyes skimmed over the worn features of his youngest Musketeer. "And don't lie because I'll know if you are." About to do exactly that, d'Artagnan's mouth opened and closed like a guppy fish. "I am slightly... better, sir." When he saw the captain's hand reaching for his forehead, d'Artagnan tried to dodge it but with little success. Feeling the feverish skin beneath his fingertips, Treville winced. "I suppose it was too much to ask that you would tell me the truth." When Doctor Devereaux joined them, d'Artagnan looked to the physician to help him out. Knowing the predicament the youngster was in but not wanting to lie to the captain Devereaux said, "There has been an improvement." Folding his arms Treville studied the doctor. "In what way?" "His fever was worse yesterday and has gone down slightly and d'Artagnan's breathing has improved to where he's not coughing constantly." That much was the truth. "I won't be happy until his lungs clear up and his fever abates." Dragged from his thoughts when the door to the infirmary slammed open, Devereaux watched as a Musketeer ran inside. "Doctor Devereaux you're needed down in the courtyard right away. Martin had an accident with one of the horses and we're afraid to move him." Feeling badly that he had to bother the physician, since he was tending to d'Artagnan, Rene cast a sheepish look toward the youngster. "Captain, would you mind staying here with d'Artagnan until I return?" "I had planned on being here for a time anyway." Waving Devereaux to be on his way, Treville made himself comfortable. ++++ Garrison grounds Skulking around the Garrison, Cyprien was pleased with his work this day. This should assure him a goodly sum of money that the cardinal would be paying him. As far as he was concerned, the job was finished. All the fuses had been lit now so he shouldn't waste time hanging around here or else Cyprien would be caught up in the inferno. Passing through the gates on his way to the city, he smiled to himself with the knowledge that soon nothing would be left of the Garrison but ashes. ++++ It was mere minutes after Cyprien departed when multiple explosions ripped through the Garrison. There wasn't a man that hadn't been caught up in the nightmare that followed. Bodies flew through the air, mingled with screams of anguish from the injured. There wasn't a building left untouched, as flames licked at the wooden structures. In minutes they collapsed trapping any unfortunate soul that remained inside them. It was a scene out of Dante's Inferno. For those who didn't know what hell would look like... this was a preview. ++++ The streets of Paris Delivering bolts of cloth to her customers, Constance was startled when she heard the thunderous sounds of explosions coming from the Garrison. Noting flames shooting high into the air, a terrible feeling overcame her. "D'Artagnan!" ++++ Garrison Heavy bricks and flaming pieces of wooden beams littered the dirty ground. Hot ashes were thick in the air, making it very hard to breathe. Buildings continued to burn wildly, while Musketeers tried to gather their wounded to be taken to the palace grounds. For it was then that the Musketeers realized that the infirmary was no more. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Streets of Paris That afternoon when the inseparables rode back into the city they were curious as to why so many of the Parisians were rushing toward their Garrison. Some, they noted, came running back from that same direction looking like they had suffered a severe shock of some type.Sniffing the air, Aramis twisted in his saddle to gaze upon his brothers. “Sulfur?” Now that he had mentioned it his nose wrinkled up, also catching the acrid smell of gunpowder in the air.“Mon Dieu! Look!” cried Porthos, pointing toward the Garrison gates.It was then that the men noted flames licking the air along with giant smoke plumes covering the skies, darkening them to the point where a thick haze blocked out the sunlight. They then urged their mounts to a fast gallop. Arriving at the gates, not knowing what to expect, they tethered their horses outside. Racing into the Garrison, they were met with a devastation so terrible the inseparables thought they had stepped into a nightmare.There wasn’t a building spared from what they perceived was wrought by multiple explosions. Tons of debris littered the ground so that they had to tread carefully less they stumble over their own two feet or some poor soul. Their Garrison had been decimated. Reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble.Taking in the fact that many of their comrade-in-arms were scattered throughout the Garrison, the inseparables immediately scrambled to help where they were most needed. They thanked the good Lord for small mercies, when they discovered that the many wounded far outweighed the brothers they had lost.Being the lieutenant of the regiment, Athos’ first concern was to help as many of the soldiers that he could. Struggling to carry the dead weight of Burcet over to the wagon that was hauling injured Musketeers over to the palace, Athos’ worried gaze swept the courtyard landing on the area where the infirmary should have been. Should have been? Having been so preoccupied with their rescue operations, he hadn’t taken time to consider his protégé’s fate. “MON DIEU!” he cried out as if pierced through the heart. For that is what it felt like.Handing over Burcet’s care to Averill, Athos rushed over to where another group of Musketeers were desperately trying to clear debris away from where the infirmary used to stand. Craning his neck, Athos tried to locate his friends. When he spotted them knee deep in rubble, Athos waved them over. “ARAMIS!... PORTHOS!... THE INFIRMARY!”In their desperation to help the injured, Aramis hadn’t taken time to consider that the infirmary had become a casualty as well as everything else. At this point there had been no time to ask the many questions on his tongue. It never even crossed his mind why their men were being taken to the palace. He just assumed the infirmary was overflowing with the wounded. Letting his other brothers take care of Damien, whose leg was bleeding profusely, Aramis responded to Athos’ shout.His legs threatened to give out on him when he too came to the realization that the infirmary was gone. Leaning against Athos’ shoulder, all Aramis could do was stare at the ruined building. His mind in a fog, he found himself falling to his knees as he began to weep. “Mere de Dieu,” he whispered crossing himself. “D’Artagnan, my poor Gascon."“Get the ‘ell back up, Mis!” Grabbing the marksman by the shoulders, Porthos plucked him from the ground and began shaking him. “Ya don’t know ‘e’s dead yet!” Letting Aramis go he pitched in to help the others shift cracked, wooden beams, bricks and anything else that got in his way to getting to their youngest. Some of the debris was still hot to the touch. “Merde!” he swore, dropping a beam nearly on top of his foot. Glancing over to his left Porthos saw Athos frantically trying to claw his way through the mess to reach his protégé. Seeing Aramis back on his knees again, Porthos brought up something he hoped his brother would forgive him for. “MIS!” he bellowed again. “GET OFF YOUR ASS AND ‘ELP US! THIS AIN’T SAVOY!”Coming to his senses at last Aramis realized Porthos was correct. Their young one had to be still alive and, oui, this definitely wasn’t Savoy. Their boy was a Gascon and just too damn stubborn to die on them this way. Right then he began to work side by side with Athos and Porthos. It wasn't until an exhausted Doctor Devereaux joined them that they were in for another shock which left them all reeling."A terrible injustice has been served here this day." Covered from head to toe in soot and grime Devereaux gazed sadly upon what was once his infirmary. "I pray d'Artagnan has survived but prepare yourself for the alternative just in case." Hanging his head down in sorrow he didn’t have the nerve to look the inseparable’s in the face after his words."Was d'Art the only one in the infirmary at the time everythin’ went to 'ell and back?" Wiping sweat from his forehead only caused the soot and blood Porthos had collected to smear across his face giving his features a rather grotesque look."Non." Shaking his head, Devereaux swallowed hard. "Rene had come to fetch me after Martin's horse fell on him while they were in the courtyard. He suffered a fractured leg. Tis why I wasn't in the infirmary at the time." Pausing, Devereaux wasn't sure how to add this to their list of worries as well but knew it had to be said. "Captain Treville had come to sit with d'Artagnan and was still inside when the Garrison was attacked."In the process of tossing some bricks away Athos froze upon hearing this. If the captain was lost as well as d'Artagnan he didn't think he'd have the heart to go on. It had been so long since Athos had attended mass and prayed to a God he had hardened his heart against. But today he fervently began to pray to the good Lord for the young man whom he had come to love like a son and the captain who had been like a father to him. They just had to be alive! He wouldn't consider any other option.++++ Underneath the rubble of the collapsed infirmary "Capt... Captain," d'Artagnan choked out. Oh Mon Dieu! His ribs were killing him, and his head felt like he had lost a sparring match with Porthos. Shrouded in blackness, he tried hard not to panic as his breathing escalated. There wasn’t even a hint of daylight that had been shining through his window mere moments ago. Pain was the only thing d'Artagnan registered, being covered by heavy beams which anchored him in place.Not being able to move, barely managing to turn his head, he couldn't do a thing. Utterly helpless, d’Artagnan wished he could scream in frustration but his still inflamed lungs wouldn’t allow him even that. Being in this position certainly wasn't going to help the fever that still plagued him nor his pneumonia. Adding up his collection of woes d’Artagnan was scared that the blast had killed his captain. If only Treville would answer him. "Captain... Capt-" he stopped calling when he heard an agonized voice speaking low near d'Artagnan's left side."Lad, if you," Treville coughed raggedly, "wanted me to... stay longer," he felt like he was going to choke on his own spit, "you didn't... have to take... such... drastic measures." Trying to laugh had been a bad idea when his ribs gave him the very devil. Not to mention that his head ached terribly. Just the little he had said taxed all his strength. Already he realized his right arm was broken plus it hurt like hell to breathe, which more than likely meant he had a few busted ribs into the bargain. So tired. He was so very tired. Perhaps Treville would just close his eyes for a few moments and the pain would go away."Sir... sir." Afraid that the captain had suffered a concussion, d'Artagnan knew the best thing was for him to try and keep the officer awake. It was a miracle that he didn't have one himself. Still d'Artagnan knew he had been unconscious as well. Perhaps his concussion hadn't been that bad. Now with the heavy silence between them, d'Artagnan worried that If Captain Treville didn't keep up a running dialog with him it meant that the older man had probably lost consciousness again.Beginning to feel worse himself d'Artagnan tried to remember everything Aramis had ever told him about keeping a concussed person awake. Gathering what little strength he had left d'Artagnan said, "Tell me..." choking on some of the soot and ash that hung in the air he took another breath, "tell me what... it was like... for you and my... papa growing... up... in... Gascony?"++++ Royal Palace - throne room "Give them all the help they need!" King Louis was damned upset. Furious over his Garrison being blown up to smithereens and being surrounded by imbeciles everywhere he turned, King Louis had a most childish urge to jump up and down in a tantrum. Refraining from doing so instead King Louis let his ire fall on the people running around him like chickens with their heads cut off. His Garrison was destroyed. Who could have conceived such a terrible plot? "I want every available man in the palace sent over to the Garrison to lend support immediately!""Louis," Anne pulled on her husband's arm, "Cardinal Richelieu does not appear to be as devastated as us over the news. If I didn't know better he even appeared somewhat smug.""What are you getting at, Anne?" Never liking to hear anything untoward about those closest to him, Louis would turn a deaf ear to the negativity surrounding Richelieu. That didn't mean he was blind to the cardinal's faults. But would His Eminence stoop so very low as to plot to destroy Louis' beloved Musketeers? What to do? What to do? His thoughts in disarray were interrupted when a young page came racing into the room."Sire!""Oui," King Louis waved the young page to his side. "What is it? I have no time to doddle.""It was told to us by several of your Musketeers that d'Artagnan and Captain Treville are among the missing? I thought you should be told." Jules wished he didn't have to be the one to bring such dire news to the king. Noting how His Majesty paled, he was afraid the young monarch was going to be ill.Whirling around to face Cardinal Richelieu, it was then that King Louis noted a sly look crossing the older man's face. Could it possibly be? "Cardinal, I believe you can spare your few remaining Red Guards so they can be of some help to my Musketeers." When Richelieu hesitated to answer him, King Louis snapped. "I don't mean tomorrow, Cardinal! I mean right now!" Mon Dieu! His old fox and his young champion were missing! Treville was like family to him and d'Artagnan, although just past his nineteenth birthday, was close enough in age for them to become fast friends or so he had hoped.When Anne saw Richelieu's eyes grow wide with surprise at the anger radiating from Louis, she was the one who became overcome with smugness this time. Having never liked nor trusted the cardinal, as her husband did, Anne was pleased anytime someone was actually able to get the better of His Eminence. Turning to Louis she took one of his hands into her own. "If it wouldn't be unseemly I would like to help. We've set up rooms in the palace as you know to treat the injured that have been arriving. I believe the women tending them could use an extra pair of hands."Kissing her forehead, Louis was proud of her. A strong king needed a strong queen by his side and Anne had more than proven that in the past. "I'm going to go to the Garrison myself and see if I can offer any help too.""And what about Cardinal Richelieu?" Having not missed the furious look that crossed the cardinal's face at being ordered to lend his Red Guards out, Anne's woman's intuition was working overtime.Patting her hand gently, Louis was in a quandary. "We'll have to bide our time and see what reveals itself to us. If I discover that the cardinal had any part in this tragedy then his head will be the first to roll."Watching Louis leave, Anne wondered if now would be the time she should inform him of Richelieu's attempt on her life. If it hadn't been for Captain Treville and the inseparables Anne wouldn't be standing here today. She owed those men her life. It may yet come to light, leaving Anne no choice but to give testimony against His Eminence over his wicked scheme. Walking through the halls filled with the injured, she knew that life was never going to be the same after today. ++++ Shortly after - Palais-Cardinal Today should have been the day Richelieu dreamed about. Instead he found himself being impaled with a look of such fierceness from Louis it had taken him aback. The young king even sounded like he had grown up in a span of a few minutes. It stuck like craw in his throat to lend out the few Red Guards he had been allowed to keep but, unless he wanted to have an argument with Louis over it, Richelieu had to give in lest it reflected badly upon him.Cyprien had done his job well. It was to be hoped that the damage wrought would bring down the rest of the regiment. They would simply fall apart at the seams leaving Richelieu able to re-form his Red Guards again. Proving to the king that Louis just couldn't do without them now. Even better if Treville and that brat d'Artagnan had become casualties. Two thorns out of his side... what could be sweeter than that?++++ Garrison "Athos, we've got to take a break," Aramis pleaded. His eldest brother gave all the appearance of being able to continue digging through the debris until d'Artagnan and Treville were discovered. Most of the men, himself included, had divested themselves of their doublets. The sun's rays upon them had been bad enough, combine that with breathing in air that was thick with soot and ash, bien then Aramis noted more Musketeers would be dropping like flies."Go on," Athos growled. "I won't stop until I find them.""You're not doin' yourself any favors, mon frere." Hefting some large beams over his head, throwing them onto the ground, Porthos could see that Athos looked on the verge of collapse as did Aramis. Stronger than most of the other Musketeers he could go on for some time before tiring out. If Athos wouldn't stop, Porthos knew Aramis wouldn't either."Every minute is precious." He wouldn't grieve. He couldn't. Not until Athos held d'Artagnan's lifeless body in his arms, and that of their captain, would he give in to a grief that was threatening to overwhelm him every minute he saw an injured brother or one that had perished. Holding out hope that they were both still alive, Athos summoned up the strength to continue his search. But whatever the outcome then and only then would Athos find out who did this to the regiment. Woe be it to that individual, and whomever plotted with them, for Athos' vengeance would be a terrible thing to witness. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Same day, late in the afternoon now – Garrison Underneath the rubble of the collapsed infirmary He was weary of coughing, all it did was make his lungs feel like they were on fire, not to mention making his head ache worse than ever. As he listened to his captain reminisce of days gone past, d’Artagnan thought back to that time when he was just a mere petit garcon. Ah, but he had been a holy terror back then. Giving his papa nothing but premature grey hairs. Getting into mischief seemed to be d’Artagnan’s main goal in life which, of course, tested his papa's patience to the extreme. Even his maman didn’t know what to do with him. She used to scold him gently. Telling d’Artagnan that he was a bundle of energy that could be put to better use other than creating chaos wherever he went.“You…” Treville coughed harshly, “were a right young… hellion, son.” Would the pain ever stop, he wondered. Still so very tired but every time he closed his eyes, wanting to sleep, the lad kept at him for more of Treville’s stories. Stubborn Gascons that they both were he thought to humor the younger man, knowing the true reason behind d’Artagnan’s motives in keeping him awake.“If you say… so, sir…” d’Artagnan took an uneven breath. His ribs were beginning to give him trouble again. Gathering that they were either badly bruised or broken, he didn’t look forward to another coughing fit. “Tis been a… long time since those… days. Jog my… memory for…me.” After his words, d’Artagnan wasn’t sure he really wanted to be reminded of his youthful escapades after all.“Ah, my boy,” Treville chuckled, causing another round of coughing. Oh that wasn’t very smart of him. He could have sworn a rib just pierced through his skin. The sharp pain was excruciating but he didn’t want d’Artagnan to concern himself more than the youth already was. “There was… that time you borrowed… Monsieur Plourde’s new horse.” He was getting sleepy again but realized d’Artagnan had the right of it in keeping him talking. “You were only… seven years… of age.”“I don’t remember it.” Furrowing his brow, d’Artagnan tried to think back to when he was that young. “Why did I borrow... someone elses... horse? We had... several of our own.”“More than likely it… was because the horse was… new... and not… yours.” At the time, he and Alexandre never did get the truth out of the boy.“What happened?”It did… not… end well.” Really wishing he could see the young Gascon’s face at this moment Treville, despite the agony he was in, allowed a small smile to touch his lips. “First… Plourde did not give… you… permission to ride… his horse.”“I stole it?” That didn’t seem like something d’Artagnan would have ever done and he was surprised at himself if he had.“In a manner of… speaking,” Treville said. “You borrowed it without...seeking... Plourde out. You did not have… good control… over the animal. By the time Alexandre and… I found… out about it… ah, bien, Plourde’s fence... was torn… down. A hole in the man’s… barn needed to… be fixed and the horse… trough had to be… replaced.”Good thing the captain couldn’t see his face because d’Artagnan was positive it was crimson by now. He was sure at any other time those memories would resurface of such a transgression on his part, however right now he drew a blank. Wondering if Monsieur Plourde ever forgave him d’Artagnan was about to ask but hesitated upon listening to Captain Treville’s breathing. It had gotten worse.Still not able to do more than turn his head to one side, d'Artagnan was helpless to give his captain aide of any sort. Trying to twist his body slightly only resulted in a severe stabbing pain radiating from his right side. As if things couldn't get anymore dire for them, d'Artagnan felt that there was more to his own situation than pneumonia and being stuck under a ton of rubble. Something else was terribly wrong with him but, until he could assess the damage, d'Artagnan would just have to wait for rescue to come."D'Artagnan...lad..." Treville weakly called. "You still... with... me?" Hearing a quiet snort, he could picture the boy rolling his eyes."Was worried that... I... lost you... there for a moment," d'Artagnan huffed. "Ummmm," he licked his dried lips, "Did Monsieur... Plourde ever forgive... me?""Oui," Treville coughed long and harder this time. Not doing himself any favors his ribs jabbed him in pain with each draw of breath. "But you... had to work on... his farm for a time to make up... for what you... had done.""Perhaps I am glad... I do not recollect... that incident." Closing his eyes d'Artagnan only wanted sleep to claim him but knew his job was to keep the captain awake. Trying to think upon what else to talk about it was then that d'Artagnan finally heard other voices speaking. "Captain! Do you hear them?" he shouted in excitement."I do, son. But I'm... afraid it's up to you to... make them know... we are here and by God’s grace alive." Eyelids feeling as if heavy weights were pulling at them Treville gave up the fight, drifting off. It was now all up to the boy.++++Evening was now upon what was left of the Garrison. It was lit up by several hundred lanterns which had been strategically placed to give the soldiers enough light to work by. Greatly concerned and caring citizens of Paris had pitched in to help in any way possible. One of those ways was to drop off as many lanterns as they could get their hands on. They knew the Musketeers were still trying to recover some of their men and would be working throughout the night. Word had reached the city that two of the missing were Captain Treville and their youngest Musketeer. Both men had earned a special place in the hearts of the Parisians.After finally badgering Athos to get some rest, likewise did Porthos and Aramis take a breather. All three men were bone tired and filthy into the bargain. They didn't care how many layers of dirt and grime stuck to their skin or clothing nor did any of their brother-in-arms. Doggedly determined to locate d'Artagnan and their captain, they would continue until every ounce of strength left their bodies.The Musketeers had been divided into groups and had taken shifts so none of the uninjured would collapse from exhaustion during their search. Right now Gaspard, Iean, Absolon, Sylvain and Perrin were feverishly working to move more of the debris keeping everyone from finding their captain and young Gascon.Knowing others were still among the missing, Athos prayed they would be found alive and brought out of this hell. Thinking upon the fate of his other men, he observed Absolon shifting more wooden beams away. Soon after it was then that all of them heard the unmistakable sound of a beloved voice."WE"RE HERE! ALIVE! IN HERE! WE'RE ALIVE!"Shooting up from a lounging position, Athos momentarily became slightly dizzy. Waiting for the world to right itself, he carefully gained his feet. "D'ARTAGNAN!" His eyes moist from tears he held back, Athos' gaze locked onto Aramis and Porthos. "THEY LIVE!" he cried out joyously, hugging his friends close.Elbowing Sylvain off to the side, without apology, Athos began tearing at the rubble again. He had long ago dispensed with his leather gloves and now his hands were raw and bleeding. But none of that mattered now. With renewed hope in his heart, he silently thanked God for this miracle. For earlier he had feared this would be the site of d'Artagnan's and Treville's graves.Signaling the rest of the men to come help them, Porthos began shouting orders left and right to be careful lest they answer to him.Tears unashamedly poured down Aramis' face. God had answered his prayers. What shape the two men would be in after they finally rescued them, bien, he would assess that when the time came. But it was a good sign that after all this time they were both still alive. Though he was slightly worried that the only voice calling out to them had been d'Artagnan's."OVER HERE!" Gaspard bellowed. "I THINK I FOUND ONE OF THEM!"Nearly tripping over themselves getting to Gaspard the inseparables caught sight of an exposed long, slim, olive-toned hand sticking out between some jagged boards and bricks."IT'S D'ARTAGNAN!" Beginning to weep, Athos didn't care that his vulnerability showed. His Gascon was alive! That was all that mattered. When he heard the pounding of feet running toward him Athos whirled around to stare into King Louis' filthy features. In his excitement Athos had nearly forgotten that the young monarch was helping them. Right now King Louis was anxiously looking at him."One of the men told me that you found my old fox and d'Artagnan." King Louis knew his appearance was far from regal but he realized this wouldn't be a picnic in the park to begin with. When first coming here to lend aid, he knew everyone was shocked to see him. King Louis cared for his Musketeers deeply and he'd be a poor monarch if he didn't show his loyalty to them. So shedding most of his royal clothes King Louis helped move the wounded to the wagons and lent his strength anywhere it was needed to locate other survivors."We heard only d'Artagnan's voice so far, Sire," Athos said. "But the boy yelled that they were both alive."Swiping at the tears that escaped him King Louis rolled up his sleeves again, joining his men. "I pray their injuries are not severe.""As do we all, Your Majesty." Seeing the king working side-by-side with them, without complaint, Porthos was filled with a new hope for the future of France. If King Louis was willing to do this for his men, think of the greatness he could be capable of in leading their country."When I find out who is responsible for this monstrous crime," King Louis sadly looked around him, "nothing will save them from my punishment.""We feel the same way, Sire." Astounded at the king's being here with them, Aramis realized he was witnessing the true measure of their young monarch.Chuckling, King Louis pitched in helping the other soldiers dig out Treville and d'Artagnan. "If you find them first, Aramis, I do not care what condition they are in when you throw them at my feet."Hearing that they were being given carte blanche in finding the culprits responsible for this travesty, Athos grimly smiled. "Good to know, Your Majesty.""GOTCHA!" Porthos shouted, when he finally located Captain Treville. Then the others gathered round him to help remove the rest of the debris covering the older man."CAREFUL!" Aramis warned everyone. "We don't know what injuries he has sustained!"Moaning, Treville sluggishly opened his eyes. Staring up at the group of dirty, anxious faces he tried for a smile. "Took you..." his throat was so sore from all the coughing he had done that his voice sounded more like a frog's, "took you all... long enough.""I say, Captain," King Louis grinned, "is that anyway to greet your Musketeers... and you're king?""I'll think upon a... more... suitable reply at a... later... date, Sire." Knowing that he should have been astounded at Louis' presence, Treville hurt too badly to dwell upon it. It was when Damien lightly brushed against his right arm that Treville howled in pain, making Damien stumble and fall to the ground. "My arm... I'm... sure tis broken." As the discomfort receded, Treville watched while Aramis was checking him over. "Before you ask... I'm sure I've broken some... ribs as well.""Concussion, sir?" Some kind soul had rushed to bring Aramis his medical bag. While rummaging through it, he began to think there wouldn't be enough bandages after noting the numerous cuts and abrasions covering the captain's body. Asking Perrin to retrieve more for him Aramis waited for Treville's response."It must have been... bad," Treville admitted. "D'Artagnan's been... trying to keep me... awake. Bless his soul.""Good boy," Athos nodded, proud of their youngest."GOT HIM TOO, ATHOS!"Sweeter words had never been spoken as those of Gaspard upon finally freeing d'Artagnan. Rushing away from his captain's side Athos nearly jumped on top of the younger Musketeer to get to the Gascon. "WHERE! WHERE IS HE?""We need Porthos' strength to help us move this last beam off of him," Gaspard said. So with the larger Musketeer's help they were able to clear away the debris from d'Artagnan's legs.When he first saw the kid's dirty face, Porthos could have kissed it. But what else he saw chilled his blood. "ARAMIS!" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Same day, very late into the evening “ARAMIS!” Porthos bellowed dropping to his knees beside his wounded younger brother, with Gaspard on the other side of the kid. “Don’t try and move, d’Art.” Brushing as much dirt and debris he could from the whelp, he winced at seeing the cuts that adorned d’Artagnan’s face. The heat Porthos felt when his hand brushed over the lad’s forehead doubled his concerned, as it felt quite high. Even though Athos’ face was covered in grime, Porthos could tell that it had whitened considerably at seeing the grave injury to the boy.Temporarily turning over Captain Treville’s care to Folquet, Aramis ran over to d’Artagnan and then gasped at the sight of the nearly inch thick piece of jagged wood sticking out from the lad’s right side. “Merde!” he swore quietly, not wanting to upset d’Artagnan further.“Hi, Aramis,” d’Artagnan tried to laugh but ended up coughing harshly, jarring his ribs again. When an agonizing feeling tore through him, radiating from his lower right side, he didn’t need Aramis to tell him that he’d done it again. “Bad?”Shaking his head ruefully, trying to keep the concern from his face and voice, Aramis gently patted d’Artagnan’s head. “Only you, lad. Only you.”“I think Athos may... need medical... attention more than me,” d’Artagnan pointed out. Seeing that his mentor appeared in a state of shock. “Must be horrible... to put that look... on your... face, mon frere.”Swaying, Athos dropped to the ground beside the boy. Running a shaky hand through d'Artagnan's matted hair, he tried to be strong for his protégé. "You never do anything halfway, child."Reaching out with his left hand, d'Artagnan gripped Athos' bruised and bleeding one. He figured it resulted from all the digging the older man had done to get him out. "How bad is it?""Truth?" Sliding a glance toward Aramis, receiving a nod in return, Athos gazed upon the youngster who held his heart. "You have a piece of wood sticking out of you." Thinking that was blunt enough, Athos was surprised at the lad's response."Ah!"Huffing, Athos ran a hand through his own filthy hair. "Your circumstance requires a tad more than a simple ah I would think.""Is it a... big piece?" Coughing some more d'Artagnan could feel not only his ribs shifting in protest but felt a forceful jabbing pain from the wood as well, now that he knew what it was. Deciding he didn't need to know the particulars about the wood after all, he tried to distract his thoughts and asked, "What about the captain?" Tired eyes seeking Athos out, d'Artagnan needed reassurance that his efforts to keep Treville awake hadn't been for nought."As well... as... can be... expected when having... a building fall on top... of him, lad," Treville drawled from his position close to the boy."Good...," d'Artagnan swallowed thickly, "good to hear... you're humor's intact... sir." Listening to the captain's snort of laughter, despite their dire dilemma, lifted a weight from d'Artagnan's shoulders."Didn't," Treville abruptly coughed, "didn't know I had... one." His remark appeared to amuse his men, as many surrounding him began to laugh.Kneeling beside the young Gascon, Porthos shared a quick worried look with Athos and Aramis. "Kid, ya gotta promise me ta hang in there. I'd hate ta 'ave ta break in another newbie."Noting d'Artagnan struggle to laugh, aggravating his protégé's condition further, Athos hit Porthos up the back side of the other man's head."Ow!" Rubbing at the tender area, Porthos scowled at his brother. Hearing the whelp struggling for breath, he realized what he had caused. He felt worse than ever now. Laying a large hand flat on the kid's chest he urged, "Try n' breathe slow, d'Art. Nice and easy like." Sitting on his haunches, Porthos' eyes fell again on the jagged wood piercing the whelp. "I swear ya must 'ave done somethin' terrible in another life ta 'ave all this bad luck followin' ya around."When d'Artagnan's breaths evened out, he glanced upward at Porthos who hovered over him. Patting the gentle giant on the arm, he tried to reassure him. "I'm still here despite... everything. Bad luck or... not.""I didn't 'elp matters, kid." A lopsided smile was all Porthos could offer their youngest. "Sorry ta make ya laugh.""Can..." d'Artagnan's breath caught again from the sharp pains jabbing at him. "Can make it... up to me... next time... at the Wren."Ruffling the whelp's hair, Porthos then heard Aramis barking out orders for both Captain Treville and d'Artagnan to be transported back to the palace.Making sure the captain had been settled in the wagon as comfortably as possible, Aramis then supervised the other soldiers for d'Artagnan. "Men, we're going to have to be extremely careful when you pick the lad up. I don't want his side jarred if it can be helped." Directing Nihel and Maurice to grab hold of the boy's legs, Aramis then had Porthos and Athos take up position on either side of d'Artagnan's shoulders. Together they put the youth in the wagon alongside their captain.Leaning over the wagon, wearing a rather tired grin on his face, King Louis took in the two injured men that he cared very much for. "This will not go unanswered," he vowed to them. "Now you are both being taken to the Louvre where Doctor Devereaux has set up surgery. My own personal physician Doctor Bedeau is there as well along with several local ones from within our city that graciously volunteered their services," he tenderly wiped some dirt from his old fox's face. "But I will be staying here for a time with the rest of my men." Giving them both a sad smile he added, "Tis where I belong."From there Porthos took up the reins, guiding the team of horses on the road that would take them a short distance to the palace. Meanwhile Aramis tended to the two wounded men in the back of the wagon. Sitting up front, beside Porthos, was Athos. Stoic as ever. Like having your Garrison blown up was an everyday occurrence. "The doc will fix 'em both up, Athos." Not getting a response, his eyes slid toward his eldest brother once again. "We'll get the batards responsible and then," Porthos growled, "then they'll 'ave ta deal with us.""I forgot to ask after King Louis." Taking the reins from Porthos, Athos tried to stop the team. Only to have them taken back out of his hands."We gotta get 'em ta the palace," Porthos snapped. "Sides His Majesty told us he was gonna stay and keep helpin'." Realizing then that Athos hadn't paid any attention to the young monarch's words to Treville or their whelp, his voice gentled. "Anyways the king will be surrounded by Musketeers so I'd say 'e was well protected." He supposed the grunt of response from Athos was better than nothing, while he coaxed the horses to a faster pace.++++ Royal Palace Once they arrived at the Louvre, there were many able hands eager to help transfer Captain Treville and d'Artagnan inside the palace.Used to the Louvre's oppulance there was none of that to be seen this night. Seeing nothing resembling the palace anywhere they looked, the inseparables walked into the throne room feeling like they stepped into another war zone. The many injured were scattered throughout in makeshift beds. Later they found out that other rooms also held many of the wounded.Noting Queen Anne and Constance helping aid the doctors, Aramis immediately went over to them. "We have brought Captain Treville and d'Artagnan. Where may we take them?""It depends on what type of injuries they have." Looking at how weary the marksman appeared, as were Porthos and Athos, Constance shared a concerned look with Anne. "The doctors placed the most severely wounded in other rooms.""What of the throne room here?" To Aramis' eyes, it seemed this area already held seriously injured men."For the wounded that don't require surgery." Looking past the inseparable's to see other Musketeers carrying d'Artagnan and Captain Treville inside, Queen Anne's eyes widened in horror."What of d'Artagnan?" Grabbing Anne's hand, Constance squeezed it tightly noting the object sticking out of her best friend's side."Surgery," Athos gruffly announced. "I do not think there is any time to waste either.""Follow me." She lead Athos and Porthos, plus two other Musketeers whose names for the life of her Constance couldn't remember, down a long hallway. Suddenly finding herself drawing a blank as to everything else except her thoughts for d'Artagnan, Constance held back her tears.As the group left, Queen Anne turned to Aramis. "What of Louis?""Pitching in like a real trooper," he smiled. "It was just the tonic all our men needed to see and was well appreciated. His Majesty was getting just as filthy as the rest of us and it bolstered many a spirit.""My husband's growing up finally." She was pleased that Louis' eyes were beginning to be truly opened. Perhaps he'll soon discover what a treacherous person Richelieu was and no friend to Louis, herself or France. After the birth of their son it seemed that Louis was trying harder to be a better leader to his subjects and a more affectionate mate toward herself.Having seen for himself that the young royals were drawing ever closer after the Dauphin's birth, Aramis prayed that together they'd both be able to lead France to glory. Even if that meant butting heads with the cardinal. Which Aramis knew was a foregone conclusion. "I must go to d'Artagnan now and confer with Doctor Devereaux on the lad's surgery.""Oui go, Aramis," she urged. "I'll pray our youngest Musketeer pulls through." Noting that at her words Aramis kissed the crucifix he always wore, Queen Anne silently asked God to spare the Gascon's life.++++"Tis not quite a foot long." Scowling at the piece of wood protruding from the boy's right side, Devereaux swore quietly. It would be a tricky operation no matter what. But two things were a major concern for him. One was the loss of blood once the offending object was removed. The other was that it may have done internal damage to d'Artagnan's kidney or liver or both. It depended on how deep the wood had punctured the Gascon."How will you proceed?" Having studied the doctor's face, Athos felt dread fill him."I need to speak with Aramis first." Knowing Athos wouldn't understand why that was, he explained. "Aramis and I have talked in regards to the uses of different herbs which could aid us during surgeries including those out in the field.""How so?" This sounded promising and Athos wanted to know how this would work."Depending on what is used the herb will render the patient unconscious," Devereaux said. "It's deuce better than drowning someone in alcohol until they pass out.""Yeah," Porthos snorted. "Unlike others that would knock someone senseless with a punch ta the face." Glowering at Athos he recalled what the man had done to him during the Bonnaire fiasco. Seeing that the doctor appeared mildly confused at his statement, Porthos laughed. "Ya 'ad ta be there.""I'm sure." Lips twitching, Devereaux walked away shaking his head at the ingenious ways the Musketeers came up with to solve problems.Seeing Aramis step inside the room, Porthos pulled him aside. "The doc needs ta talk ta ya.""I figured as much." Walking over to where d'Artagnan laid, Aramis noted Athos was right there beside the boy. "Athos, go with Porthos and get cleaned up. You'll both feel worlds better for it.""I ain't leavin' the kid now that 'e needs us more than ever." Planting his feet firmly beside Athos, Porthos dared anyone to try and move him."I'm of the same mind, mon ami." Rubbing his thumb across the youngster's brow, Athos noted d'Artagnan's breathing eased up. Sending Aramis a smug look it faltered slightly upon gazing at Devereaux's stern features."D'Artagnan's surgery is going to prove hard enough," Devereaux needlessly pointed out. "I don't want any distractions. So both of you will do as Aramis suggested while we proceed." His words didn't go over well with the two Musketeers but at last they saw reason and reluctantly left the room. Turning to the marksman he asked, "Remember when we discussed using valerian root because of its tranquilizing, sedative and antiseptic properties?""Oui, we used it for the first time on Barnabe when he was injured." If the doctor was going to use that particular herb then Aramis felt hopeful that d'Artagnan wouldn't feel a thing during surgery. "It worked well then I believe.""I've nearly bought out the local apothecary for the root to prepare the amount of tea needed to make for our injured soldiers." Running a hand down the back of his neck, Devereaux already felt weary and there was still more work that lay ahead for him. "I also purchased hopefully enough quantities of poppy seeds to help relieve the agony of their wounds as well.""Do you have enough skullcap and hops too?" If d'Artagnan's surgery goes well than Aramis could further be of use to the doctor.Smiling his approval, Devereaux slapped Aramis on the back. "Oui, I do. Later you can mix those with the valerian root into a tea or tincture for mild sedative use.""I'll go prepare the valerian tea for d'Artagnan now." About to leave for the kitchen, Devereaux's hand on Aramis' arm prevented him from doing so."Tis already done." Devereaux pointed to a table full of his medical equipment. "The kitchen staff has been given careful instructions on its preparation and there's more being made as we speak.""To use on others." Aramis realized d'Artagnan would be the first but not the last. "Then let me quickly wash away the grime from my arms and hands so we can begin."++++ Notes Anesthesia didn't exist until the 19th century. Hence the use of herbs was quite common and still is to this day.Valerian has been used for centuries as an herbal remedy. It contains tranquilizing and sedative properties. It's been used to treat sleeping disorders, insomnia, restlessness, anxiety, nervous tension, hysteria, excitability, stress and intestinal colic or cramps.Poppy seeds contain small quantities of both morphine and codeine, which are pain-relieving drugs that are still used today.Skullcap is a comforting herb, traditionally used to alleviate nervous tension and exhaustion. It is used to promote emotional wellbeing and relaxation during times of distress.Hops are also used in herbal medicine in a way similar to Valerian, as a treatment for anxiety, restlessness, and insomnia. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Royal Palace - same time and place When Aramis rejoined Doctor Devereaux he came upon the physician staring at d'Artagnan, lost in thought. "Did something else happen to the lad while I was momentarily away?" "Non," Devereaux shook his head. "I'm second guessing myself tis all." "May I ask why that is?" What could have happened in the short time Aramis had been gone? "I've been listening to the boy's labored breathing," Devereaux offered. "I should have taken into consideration that d'Artagnan's lungs are still inflamed from the young man's pneumonia." Hand brushing lightly over the Gascon's forehead he grimaced. "Lest us not forget his fever hasn't left him yet either." "So what you are not saying is that we won't be doing the pup any favors by operating on him." Worried more than ever now, Aramis' grip tightened on the crucifix he wore. "We have no choice though. That wood has to come out." "No choice," Devereaux repeated with a firm nod of agreement. "I know that, Aramis. Tis just I'd feel a whole lot better about d'Artagnan's chances if the pneumonia had improved." "The pup works better under pressure anyway," Aramis snorted. "The lad will do all right. You'll see." "From your mouth to God's ears." Glancing at his equipment Devereaux added, "Now do you want to give d'Artagnan the tea or shall I?" "I'll give it to him now." Swiftly moving over to a table that held the steaming brew, Aramis poured a generous amount into a mug. He knew exactly how much tea the lad should drink to safely render the Gascon unconscious. When Aramis came back over, Devereaux helped d'Artagnan to sit up. Holding the youngster in that position, he waited as the marksman held the mug of valerian tea to the boy's lips. Noting the face d'Artagnan pulled at the taste, a huff of amusement escaped Devereaux. "I know what you're thinking, d'Artagnan," he winked at the lad. "Another terrible concoction, eh?" "I've... had... worse. Believe me." Trying for a smile d'Artagnan weakly leaned against the physician. "Can we... get this over... with?" "As soon as you go to sleep, mon frere." Looking at their youngest fondly, Aramis watched d'Artagnan's eyelids begin to flutter shut. "Do not fight its effects, mon ami." "Aramis." Reaching out to grab his brother's hand d'Artagnan squeezed it tightly. "If I do... not... survive..." A gentle finger to his lips stopped further words. "Uh uh." Tapping one of his long fingers lightly upon the boy's mouth, Aramis frowned. "Do not ever talk like that, d'Artagnan. You are a Musketeer after all." "Does... that mean... we... cannot... die?" Slowly losing the battle to stay awake, d'Artagnan barely heard his friend's response. "It simply means you won't die this day, mon frere. Your time is far, far away." Placing a kiss on the pup's hot forehead Aramis then turned to Devereaux. "I believe we can proceed now." ++++ Back to the Throne Room "Honestly you two!" Grabbing the bandages and clean linens from the hands of both Porthos and Athos, Constance was disappointed in them. "I thought you'd be of more help." Bewildered, the men first looked at one another and then back at the titian haired young woman. Neither of them understood why she was upset with them. It didn't take a genius to figure out the men were confused at her attitude. "I asked you to do this more than twenty minutes ago," she stamped one foot in anger. "What took so long? The queen was ready to send a search party out." Beyond embarrassed, Porthos reluctantly admitted what had happened. "Er... we couldn't find it." "Never had to locate the linen closet in the palace before," Athos offered with a wince at her sour expression. When Constance walked away muttering about how could they have gotten lost?, Athos refrained from rolling his eyes for fear that she'd catch him at it. "She ain't gonna forgive us anytime soon." Knowing a quick temper goes with red hair, Porthos was going to do his best to stay out of Constance's way. "Being Treville's second-in-command part of my job is to know the palace inside and out." Following Queen Anne's movements, as she and Constance helped patch up their wounded brothers, Athos' lips tightened. "I may have been remiss in learning some of the smaller areas." "Ya think?" With a sad shake of his head, Porthos had other things on his mind at the moment. "I sure hope d'Art's surgery goes without a hitch since we ain't allowed ta show our faces in there." Still not pleased with the doc's order, Porthos had to keep himself in check to not go against Devereaux's wishes. "The child's in the best of hands, mon ami. Tis all we could ask for." When Her Majesty waved them over to help with more of the injured, Athos instantly obeyed with Porthos right at his shoulder. ++++ D'Artagnan's surgery Blood stained the floor. Not as much as one would have expected. But what there was of it spurted out quite freely immediately after Devereaux carefully extracted the jagged piece of wood from d'Artagnan's flesh. Louis would have to re-tile the floor was the odd stray thought crossing his mind at the time. He was pleased to see that the wood hadn't penetrated too deeply, thus missing any vital organs. The boy's guardian angels must have been working overtime protecting the young Gascon. Throwing the wood aside Devereaux heard it clatter to the floor, then he kicked it out of his way. He concentrated on slowing down the flow of blood, very glad for the quiet presence of Aramis working by his side. Together they cleaned out the injury. Removing dirt, and any other debris, that remained inside. They had to make sure to do a thorough job of it or the risk of infection could set in. Though Devereaux knew no matter how careful he was during surgery, infection was always a possibility. So he would have to monitor d'Artagnan's condition carefully once he was finished. "Aramis, your stitches are as flawless as your marksmanship." Throwing the Musketeer a slight smile, Devereaux stepped aside. "Would you care to take over?" Dipping his head in thanks, Aramis held out his hand to receive the threaded needle from the doctor. "When I am done," he grinned, "d'Artagnan later won't have any reason to complain of a leftover scar." Amused despite the seriousness of their situation, Devereaux observed Aramis' steady hands at work. The man should have been a physician. "You've missed your calling." Not taking his eyes off of what he was doing, Aramis hummed softly. "My calling is exactly where I am and what I am." "I would have been disappointed if you had given me any other answer than that, mon ami." Noting that Aramis was nearly done, Devereaux checked on d'Artagnan's breathing which surprisingly didn't sound labored any longer. "I believe the tea helped the boy's lungs too." "Our youngest needed a break." Finishing up Aramis rubbed the ache in his back. "Mon Dieu! This has been a dreadfully long day. Eyeing with distaste his blood stained shirt and leather pants, he noted the doctor hadn't fared any better. "If we go out there looking like this," Aramis fingered his shirt, pulling it away from his skin, "I fear we'll give Athos and Porthos heart failure." "What's a bit of blood to a Musketeer, eh?" Slapping Aramis on the back Devereaux was pleased with the job they had done, even when the marksman rolled his eyes at him. "Come. I believe Vincent can watch over our Gascon while we seek out your brothers." Throne Room again "Ah, there they are." Walking over to where his comrades were helping several of their injured soldiers, Aramis came up behind them. Throwing his arms around each of Porthos' and Athos' shoulders, he felt the two men stiffen in surprise until they turned their heads to encounter Aramis' happy expression. "Mis!" "Aramis!" Hearing an unasked question in their voices, Aramis hugged them both to his side. "Our pup's surgery went well, mes freres." Releasing them, he kissed his crucifix. "Luck once again worked in d'Artagnan's favor as the wood didn't go in too deeply, missing his major organs." "Best news I've 'eard since this whole nightmare began." Porthos gruffly remarked. Dubiously taking in the remains of fresh blood on both Aramis' and the doctor's clothing Athos tilted his head to the side, arching both brows in question. "Tis not as bad as it appears, Athos." Correctly interpreting his eldest brother's look Aramis glanced at Devereaux, the latter was trying unsuccessfully to wipe some of the blood off his own clothes. "I'll take your word for it." His tone dry, Athos was at least relieved his protégés surgery was finally over. "The lad's job now is to heal." Noting Athos' eyes shifted toward the marksman, Devereaux realized that even though he was the physician in charge the lieutenant had more faith in Aramis' thoughts. He wasn't upset, au contraire, knowing how these men lived and what they went through together it was only right that Athos would trust Aramis' judgment as well. "Doctor Devereaux will be keeping tabs on our young Gascon for signs of any infection but I'm confident we thoroughly cleaned out the lad's wound." Hearing Athos let out a long breath, Aramis bumped his shoulder against the other man's. "He's strong, remember that." "Yup! Kid may look scrawny but 'e's stubborn as they come." Winking at the doc, and his two friends, Porthos saw Constance from across the room and quickly ducked behind Athos. Thinking that rather an odd action for Porthos to make Aramis asked, "How goes it out here?" Following his brother's gazes toward where Constance was currently bandaging a Musketeer's arm, Aramis was slightly puzzled. Noting her glaring daggers at Porthos and Athos, he rubbed the back of his neck. "May I ask what both of you have done to earn her ire this time?" Exchanging chagrined looks, Athos and Porthos couldn't meet Aramis' curious eyes for very long. "Got lost," Porthos muttered, hanging his head down in shame. "Have you ever tried to find a linen closet in a palace this size?" Not waiting for the marksman's response Athos added, "Two words - needle... haystack." Staring at them, Aramis' lips twitched as did the doctor's. There was an interesting story here. One he would get them to share at a later date. For now Aramis needed a break. He would have preferred a drink but that would have to wait for later. After that he would check on d'Artagnan again and then tend to the many other wounded. ++++ Note: I have no idea if valierian tea is bitter or not. Just thought I'd throw that in since d'Artagnan's always complaining about Aramis giving him foul tasting medicine to make him feel better. Also... a virtual prize to anyone recognizing a small piece of dialog from one of season's three episodes. Hee hee! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Past midnight - Royal Palace "D'Artagnan's resting comfortably." Leaning back in a chair with his legs stretched out in front of him, a huge yawn escaped Aramis. He was bone weary, not only from tending to d'Artagnan with Doctor Devereaux, but aiding his injured fellow Musketeers as well.Sitting around a table, near Aramis, were Porthos and Athos. Both men were just as worn out. Head buried in his arms resting on the table Athos was already half asleep, likewise Porthos who mirrored Aramis' example."Our pup should stay asleep til morn." On the cusp of sleep himself, with eyes already closed, Aramis was about to nod off when someone rudely interrupted his time with Morpheus."I thought you would all like to know..." Constance mouth snapped shut when she realized how her abrupt intrusion had startled the three sleeping men. Noting how Aramis jerked his head up in what appeared to her a very hurtful manner, Constance felt badly. Watching Athos nearly fall out of his chair, glowering at her, made Constance want to run out the way she came in. Her feelings didn't improve at all when Porthos sent her a look that would have made any sane person, male or female, fear for their life."Apologies, gentlemen." Walking cautiously into the room Constance wrung her hands together when a bout of nerves took control. "I thought all of you would be interested to know that Captain Treville's injuries have been seen to and Doctor Bedeau will be keeping an eye on him since the captain sustained a severe concussion.""That's a relief." Smiling sleepily, Aramis was pleased knowing the captain was out of danger for the most part. Concussions were a way of life for soldiers, which he knew about firsthand. Fortunately Treville always joked that being a captain required him to have a very hard skull. "I was too busy treating one soldier after another to inquire after his condition nor any of our other injured brothers." Noting the young woman's lips open and close without uttering a sound, Aramis' gut clenched. The news wouldn't be pretty he feared.Swallowing hard Constance started by telling them the number of casualties so far. "The dead number over fifteen and the Musketeers that weren't hurt from the explosion keep bringing more wounded men to us. So many I've lost count.""That means there's still a chance of recoverin' more dead bodies." Hanging his head down, Porthos felt the losses keenly.Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Aramis reached for his cross. "May God have mercy on their souls." Listening to this sad news, he shook the last vestiges of sleep off. Alas, Morpheus would have to wait a little while longer."I sure 'n' 'ell won't 'ave mercy on the batards that did this to us!" growled Porthos, wanting a piece of the scum that attacked them."Has His Majesty returned?" Feeling sorrow for the loss of the fifteen men, Athos worried there would be even more coming back to the palace, like Porthos just said, but he prayed for a better outcome. "Oui." Managing a small smile, her eyes began to twinkle. "The queen and I nearly didn't recognize him when King Louis announced he was back.""When we left the king," Athos' lips curled upward at the recent memory, "he was just as filthy dirty as the rest of us. Somewhere along the way His Majesty had also lost his wig." Noting his two friends nod their heads in agreement, Athos continued. "It helped the regiment to know  Louis was there for them when it counted." It was nice to see that their young monarch had grown a backbone. Better late than never, Athos thought. Louis would need one in the coming days to help locate the ones responsible for this tragedy.Another interruption came when the door opened to admit Queen Anne. When they all went to stand up at her presence, Her Majesty waved them to sit back down. "Beds have been prepared for your comfort and I insist that you all avail yourselves of them." Her gaze flicked from one inseparable to the other. The tired lines around their eyes told a story all their own."You are as kind and gracious as you are beautiful, Your Majesty." Sweeping his chapeau from his head, Aramis elegantly bowed."I hardly feel beautiful at the moment." Knowing she must look as disheveled as Constance, Queen Anne wiped her hands down her bloodied dress. "The king will speak with all of you on the morrow. Needless to say his spirits are quite low," tears began to fill her blue eyes. "This unspeakable act will be avenged." Turning away, she took Constance by the arm as both exhausted women stumbled out through the door.Realizing that the women were in no better shape than themselves, Athos hastily acted. Going up behind them, he took hold of each of their arms. "I believe that rest is also on order for you both." Holding up a finger before either one of the ladies gave him an argument, Athos walked them over to where several maids were diligently working. Never releasing his reluctant captives, Athos exchanged a few quiet words with the staff. Then turning around he told Constance and the queen what he had arranged. "Now, you will kindly follow Regine and Sacha to your own rooms as well.""But who will take care of the wounded?" Constance complained, not bothered one whit at the roll of eyes Athos gave her.In a tone of voice that would have done his aristocratic ancestors proud, Athos politely retorted. "Do not think to question me on this, Constance." His one eyebrow arched so high it nearly touched his hairline. "Queen Anne and yourself are ready to drop. Aht!" Holding up the same finger again, Athos frowned. "If Captain Treville were standing here he would demand the same thing.""Do not worry, petite soeur, there's more than enough physicians and staff on the premises to take care of them." Tottering on his feet, Aramis felt Porthos' firm grip on his arm keeping him from keeling over in an ungainly heap."Eh," Porthos tilted his head, "don't forget the rest of our men that aren't hurt 'ave been 'elpin' out where they can.""All right," Queen Anne agreed. "I admit defeat and we'll retire without further fuss.""I guess I could close my eyes for an hour or two," Constance tiredly admitted."It will be for more than an hour or two," Athos emphasized to her. "Or I'll know the reason why."Wanting to leave before Constance' temper got the better of her, because Queen Anne knew that sometimes the young woman hated being told what to do, she gently reached out to take the younger woman's arm again. "Let us all go to our collective rooms now."Both women could have simply been paying lip service to Athos so, not taking any chances, he personally accompanied them until they slipped inside the chambers that were made ready. Satisfied, Athos went to seek his own bed.++++ Next day, early morning - d'Artagnan's room Clean of the dirt and grime from the night before, feeling refreshed, the inseparables paused in front of their youngest's room. They could hear furious words being exchanged from inside and bewildered they stared at each other. Cautiously opening the door they could see d'Artagnan gesticulating with his arms. It was obvious to them that the boy's range of motion was inhibited by his injuries, so it appeared no more than the flapping of a tiny bird's wings to their concerned eyes. Something was definitely wrong, and judging by the Gascon's pout d'Artagnan was not winning any points with Doctor Devereaux.At the inseparable's appearance, it was then that both the doctor's and d'Artagnan's mouths clamped shut."Apologies for interrupting what sounded like a most interesting conversation." Stepping up to his protégé's bedside, Athos smiled down into the boy's angry eyes. "Child, what has you riled so?" Noting the flushed face, he feared at first that the young Gascon's fever had risen as a result of the surgery. Instead, Athos realized it stemmed from the lad's temper."He," d'Artagnan stabbed a finger in the air pointing directly at Devereaux, "told me I won't be able to resume duties for at least a month!""Mmmmm," Aramis hummed, glancing at the physician with curious eyes. "I assumed it would have been longer than that.""Que diable!" d'Artagnan croaked. "Are you on his side too?""Tis not a matter of sides, pup." Aramis sat down at the foot of the Gascon's bed. "Tis a matter of your health.""Yeah, kid." Gently laying a hand on top of the whelp's head Porthos ran his fingers soothingly through d'Artagnan's long hair. "If'n ya 'aven't noticed we're a might attached ta ya now."Dragging over a chair, Athos sat down beside his protégé. Looking up at the doctor he said, "Doctor Devereaux, I assumed that even after a month's time that d'Artagnan would only be allowed light duties if that. Am I correct?""If the young hot head had let me finish," Devereaux' irritation was high toward his patient, "tis what I was going to say."Noting the physician's ire and the steam building up again in the boy, Athos placed a hand lightly on top of d'Artagnan's chest. He was careful not to disturb any of the bandages covering the lad's ribs or surgical wound. "You were that," Athos snapped his fingers, "close to dying. If the possibility of death doesn't make you sit up and take notice," Athos huffed, "understand this." Leaning over he whispered into the stubborn Gascon's ear. "It would be the end of Aramis, Porthos and myself if we were ever to lose you, child. You have attached yourself most firmly in our hearts."From his vantage, Aramis heard what his brother had told their young one as did Porthos whose fingers still ran through d'Artagnan's hair. "It would have felt as if a limb had been severed from each of us." Having helped to save the pup's life, Aramis felt he had a better say in the matter than any of his friends. "So do not be in a hurry to undo our efforts to save you.""Sides," Porthos gruffly laughed, "you're the only one who could put up with us and our shenanigans." Seeing twin frowns marring Athos' and Aramis' faces, Porthos was confused as to what had annoyed his brothers."I am pleased to know I would be missed." Receiving an unexpected, but not unwelcome hug from his mentor, d'Artagnan allowed his own emotions to overcome him. Laying his head on Athos' shoulder, he relaxed into the older man's embrace. "I love all of you just as much.""Love?" Porthos chuckled, with an odd look at Aramis and Athos. "Did we say anythin' about love?" Seeing the smile his teasing brought to the whelp's face, Porthos exchanged a smug grin with Aramis."Now no more funny business giving the good doctor a hard time." Ah! There was that Gascon fire d'Artagnan was known for coming back to life. Athos could see it kindle in the lad's brown eyes. "You will do as he and Aramis tell you to do.""By the way, Doctor Devereaux," he had noticed lines of pain around d'Artagnan's mouth and it had caused Aramis grave concern, "have you given him any of the poppy seeds yet?""D'Artagnan's only been awake a short time," Devereaux replied. "I was going to give the seeds to him in about an hour from now. They should also aid in helping with the boy's cough especially now that the valerian tea has worn off.""We do not want d'Artagnan to become dependent on the poppy seeds though," Athos wisely pointed out with obvious worry lacing his voice.Listening to the lad's put upon sigh, Devereaux held back from addressing the Gascon directly. He felt enough had been said to the young man already over the state of his health. "Tis why I'll be keeping tabs on his condition.""Merde!" Disgusted, d'Artagnan didn't care who knew it. With a jerk of his head, Porthos indicated that he wanted a quiet word or two with Aramis and Athos. "There's somethin' else buggin' 'im. Either of ya know what it is?" Getting blank stares in return, Porthos didn't need it spelled out for him that neither of his brothers knew why the whelp was acting the way he was."D'Artagnan," Athos sat back down again, "what is troubling you?""I can't help any of you hunt for the ones that did this to us!" Thumping his fist on the side of his bed, d'Artagnan's frustration had no other outlet."Young chevalier," Athos' blue eyes were filled with nothing but gentleness as they fell on his protégé, "I believe you would charge out of the palace all alone in search of those batards if you could.""But until you heal," Aramis tugged on the pup's uncovered foot, "know that we will not fail in our endeavor to capture them.""For ya, d'Art," Porthos said, "and all our wounded and lost brothers."Humbled by their words, d'Artagnan realized he hadn't asked after the captain. "What of Captain Treville's injuries?" A bit embarrassed for not asking sooner, he couldn't look his friends in the eye. "I should have found that out before concerning myself with my long convalescence.""His right arm's been set. The captain was lucky in that regard as it was a clean break." Noting the youngster relax at his news Aramis added, "His ribs have been bandaged and we're dealing with his concussion symptoms as they arise.""In other words you're continually wakin' 'im up." Throwing an evil grin at the whelp, Porthos winked. "We all know 'ow that goes.""What of our Garrison? How many men did we lose? And the king?" He would have rattled on but the look Athos gave d'Artagnan made his remaining words stick in his throat."Relax, d'Artagnan," Athos chucked the boy under the chin, "we will tell you all that we know so far.""Which ain't much," Porthos offered with a grim look at everyone."King Louis is to speak with us some time today," Aramis remarked with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Since he stayed behind to help our men His Majesty may shed more light on the matter.""Would one of you come back to let me know what he tells you?" Hating to be left out of things, d'Artagnan's concern was that his brothers may leave certain details out simply not to worry him."As if we could ever forget you." Flashing the young Gascon a smile, Aramis figured it was time that he and his friends spoke with King Louis sooner rather than later.Pulling his chapeau low over his eyes Athos placed a comforting hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder, squeezing gently. "We shall return." Standing now he walked over to the door.With a wink at the kid, Porthos followed after his leader."Au revoir, mon petit frere." Leaving the youngster to the tender mercies of Devereaux, Aramis followed the others.++++ Notes: Batards - bastards Petite soeur - little sister Que diable - what the devil Merde - basically means shit (but I'm pretty sure all of you know that by now) Chevalier - white knight Au revoir, mon petit frere - goodbye, my little brother (also something everyone should be familiar with too). ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Same day, a little later in the morning – King Louis’ chambers After having a proper rest, King Louis had agreed to a private audience with the inseparables. Thinking on all he had seen and been through yesterday, plus the losses of so many of his Musketeers, King Louis slumped in a chair at his desk. It was to this sight the inseparables were greeted too when they walked in. They had never seen His Majesty so beaten down… so lost. Then again the king had just suffered the loss of his beloved Garrison, along with a tragic number of loyal Musketeers into the bargain. “Sire.” Clearing his throat quietly so that the king knew they were there, Athos crushed the brim of his chapeau in both hands. As if a great weight were on it, King Louis slowly lifted his head up to settle bleak eyes upon his finest soldiers. “I believe there has never been a worse day in my entire life until yesterday.” Gaining his feet he approached the men. “Here I imagined that the death of my father had been catastrophic.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I sadly stand corrected.” Gazing at the lieutenant King Louis clapped the man’s shoulder. “Athos, I know you’re in full charge of the regiment while Treville is incapacitated. Your leadership has always proved invaluable and I will depend upon it more than ever during this dreadful time.” Beginning to nervously pace in front of the silent Musketeers King Louis stopped abruptly, exhaled a long breath, then turned to face them again. “Whatever it takes help me find out how this happened and who was behind it,” his lips tightened into a thin line. “That will be your main priority.” “You know we will do everything within our power, Your Majesty,” Athos replied quickly. Knowing, with utter confidence, that he and his brothers would bring down those who dared attacked them. “If I may ask, Sire.” Dipping his head slightly, Aramis looked directly at the young monarch. “Last eve we asked and were informed that at least fifteen of our brothers had lost their lives.” His voice held nothing but sorrow for his deceased brethren. “You were still involved in rescue operations at the Garrison at the time.” Hesitating, afraid of the king’s response Aramis went ahead with his question. “Did we suffer further losses?” “We discovered three more of my brave soldiers but they were beyond saving.” His voice grim, King Louis wouldn’t ever forget sifting through the debris and stumbling upon the dead body of one of his men. The poor soul must have been quite close to one of the explosions for the soldier had been missing part of his left arm. He also had a gaping hole in his chest. The body was so blackened that King Louis couldn’t recognize the man’s features. All he could do was offer up silent prayers to God in hopes that the fallen Musketeer was at peace now. The sight had turned his stomach sour to the point where he had bent over double to throw up the little sustenance he had eaten earlier. When listening to the king’s words, Porthos exchanged a forlorn look with his friends. Nudging Aramis in the side, he offered him his silent support. This was worse than Savoy ever had been for Aramis and Porthos knew the marksman’s mind would go back to that horrible day again and again. “Remember, Mis… not Savoy,” he whispered. If he had to keep repeating it Porthos would if it kept Aramis grounded in the here and now. Satisfied with a nod of Aramis’ head that he had heard him, Porthos made a mental note to stay close to his friend during the rough days ahead. It had been bad enough back at the Garrison when Aramis thought d’Artagnan had been killed. Neither he nor Athos needed Aramis to revert back to the near catatonic state his brother had been in after the loss of those twenty Musketeers. It would take a long time to recover from this but Athos vowed that the regiment would rally forth and eventually be what it once was. What ate at him was the fact that, no matter where he turned now, all Athos saw were Red Guards all over the place. It was getting so that red was now his least favorite color. This tragedy took a favorable turn for Cardinal Richelieu it would seem, because of the shortage of Musketeers available. It enabled His Eminence to reach out to his former guards that had been dismissed and easily reinstate them with King Louis’ blessing. It made Athos sick at heart. Noting that His Majesty was addressing them again, he put his grievances with the cardinal off to the side. “I’ve checked on Treville and d’Artagnan and understand that both men are out of danger.” Sitting back down King Louis rubbed at the ache that had begun at the base of his neck. “That is something at least to be grateful for.” His eyes shifted toward his men again. “Do you not agree?” “Amen,” uttered Aramis sincerely. Reaching inside his shirt he pulled out his crucifix, kissing the cross reverently. “If we had lost either of them, Sire,” swallowing hard, Athos got past the lump in his throat, “I do not know what I personally would have done.” “I know what I woulda done,” Porthos growled ferociously. Then he remembered whose company he was keeping. “So sorry, Your Majesty.” Waving Porthos’ apology aside King Louis was intrigued by the large Musketeer’s words. “Tell me, Porthos.” “Ida gone on a rampage the likes Paris ‘ad never seen.” Not holding back, Porthos answered honestly and from his heart. “No stone woulda gone unturned in my search and Ida ripped the ones apart responsible.” “If we had lost both of them,” King Louis’ steady gaze rested on the dark-skinned Musketeer, “I would have felt exactly the same way.” Listening to this exchange about something that Athos was grateful didn’t happen, he decided to bring up a different topic. “Sire, before it escapes me,” he broke in, “I wanted to report that on our way here Tristand informed me that our men have begun to remove and cart away the rubble from the Garrison.” Closing his eyes briefly, Athos pictured what remained of their former home before he had left for the palace. “The endeavor will take some considerable time but once finished we will be able to rebuild.” “And that, Athos,” King Louis’ eyes brightened considerably, “will be a day we can all gladly celebrate.” “Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?” First thing Athos was going to do when finished here was to visit his protégé. After all he had promised the lad he’d let him know what had been discussed with the king. “Non, carry on, Athos, while I have matters of state still to attend.” Smiling sadly King Louis added, “My Garrison may have fallen but the business of France does not stand idle I fear.” “Quite so, Sire.” Bowing, Athos turned to depart along with his comrades. ++++ Once the inseparables had left the king’s chambers they didn’t get very far when waylaid by Queen Anne. "I'm glad I caught you all." Indicating a small alcove, she guided them all over to it for some privacy. "I already told Louis but wanted to let you know where I think you should start your search." Having known beforehand what her husband had planned for his men, Queen Anne thought it best to share her information with them. "You have some idea then, Your Majesty?" This certainly surprised Athos but he would take what he could get at this juncture. "When we received the news of what had transpired I noticed the cardinal didn't appear upset at all." Frowning, Queen Anne remembered quite well Richelieu's face at the time. It was as if Cardinal Richelieu had what he wanted handed to him on a silver platter. "I mentioned it to Louis who thought I was imagining things at first but he promised me he'd keep an open mind and would see what may be revealed about the cardinal's involvement." "I doubt very much that His Majesty would deal with Cardinal Richelieu harshly if His Eminence had anything to do with this." Twirling his mustache between his fingers, Aramis was surprised at the look of satisfaction in the queen's eyes. "Louis said if he discovered the cardinal was behind this terrible affair that Richelieu's head would roll." She noted wary disbelief register in the inseparable's faces. "I believe my husband will carry out what he said, gentlemen." "Your Majesty, ya 'aven't said anythin' yet ta the king or hinted that Richelieu tried ta 'ave ya killed?" Even though at the time the queen thought she had been saving her husband heartbreak at finding out how low King Louis’ beloved cardinal could sink, Porthos and the others had been upset that this so called man of the cloth had gotten away with nearly murdering the queen of France. If there was ever a time for Richelieu’s failed plot to be revealed to His Majesty this would be it. Then the king would have to believe that His Eminence was ruthless enough to dare anything. Including involvement in getting rid of the Garrison permanently. "Non." She should have been surprised at Porthos’ question but oddly wasn’t. "Though I have been considering that option of late." "I suggest you should wait until we have further proof involving the cardinal in our current situation." Always erring on the side of caution, Athos would rather have facts to present to King Louis before laying the blame at Richelieu's feet. Though deep down in his gut Athos felt that the cardinal was behind all of this. Look at how Richelieu got his way in the end, having the Red Guards back at his beck and call. "All right I'll wait for a short while longer but not forever." Queen Anne knew that she would have to brace herself from not only Louis’ disbelief but his anger as well, when the time came for her to divulge those events that led up to her near death experience at the convent. Inwardly shuddering, Queen Anne did not look forward to the confrontation to come. "Now I must go help Constance and the others. It appears there are still a few more wounded men that need seen to. All three soldiers bowed and watched Queen Anne head down the long hallway. When the queen was out of his line of vision, Athos turned to his friends. "You two enlist some help," he ordered. "We're going to need it if we're to find out the culprits behind this disaster." "What cha' gonna be doin' in the meantime?" After opening his mouth, Porthos realized what a stupid question that was. Remembering that Athos was going to keep d'Artagnan in the loop. "A quick visit with our Gascon of course." Waving them away Athos left to visit with his protégé. ++++ D'Artagnan's room Cheering up considerably upon Athos' arrival d'Artagnan struggled to sit up on his own but didn't get very far. Everything pained him when he tried to move. Upon noting Athos' face beginning to resemble a thundercloud, d'Artagnan instantly froze on the spot. "Don't you dare undo Devereaux's and Aramis' work!" Sitting on the edge of the youngster's bed Athos glared at his protégé. "Here let me help you." Trying his best not to hurt the lad, Athos managed to plump up several pillows behind d'Artagnan's back as he aided the boy in sitting up. "So what did King Louis have to say?" Eager to know all that was going on, since he was confined to this room, d'Artagnan grabbed onto Athos' hand. Filling the lad in on their meeting with the king Athos noted that when he got to the part about losing three more brothers, d'Artagnan's spirits deteriorated rapidly. Perhaps Athos should have left that part out for the time being. Since it was too late to take his words back Athos decided to tell him about the queen's suspicion regarding Richelieu. When he had finished Athos patted the boy's leg and then stood up, ready to leave. Noting the pout forming on d'Artagnan's young face, he leaned down to gently grab the Gascon's chin. "I can read your mind you know." Jerking his chin out of Athos' hold, d'Artagnan gave his mentor a glare of his own. "If you could do that you should be able to figure out the people who blew us up quite easily then." "Impudent pup." Sighing, Athos knew he deserved that to be thrown back in his face. He had no business teasing d'Artagnan when he had so nearly lost the Gascon. "Just try not to injure yourself further for my sake at least." "How would I hurt myself?" Thumping the bed on both sides of him with his fists, d'Artagnan's temper was starting to rise. "I'm stuck in this bed!" "You and I are more alike than you know, remember?" Shooting the young Gascon a look that spoke volumes, Athos slapped his chapeau onto his head and left d'Artagnan to brood. After the door closed d'Artagnan began to think of ways he could still be useful to everyone. Knowing someone was due to check on him soon, he would ask them to fetch Constance. With his friend being close to the queen, perhaps d'Artagnan could enlist her help. ++++ Later at the gates of what used to be the Garrison "All right, off with all of ya now but remember come back when ya 'ave news for us." Watching four young runners from the court take off Porthos caught Aramis looking at him curiously. "They'll start askin' questions. Lots and lots of questions. Who knows?" he snorted. "We may get lucky." "I too have been busy, mon ami," Aramis grinned and winked at Porthos. "But I've been whispering into feminine ears." "Nothin' new there, Mis." Chuckling, Porthos stood there with arms folded and listened to his brother. "Some of the girls at Madame Angels have promised me they would discreetly ask some of their clients if they heard anything unusual. Especially if any of the men they had entertained recently were Red Guards." Catching Athos' eyes rolling, Aramis stared at the man in confusion. "What is so terrible about that?" "Nothing." Athos raised both hands in the air. "Absolutely nothing. It is just I would have never thought to go that route myself." "You wouldn't," snorted Aramis. "Do we split up or do our snoopin' tagether now that we got us some extra help?" "I believe safety in numbers is called for." Knowing that would be the best course of action to take Athos went back over to his horse. "This way we can watch each other's backs." "Do you believe d'Artagnan to be safe tucked away inside the palace?" Mounting Belle his eyes caught the grimace that passed on Athos' face. Wondering what was behind that look, Aramis asked again. "I said..." When Athos wouldn't look at him any longer, Aramis glanced at Porthos. The latter simply shrugged his broad shoulders. As much at a loss as himself. "Athos, answer the question," Porthos barked. "Is there somethin' we should know about the kid?" Forced to explain himself and his feelings about his protégé, Athos looked at his friends in exasperation. "I don't trust d'Artagnan to stay put if you must know." When his brothers began to laugh, a dull red flush stole up Athos' face. "Tis nothing to find humor in." "From your perspective perhaps not." Continuing to laugh, Aramis pulled on Belle's reins. "Our youngest is too much like you, Athos." "Aye," Porthos chuckled. "I agree with Mis 'ere." With his two friends full of amusement at Athos' expense, he swore under his breath. "Let's get the hell out of here!" Ignoring the snickers from behind him, Athos gently nudged Roger to head out. ++++ Back to D'Artagnan's room again "Are you well, d'Artagnan?" Staring down at the pale features of her best friend, Constance perched herself at the end of his bed. "I mean since you asked to see me I thought perhaps you were feeling ill." "Constance, I am as fine as can be expected right now," d'Artagnan huffed. "But I need a big favor from you." "Uh huh," Constance rolled her eyes. "Last time you asked for a favor you and I ended up running for our lives after we were trying to help out one of Porthos' friends." "How many times do I have to apologize for that?" Holding her gaze for a full minute, d'Artagnan knew when she began softening toward him. "If all is forgiven what I have to ask now is fairly simple." He pulled a face upon noting her arch an eyebrow at him. "Truly. Tis not a big deal. All I need you to do is be my eyes and ears while I'm stuck in this prison." "Tis rather a nice gilded prison, mon ami," she teased. "Gilded or not," he snapped back, "I can't lie idly about when there's work to be done." "I'm not the one at fault, d'Artagnan." Her voice curt, Constance observed d'Artagnan begin to calm himself. "Apologies." Bending his head d'Artagnan's dark hair partially covered his face. "I know you're not." Speaking softly he still hadn't lifted his head back up. Tipping d'Artagnan's chin up with the tip of her finger, Constance smiled at him. "What else is involved? Because there has to be more to it than what you told me." A megawatt smile transformed his face. "I could always count on you to back me up." Frowning, knowing that somehow d'Artagnan was about to drag her into one of his crazy schemes, Constance retorted, "If I end up getting hurt I will take this very personally." "Trust me." Hearing her groan, d'Artagnan chuckled. "I promise it won't hurt a bit." "Hmmmpf!" A very annoyed look crossed her features. "That's what you said the last time." "That dress fit you like a glove," he winked at her. "It was just the right touch to get that Red Guard's attention." "Oui." Constance brushed away some strands of hair that hid d'Artagnan's beautiful eyes. "But I hadn't counted on pulling a pistol on the man in defense of my honor." Taking both of her hands into his own, he tugged gently until both their foreheads touched. "You won't have to worry about that this time." "Famous last words." Giving a very unladylike snort, she began to giggle. Which started d'Artagnan off as well. "I swear I don't think either of us are grown up yet." Wincing, d'Artagnan held up a finger. "Do not ever say that in front of Athos, Porthos or Aramis. They already believe I'm still a child to be told what to do and how to behave." "Oh poo!" Constance scoffed. "They're much older than you or I and are just concerned that you don't do something stupid." "Ah!" Acting like he got shot, d'Artagnan placed his hand over his heart. "There's that word again," he scowled. "I wondered when you were going to call me stupid." "Don't get me started, d'Artagnan," she warned. "Now what is it you would have me do because I have to go back to tending our injured." Shrugging, he peeked at her from under his bangs. "Nothing much. Just a bit of spying." "Next thing I know you'll be asking me to get Queen Anne to help you." Noting a certain look in d'Artagnan's eyes, that usually spelled trouble for Constance, she grabbed an extra pillow and threw it toward his head. Not believing he had said anything so terrible to her, d'Artagnan watched as the pillow flew through the air toward him. Managing to dodge the projectile he grimaced when a sharp pain ran up his side from the sudden movement. "Don't throw anything else at me since I can't adequately defend myself." "I won't involve the queen!" She stubbornly refused. Though Constance felt slightly guilty at the unintentional pain she had caused her friend. "You don't have to. All I need for you to do is make subtle inquiries here or there and keep your eyes peeled." "Is that all?" It couldn't be that easy. Nothing with d'Artagnan ever was and Constance knew all about that firsthand. In some other life they must have been brother and sister for all the trouble they both got in and out of. "Mmmmm," he hummed. "Perhaps you could charm a Red Guard or two into finding out if Richelieu is involved." "I knew it!" She was ready to box her friend's ears. "Richelieu? Really?" "Richelieu... really," he repeated. "And now I'll tell you why." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Same day, after the noon hour - Royal Palace Having left d'Artagnan's side, Constance had a lot of food for thought to chew over. Listening to her friend speak of what he had learned from Athos, she had been very surprised upon hearing that the queen hadn't shared her suspicions over Cardinal Richelieu with her. Destroying the Garrison would probably have been a dream come true for His Eminence. No doubt about that. But would he have dared after his failed attempt to kill Her Majesty? It would be the height of stupidity for him to do so, unless the cardinal really felt himself untouchable and erased any trace of his involvement in demolishing the Musketeer's home.Before going back to the throne room to help with tending the wounded Constance noted that one of the Red Guards on duty smiled and nodded in her direction. Recognizing the young man as being one of the newest recruits in the cardinal's regiment and one of the more nicer ones of that lot, Constance smiled back in turn.Not being part of the old guard and not having been with the Red Guards for very long when they were disbanded, Constance thought perhaps he would unknowingly have some useful information for her to pass on to d'Artagnan. His name was Sebastien and the only reason she remembered that was because the young guard had always been nothing but kind to her whenever they encountered one another. He was about the same age as a certain Gascon she knew quite well too. "Tis a terrible thing to have happened." Holding fresh bandages in her hands Constance waited for Sebastien to say something."I have to admit I was glad to be called back in His Eminence' service but not under dreadful circumstances such as these." In fact after his return Sebastien had become more and more uncomfortable in the company of his brother guards. They boasted about how they could lord it over the Musketeers now that their ranks had dwindled considerably. It disturbed Sebastien greatly hearing this kind of talk. The only reason he wore the uniform of a Red Guard, in the first place, was that it had been the wish of his famille to do so.Even before King Louis lost his Garrison, Sebastien had been thinking that if his famille had not pushed him into wearing the same colors as had once adorned his papa that he may have asked Captain Treville for a chance to train as a Musketeer. But deep in his heart Sebastien knew to do so would have seen him disowned by those he cared for."I only wish now for the capture of the people behind such a tragedy." Wondering how long she should linger, Constance decided perhaps Sebastien had nothing to divulge that could help them. But in that she was proven quite wrong."I don't know if this is anything or not," Sebastien paused, "but I did overhear a few of my fellow guards speaking of a man they knew of who was good with explosives.""Why would the Red Guards be speaking of such a person in the first place?" Now we're getting somewhere. Eager to hear more, Constance tried not to appear desperate for his answer."I've been concerned about that myself," Sebastien sighed. He was really beginning to feel as if being a Red Guard was the worst thing that could have happened to him."Did they happen to mention this man's name?" Oh how Constance prayed they had. This would be the lead the inseparables needed, that is if Sebastien had caught the batard's name."Cyprien I believe was what they referred to him by," Sebastien quietly supplied, his eyes drifting away from hers to settle on a spot over her shoulder."Why haven't any of those Red Guards brought this to the king's attention?" It was an honest question and one Constance was curious to hear the answer to."I don't know that they haven't," he shrugged."If they had done so," she huffed. "I believe every Musketeer available would be hunting this Cyprien down."An embarrassed flush stole up Sebastien's face. He could feel the heat of it warming his cheeks. She had a valid point which made him feel more and more that he was working for the wrong side."Sebastien," Constance dared to touch his arm lightly, "between ourselves I believe you'd be a better fit as a Musketeer." Knowing she had to leave soon, Constance gave him a quick smile. "I must go."Nodding his head at her, Sebastien's green eyes followed her until Constance entered the throne room. All the while, he pondered her words. It may be time for him to consider a change of uniform. The deuce with what his famille thought about it too!++++ Later in the afternoon Beginning to feel better as the day wore on, d'Artagnan was trying to think how far would he get if he tried to get out of bed. The poppy seeds Doctor Devereaux had sparingly been giving him, when his pain had become intolerable, seemed to have done the trick. Not only for the level of discomfort he was dealing with but the seeds worked their magic on his cough as well. Just when d'Artagnan struggled to get one leg out from under the mounds of covers Aramis had seen fit to cover him with, the door flew wide open. Trying to play the innocent, he quickly laid back against his pillows again. "Bonjour, Constance."When d'Artagnan started to resemble an angelic figure that could do no wrong, tis when Constance always began to worry. "I'm better off not knowing what you were attempting to do." She plopped down in a chair near his bed. "I have a name for you to share with your brothers.""That was fast work," he grinned. "Ever think of becoming a Musketeer?""As if," she snorted, rolling her eyes for good measure. Then Constance proceeded to explain what she had learned.++++ Over at The King's Stag Tavern Storming out of the overcrowded building Athos was ready to knock several heads together, which for once did not include Porthos or Aramis. Trying to eek out information from drunken sods, the likes of ones Athos had been dealing with for the past half hour, reminded him of why he had cut back on his drinking binges. Then again he would only be fooling himself. Limiting his intake to a single glass or two of wine, when dining out or in private, boiled down to one word... d'Artagnan. The Gascon made Athos want to be a better man than he was. His protégé made Porthos and Aramis feel exactly the same way. So now faced with men that he used to resemble caused him nothing but frustration."Athos!" Walking out after his friend Porthos placed a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder. "Why didn't ya knock 'is block off?""I did not feel like bruising my sword hand today." Arching a prominent brow high, Athos peered disdainfully around Porthos' bulk to stare at the tavern door. "Aramis still inside?""What da ya think?" Hooking his fingers inside his weapon's belt, Porthos waited for the marksman to come out. When eventually Aramis made his appearance, he wore a look of complete satisfaction on his handsome face."Word has it that someone had been making inquiries into the hiring of any man that had experience with explosives." Observing Athos mulling that over it was Porthos that drew his attention."'Ow ya come by that information, mon ami?""Oh a petite birdie told me." Jauntily tipping his chapeau to the side and with a wink of an eye, Aramis sauntered off to mount Belle."Birdie my ass," Porthos chuckled along with Athos as both men followed Aramis' example.++++ Not quite an hour later, back at the Royal Palace - d'Artagnan's room "And Constance told you that this Red Guard said the others called the man Cyprien?" This was the badly needed intel they needed. Now they had a name and could get word out to their contacts to locate this individual's whereabouts."According to what Sebastien said, oui." Fending off Aramis' attempts to check d'Artagnan for fever he grabbed the older man's hand, shoving it away. Scowling up at him he snapped. "My fever is nearly gone!"Folding his arms, Aramis stared down the young Gascon. "Nearly is not completely, petit frere," he countered. When d'Artagnan simply turned his head away, Aramis glanced at Athos. "Am I not correct?""In all things medical," Athos drawled, "I bow to your expertise."Smugly smiling, dark eyes twinkling, Aramis tilted his head to the side studying d'Artagnan's belligerent features."Porthos." Looking over where his friend stood alongside his mentor, d'Artagnan's soulful eyes pleaded with his larger brother. "Help me out here.""I ain't steppin' inta the middle of this, whelp.""You have been through a traumatic experience, d'Artagnan." Aramis' voice was not lacking in sympathy for what his young friend had endured, "physical as well as emotional. So I will ignore your feeble attempts to escape my prodding and poking." Upon hearing the pup's long drawn out sigh, Aramis tried hard not to let his features reflect his amusement.Athos and Porthos were now anxious to be away, since the lad had just given them the means of bringing the cardinal down. Perhaps once they had this Cyprien in custody and placed him on his knees before His Majesty, Richelieu's days would be numbered. At least they prayed it would be so.Before departing Athos wanted to commend their youngest's efforts in helping them. "I must say this for you, d'Artagnan," a fond look graced Athos' face, his gaze lightly rested upon his protégé, "for someone n a sick bed you did more to discover what we were seeking than all of our footwork combined.""Eh," Porthos grunted. "Don't forget the kid 'ad Constance 'elpin' 'im.""When there is time," Athos shot his friend an affronted look, "I will give her my thanks as well.""I will pass that on to her myself when next I see her if you'd like, Athos." Receiving a nod of approval from his mentor, d'Artagnan's gaze encompassed all his friends. "As for being confined in this manner," he laughed, "you can't keep a good Musketeer down for long, eh?" When pain lanced through his freshly healing side and his ribs protested in tandem, d'Artagnan was sorry his mirth got away from him. Garnering sympathetic winces from his brothers did little to make him feel better. "Oh go away do!" Upon the departure of the inseparables he decided to take up Morpheus' offer, slipping under the covers he closed his eyes letting sleep claim him. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Same day - early evening Having informed Captain Treville that they had a name of a man who was possibly involved in the attack on the Garrison, the inseparables left to seek one of Paris' more popular taverns in hopes of catching this Cyprien.++++ The Bawdy Lady Tavern Going on their third drink of the evening the inseparables were beginning to think upon moving to the next tavern on their list, before they became too inebriated to continue. They had spoken with many of the patrons here, plying them with questions about Cyprien, going so far as to even purchase them their own own choice of liquor in hopes of getting information. However they struck it lucky, when one of the drunken men they had spoken with earlier draped himself over their table. "Oh there ye be." Hiccuping, Samuel belched loudly. Blurry, red-rimmed eyes took in the inseparable's expectant features. "That one ya wanted jus' came in and is sittin' at that second table over yonder.""'Ere." Shoving a full mug of ale into the stranger's hand, Porthos grinned. "Ya earned it."Happily taking the brew off the swarthy-faced Musketeer, Samuel belched again. "Don't mind if'n I do, gents." Stumbling away from them, he began whistling an off-key tune."Tell me we don't act like that when in our cups?" Drolly asking that question of his friends, Athos' arched an eyebrow."Nah." Eyes glinting with wickedness, Porthos winked at Athos. "We're usually a lot worse off than 'im.""Speak for yourself, mon ami." Affronted from his brother's words, Aramis huffed. "I'll have you know I never hiccup nor belch in that manner.""Non, mon frere," Athos chuckled. "You only politely pass out on us so that it is up to Porthos and myself to carry you home.""I beg to differ." Pouting, Aramis glared at them both. "And speaking about passing out," he wagged his finger at Athos. "Pot meet kettle.""Touché." Acknowledging Aramis' spot on remark, Athos dipped his head in return. His mind back on why they were here in the first place, he looked in the general direction of where their prey was supposed to be. With a jerk of his head toward his friends Athos led the way over.Circling the table where the man sat, Athos slowly unsheathed his sword to place it underneath the chin of the drunken man. If Cyprien turned out to be the one who helped destroy their home, Athos would be sorely tested not to end this man's existence. But that wouldn't do at all. Cyprien, if guilty of this crime, would have to be interrogated first and then brought before King Louis. Hoping that Cyprien could carry a tune, because Athos intended on making the man sing like a canary, he grimly smiled. Lifting the man's chin up with his blade, Athos stared into a pair of unfocused grey eyes. "Is your name Cyprien?"Opening his heavy lids, Cyprien squinted up at the stranger. "Depends on whose askin'.""I am!" Athos snapped. His patience wasn't unlimited. If this drunken lout wasn't going to cooperate, or be capable of coherent speech, he'd have to make Porthos carry him all the way back to the palace.After the removal of the sword from his chin, Cyprien glanced up into blue eyes cold as the steel this stranger's sword was made from. That brought him to his senses faster than a splash of icy cold water to his face could. It was then Cyprien realized who he was dealing with. Swiveling his head to the left he encountered two other pairs of eyes hardened to flint. Both of them looked at him in the exact same manner as the blue-eyed one. His eyes took in the leather pauldrons they wore on their shoulders, making Cyprien cringe inside with fear. Trying to stand up on shaky legs Cyprien found himself shoved, none too gently, back down into his chair. Glancing over at the large, darker-skinned Musketeer, he swallowed hard. "What do you fellows want with the likes o' me?""Information," growled Porthos who got right into Cyprien's face.Placing a booted foot upon the empty chair beside Cyprien, Aramis leaned forward. "Word has it that you're the man to see if a person wants something go... boom.""Says who?" Sweat began trickling down Cyprien's forehead, as he felt the walls begin to close in on him. If he wasn't careful they'd turn into prison walls right fast, if he couldn't talk himself out of this."Red Guards apparently," Athos drawled with a sharp glance at Aramis. The latter drew out his pistol, aiming it at Cyprien's head."Talk is cheap or 'aven't even Musketeers 'eard that?" Cyprien dared to sneer at them, putting on a show of bravado."Care ta repeat that?" His voice deadly, as were his intentions, Porthos grabbed Cyprien by the throat. "I said-" He stopped when the man's face began turning purple. Feeling a light tap to his shoulder, Porthos caught the shake of Aramis' curly head. A quick glance over at Athos proved that he too agreed with the marksman. Releasing the batard, he snarled. "Ya lucky we need ya alive.""For now at least," Athos casually added. With a nod at Aramis, both of them grabbed an arm jerking Cyprien from his chair so hard that it fell on the floor with a resounding crash. What with the din going on within the tavern, not a soul noticed the commotion."Where ya takin' me?" Frightened out of his wits, Cyprien began struggling between the two soldiers."Since we don't 'ave a Garrison no more," Porthos' spittle covered the cowering man's face, "and our captin' is laid up," he poked Cyprien in the chest, "the Bastille will 'ave ta do.""I don't like that place," Cyprien complained, while sailing through the door to fall on his hands and knees."Been there before I see," Aramis laughed. "I'm not surprised to hear it. Are you Athos?""Not a bit." Bending down Athos, with Porthos' help, picked Cyprien up. "I'm sure the Bastille will once more welcome you with open arms." With a kick to the man's backside, Athos had Cyprien on the move.++++ Next day, mid morning - Palais-Cardinal A knocking upon his office door interrupted Richelieu's time going over notes for an important meeting with His Majesty later that day. Figuring if he ignored the noise, whomever it was would get the hint and leave him be. But the pounding continued. Tossing his paperwork to the side, slapping his hands hard upon his desk, Richelieu stood up just as his door crashed open. "I could have you thrown in the Bastille for entering unannounced!" he shouted.Bowing before His Eminence, Bruyere was slightly out of breath from running clear across the grounds to give the cardinal his news. "My apologies, Cardinal, but I didn't believe this was something that could wait.""Speak then." Sitting back down Richelieu steepled his fingers together, resting his chin upon them."It has just been discovered that Cyprien was apprehended last night by the Musketeers and thrown into the Bastille." Having been privileged to be one of a very small group of Red Guards to engage Cyprien for the cardinal, Bruyere knew that the man's arrest would not bode well for His Eminence.Shocked upon hearing this, Richelieu could only blankly stare at his guard. This would be a disaster of major proportions for him, if he didn't take care of this immediately.Wondering if he should repeat his information, not sure if Cardinal Richelieu totally understood the implications, Bruyere opened his mouth only to close it again upon the wave of His Eminence' hand."I don't know how it was leaked out," Richelieu hissed, "but what concerns me now is silencing Cyprien before those Musketeers have time to interrogate him."Understanding what the cardinal wanted carried out, Bruyere bowed. "It shall be done, Your Eminence."Watching the Red Guard leave, Richelieu put his head in his hands.++++ A short while later, Royal Palace - Captain Treville's room "Good work, gents." Pleased that the inseparables had hunted down and captured the man who hopefully held vital information for the king, Treville felt that a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders."How are you feelin' now, Captin'?" Seeing the officer's right arm in a sling and Treville's head covered with bandages, Porthos winced."Very lucky to be alive," Treville smiled. "I hear our Gascon has been driving everyone crazy about getting out of here.""Tis an understatement," Athos announced deadpanned, which elicited a huff of laughter from all of them. Noting Treville grimace, he knew that amusement of any sort was not conducive to broken ribs. Having been there and done that more times than he cared to remember, Athos could sympathize."When are you going to interrogate Cyprien?" Wanting nothing more than to be the one to do so, Treville understood he was in no fit shape to undertake such a task."After we inform d'Artagnan and then His Majesty." Noting the captain's eyebrows shoot up, Aramis couldn't help but snort."We figured since d'Art was the one ta find out the information for us," Porthos added, dark eyes twinkling, "kid should be told before the king.""Just don't tell Louis that." Silently Treville agreed with the inseparables that the lad should be told right away. "Go on all of you and tell d'Artagnan before the youngster breaks out of the palace." As the men left, he wondered what Louis' reaction would be.++++ d'Artagnan's room "Where's the whelp?""Devereaux couldn't have released the boy." Concerned for the wellbeing of their youngest, Athos searched the entire room while Porthos went out to talk to the guards in the hallways. Walking toward a closet, Athos nearly tripped over a pair of long legs peeking out from underneath the bed. "What the deuce are you doing down there, Aramis?"Sliding out from under the bed, Aramis stared into stormy blue eyes. "Simply checking, mon ami."Rolling his eyes, sometimes Athos had to wonder if Aramis had a few screws loose inside that handsome head of his. Then again, he could say that of all of them from time to time.Running back into the room, Porthos shrugged his shoulders. "No one's seen d'Art.""Tis impossible!" Athos retorted. "The Gascon would be severely hampered by his injuries and wouldn't get very far.""Perhaps he's been moved and the guards didn't know." Aramis suggested."That would make sense." Nodding his agreement, Athos strode out of the room."Guess'n we should follow 'im.""Unless you and I want to stay here twiddling our thumbs," Aramis smirked."That's what I like about ya, Mis," Porthos laughed. "Them pearls of wisdom ya spout.""I'll have you know, mon frere," Aramis grinned, "when I do spout those pearls you'll know it."++++ Throne room It took the inseparables nearly half an hour to locate their missing fourth. Having finally discovered the pup in the very last place they would have expected, they watched d'Artagnan as he helped Constance and Queen Anne tend to the injured."We had no idea you were up to doing something like this." Astonished that the physician would allow this, Aramis promised himself to have words later with Devereaux."There were two prior escape attempts already, Aramis." Squealing on d'Artagnan was fun or so Constance thought, upon noting the blush that covered her friend's face."Oui," Queen Anne smiled at the boy. "It was only under dire threat that he wouldn't pull his stitches that Doctor Devereaux gave d'Artagnan permission to do this.""As you can see I'm not moving around much," d'Artagnan pointed out, sitting on a highbacked chair. "I'm only handing out the medical supplies as needed. I can't do much else.""You better be careful, pup, or I'll know the reason why." Laying a hand on the Gascon's shoulder Aramis squeezed it gently."We have just come from visiting with Captain Treville," Athos told them. "Cyprien is now in the Bastille awaiting interrogation.""Tis good news," Constance shared a satisfied look with d'Artagnan."He is being guarded closely is he not?" Concerned that someone would get to the man before his brothers could get the answers they needed, d'Artagnan bit his lower lip."There are at least half a dozen of our men stationed at the Bastille which should prove sufficient in number." Noting that the room was emptier than before, Athos looked at the women. "Tis good to see less of our wounded about?"Handing d'Artagnan some gauze, Queen Anne acknowledged the lieutenant's remark. "Things are indeed looking up.""Pretty soon you'll have more men to order around, Athos." Giving his mentor a cheeky grin, d'Artagnan frowned when the older man ruffled his hair."We're off ta see His Majesty next. So don't go causin' any mischief while we're gone, whelp.""Porthos!" Pretending that his brother's words hurt, d'Artagnan pouted.Constance's light laughter filled the room at Porthos' warning. "Mischief is his middle name so that may be hard to do.""Try anyway, petite frere." Waving goodbye at the pup, Aramis followed his friends out of the room. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Same day and time - King Louis' chambers "Do what's necessary, Athos, to see if this man you have in custody worked alone or had employed others to help him." Pleased with this piece of welcome news, King Louis allowed himself a small smile. "Of most import is who hired him for I won't believe he just decided to blow up my Garrison on a whim." Perhaps finally justice would be served. It wouldn't help the men he had lost, God rest their souls, but it would go a long way in improving the low morale of the rest of his regiment.Cracking his knuckles, Porthos was very happy to oblige by ripping into Cyprien.Listening to that sound, King Louis game a huff of laughter. "I am glad not to be in your prisoner's shoes." Turning to look at his lieutenant he added, "Report to me as soon as you finish your interrogation, Athos.""Of course, sire." Bowing Athos turned on his heel, departing quickly as did his brothers.++++ Bastille Wishing to be anywhere but in here, Cyprien paced back and forth in his tiny cell. If the cardinal got wind that he had been caught, his life would be forfeit. Not that he had better chances with the Musketeers. He trembled in fear knowing that Richelieu's reach was far and wide, realizing that His Eminence could possibly get to him before the king would. Then again if Cyprien gave the Musketeers what they wanted perhaps he could make a deal with His Majesty. If that did not go well, the only thing of importance would be how his own life ended.There was no chance of escape for him not with half a dozen of the king's soldiers on guard. That didn't even count the Bastille's guards as well who also watched him like a hawk anytime they came into contact with Cyprien. It was as if the prison guards worried that he could break out on his own. If they believed that than perhaps Cyprien could sprout wings and fly out of here. Yeah, right, he snorted quietly at his ridiculous thoughts.There were three Musketeers stationed right outside his cell and three more covering the entrance. When a prison guard was allowed inside to give Cyprien something to eat, he reached past the iron bars to take the plate. What he didn't notice, until too late, was the flash of a sharp poignard striking out at him. When it did Cyprien's eyes opened wide in shock, fingers losing their grip on the plate which fell to the ground with a clatter.Musketeers Nicolas and George arched eyebrows at the noise, while Claude caught the prison guard's arm."He's just clumsy is all," Bruyere said noting the Musketeer's hand fall away from him. "He can eat off the floor for all I care." Then he walked away and out the door.But something didn't sit well with the Musketeers. Being dark inside, Nicolas grabbed a torch to bring it closer to Cyprien's cell. Spying the man on the ground clutching his side, Nicolas cried out. "George, go get the keys to this cell now!"Not only did George come back with keys in hand but Barthelemi and Hubert followed on his heels. The latter two were struggling with the prison guard who had just brought Cyprien his dinner.When Nicolas unlocked the cell door he turned Cyprien over onto the man's back. Upon noting blood covering their prisoner's shirt and hands, that were still clutching Cyprien's side, Nicolas swore. "Merde!"Claude and George secured torches inside the cell while they then aided Nicolas with the injured prisoner.It was this scene that greeted the inseparables as they arrived.Taking everything in at a glance, immediately Aramis used his blue sash to staunch the flow of blood. But after examining the wound he decided it appeared a lot worse than it looked.While Aramis dealt with Cyprien, Athos and Porthos walked toward the still struggling Bastille guard."Didn't see his face too well when he first came to serve Cyprien his meal," Hubert explained. "When he left though I remembered that I had seen him before.""Who is he?" Taking in the prison guard's features, Athos couldn't recall ever seeing the man before today."Bruyere!" Hubert spat on the ground. "A Red Guard!"Exchanging troubled looks, Athos and Porthos each took one of Bruyere's arms to slam him against the cell bars.Growling in Bruyere's ear, Porthos said, "Since ya put Cyprien outta commission I'll jus' work ya over instead.""Do leave him alive for later, Porthos." His tone bordering on boredom, Athos smirked, leaving his brother free to do whatever he wanted. Entering the cell Athos squatted down beside Aramis. "Will he live?""Oui." Having wrapped the wound tightly, Aramis stood back up. "It wasn't very deep.""Sloppy work," Athos remarked. "I expect nothing less from a Red Guard." Blue eyes twinkling he added, "I've always said that the cardinal needed to hire men who could properly carry out Richelieu's orders.""I, for one, am glad Richelieu has poor taste in picking out his own men," Aramis grinned. "Makes it easier on us when we kick their asses." Looking down upon Cyprien's unconscious body, he pursed his lips. "I would feel better getting him someplace where I could treat his injury more thoroughly than in here." Listening to sounds of fists hitting flesh, Aramis grimaced. "Happy I'm not that guy." Curious, now that he had time to think upon it, Aramis glanced over at Athos with a question in his eyes. "This puts a different light on things finding out our captive is a Red Guard. Does it not?""We now know for certain who was behind all of this," was Athos clipped response."Though unless Cyprien spills his guts..." Knowing that the Red Guard would retain his silence, it still was up to Cyprien to give them what they needed. Now that the injured man had been nearly killed, that may turn out to be an impossible task.With a determined light in his eyes, Athos observed the bloody crusted features of Bruyere's face. Thoughtfully looking over at Aramis, Athos' lips curled upward. "Do not give up hope. We may yet have another canary in our pockets.""First things first. We have to make a decision where to take Cyprien." Glancing at Athos, Aramis observed how relaxed his brother appeared."What do you suggest?" Casually leaning against the cold brick wall, arms neatly folded, Athos remained silent waiting for a response from the marksman.Pondering the question for but a moment, Aramis replied. "One of our apartments could do." Upon noting the small twitch of Athos' right eye, Aramis hid his amusement well. Usually such a reaction meant that his older brother was beyond irritated with a situation. "It won't be for very long. Only until I can make sure Cyprien won't die on us.""I thought you told me his injury wasn't severe." Rubbing at his right eye, Athos sighed heavily.Smiling Aramis tilted his head to the side, studying his old friend. "Tis not." Pointing a finger at Cyprien's cell he chuckled. "You know me and my flare for the dramatic.""Only too well, mon ami." Listening to Porthos still pounding on Bruyere, Athos shouted. "Porthos! I hate to interrupt when you are having such fun but we do need him capable of speech!" The low growl that accompanied Porthos' answer made Athos nearly shudder."'E'll be capable all right," Porthos barked. "Can't guarantee walkin' 'ill be in 'is future anytime soon.""Nicolas! George! Hubert!" Calling each name out Athos watched the men file in front of him. "You all know where Aramis lives?" Receiving three head bobs in turn Athos felt quite smug noting dismay cross the marksman's features. "Tis where we will be taking Cyprien with your help.""My place?" Glaring at Athos was all that Aramis could do in face of his lieutenant's order."Your suggestion, mon frere." Arching a brow, Athos grinned at the scowl currently aimed his way. "Plus tis where you have your own stockpile of medicinal supplies," he shrugged a shoulder. "Makes sense.""Oui," Aramis agreed. "It does." Sighing, he ruefully shook his head knowing when he was beaten."Unless," sidling over to his brother Athos nudged Aramis in the ribs, "you have a mistress stashed away at your place.""I never bring them there." Affronted, Aramis' scowl returned."How well I know," Athos laughed. I just wanted to get under your skin."Joining them Porthos dragged the nearly unconscious form of Bruyere over to throw down at Athos' and Aramis' feet. Grinning, he wiped blood from his knuckles. "I bet 'e'll sing real pretty for us now.""Give or take an hour or two judging by the looks of him." Sending Porthos a sharp look Aramis gazed upon Bruyere's face, bruised and puffy from Porthos' fists."If'n ya wanted 'im in better shape, Mis, then ya should 'ave roughed 'im up yourself." Looking Aramis up and down, Porthos snorted. "Considerin' 'ow dainty like ya can hit I doubt it would 'ave done much good.""I take offense at your remark, Porthos. Especially after having my hands full with Cyprien." Aramis poked Bruyere with the tip of his boot until the Red Guard began to stir. "We could always throw some water on him I suppose.""Claude! Barthelemi! Rogier!" When the men congregated around Athos, he tapped his sword on Bruyere's chest. "You will take him to Aramis' as well." Turning to Porthos and Aramis he pulled them aside. "I have to settle things here first and then I will join you.""Ya want I should wait for ya before grillin' 'em?" A feral look entered Porthos eyes when gazing upon their two prisoners."Oui." Gripping Porthos' forearm, Athos nodded. "Besides Bruyere needs to come around first unless we do as Aramis suggested and douse him with water." Cocking his head he studied Cyprien closely. "Our explosive expert's injury may either make it easier to gain information from him or Cyprien may clam up instead.""Cyprien may prove difficult," Aramis agreed. "Only time would tell." Clapping his friend on the shoulder he said, "We'll be waiting for you, Athos." Tipping his hat low, Aramis led the procession from the Bastille.++++ Royal Palace - Queen Anne's chambers "Anne, I want you to rest for a time. You have been doing too much." Looking at her wan complexion Louis took her hands into his own, squeezing gently. "You have seen much of what evil that men can do." Placing a gentle kiss upon the palm of one hand Louis kept a firm hold on it. "I wish it had not been so.""I believe I have told you once before that I'm not some fragile hot house flower that would wilt at the first sign of distress!" she responded tartly.Chuckling, Louis released her hand. "It would appear that young Constance has rubbed off on you."Her blue eyes shone brightly. "I believe you are correct." Both of them began laughing until Anne pushed Louis down into a chair. Her mirth subsiding, Anne took the other chair opposite him."Louis, I have something that I've been needing to tell you." Knowing that he wasn't going to believe her, Anne resolved that it was time Louis knew why she had no faith in Cardinal Richelieu. "Remember the attempt on my life by that Irishman Gallagher when I had to take refuge at the convent?""Mon Dieu!" Louis cried out. "Tis barely a month ago. Of course I do. But why bring that up now?" A gentle fingertip upon his lips ended further discussion on his part."You will hear me out, Louis, no matter what I say." At his nod, Anne continued. "If it were not for the bravery of Athos, Aramis and the nuns, I don't know what would have happened to me. But then Captain Treville arrived with his thrown together crew and suddenly I was safe again."Noting Louis open his mouth, Anne gave him a severe look and instantly he smacked his lips together. "It was later discovered who truly was behind the plot." Gripping her husband's hand tightly, she looked at him with nothing but compassion.Throat suddenly gone dry as dust, Louis croaked, "Who?""I think you already know the answer to that," she responded softly."I won't believe he would do such a terrible thing! Not only is it treason against the crown but it would mean his head!" He shook his head in disbelief, looking away from her. But Anne would have none of that, as she took his chin in her hand turning his face back towards her own."When the inseparables, d'Artagnan and Treville set a trap for the cardinal I was safely hidden and heard every damning word Richelieu admitted too." Releasing Louis' chin Anne wrung her hands together nervously. "As I approached him His Eminence fell to his knees before me. I then warned Richelieu his life would be forfeit if I ever caught him in another treasonous act." Her eyes beseeched Louis to believe her. "I'm sure the cardinal was more than relieved when I informed him you wouldn't be told.""Why didn't you?" Tears began pouring from Louis' eyes."As I explained to the cardinal it would have only broken your heart." Leaning her forehead against Louis', Anne's tears joined that of her husbands. Though her tears were for Louis and not for Richelieu."Tis not that I don't believe you," Louis swiped at his face, "but Treville will verify this?""Oui, along with Athos, d'Artagnan, Porthos and Aramis." Dabbing at the tears still staining Louis' cheeks, Anne reached for another tissue."Tis why you believed the cardinal had something to do with destroying my Garrison.""Richelieu looked all too pleased at the news when he was in our presence." She was sympathetic to her husband's plight. Just like Captain Treville, the cardinal was Louis' closest advisor and friend. Now Anne had pulled the rug right from under Louis' feet. "I also think you should know that it was d'Artagnan's idea behind the plot to catch the cardinal in the act.""I will have to promote that boy soon," Louis weakly quipped."I believe that would be a nice surprise," Anne laughed. "Considering he just became a Musketeer.""Oh," Louis smiled sheepishly. "I forgot that part." His trust badly shaken upon finding out that he had a red caped viper in the palace, he was still having a hard time believing it. "Why? Why, Anne?""Cardinal Richelieu believed you would have been better off wed to another who could give you children." She gave him a lopsided smile. "For the good of France of course.""This all started when that German banker Count Mellendorf came for a visit," Louis said tightly. "Along with his daughter Charlotte.""As I was away and upon coming back discovered that Mellendorf was being brought up on charges, I would assume so." Standing up, Anne gazed down on her husband's bent head. Placing a hand on his dark hair, she again spoke quietly. "I do not know nor want to hear what you discussed with Richelieu during my absence that could have possibly led to my demise. But I know you, Louis, and would never think that you would cause me harm.""Of course not!" He too stood up taking her hands in his. "Whatever I may have said was done so in a drunken stupor at the time." His words to Richelieu were coming horribly back to Louis. Unintentionally he may have given the cardinal the wrong impression of his wants.She was beginning to get a clearer picture of what took place. Anne wasn't pleased about it but at least she now understood better. Apparently the cardinal listened to the drunken ravings of an upset monarch and thought to take action upon them. For Richelieu to take matters into his own hands the way he had spoke to Anne of a devious and dangerous mind. One that she believed France could well do without."Anne, I need to think upon all you have told me before visiting my old fox." Unsteadily Louis got to the door. "Not that I don't believe the truth of your words.""I expected nothing less, Louis. But after you speak with the captain I suggest you do not do anything rash yet. Not until the inseparables have solid proof of whomever brought our Garrison to this point.""You ask much of me." His lips tightened into a thin line. "I will do as you say if only to add this treasonous act to Richelieu's bold attempt on your life." With a heavy heart Louis took his leave, feeling as if his world had just crashed down around him for a second time in so short a span. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Still the same day – around one in the afternoon Aramis’ apartments Having returned from the Bastille, Athos helped himself to a generous portion of Anjou that Aramis tried to keep on hand for whenever Athos came to visit. Peering over the rim of his drink at Porthos, he raised his glass in the air. “Care to join me in a toast?”Retrieving an empty glass Porthos filled it too with wine. The drink halfway to his lips, he paused. “Eh. What are we toastin’?”“Why Cardinal Richelieu’s fall from grace of course.” Smirking, Athos dipped his head then finished his wine.Staring into his drink, Porthos frowned. “Don’t count those chickin’s til they’re all hatched.”“I have always trusted in your skills during our interrogations.” Patting the larger man on the back, Athos snorted in amusement. “Remember that time you were to work over that malandrin for information on where he stashed the money he had stolen from the king’s guests?”That was a hard memory for Porthos to forget. “One look at me when I entered Captain Treville’s office and the crook couldn’t stop confessin’.” Sipping his wine, Porthos’ shoulders shook with silent laughter. “’E even confessed to crimes we didn’t even know about.”“Much to Treville’s astonishment and our own amusement, if I recall.” Hoping that this would be the case with the man Bruyere attempted to murder, Athos badly wanted to hear Richelieu’s name upon Cyprien’s lips“I see you’re both enjoying my fine vintage.” Throwing a bloody towel into a basket along with the others, Aramis went over to a basin of clean water to wash up. “Would one of you mind pouring me a drink?”Handing his friend a full glass, Athos perched a hip on the edge of a table, folded his arms and simply stared expectantly at the marksman.Thanking Athos with a dip of his head, Aramis took the proffered drink. “Cyprien’s wound has been thoroughly cleaned and patched up.” Running his tongue over his lips, tasting the wine that lingered there, Aramis closed his eyes in bliss. Listening to Athos impatiently clear his throat to gain Aramis' attention had him rolling his eyes at the older man. “Tis no risk of infection as I tended the injury in time,” he offered somewhat smugly, knowing that was what Athos wanted to hear.“Is he conscious?” Drumming his fingers upon the tabletop, Athos tilted his head to the side.“Define conscious?” Hearing grumbling noises from his eldest brother, Aramis darted a look in Athos’ direction.“Have I ever told you that at times you try my patience mightily?” Scowling, Athos waved a threatening finger at the grinning lunatic.Hand over his heart, Aramis laughed brightly. “Numerous occasions come to mind, mon ami.”"Parbleu!" Throwing his hands up in the air disgusted, Athos was cross with his brother. "Can... Cyprien... be... questioned?" he bit out, ready to strangle Aramis at the man's vague answer."Mmmmm." Humming softly Aramis replied. "More or less." Ducking his head, he hid a smile from Athos' sharp eyes."ARAMIS!"Turning to look where Porthos stood, evidently enjoying the show, Aramis bowed. "Before Athos turns purple," he shifted his gaze over to his annoyed friend, "Porthos you have my permission to have at it."Cracking his knuckles, grinning broadly, Porthos brushed past Aramis. Catching Athos' quietly murmured words of Dieu Merci, on his way to Cyprien's room, he banged the door open startling his victim who stared back at Porthos in fright. "We're gonna spend some quality time tagether," he growled menacingly. Watching the man try to curl himself into a ball, Porthos chuckled. "If'n ya give me what I want," he rolled up his sleeves, "this'll go a whole lot easier on ya.""Can't you see I'm hurt!" Cyprien cried out, cowering on the bed."I was there, ya imbecile! I know that!"He knew that the swarthy faced Musketeer was ready to inflict major bodily harm to his person so Cyprien quit stalling. "I'm dead either way... aren't I?""Swingin's better than 'avin' your 'ead lopped off, if'n ya ask me.""Depending on my answers, eh?" It came to him, albeit too late, that taking on the job the cardinal had hired him to do now would lead to his own death. Gingerly sitting up on the bed, bleak eyes roamed over Porthos' serious features. This is what his life now boiled down to. Having no one else to blame but himself for the mess Cyprien now found himself in, he hung his head down. "Ask me whatever you want."++++ While yet in another room... Flexing his bruised hand, Athos gazed down upon Bruyere's downbent head. "Sorry about the blood, Aramis." He was speaking of the drops spilling onto the floor from the cuts Athos' had re-opened on the Red Guard's bruised and bloodied face."Non," Aramis hummed ruefully, "you are not.""You know me so well, mon frere." Blue eyes alight with laughter, Athos' gaze swung back upon Bruyere. The latter glared at him from the man's one good eye. His left one had swollen shut long ago from Porthos' beating at the Bastille. "Do you still insist on my re-arranging your features?"Spitting out blood past swollen lips, Bruyere snarled. "MUSKETEER SCUM!"Arching a brow, one hand on his hip, Aramis cocked his head to the side. "Athos, was he uncouth enough to say what I believe he said?"Our hearing has never let us down before. Nor has it this day." It appeared that Athos' knuckles would continue to get a work out. "We have not misheard him.""Can I go next then?" Not waiting for his brother to respond, Aramis gave a round house punch to Bruyere's stomach. Though the Red Guard was currently trussed up in a chair, Aramis knew the other man felt the force of his blow. Aiming a fist to Bruyere's unprotected face next Aramis wasn't quite satisfied when he heard bones crunching underneath his hand. So he followed up with an upper cut to the Red Guard's chin. Now Aramis was happily satisfied with the results.Letting Aramis take over doling out the punishment for the time being, Athos casually leaned against the wall. "We can keep this up all day. Though I am not really positive that you will survive it." His lips curled into a slight smile though it never reached his eyes. "Musketeers all know that Red Guards run at the first sign of trouble."Head spinning badly, hardly able to see, Bruyere wanted to respond with all the hatred he held inside of him for these king's guards. Try though he may, Bruyere couldn't get his tongue to work."And we also know," Aramis smiled charmingly, "where all the weak spots are."Deliberately spitting blood on Aramis' boots, Bruyere sneered at the Musketeer. "Do your worst! We'll see who is weak!"Nonchalantly shrugging one shoulder, Aramis turned to his brother. "We tried.""Tis all one can do." Stepping forward, Athos gently pushed Aramis aside. "This may take some time.""You do know we've already missed lunch." As if Aramis' stomach had heard him it chose that moment to rumble loudly."Send word to Serge to have some food sent over to us."Bowing politely Aramis sauntered toward the door. "Try not to abuse your hands too much, Athos. After all I am the one that has to treat them.""What of your own hands?" Arching a brow, Athos studied the marksman's skinned knuckles."I know how to use my fists without causing too much harm to them," Aramis smirked. "Not like some people I know." Figuring he better cut and run before Athos threw something at him, Aramis quickly left Bruyere alone with his brother.Lips quirked in an amused smile, Athos heard the door click shut behind him. Studying the damage he and Aramis had wrought thus far on their captive, Athos tried to decide where to inflict further punishment without killing the Red Guard.++++ Nearly forty minutes later The inseparables enjoyed the hearty beef stew Serge had provided them with. Along with that the old cook had sent over a block of cheese and a freshly baked baguette."I wonder how long our two prisoners are going to last." Savoring his Anjou, Aramis glanced at the room that contained Cyprien. It hadn't escaped his notice either how Athos' gaze hardly strayed from the room housing Bruyere. "We haven't given them any food you know.""They can starve for all I care." Breaking a piece off from the baguette, Porthos placed a slice of cheese on top of it."Peace, Porthos." Holding up his hand, Athos nodded accepting the shared feeling amongst them. "You are not alone in that thought, mon frere." Noting wrinkles creasing Aramis' forehead, seemingly deep in thought, Athos wondered what was on the other's mind. "Something else amiss that I should know about?""Just thinking of my old parish priest from the country church where I grew up." Pushing his empty plate aside Aramis spread out his arms, his voice took on a deeper, darker quality. "No one heals himself by wounding another.""If that was an imitation of your priest," Athos' eyes glinted with mischief, "I am glad to not have had him when I was a young lad. That voice alone would have gotten me to atone for even the smallest of sins."Waving a baguette in the air, Porthos stabbed Aramis with a fierce look. "Your church also teaches an eye for an eye," he reminded him while popping that piece of baguette into his mouth.A witty response instantly was on the tip of Aramis' tongue but he never got the chance to voice it when foul curses were shouted at them through the closed door to the room where Bruyere stayed."He has proven most stubborn," Athos admitted, rubbing his still sore hands."Not like Cyprien." Nodding in Porthos' direction, Aramis was pleased that at least one of them had succeeded."We have what we need from him." Standing up Athos clapped Porthos on the shoulder. "Cyprien will report all to His Majesty.""Guess I should feed 'im since 'e's gonna talk." Grudgingly Porthos put together a plate of food, taking it to Cyprien's room.More curses continued to loudly spew forth from the Red Guard. Pushing back his chair, Aramis stood up and went to join Athos at the threshold to Bruyere's room. Bowing mockingly, Aramis waved his friend to go first. "Age before great beauty." Listening to Athos' swear at him, Aramis dark eyes danced wickedly.++++ Royal Palace – Captain Treville’s room With a light rap upon the door, King Louis stepped inside the room where Treville was convalescing. Noting that his old fox was sitting up, right arm in a sling, trying to read a book, brought a smile to his lips. “Feel up to a visitor?”“For you, Sire, anytime.” Indicating an empty chair beside his bed, Treville placed his novel down. “I welcome the company. Tis been boring having to deal with doctors and being fussed over.” He began to laugh. “Besides I think I’ve read the same page twice over already.” Noting a deep sadness emanating from the young monarch, Treville reached over to take Louis’ hand. “Talk to me.”“Anne and I discussed what truly happened after her return from the convent.”Not totally surprised, for Treville knew it had weighed heavily on Queen Anne's conscience, he was secretly happy that she had gathered her courage together to tell Louis the truth. Even knowing that the queen had only been trying to protect her husband, it was still best to air out the dirty linen. “I won’t white wash it for you then,” he squeezed Louis’ hand gently. “But if I had had my way I would have presented Richelieu before you as a traitor to the crown.”“And to me personally as well,” King Louis added softly. “She wants me to wait and see who is responsible for losing our Garrison first before my arresting the cardinal.” King Louis hadn’t realized what a strong grip he had on Treville’s hand, until the older man winced. “So sorry.” He placed the captain’s hand back down upon the bed, before standing up. “Anne believes Richelieu to be the instigator behind everything that’s recently happened.”“So you will wait to add those sins on top of his other transgressions.” Treville nodded in understanding. “I approve.”“You are not surprised that Anne pointed a finger at His Eminence?”“Louis,” once more Treville took the younger man’s hand into his own, “Richelieu showed you one face and entirely different one to the rest of us." Pursing his lips Treville added, "And it was a most unpleasant one to deal with on many occasions."“Then tis only a matter of time until I can pronounce sentence over the cardinal.” Running a hand through his hair, Louis sighed deeply. “There are none so blind as those who will not see. The most deluded people are those who choose to ignore what they already know.” He gave a sad chuckle at his own words. “Perhaps I had an inkling all along but told myself the cardinal was looking out for France’s best interests. That proverb seems to reflect my life up until now.” He tipped his head toward Treville. “Wouldn’t you say?”“Only in regards to Richelieu not to the rest of the people who love you,” Treville pronounced firmly. “Remember that.”“I will try, my old fox.” Leaning down King Louis placed a kiss on top of Treville’s grey head. “Be well for I will need you to be at your best when the time comes.”“As you command, Sire.” Watching the young king leave, Treville felt nothing but pride in Louis. “About damn time too!”++++ Palais-Royal Pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back, Richelieu periodically stopped to glare out his windows. “Where the deuce could he be?” Bruyere must have met with some trouble. Pinching the bridge of his nose his thoughts were interrupted by incessant pounding upon the doors to his office. “Crisse!” he bellowed. “Quit that infernal racket! I cannot think!”Not having gained permission to enter, a timid Red Guard took his life into his own hands and cautiously opened up the doors. “Your… your Em… Eminence,” he stuttered out.Whirling around Richelieu stabbed the guard with a fiery look that would have quelled any man, less alone a simple soldier. Snapping his fingers Richelieu’s voice stung like a whip. “What is it this time?”Approaching the cardinal, Lieutenant Royer stammered, “Word has… reached… us that Bruyere… is in the hands… of the… Musketeers.” Gazing upon His Eminence’ furious face, Royer stepped back several paces for fear the cardinal would strike out at him in anger.A cold shiver ran up and down Richelieu’s spine at this unexpected and most unwelcome news. “Are you quite sure of your information, Lieutenant?”“Oui, Cardinal Richelieu.”“Leave me now!” Right after the door closed behind the lieutenant, Richelieu tried to work out what the possible ramifications of the Musketeers having Bruyere meant for himself. He could only assume that the Red Guard had failed his mission to murder Cyprien. So Richelieu's devious mind began to carefully calculate his next move. “I need an ace in the hole,” he slowly stroked his goatee. “They have one of mine so it would seem a fair exchange for me to take one of theirs." Slyly amused, Richelieu knew exactly the right person to fit the bill. “D’Artagnan.”++++ Notes: Malandrin - brigand Dieu Merci - thank God Deuce – pretty sure most of you know that it’s used as an epithet - The Devil, in an exclamation of confusion or anger. Crisse – Christ (Boy was Richelieu really upset) Baguette - narrow loaf of bread with crisp crust Quote: "No one heals himself by wounding another" is from St. Ambrose (born A.D. 339-397). He was the bishop of Milan, biblical critic, and initiator of ideas that provided a model for medieval conceptions of church–state relations. Proverb: There Are None So Blind As Those Who Will Not See... According to the ‘Random House Dictionary of Popular Proverbs and Sayings’ this proverb has been traced back to 1546 (John Heywood), and resembles the Biblical verse Jeremiah 5:21 (‘Hear now this, O foolish people, and without understanding; which have eyes, and see not; which have ears, and hear not’). In 1738 it was used by Jonathan Swift in his ‘Polite Conversation’ and is first attested in the United States in the 1713 ‘Works of Thomas Chalkley’. The full saying is: ‘There are none so blind as those who will not see. The most deluded people are those who choose to ignore what they already know.' ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Same day, a few hours and one dreadfully beaten up Red Guard later - Aramis' apartments Gazing ruefully upon his floor, Aramis huffed. He glanced at Athos and pointed to all the blood there. "Couldn't you have been a bit neater?"He knew Aramis would be more concerned upon the red slicked covered wood than in Bruyere's poor condition. "I'll pay to have a cleaning woman come to take care of it later if it bothers you so much.""What?" Aramis exclaimed in surprise. "And put all kinds of horrible thoughts into her head as to what I get up to in my own home?""I seriously doubt she'd even blink an eye over the blood, Mis." Trying not to laugh at the outrage reflected in his friend's expressive eyes, Porthos gently clapped his shoulder in affection. "You're a Musketeer. Everyone knows to expect the unexpected from us.""Even cleaning women," Athos added with a definite twinkle shining from his blue eyes.Blowing out a long breath Aramis' gaze shifted from his stained floor to the Red Guard. "I must say you have had better days, Bruyere." So much blood covered Bruyere's face that he was nearly unrecognizable. His features were puffy and swollen, and what was that on the floor? "Athos, I believe you knocked out a tooth or two." Bending to pick them up, Aramis chuckled while tossing them up and down in his hand. "They'll make fine souvenirs." Placing them in the pocket of his doublet, he grinned at his brothers.Barely able to see out of either eyes now, Bruyere grunted out unintelligible words.Scratching his head Porthos stared at Athos. "I thought ya told me ta go easy on 'im cause 'e needed ta spill his guts ta us." Confused Porthos waited to see what his eldest friend's excuse would be this time.Flexing his fingers, Athos grimaced. "I admit that Bruyere tried my patience to the extreme." He looked anywhere but at his comrades, for Athos knew they'd be rolling their eyes at him. "I may have been a tad over zealous in trying to gain our information.""A tad?" Amused, despite the grave situation they found themselves involved in, Aramis nudged one of Bruyere's legs with the tip of his boot. When the Red Guard grunted something, Aramis smiled. "Still alive then?" Shooting Athos a semi-stern look he teased, "Try to keep him that way until he's willing to confess in front of our king, if you will."Listening to the mumblings of the Red Guard, Porthos leaned in closer. "What did ya say again?""Rich... Riche... Richelieu..." Trying to swallow, though his tongue felt too swollen from biting down on it to do so, Bruyere managed to convey what they wanted to hear. "Orders... cardinal.""Could you try for some coherency this time?" Finally! The hours it took to reach this point may have not been in vain after all. Rubbing over his bruised knuckles, Athos relished this long awaited moment."Athos, give the man a chance to speak," Aramis gently admonished. "Bruyere will tell us all now I'm quite sure."Stepping in front of the Red Guard, Porthos made sure Bruyere didn't forget he was till there. Immovable as a mountain, though Athos was named after one, Porthos would be a force to reckon with if Bruyere tried to lie to them. "'E better," he threatened in a tone of voice that left the Red Guard in no doubt that Porthos would pick up where Athos left off. Kicking out at the chair, jerking Bruyere out of his stupor, he waved a warning finger in the man's face."Aramis." Tilting his head, indicating an empty bucket on the floor, Athos smiled. "If you would be so kind to fill that up with water.""Since you put it so nicely," Aramis dipped his head, "it shall be my pleasure.""Ya better 'ave coin on ya ta pay that cleaning woman, Athos." Laughing at the miserable look on Aramis' face at the reminder, Porthos teased, "Ah, Mis, it'll give 'er somethin' ta gossip about with 'er friends.""Tis what I'm afraid of." Trying not to dwell upon it, Aramis grabbed the empty pail and went outside.++++ Royal Palace - d'Artagnan's room Staring down into another cup of steaming tea, then back up into Bernadette's anxious features, d'Artagnan licked his lips. "I just had some. Is Doctor Devereaux and Aramis trying to drown me?" he quipped.Puzzled, Bernadette was quick to respond. "I only know what I was told, d'Artagnan.""Which would be what exactly?" He didn't mean to frazzle the young woman's nerves but it appeared he was doing so anyway by the way Bernadette fidgited from one foot to the other."That the kitchen staff forgot to add the pain draught the doctor had ordered put in the tea you drank earlier.""Good thing I like tea." D'Artagnan's brow quirked upward. "Tis fine, Bernadette. I'll drink this up right away."Having other duties to perform, Bernadette acknowledged the Gascon with a slight curtsy before departing.Almost immediately after finishing his hot tea, much to d'Artagnan's surprise, he discovered that his eyelids had a mind of their own. They kept trying to close shut on him, regardless of his struggles to keep them open. Quite tired now d'Artagnan gave up the fight and slid under the covers to fall into a deep, dreamless, sleep.A scant few minutes later found two men, dressed as regular palace staff, walk into d'Artagnan's room."What happens if someone asks what we're doing with him?" Not entirely happy with this plan, Barclay had to follow orders.Unfolding the stretcher that had been left in the young Gascon's room, Astley shot a perturbed look at the other man. "We've gone over and over this.""I have a short attention span," Barclay snapped. "Tell me again."Rolling his eyes, Astley snorted. "Tis quite simple. If we're questioned just tell them that we're moving the lad to a different room.""But I thought we were bringing the kid to Cardinal Richelieu." Confused more than ever, Barclay glared at Astley not liking the answer he'd just received."Mon Dieu! However you made it into the Red Guards is beyond my comprehension." Ignoring Barclay's look of hurt, Astley went over to check on the youngster. "The Gascon's knocked out all right." Uncovering d'Artagnan he went to take the lad's shoulders. "Barclay, you get his legs."Together they managed to move the young man onto the stretcher."Cardinal Richelieu gave me instructions of another secret passage for us to take that would lead us to tunnels that run underneath the Louvre. Then they'll eventually connect to another set which will take us directly to the Palais-Cardinal." Beginning to lift his end of the stretcher Astley waited for Barclay to pick up the other end."All that way carrying the Gascon!" Barclay complained."Would you rather see us all dangling from the noose," Astley spat. "Or worse... losing our heads."Barclay and Astley, like Bruyere, had been part of the small group of the cardinal's men that were involved in Richelieu's plot. Definitely Barclay didn't want to lose his head for he liked it fine just where it was. Hanging didn't suit him any better. So, without anymore complaints, he lifted his end of the stretcher to help carry the Musketeer away.++++ Early evening - Palais-Cardinal Entering the cardinal's chambers, Astley bowed before him."Tis done?""As ordered, Your Eminence.""Excellent," Richelieu murmured. Snapping his fingers at Astley to leave, he went to his desk. Sitting down he reached for his quill. Dipping it into the ink he then began to write his letter to Captain Treville.++++ Half an hour later - Royal Palace, Captain Treville's room Checking up on the captain, Constance intercepted a missive intended for him. She had told the page she would see to its delivery. "Tis for you." Handing him the letter, her eyes took in the fact that the officer appeared to be feeling better. "Good to see some color back in your face.""Tis nice to know I won't be scaring off anymore of Louis' staff then." His blue eyes sparkled with mirth, until they rested upon the words he was reading.Noting Captain Trevilles eyes close, as if in pain, Constance was about to order another draught for him. But he grabbed her arm preventing movement of any kind."I must get word to Athos, Porthos and Aramis immediately!""Why?" Her eyes went instantly to the missive the captain still gripped tightly in his good hand. "What was in that?" Her chin jutted out stubbornly. "Don't bother to lie either. I've been around you lot long enough to know a tall tale when I've heard one.""Constance," Treville pulled her down to sit on the edge of his bed, "Richelieu has d'Artagnan."Jumping off her perch, Constance stared at him in disbelief. "That can't be! Tis a terrible game the cardinal's playing with you," she stamped her foot. "D'Artagnan's safe as can be here.""Are you sure about that?" Watching a myriad of emotions cross her face, Treville tugged on one of her hands. "When was the last time you checked on him?""An hour ago. Queen Anne and I had to threaten d'Artagnan to get him to go back to his room and rest." Running a hand through her hair, Constance bit her lip. "I'll go make sure he hasn't been absconded away," she said somewhat hysterically, not understanding how this could have happened under everyone's noses. But before Constance did another question popped into her head. "What else did Richelieu have to say?""He somehow discovered that we have his Red Guard in our custody." Wearily leaning his head against the headboard of his bed, Treville's eyes closed. "Athos had sent word to me here that they captured Bruyere after the man's botched attempt on Cyprien's life." When he opened his eyes back up again, Constance had the door partially opened ready to leave. "If Richelieu truly does have d'Artagnan the cardinal will want a trade."Knowing well how devious the cardinal could be, Constance figured that would be His Eminence's next step. "But that's if this isn't another one of his fabricated lies just to mess with our heads," she huffed. "I'm going to his room now."D'Artagnan's room was only a little ways down from Treville's own. So when he heard Constance's screech of outrage he pitied anyone that met the young woman's wrath on the way back to his room. A couple of minutes passed before she came racing back to him. Her titian hair was all askew but Treville didn't dare inform Constance to its condition. She had enough concerns to deal with as it was.She didn't have to confirm what the captain already knew. "What do we do now?""The cardinal's assumed correctly that Bruyere failed and that Cyprien still lives so Richelieu wants both men returned to him alive." Crumpling the missive in his left hand he let it fall to the floor."Or else?" Arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently on the floor, Constance was ready for battle just as any Musketeer would be. Cardinal Richelieu had her best friend in the whole world and no one messed about with d'Artagnan as long as she drew breath. This is what she got for hanging around the inseparables so much. They made her feel as if she were invincible, even when you knew you weren't."I believe you already know the answer to that, Constance.""Has the cardinal lost all sense of reality?" she shouted. "He should realize the king knows you have Cyprien." Running both hands through her hair, not being a vain woman, Constance didn't care how mussed up it appeared. "Cyprien disappears like that," she snapped her fingers, "suspicion would fall on Richelieu's head. Especially now that His Majesty was told about the events at the convent.""Ah!" Treville gave her a smile of satisfaction. "Tis the one thing that works in our favor. Richelieu has no idea that Queen Anne confessed to the king the cardinal's plot to assassinate her.""Do you know if the captured men have talked yet?""Non," he shook his head. "I have to send a Musketeer over to Aramis' apartments. Let them know what has happened to d'Artagnan.""Richelieu must feel this Bruyere won't talk and that Cyprien would be too scared to go against the cardinal," Constance pointed out. "Otherwise why trade for d'Artagnan?""Tis simple really," Treville's lips twisted. "Richelieu controls his men with fear. He wouldn't believe any of his people capable of stabbing him in the back. Hence, once we get d'Artagnan back it would be our word against the cardinal's when it came right down to it.""Then we would have the upper hand with the knowledge that King Louis won't believe His Eminence's lies." She could have danced for joy. "I want to be right up front with the rest of you when Cardinal Richelieu falls.""Before that could happen I have to inform the inseparables and have them come back here so we can brainstorm on how to handle this properly." Trying to move around Treville accidentally leaned on his broken arm. "Merde!" Instead of being berated for his language, he heard Constance giggling. She was probably used to hearing oaths from his men and nothing surprised her any longer. "Help me sit up better. I keep sliding down."Plumping up pillows behind the captain, she helped him into a more comfortable position. "Tis all the better for us if Bruyere and Cyprien point their fingers in the cardinal's direction. But I sincerely doubt either one of them would want to be turned back over to Richelieu's tender mercies.""They're going to face certain death either way but perhaps King Louis' justice would be swifter than the cardinal's." Staring once more at the crumpled letter on the floor, Treville's brows drew together. "Before we get to ahead of ourselves we'll have to find out where Richelieu has the lad and get d'Artagnan out of the cardinal's clutches before we answer the man's demands.""D'Artagnan's probably being held at the Palais-Cardinal." It would be nearly impossible to get him out of there. Then again the inseparables excelled at doing the impossible. Constance had been witness a time or two to the miracles they've managed to pull off in the past."If we told Louis now I fear that Richelieu would have d'Artagnan killed before we could even act." Damning his inability to simply leave this bed, Treville sighed in resignation. "There would be no reason for the cardinal to keep the lad alive once His Eminence realized all was lost.""I'll help you write your letter and then find one of your men to see to its delivery." She went over to sit at a desk pulling out what she would need."I'll feel better once we're all together," Treville's lips pursed. "Perhaps then we could devise a plan to rescue our young Gascon."Neither of them had heard the door quietly open. Actually the door hadn't closed properly in the first place after Constance had rushed back inside. Anyone with half an ear could have listened in to the captain's conversation with Constance. But they were lucky."I may be able to help you out in that regard," offered a soft spoken voice.Both Treville and Constance stared dumbfounded at the young man standing partway through the door. He was clearly unsure of his welcome especially wearing the uniform of a Red Guard. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Still the same day, early evening – Aramis’ apartments A knock upon Aramis’ door had interrupted a lively debate with his brothers whether or not to disturb the king now with their prisoners or wait until the coming morn. Though Aramis wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of housing either Bruyere or Cyprien under his roof for longer than he had to.When Aramis yanked the door open, Pierre nearly toppled inside. Steadying the younger Musketeer, with a hand on the other’s chest and back, he gave him a sharp look. “What brings you here?”“You’re not going to like it, Aramis.” Handing over Captain Treville’s missive, Pierre really didn’t want to hang around for the fireworks he was sure to follow after the older man read the note. Slowly he crept backwards, toward the still open door, so that he could make a hasty exit if needs must.“NOM DE DIEU!” Swearing when he read and then re-read the letter again, Aramis held it out for Athos to take. Turning around to speak with Pierre again, he wasn’t surprised to find that the younger man had already departed. Honestly Aramis was used to such actions from others when faced with the inseparable’s wrath. He would have done much the same in Pierre’s place.“MERDE!” Slapping his hand so hard upon the table, that it could have cracked, Athos was murderously angered and rightly so. “I may not wait for King Louis to render his punishment on Richelieu!” he spat. “I’ll go over to the Palais-Cardinal myself and put my sword to his black heart!”Crushing the letter in his right hand Athos realized that Porthos had no idea why he and Aramis were beside themselves with fury. Noting the obvious curiosity staring him in the face, from his larger friend, Athos unfolded the crumpled missive and gave it to Porthos. “Richelieu has d’Artagnan and wants to trade our captives for him.”“I’d like a piece of that batard myself!” Porthos growled, throwing the note into the trash can. “If’n ‘e’s hurt that kid…” Trailing off he saw the same determination to save their youngest in his friend’s faces.“Treville wants us to meet with him to figure out our next move.” With a calm he didn’t feel, Athos went to retrieve his doublet. Then after fastening his weapon’s belt around his waist he shoved his chapeau on his head, tugging it down low as he was wont to do. Porthos and Aramis soon followed suit. "Gentlemen, it would seem our decision has been made for us in regards to bringing our prisoners to the king.” Heading to Cyprien’s room, Athos stepped inside while his brothers went to get Bruyere.++++ Palais-Cardinal Feeling quite groggy, d’Artagnan slowly cracked one eye open at a time. Carefully sitting up, for the world seemed to be revolving around him, he tried to focus on his surroundings.Shaking his head, which ended up being a terrible idea as his stomach rolled with the movement, d’Artagnan wondered if he were truly awake yet. Unless someone had re-decorated his room while he had slept, an unlikely idea or so d’Artagnan thought, he could have sworn he had been moved to a different location. That tea really had packed quite a whollop apparently if it had left him with delusions of this sort.While d’Artagnan pondered on this puzzle, his door opened to admit Cardinal Richelieu. His eyes widened upon the sight of His Eminence standing there appearing regal and smug both at the same time. It was then that dismay filled him with the realization of why d’Artagnan’s room appeared unfamiliar to him. “I’m no longer in the Louvre am I?”“And they say you’re just a simple farm boy.” Chuckling at his quip Richelieu walked further into the room staring hard at the youngster until it was d’Artagnan that turned his face away first.“You’re going to use me as a bargaining chip to get Cyprien back.” It didn’t take a simple farm boy to figure out why the cardinal had gone to all the trouble of drugging him. For d’Atagnan realized that was how he had ended up here.“Not only Cyprien but one of my own as well.” Noting that d’Artagnan’s apparent surprise wasn’t faked, Richelieu figured that the young Gascon knew nothing of Bruyere nor the man’s part in all of this. Nor the Red Guard’s capture by the lad’s comrades-in-arms.Knowing there must be a good reason for his friends to be holding a Red Guard prisoner, d’Artagnan didn’t bother peppering Richelieu with questions. “You should be afraid, Cardinal,” he smirked. “Very afraid I would say.”“I believe, young d’Artagnan, you are the one who should be if Captain Treville and his men do not turn over to me what is mine.”“We shall see won’t we?” Saying it with all the confidence of youth, and trust in his friends, d’Artagnan noted His Eminence’s smugness slowly began slipping.++++ Royal Palace – Captain Treville’s room Still in pain, Treville swallowed down a foul tasting medicine forced upon him by Doctor Devereaux and Constance. The young woman stood hovering over him until he drank the concoction fully. Handing her the empty cup he shuddered. “I hope you are pleased with yourself.”“How do you ever expect to get better unless you follow the physician’s orders?” Huffing, rolling her eyes, Constance thought for the umpteenth time how stubborn men could be.Shortly thereafter the arrival of the inseparables made Treville sit up straighter in bed and forget about his grumblings over the doctor's medicine. “Where are they?” were the first words out of Treville's mouth.“Under close guard in one of the cell’s below the Louvre.” Standing beside his captain, Athos noted lines of pain creased Treville’s forehead. “Now I would like to know how our Gascon had been kidnapped.” Suppressing his anger badly, he waved his hand in the air.One hand resting on the pommel of his rapier, the other fiddling with his blue sash, Aramis nodded his head. “As do I.”Stepping between his two brothers, Porthos’ fury was starting to climb again. “What the ‘ell were the palace guards all doin’ when this took place… sleepin’?”Exchanging a wry look with Constance, Treville shrugged with his right arm that was in the sling. Wincing, he muttered an oath. Upon noting Constance tapping her lips with a finger as if she were thinking about taking him to task for his language, Treville quickly explained all that he knew so far which didn't amount to very much.“No one actually knows how Cardinal Richelieu got his hands on d’Artagnan.” Which wasn’t what his men wanted to hear, Treville knew that, but it’s all he had to offer. His lieutenant looked about ready to plunge his sword into the next person who would have the utter gall to bother getting into Athos’ space. Aramis wasn’t much better with the way he kept fiddling with his pistols. Treville expected him to take aim at any Red Guard that was stupid enough to breathe the same air as the marksman.Which left Porthos. Ah and if that one could have been a dragon in another life Treville could easily have seen him breathing fire on the Palais-Cardinal, burning it down to the ground. Which, when Treville considered it, wasn’t a bad idea at all since he had suffered the loss of the Garrison. Seemed only fair. But dragons were few and far between nowadays.“I’m worried that d’Artagnan will try to escape on his own,” Athos said to the group. “Hurt as the lad already is I fear he’d do himself another injury.”“Let us not borrow trouble.” Thinking that they had the monopoly on it as it was, Treville sighed. ‘I just don’t have time for the nervous breakdown that I deserve.”“I will have mine after d’Artagnan’s returned to us.” Raising a brow Athos caught Constance trying, unsuccessfully, not to laugh at the captain’s and his own remarks.“Breakdowns aside,’ Treville studied the three anxious men closely, “do I assume Bruyere and Cyprien sang for you as expected?”“Tweet, tweet.” Tipping his chapeau  back from his forehead, Aramis' eyes twinkled merrily. Then quickly waxed his face serious upon noting the severe expression Treville just subjected him to.“Admitted Richelieu’s guilt did they?” Rubbing at the ache in his broken limb, Treville noted the broad smile on Porthos’ dark face.“Couldn’t get Cyprien ta shut up once he started singin’,” Porthos chuckled, remembering all the yammering from the man.“Whereas it took fists of persuasion to get Bruyere to sing.” Athos’ lips curled into the semblance of a smile.“Tis music to my ears, gents.” Relaxed upon knowing he finally had Richelieu where he wanted him, Treville needed to ease the inseparable's anxiety over d'Artagnan. He knew his men were restless and wanted nothing more than to retrieve their youngest as soon as possible. "I promise all of you that the lad will be reunited with you soon.""What da ya know that we don't?" His voice roughened, thinking about the whelp being with the cardinal. "D'Art's not in the best of shape and may need our 'elp gettin' away from Richelieu." Exchanging a long look with Athos, Porthos was not happy about any of this."An unexpected ally is giving us aid in that regard." Boy would Treville pay good money to see the look on the cardinal's stunned face when he discovers d'Artagnan's disappeared."Is this person trustworthy?" Not liking the idea of some mysterious individual pulling off a rescue mission of their pup instead of them, Athos had to pray the captain hadn't put his faith in someone totally unsuitable for the job."I'll say this much," Treville offered them a pleased smile, "shortly all of you will be welcoming a new brother-in-arms to the regiment."The three Musketeers could only stare at their commander curiously, wondering why the officer didn't share with them the identity of this man."Athos, you should see to it that your prisoners are brought before Louis right now before anything else could go wrong." Sharing a concerned look with Constance, Treville knew she thought the same thing."Trust in us to bring them to His Majesty," Athos stabbed the older man with a sharp look, "as we're putting our trust in your plan that d'Artagnan will be safely delivered to us." Jerking his head toward the door, Athos raised his hand for his friends to follow him.After the men had left, Treville felt the warmth of Constance's hand resting on his shoulder. "I'm not sure they liked the idea of someone else breaking our Gascon out of the Palais-Cardinal."Amused, Constance lightly laughed. "I'm positive they didn't enjoy hearing it." But she knew that Sebastien hadn't been happy as a Red Guard and only needed a bit of a push in the right direction to switch sides. Hearing the conversation between herself and the captain was just the incentive Sebastien needed. Who would have ever thought that one of Richelieu's own would betray the holier than thou cardinal?"++++ King Louis' chambers Drumming his fingers upon his desk, King Louis waited for the inseparables to bring him the proof that would, no doubt, cause his heart to bleed... for himself and for France.The guard at his door knocked upon it once then slowly opened it. "Sire, the inseparables have arrived.""Let them pass." Standing up King Louis tugged on his robe. Observing his soldiers file in he had to admit that the sight of one man made him cringe inside. "Mon Dieu!" he covered his mouth. "Ah bien, I did tell you to get your information any way you had to.""This," Porthos kicked at Bruyere until the Red Guard literally fell at His Majesty's feet, "is the piece of scum that tried to kill Cyprien in the Bastille.""Plus Bruyere was one of the Red Guards involved in the plot with Cardinal Richelieu to blow up our home." Kicking out at Bruyere's back, Aramis enjoyed hearing the Red Guard's moans of pain.Holding Cyprien up, Athos bowed slightly before his king. "It was Cyprien that was hired personally by Cardinal Richelieu to do the job." Glowering at the man he held upright then down at the Red Guard laying at the king's feet, Athos growled. "Both of you confess your crimes to your monarch now!"Minutes went by listening to their confessions. After they had told him everything, King Louis turned milk white. Suddenly his legs gave out from under him. If it wasn't for Aramis' and Porthos' quick reflexes, he would have ended up on the floor. They helped him to sit back down in his chair for which King Louis was grateful. Closing his eyes he replayed their damning words in his head. Richelieu was guilty as sin so the next step would be up to him and him alone."It would also appear that d'Artagnan's been kidnapped by the cardinal ." Not receiving any enjoyment from this announcement, Athos handed His Majesty the note that was given to Treville.Perusing the missive, King Louis' spirits darkened. Throwing it onto his desk he turned to his Musketeers. "Someone wiser than I once told me that it is easier to forgive an enemy than a friend." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I cannot in all honesty ever forgive what the cardinal has done to me or my men." When he stood back up, his back was rigid with tension that was reflected in his face. "Richelieu is now my enemy. May God have mercy on his black soul."++++ Palais-Cardinal Easily passing through the halls, Sebastien nodded to other Red Guards on duty. He had spent a considerable amount of time talking with several other guards to find out where d'Artagnan was being held. He was relieved to know that Cardinal Richelieu hadn't put the injured young Musketeer in their damp cells which were located below the Palais-Cardinal, just as they were in the Louvre.Finally discovering the room where they were keeping the Gascon, Sebastien acted all chummy with the two other Red Guards on duty. Then when they relaxed in his presence, Sebastien took them both out with lightning fast moves rendering the guards unconscious. Now the hard part would be to convince d'Artagnan that he was here to help him escape as Sebastien quietly slipped into the room.++++ Notes Nom de Dieu – God damn it! Batard – BastardI have no idea if the real Palais-Cardinal contained cells below it similar to the Louvre. It just worked well into my storyline.The quote: "it is easier to forgive an enemy than a friend" is from Austin O'Malley, M.D. (October 1, 1858 - February 26, 1932). He was an ophthalmologist and a professor of English literature at University of Notre Dame.The line where Treville says: “I just don’t have time for the nervous breakdown that I deserve”, comes from a book of British humor devised by a Britain - Ged Backland. The books involve an old lady named Aunty Acid and are quite popular in the UK. Their office is in Liverpool, England. So since I’ve discovered her, and added a book to the libraries collection that a patron donated, there will be forthcoming snarky comments from time to time in some of my stories. I will blame it all on Aunty. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Believe it or not it's still the same day just later in the evening now Palais-Cardinal Since it was deemed that d'Artagnan was hampered enough by his healing wounds, plus had two Red Guards right outside his door, there was no need for Cardinal Richelieu to have the Gascon shackled to the bed. Therefore when d'Artagnan swung his head around to glare at the Red Guard that just entered he was puzzled when said guard put a finger to his lips. "Captain Treville sent me," Sebastien whispered.D'Artagnan liked to think that he knew most of the Musketeers in the regiment by now so he was pretty sure he had never seen this one before. If the captain had sent him, d'Artagnan figured the man must be undercover. "Did you borrow that uniform from the Red Guard barracks?" He meant it as a jest but was very surprised at the answer he received."Tis my own." When the Gascon tilted his head to the side studying him, Sebastien offered up a sincere smile. "Trust me, d'Artagnan. I'm really on your side." He moved closer to the bed. "Just ask Constance."Sitting up straighter, d'Artagnan's face broke out into a wide grin. "You're Sebastian!""Oui." Throwing the covers off the injured Musketeer, Sebastien helped d'Artagnan get out of bed."This is embarrassing," d'Artagnan muttered while carefully getting his legs to hold his weight as he was still weakened. Steadying himself against Sebastian's sturdy bulk, he huffed, "I'm still in my nightshirt. They wouldn't even give me any clothes after imprisoning me in this room.""It doesn't bother me in the slightest." His green eyes roamed the room, looking for something only Sebastien knew existed. When he had newly joined the reformed Red Guards, Sebastien had to learn the layout of the Palais-Cardinal. He also had been privvy to certain hidden passages located within. Having been told that most of the rooms were equipped with them, Sebastien could only hope this one did as well. Feeling d'Artagnan wobble slightly, he glanced at the Gascon. "Do you feel able to walk or I could hoist you over my shoulder if needs must.""I'm fine." Feeling anything but, d'Artagnan lied through his teeth. It wouldn't be the first time nor the last."Captain Treville and Constance told me that would be your answer." Holding back his grin when d'Artagnan shyly ducked his head, Sebastien made sure he had a firm grip on the other man's arm. Leading the Gascon over to a large bookcase, his eyes fell upon a volume of poetry that seemed familiar to him."Uh, I hate to say this, Sebastian." Tugging at the arm keeping him upright, d'Artagnan was perplexed at the soldier's actions. "Tis a poor time to want to read."Shoulders shaking, when Sebastian turned bright eyes filled with amusement on the Gascon, he simply winked at d'Artagnan. Pulling the book out he turned it on its spine then slid it back into place. Soon after a panel in the wall near the bookshelf quietly slid open.Brown eyes shining with approval d'Artagnan said, "You do that rather well.""Actually the cardinal needs to become less repetitive with how one accesses his secret passages." His small huff of laughter followed them well into their escape through the opening, while behind them the panel quietly clicked shut.++++ Nearing the midnight hour - Royal Palace Captain Treville's room "I am keeping Cyprien and Bruyere in the cells below the Louvre where Cardinal Richelieu cannot reach them. Wearily sitting down beside his old fox King Louis grabbed Treville's left hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the officer's stiff fingers. "As per my orders the other Red Guards involved in the sabotage have been arrested.""Bruyere gave them up?" Treville shouldn't have been surprised. His inseparables had worked the Red Guard over until the man was nearly insensible."Oui." Releasing the captain's hand King Louis' fist thumped the bed hard startling Treville. "They will be housed in the dungeons as well and will await their execution along with Cyprien and Bruyere."Standing silent in the room with them were Aramis and Porthos. Athos couldn't wait around worrying about his protégé any longer. He had gone to supervise, making sure all the other prisoners made it to their cells and were heavily guarded.When a heavy knock upon the door made all of them jump, Porthos was the first to go open it.The young page's eyes widened upon noting the dark-skinned giant in front of him. Staring way up into the Musketeer's face, he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm to inform His Majesty that d'Artagnan is back in his room."Smiling down into the lad's wary eyes, Porthos reached out to place a large hand on the page's shoulder. "Ya brought good news ta us, kid." Releasing him Porthos watched the page go back about his duties. Closing the door he turned to face everyone. "Our whelp's home again. Right where 'e belongs.""Aramis," having relinquished his chair King Louis had gone over to his two Musketeers, "go seek Athos out to tell him about d'Artagnan." Clapping his hands together he then led Porthos by the arm. "Come let us check on my young champion.""Do not forget to let Queen Anne and Constance know!" Treville hollered out after them."Quite right." Motioning to Aramis, King Louis was about to add another order to his previous one but the marksman beat him to it.Dipping his head Aramis said, "I will inform them on my way to seek out Athos." Offering a low bow to the king, Aramis departed.++++ D'Artagnan's room It was becoming overcrowded in the area surrounding d'Artagnan's bed. Only in his nightshirt and feeling slightly uncomfortable he pulled the covers up over his waist, especially since there were ladies present. Meaning he was protecting the queen's and Constance's sensibilities, not to mention his own innate modesty."Your Sebastien is quite an able soldier." Arching a brow at Constance, d'Artagnan chuckled softly at her wild blush staining her cheeks red."He's not my anything," she hissed in the Gascon's ear. Wanting nothing more then to clout d'Artagnan on the head for embarrassing her, Constance forgave him this time since he was recovering from his wounds.Noting the highly amused faces of Their Majestys, Porthos and Sebastien, d'Artagnan tugged her down to sit near him on the edge of the bed. "I disagree," he whispered back."Before coming here to see d'Artagnan," noting young Sebastien appeared nervous, King Louis tried to put the man at ease, "Treville told me that you were the one responsible for returning him to us.""We are pleased by your actions." With a loving glance at d'Artagnan, who had become quite dear to all of them, Queen Anne took Sebastian's hand into her own slim one. 'I believe you will be a fine addition to the regiment." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her husband nodding his head in agreement."My queen and I are in complete accord on this." Lifting Anne's hand to his lips, Louis placed a soft kiss upon it. "As usual, cherie d'amour." His attention back on the matter at hand, his gaze bounced between both d'Artagnan and Sebastien. "Both of you are similar in age. So I expect you'll become fast friends."Acknowledging each other with a simple dip of their heads, both young men's thoughts ran on similar lines.It was then Aramis and Athos returned. The latter made no bones about who he came to see. Completely forgetting protocol he bypassed the king entirely, making a beeline straight for d'Artagnan. Placing a hand either side of the Gascon's face, he bent his forehead until it touched his protégé's. "You have not been harmed?""Non." Gripping his mentor's forearms, d'Artagnan gently squeezed them. "I was just the means to an end for Richelieu."Relinquishing his hold on the youngster's face, Athos' blue eyes never left d'Artagnan. He was afraid if he took his eyes off the lad, for even one second, he might disappear again."Athos." Crooking his finger at the older man d'Artagnan noted the fond look his mentor gave him. "Do you realize you didn't acknowledge Their Majestys at all when you came into the room," he whispered.Turning beet red, Athos turned to the young monarchs. "Apologies. I was so excited to see our pup that I have no other excuse than that.""I totally understand, Athos," King Louis waved the Musketeer's apology aside. "I would have been surprised at any other response from you.""Not to interrupt," Sebastien politely broke in, "but I wanted to ask a question." When all eyes rested on him, he continued. "Does d'Artagnan always say he's fine when he clearly is not?""That's the whelp's pat answer," Porthos jovially replied. "Kid could be sufferin' a concussion, barely able ta stay awake and he'd still say he was fine.""D'Artagnan never fails to amaze us with his resiliency to bounce back," Aramis chuckled."I sometimes manage to even amaze myself," d'Artagnan cheekily added, to which all burst out with much laughter. When everyone's mirth subsided, his eyes sought the king's. "What will be your next move, Sire?""Now that you have been safely returned to us," his resolve hardening, King Louis would not be swayed from his decision, "I will demand Cardinal Richelieu to present himself to me on the morrow.""I wonder if the good cardinal's discovered that d'Artagnan has flown the coop." Fingers in his weapon's belt, Aramis rocked back and forth on his heels."It would be worth my next two pays ta see 'is face when 'e does." Tugging on d'Artagnan's foot, Porthos winked at the kid."We will all get to see his face, Porthos, because every one of you will attend my audience with His Eminence." The ones that had been wronged had a right to be present, so King Louis believed. "That will include my old fox and d'Artagnan as well.""Tis time for Cardinal Richelieu to feel the monarchy's full wrath." Queen Anne's voice joined that of her husband's."Richelieu will finally get hoisted on his own petard. Tis only right." Wearing a broad smirk upon his face Athos ran his fingers lightly through the Gascon's long hair, chuckling when d'Artagnan tried to bat his hand away."Karma has no menu. You get served what you deserve." Catching the king's eye, Aramis received a curt nod in turn knowing that His Majesty felt exactly the same."For now let us all retire and leave d'Artagnan to rest up." Walking back over to the youth, King Louis held out his hand. When the lad gripped it, he did something out of character and pulled the Gascon into a brief hug. "You and I will become firm friends once we put all of this ugliness behind us."Choking up at his monarch's words, d'Artagnan's eyes were moist with emotion. "Your Majesty, you do me an honor.""Nonsense!" Releasing the Gascon, King Louis was in better spirits. "I see great things in store for you and I together.""And the future of a better France once it is rid of Richelieu's influence," Queen Anne added, delighted that her husband now considered d'Artagnan to be part of their extended family which also included Captain Treville. When a huge yawn escaped the Gascon it was then, with Constance's help, that Queen Anne ushered everyone out of the room.++++ Next day, early morning – Palais-Cardinal Unaware that the Gascon was no longer under his roof, Richelieu received the king’s missive requesting his presence at the Louvre immediately. The more he perused the letter, Richelieu became slightly concerned. The wording of it read more as a demand than a request. Perhaps Louis got up on the wrong side of the bed this morn. It wouldn’t be the first time the young monarch had done so..Staring at the massive amounts of paperwork that had accumulated upon his desk, Richelieu sighed and figured he would have to tackle it at another time. The king always did have the most damnable timing when Louis needed to meet with him!Without checking on how his reluctant guest was faring, Richelieu donned his red cape and left his chambers. Stepping into his carriage he had no idea it would be his last time doing so.++++ Porthos’ apartments Having the night before all agreed to meet at Porthos’ place the following day, Athos and Aramis waited for their friend to finish his ablutions.Perching one hip on top of an empty table, Aramis hummed quietly to himself. As for Athos he sat at the same table with his legs propped on top, chapeau pulled low over his eyes, while leaning back in a chair.“Porthos,” Athos drawled, “how much longer are you going to take?”“We thought you would have been ready upon our arrival.” Hearing his friend only grunt in response to their questions, Aramis’ lips curled upward. Folding his arms he continued humming, even though he knew it got on Athos’ nerves.“Porthos!” This time Athos’ voice rose an octave higher. He was clearly irritated by the tardiness of his brother. “I would like us to arrive at the Louvre before His Majesty pronounces his sentence upon our beloved cardinal.”Grinning at the sarcastic note to Athos' voice when referring to His Eminence, Aramis added his own two cents. “Can you see King Louis’ face if we arrive late?” Directing the question to Athos, Aramis mockingly shuddered.When he finally emerged from his bedroom, Porthos walked past the table where both his brothers were. Donning his doublet, weapon’s belt and chapeau, he then opened the door for them to depart. Pausing halfway through it Porthos threw over his shoulder, “What are ya two doin’ relaxin’ when we got ta get ta the palace pronto?”After Porthos left them, Athos’ eyes narrowed on the partially open door. Slowly he removed one leg after the other from the table, got up, bumped shoulders with Aramis and followed their friend out.Having thought upon taking Porthos to task for acting like he was the one on time and that Athos and Aramis were the tardy ones, a look at Athos shaking his head back at him made Aramis decide against it. Closing the door behind him he clucked. “Tis not even worth arguing over I guess.” Slapping Athos on the back both of them quickly caught up with Porthos.++++ Royal Palace - Throne Room Filing into the throne room the inseparables noted that King Louis immediately acknowledged them with a look of absolute relief on his face."His Majesty probably wondered what happened to us," Athos murmured low for Aramis' ears. Shooting a sharp look back at Porthos, whom Athos was positive had heard his words to the marksman, he noted his larger comrade wince slightly."Ya know I could definitely be a mornin' person if mornin' started at noon," Porthos quietly said as way of explanation for his not being ready on time."That's your excuse?" Covering his mouth Aramis didn't dare let the king see his amusement. This wasn't the time nor the place for such levity. Waving his hand at Porthos not to say anything further, Aramis pointed to where d'Artagnan, Captain Treville and Constance were seated. "Let us all join them."++++Having kept one eye on the entrance for Cardinal Richelieu's arrival, and the other on his old fox and young champion, King Louis let out a breath he didn't even know he held upon noting the inseparables walk in. They were his best soldiers and he needed them to be here by his side now more than ever.His throne room was filled to capacity with Musketeers, including the injured ones that could be safely moved here. He wanted them all in attendance, feeling it was their right to see him dole out punishment to the ones who dealt them such a terrible blow. Which not only destroyed their Garrison but killed many of their comrades along with wounding and maiming countless others.Queen Anne held her husband's hand, providing support she knew he had come to expect. Having no idea what thoughts were running through his head Queen Anne did know for certain that Cardinal Richelieu was going to be brought to his knees before his victims.++++ Note: Quote: "Karma has no menu. You get served what you deserve." is from Aunty Acid.Quote: "You know I could definitely be a morning person if morning started at noon" is from Aunty Acid. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- We left everyone in the Royal Throne Room waiting anxiously for the cardinal's arrival Upon his entrance a great hush filled the room, instantly putting Richelieu on the alert that something was wrong. Eyes darting back and forth, throughout the area, they ended up riveted upon a sight that surprised as well as sickened him... D'Artagnan! Impossible! How did he manage to escape, hampered as he was by his injuries? Yet here he sits.Even if the Gascon hadn't been in attendance noting that nearly every able bodied Musketeer, and even those still recuperating from their wounds, were present told Richelieu that he was in dire trouble. Approaching the dais Richelieu bowed before his king and queen. Upon raising his head back up, he found himself actually stepping back a pace or two from the fire he noted burning hotly in the eyes of King Louis."Athos," King Louis didn't need to look at the lieutenant for Athos knew what would be asked of him, "bring them."Parading out, before all and sundry, were Cyprien and the badly beaten Bruyere. They were surrounded by at least a dozen Musketeers, including Athos at the front."Hold out your hand, Cardinal!" Standing now, King Louis waited for Richelieu to comply to his demand.Stilling his trembling hand, Richelieu obeyed His Majesty's order.Slapping the missive in His Eminence's hand, King Louis watched the play of emotions crossing the cardinal's face. He was slightly amused, when Richelieu's expression of shock and dismay registered for all of them to witness."As you most evidently can see," pointing to where d'Artagnan was seated beside his old fox, King Louis' voice was darkly grim, "my champion has made a miraculous escape from the Palais-Cardinal where you have been holding him, Cardinal."Bereft of words, Richelieu held his tongue for once not knowing what words to convey that would clear his guilt. How much did the king know and when did he know it? Had both Cyprien and Bruyere given him up, in regards to Richelieu's involvement with the Garrison's destruction? For all King Louis knew Richelieu could have held d'Artagnan in trade for an entirely different reason."Stop trying to think of something that would appease me!" Walking around the stiff form of His Eminence, King Louis showed how disappointed he was with the man. "Was every word from your lips to me a lie?"His mind was a blank slate, utterly blank. Opening his mouth to respond it was the bitter expression on the young monarch's face that made him hesitate."I'll try and make myself believe that there was at some point good in you until your hunger for power took control." This had to be the longest uninterrupted conversation King Louis ever had with Richelieu. It was nice for a change, but for all the wrong reasons."And so very jealous of the Musketeer regiment that you had to blow it up!" Treville heatedly added.There went Richelieu's thoughts upon trying to salvage his reputation and career. It laid in tatters at the king's feet. His heart plummeted even further upon noting other Red Guards being brought out at sword's point. They were the few that helped him plot the demise of the Garrison."There's an introduction I'd like to make while we're at it." Waving his hand at Athos the Musketeer brought forth a young man dressed in regular attire. "Recognize him, Cardinal?""His name slips my mind, Sire." Which was about all Richelieu could offer His Majesty.Smirking, King Louis wasn't in the least surprised. "In other words Richelieu never knew who you were," he glanced at Sebastien. A rueful look upon his face, he tisked. "I always said it pays to know the people you employ."Wondering how this young man fit into the scheme of things, Richelieu stared hard at him. Recognition was still out of his grasp as to the identity of this individual."Go ahead," King Louis encouraged. "Introduce yourself to Cardinal Richelieu." Sitting back down beside his queen, King Louis observed what was sure to come as an unpleasant surprise to His Eminence."I am Sebastien Langlais, Cardinal. Formerly of your Red Guards.""Formerly?" Raising a brow in question, Richelieu didn't understand."He switched sides upon finding out what a snake in the grass you were!" snarled an infuriated d'Artagnan.Lips twitching King Louis raised a hand at the young Gascon, hoping to calm the lad's legendary temper. It was almost as bad as Treville's. Both men hailing from Gascony it was expected but something King Louis didn't want let loose for the moment.Feeling the hands of Aramis and Porthos squeezing his shoulders in total understanding, d'Artagnan relaxed into their touch."An apt description, mon frere." Arching a brow of approval at the young Gascon, Athos' blue eyes darkened with an inner rage at Richelieu.His mentor's breath tickled d'Artagnan's ear, when Athos leaned down to whisper those words. "I wanted to call him more than that but will concede to His Majesty's wants," he growled low."I joined up when you reformed the Red Guards," Sebastian went on to explain. "But was soon disillusioned with their misdeeds and words.""It was thanks to Sebastien that we have d'Artagnan back safe and somewhat sound." Oh what a pleasure to see King Louis get one up on the cardinal. Judging by the total stunned look of disbelief on Richelieu's pale face, this made up for all those times when King Louis had to concede to the cardinal's wishes against his own."And it was Athos, Porthos and Aramis that were relied upon to wring the truth out of Bruyere and Cyprien." Relishing this final victory over Richelieu, Treville noted that his men, Their Majesty's and Constance felt an overwhelming amount of satisfaction as well."We also have Sebastian to thank for overhearing your Red Guards talking about the fellow who was good with explosives." Noting Cyprien wouldn't meet King Louis' eyes he carried on. "Bad form I must say of your men speaking so freely of something that could come back to haunt you, Cardinal." Chuckling, King Louis made a great show of covering his mouth then uncovering it again as another fit of laughter escaped him. "But wait! It did come back to haunt you after all!"Hearing his name softly being spoken from behind, King Louis turned his gaze upon his wife. Holding out his hand he waited for her to take it into her own as they rose together."If you remembered our last conversation, Cardinal," Queen Anne's gaze remained riveted upon Richelieu's frozen features, "I had warned you I would be watching and waiting." Her blue eyes were diamond hard as they rested upon the creature His Eminence had become. "My days of waiting were over the minute we lost the Garrison. I had my suspicions even then that you were somehow the instigator behind it all and couldn't hold back from telling my husband that you tried to have me killed."Gasps of shock and outrage filled the throne room for this was the first time the other Musketeers had heard of this horrific crime against the crown. The only ones not in the least phased by the news were, of course, the inseparables, d'Artagnan, Constance and Captain Treville."For that alone your life would have been forfeit, "looking at her quiet radiance, King Louis was pleased with how she stood up to Richelieu, "if not for the kind heart of my queen." Lifting her hand to his lips he pressed a soft kiss upon it. Gently releasing her hand King Louis stepped into Richelieu's space. His voice was hard and cold, holding back the turbulent emotions swirling within him. "You have cut me to the quick in so many pieces I cannot count them all." Abruptly he turned away from the man who, in the past, had shared his most secret confidences. "The Red Guards that stand before me now were involved in your plotting and therefore will all lose their heads."His look one of distaste, King Louis pointed at Cyprien. "Because that man cooperated after you had Bruyere try to murder him he shall be hung by the neck until dead." Looking at Porthos he nodded for the darker-skinned Musketeer had informed him of the criminal's request. "For some reason Cyprien doesn't like the sight of blood and felt hanging to be the lesser of two evils. Which is rather strange for he shall be too dead to witness it himself but if that is what he so desires it shall be done."Receiving a look from his king, it was Treville's turn. "The Garrison that you tried to destroy is well on its way to being rebuilt. Not only by my men but from His Majesty's subjects as well. They have been a tremendous help not only in the rebuilding but in bolstering our spirits." Needing to rub it in as best he could Treville added, "Losing the number of brave and loyal Musketeers from this travesty hurt us deeply but we're recruiting in even larger numbers than before." Tilting his head to the side he enjoyed Richelieu's complete and utter downfall. "In the end we have you to thank for making us stronger than ever." Signaling to Athos his lieutenant stepped forward."It is my honor to inform everyone that this time the Red Guards are disbanded forever! Never to be seen nor heard of again!" The response to this announcement nearly deafened Athos. Loud cheers rent the air from everyone in the room. Well everyone that wasn't guilty of going against the crown that is. The sound alone could have knocked Athos off his feet. His brothers Porthos and Aramis were grinning like silly loons, as were Constance and Treville. For that matter so were Their Majestys."Normal protocol is for me to wait to hear back from Rome before pronouncing your sentence, Cardinal Richelieu." His eyes shifted toward his captain then settled back again upon the unusually silent cardinal. "More than likely they would have me send you back to them to be defrocked." Tapping his lip with a finger, King Louis studied His Eminence. "Tis not going to satisfy me nor France if I do that.""As I've been thinking upon this I've come to a solution." Sending the cardinal a smile full of deadly intent, King Louis rubbed his hands together. "Rome will hear from me in due course." Rounding on Richelieu, his heart pounding in his chest, he had to remind himself not to lose control. "But because of your actions against myself, my queen and my Musketeers I ask one thing of you, Cardinal."Finding his voice gone suddenly bone dry, Richelieu tried to swallow before stuttering out a response. "What is... what is that, Sire? I would do... do anything.""Anything?" A fleeting expression of sorrow stole over King Louis' face and then it was gone in a flash. "Bien," he dipped his head thoughtfully for a second, "then give my regards to le diable." Without a moment's hesitation King Louis whipped out his rapier to run it through Cardinal Richelieu's chest, thrusting upward.It hadn't bothered King Louis that he had succeeded in shocking everyone in the room with his actions. Pulling his blade freely from the cardinal's dead body, he calmly observed the corpse drop to the floor. Wiping his bloody sword on Richelieu's red cape King Louis sheathed it in his scabbard. "There! I've just saved the taxpayers from another beheading!" Noting his wife appeared pleased at what he had done, giving him a regal nod of her approval, King Louis motioned for Sebastian to come forward. "Kneel before me."Bewildered, not knowing what was about to happen, Sebastien's arm was caught by d'Artagnan before he had even moved a foot."Do it before His Majesty changes his mind," d'Artagnan whispered urgently. With a smile tugging his lips, brown eyes alight with humor, he watched Sebastien slowly approach the king.When Sebastien stood nervously before him, King Louis bestowed a tolerant look upon young d'Artagnan. It was some time ago when the Gascon had admitted to him what Athos had said to d'Artagnan when the lad had won his cherished pauldron. Despite himself, King Louis found it all highly amusing. It was a good king that could laugh at himself.Coming up onto the raised dais, Sebastien knelt before his monarch. With his head bent down he felt the touch of King Louis' blade upon each of his shoulders. The joy that encompassed his entire being, in that moment, would have made him fly around the room if Sebastien had grown wings."You may now rise, Sebastien of the king's Musketeers." Stepping back from the younger man, King Louis' applause joined that of everyone else in welcoming their newest member to the ranks.A roar of approval swept the throne room, making Sebastien blush with the pleasure of it.Clearing his throat, King Louis glanced over to several of his own guards. "Remove that body from my sight." Turning to Queen Anne, his lips twisted ruefully. "I suppose it will be tedious dealing with Rome over all of this," he shrugged. "C'est la vie."There were still two more items left to deal with on King Louis' agenda for the day. If it hadn't been for a gentle reminder the queen had given him, by whispering it in his ear, he would have forgotten all about it. Too much drama on his mind to think upon anything else. But this was important and King Louis would have felt badly if he hadn't acted on it today, since everyone was gathered round."Before all of you dispearse for parts unknown," King Louis signaled his guards to keep the doors closed, "I do have two very enjoyable announcements to make!" Grinning from ear to ear he stared at his captain, a sly look entered King Louis' eyes as he did so. "I am now in dire need of a new minister." Noting Treville's look of absolute horror, he couldn't help the glee that filled him. "Treville will do me the honor of taking up the now vacant position. Once he has recovered from his injuries my old fox can then resume duties of the state.""I will?" Treville grumbled. "Don't I get a vote on this?" Encouraging slaps on the back from the inseparables nearly unseated him from his chair. "Minister?" he scoffed. "I'm an old war horse. Clearly out of my depth when it comes to politics and those who deal in it.""I take that you agree then." Giggling like a petit garcon who had won the grandest prize at the fair, King Louis pressed on by pointing next at Athos. "With Treville taking up the minister's position," he was still enjoying the surprise he had sprung on his old friend, "hence forth from today Athos will be our new captain of the Musketeers."Everyone in the throne room cheered the new appointments. Showing their appreciation for what His Majesty had done, all the Musketeers threw their chapeaus into the air expressing their own emotions of joy."Athos." Tugging on his mentor's arm, d'Artagnan received no response. "Athos." Porthos and Aramis were the closest to him so he asked, "Is he still breathing?"Pretending to listen to Athos' chest, Aramis' dark eyes twinkled merrily. "So far so good." He was shoved away hard in the shoulder by Athos who was clearly disgruntled with him.Holding out his hand d'Artagnan waited for Athos to accept it. "It couldn't have happened to a better person," he meant it with all his heart. "Congratulations, mon ami.""I need a drink." Still not believing this had just happened to him, Athos shook his head to clear it. "Better yet a couple of bottles of Anjou may do the trick." Him a captain. Merde! Perhaps, Athos thought, he was simply dreaming. Oui. That's all this was, he tried to tell himself. A very bad dream."You and I can comisserate together later over some of my best brandy, Athos." Still amazed at his own situation, Treville was glad he wasn't in this alone."If I have to be captain," stabbing each of his closest brothers with a sharp eye, Atho' brow raised high. "Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan will then become my lieutenants."Smiles had never left faces so quickly, Treville thought, as it had on those three men."Eh?" Porthos grunted his displeasure at the news. "Means more work for us. Yeah?"Slinging an arm around Porthos' broad shoulders, Aramis slowly nodded his own head. "Afraid so. But on the bright side of things," he patted Porthos' rock solid chest, "hard work never killed anyone, mon frere.""Yet ya mean," Porthos griped. Rubbing the back of his neck he listened while Aramis laughed gayly. "Does the promotion come with a raise at least?"Having heard the question, Treville responded to it. "Oui, it does. Makes it a better proposition eh, Porthos?""I'll get back ta ya on that later, Minister." Still not happy about things, Porthos glared at Athos. "Hope this doesn't keep us tied down none. I like goin' out on missions.""It never tied me down that I recall," Athos drawled."Hmmmpf!" As Porthos gave it more thought, he came to the conclusion that maybe it was a good thing that happened to him. He could now lord it over certain individuals that always gave him trouble because of the color of his skin. Yeah, he might just get used to this lieutenancy right quick after all."I'm too young, Athos. No one but you, Aramis and Porthos would take me seriously." Worrying his lower lip it wasn't until d'Artagnan's mentor gripped his shoulder tightly, to stare directly into his eyes, that d'Artagnan began to relax."Do not concern yourself with such trifles, pup." Giving his protégé a warm smile, Athos ruffled the lad's long hair. "We will all learn together.""Or go down tagether," Porthos quipped, enjoying the roll of eyes he garnered from Minister Treville clear down to young Constance and d'Artagnan."I'll need someone to guide me through your routine now that I am one of you." Observing d'Artagnan instantly raise his hand, Sebastien was relieved."If you remember two words," d'Artagnan gave Sebastien a cheeky grin, "you'll do fine.""And they are?" Curious as to what those would be, Sebastien could see they were causing the Gascon nothing but amusement."Common sense." Noting Sebastien didn't appear to get the jest, d'Artagnan proceeded to explain. "Red Guards had none.""Tis why they were so inept," Aramis offered, patting his chapeau back into place.Feeling someone squeeze the back of his neck, Sebastian turned his head slightly to encounter bright blue eyes steadily appraising him."Musketeers are never inept plus you have d'Artagnan as your teacher." Athos dipped his head toward their youngest. "He will never steer you wrong."Blushing at the praise, d'Artagnan shyly ducked his head. When a slim hand brushed his hair away from his face, he glanced up noting Constance's gaze fixed upon him."Now that you're a lieutenant," she poked d'Artagnan in the chest lightly, so as not to hurt his healing wounds, "don't start getting a big head." Going to stand behind him, Constance leaned forward to rest her chin on top of d'Artagnan's head. "I love my best friend just the way he is."While d'Artagnan pondered on how best to respond to Constance's teasing, Sebastien jumped in. "Perhaps one day you would do me the honor of stepping out with me, Constance."Blinking up at Sebastien like an owl, taken totally off guard, Constance blurted out with, "What?"Why was Aramis laughing behind Porthos back like that? Scowling at the marksman Sebastien was going to ask him what was so very funny, but Aramis must have realized his actions were upsetting to Sebastien.Wiping tears from his eyes, Aramis gazed upon Sebastien fondly. "When a woman says, What? Tis not because she didn't hear you. She's just giving you the chance to change what you said.""Aramis!" Constance hissed between clenched teeth. It didn't help matters when d'Artagnan began laughing. Cuffing her friend lightly on the back of his head, she snapped. "Don't you start!"Guiding him away from the group, Aramis placed a hand on Sebastien's back. "I like you so I'm going to give you some sound advice where women are concerned."Knowing Aramis' reputation in and around Paris with his many paramours, Sebastien was ready to soak up the Musketeer's knowledge."You know that lovely tingly feeling you get when you're falling for someone?" Waiting for Sebastien to nod his head, Aramis continued. "That's the common sense leaving your body." Hearing Constance yelling at him in the background, Aramis bowed to Sebastien before making a hasty exit."I think things are back to normal around here." Wobbling slightly as he stood up, d'Artagnan kept his balance with help from Athos. His mentor kept a firm grip on d'Artagnan's arm as they too left the throne room. It would take some time for them to process everything that happened this morning, but d'Artagnan felt they would all come out the better for it.Observing Constance chase after Aramis, to give the marksman a good piece of her mind, Athos agreed with the pup. "Oui. Everything is falling back into place again. As it should do."The End++++ Notes: Once again, more quotes from Aunty Acid... "When a woman says, "What?" It's not because she didn't hear you. She's just giving you the chance to change what you said." "You know that lovely tingly feeling you get when you're falling for someone? That's the common sense leaving your body.
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transformations
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Donna Clark, Cameron Howe, Gordon Clark", "Fandom": "Halt and Catch Fire", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by lisbethsalamanders", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-28T00:00:00", "words": "3,682", "Additional Tags": "Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Drama, Romance, Canon Divergence, Infidelity, Donna Clark is a lesbian the end", "Relationship": "Donna Clark/Cameron Howe", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "you anchor me", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The sky had barely lightened when Donna pulled herself from the couch and drove to Mutiny. The thought of looking into Joanie and Hayley’s eyes as they got ready for school after the night before made her want to vomit so, like a coward, she ran.The morning is foggy and her shoes are soaked in dew by the time she gets inside. The silence that greets her makes her breathe easy for the first time in what feels like days. She sits at her desk in the middle of the cozy chaos and allows the weight of her sleepless night to sink in. Resting her head on her arms, she cries.It’s only been a half hour or so before footsteps and small crashes let her know the house is beginning to wake up. A few moments later she hears a voice from the other end of the room, “You’re here early.”The sight of Cameron, fuzzy with sleep and holding an empty mug to her chest like it’ll run away if she lets go, brings a fresh wave of tears. Cameron walks over slowly, looking as though she’s approaching an animal that might lash out and maul her. Donna turns away as she sits beside her. Gathering her courage, she speaks the truth into the air for the first time, “I don’t know if Gordon and I love each other anymore. And I don’t know if I can fix it, or if I want to fix it.” There’s silence for a moment and Donna doesn’t expect her to reply. Cameron’s brilliant at many things, but comforting words are not on that list. But Cameron speaks quietly, even moves in closer, placing her mug on Donna’s desk. “Did you tell him about, you know, what you did? You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to talk about it -”“He slept with someone else.” Cameron’s eyes widen in horror but now that she’s begun she can’t stop, the words pouring out of her like rain. “I didn’t tell him about the abortion, but maybe I should’ve. I don’t know. I feel like it doesn’t matter now, because I’m - I’m relieved. That we don’t have to pretend anymore and that he wanted someone else badly enough to do that because maybe it’s okay that I want someone else, too.” She regrets her near confession instantly and slumps over, forehead pressing into her palms. “I’m terrible.”“No, no, you’re not terrible.” Cameron places her hands on the desk emphatically. “I mean, he went and did it, right? He actually cheated on you while you were still together and you just thought about it - right?”Donna suddenly feels very, very small. She looks down at her hands, at her ring. She twists the decoder reflexively and fights against pulling it off and throwing it across the room. “I’m worse than he is.” Her eyes stay low on her hands, knowing that if she moves them a centimeter the tears will dislodge. Her neck hurts, her eyelids hurt, every part of her wants to climb beneath the desk and never come out. “He wasn’t planning to sleep with her, he just did. And that was it, just the once. But me -” There are the tears, burning trails down her already splotched cheeks. “I wanted to, for so long I wanted to. I was thinking about it, about you, all the time, every time we…” She lets one sob escape and turns to the window. The sky is all clouds, unchanged since dawn when she watched it turn from black to chilly grey. Cameron’s voice sounds rooms away. “God, really?” Donna places her face in her hands. She could really use a tissue, her whole head feels like liquid, but she doesn’t trust herself to move. Let the moment end, let Cameron walk away and leave her in peace. Metal creaks against the hardwood and Cameron is closer now, grabbing the back of Donna’s chair and turning her on the swivel. “Donna.” Her voice is soft, surprisingly kind. “I had no idea. Like, at all.” And before Donna can reply, Cameron is kissing her. The angle is off and Donna’s too shocked to kiss back for the first few seconds. But when she does, when she breathes out a sigh and Cameron’s hands come up to grip her hair at the roots, Donna melts. It’s a bit sloppy, like Cameron herself. There’s too much teeth for her taste and Cameron’s lips are chapped, but she’s warm and soft and it all feels like the best kind of dream.It only feels like seconds before Cameron pulls back slightly, moving her hands to Donna’s cheeks and regarding her thoughtfully as Donna opens her eyes. Cameron speaks softly, “This is really, really complicated.”Donna barks out a laugh. “Don’t I know it.”“I never even thought about you like that before. Well, not consciously. Maybe. God, I don’t even know, maybe I did. I know I like arguing with you and working with you and I definitely get pissed off whenever someone even says the name Gordon.” Donna can’t help the reflex to roll her eyes and Cameron grins. “You’re kind of my favorite person, you know? A little square for my tastes, but…” She pauses, grin fading. Her eyes, full of flecks of silver Donna never noticed before, flicker to the floor. “I miss you when you’re not here. Even when you just go home for the night, I miss you.” The air pressure seems to drop, Donna can’t seem to get a lungful no matter how hard she tries. “And I definitely didn’t feel nothing just now.” The world shifts as Cameron looks back up, sheepish and questioning. Before she can say another word, Donna kisses her. There’s no hesitation this time. Her arms become vines to reach around Cameron and Donna feels cracked open, all the regret and anger and grief she’s felt over the past few months spilling out. She’s standing now, pulled up by Cameron’s hands at the front of her t-shirt and her legs will carry her anywhere, wherever Cameron wants to go.They’re in the hallway before it registers through the haze in her brain that they’re making their way to Cameron’s bedroom. The, usually dominant, rational part of Donna’s mind is screaming that there’s still time to stop this, to keep her family intact, to save her marriage that’s only on the edge of crumbling. The marriage that she’s not sure she wants, that she’s on the outskirts of, that’s always felt like more of a business partnership than a romance, that’s never, ever made her feel the way she does at this moment. These doubts along with the pull of Cameron’s teeth against her bottom lip drown out her rational side. She’s resourceful. She’ll deal with the fallout.Cameron shuts the door behind them and they break apart as she locks it, all panting and dilated pupils. “Are you,” Cameron gulps, shifting from foot to foot and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Are you sure about this?” Impatient with words and rationalization, Donna pulls her shirt over her head in answer and throws it to the floor. There’s a moment of quiet like the edge of a diving board before Cameron is on her and they’re tumbling backwards onto her mattress.The bed squeaks garishly and is so lumpy that Donna’s first thought upon landing is the need to get Cameron a new one, this one must be murder on her back. That’s quickly forgotten as Cameron wastes no time in moving south, kissing and nibbling the cords of her throat. Her hands are too quick for Donna to process, already in progress unbuckling and unzipping. “Wait,” she says, lifting her head. “Wait, wait, it’s too fast, you’re going too fast.”Cameron freezes, turning to look at her with those huge, bright eyes. “I am? What’s wrong?”“You’re going too fast. I don’t want that, I don’t want this to be over in five minutes.”Cameron raises an eyebrow and Donna feels her heart jump. “Is that a real possibility?” Eyes twinkling, she takes a hand and slips it inside Donna’s newly undone jeans. Donna whimpers and lets her head fall back, unable to meet Cameron’s eyes. She’s soaked through to the denim, she knows it, and now Cameron knows it. “Oh wow.” There’s an airiness to Cameron’s voice and Donna can tell she’s smiling. Removing her hand, she leans in to press a feather light kiss beneath Donna’s ear. “Sorry, we’ll go slow.”“Thanks,” Donna breathes out. “I like slow.” “Good to know.” And Cameron’s kissing her again.It’s not even in the same universe as being in bed with Gordon, it feels almost laughable to compare the two. Even in their college days the fun part of their relationship was the work, was finding someone she could spar with on an intellectual level. Sex is - well, it’s like laundry: she knows it needs to get done and it’s not a hateful task by any means, but it’s just another check on the to do list. Everything about this is good. She wants to know everything. She moves her hands down Cameron’s back and beneath the green of her t-shirt to the warm, soft skin beneath. She wants to know the ridges of Cameron’s spine, the bumps and flaws in her skin, the downy hairs on the small of her back. She lifts the cotton tentatively, waiting for Cameron to initiate. To her delight, Cameron pushes herself up to sit on her heels and she watches as Cameron pulls her shirt off and tosses it away before pulling her up onto her knees for a kiss. Donna paws at Cameron’s small, pointed breasts with such enthusiasm that Cameron laughs against her mouth. She feels like a sixteen year old boy in the back of a pickup truck, not caring how clumsy her fumbling might be because what else could matter in this moment but Cameron’s breasts fitting in her hands like they were made to be there or the groan coming from low in Cameron’s throat or Cameron reaching behind her to deftly unsnap her bra and peel it from her body. She should have been on this side of things all along, she finally understands. Years of her life were wasted not doing this, but no. She’s here now. She knows now. She’ll make up for lost time.She pulls Cameron back down, eager to feel the press of her now that they’re skin against skin. Cameron’s kisses travel, gentle and unhurried, across her jawline, onto her throat, down to her chest. Her eyes flutter as she watches the ceiling, so aware of every breath, every spot on her body Cameron is touching. They’re lit up across her skin: her mouth closing hotly around her nipple, the frizz of her hair tickling her collarbone, her hard ribcage digging right below her hips. She’s become a constellation, she’s ultraviolet. She can’t believe how many new things she’s become in the past half hour.“God, you have amazing tits.” Cameron nuzzles against the side of her breast and Donna laughs. “I always guessed you did under those blazers and button downs."“Have you been ogling my Bloomingdales, young lady?” Donna pulls her up by the hair and blushes at the wicked grin on her face. Oh, this is fun. Who could imagine that, along with all the rest, sex could be fun?“Yes, ma’am.” Cameron replies in an exaggerated drawl. “Though I reckon it may be time to get rid of these ole blue jeans, how ‘bout you?” Her eyes go soft as Donna’s giggles hiccup to an abrupt stop. “If you want to?” No more debate, no more analyzing. Donna nods.Falling back against the beastly orange sheets (seriously, the bed needs a makeover if she plans to spend any more time in it), Donna tightens her hands into fists as Cameron kisses a trail south, making stops at each of her ribs and her belly button, but Donna covers her face when she reaches the stretch marks. She treasures them like tattoos of Joanie and Hayley, but they’re not attractive. They’re marks of age and laziness that Gordon’s too polite to mention and she avoids in the mirror, but Cameron is kissing them with a tenderness she can barely fathom. It’s almost too much, too intimate, bringing her to the brink of tears once again. Cameron must notice her change in breathing and she feels a hand reach up to stroke her cheek. “Hey,” Cameron says. “You’re fucking beautiful, okay?” Taking a deep inhale, she nuzzles against Cameron’s long fingers and chokes out, “Thanks.” But she keeps her eyes closed tight as Cameron pulls her jeans over her hips and thighs, following them onto the floor. Her breaths become more shallow as she lets Cameron spread her legs. She reaches down towards her. “Give me your hand or something, I’m all alone up here.” Cameron chuckles and she feels her lace the fingers of their left hands together, grounding her. Before she can prepare herself anymore, Cameron begins to rub her nose against the pronounced wetness soaking through her underwear. “Oh!” She practically shouts before remembering they’re not alone in this house full of curious boys and thin walls. She props herself on her elbows and has to double check, “You locked the door, right?”Cameron rolls her eyes. “No, I want the code monkeys to walk in on their bosses fucking, that definitely wouldn’t traumatize them forever.” To even her own surprise, Donna smiles. “It’s comforting to know you can still make fun of me with your face between my legs.”Cameron grins and squeezes Donna’s fingers. “Speaking of which, can I have my hand back for a second?” Reluctantly she lets go but her stomach flips as Cameron hooks her fingers around the elastic and looks up, doe-eyed, to Donna for her approval. Blood pounding in her ears, she nods and lifts her hips. She digs her teeth into her lip as Cameron pulls the cotton from her but doesn’t look away. She can’t remember the last time she’s felt this exposed, but can’t remember the last time she'd felt such an ache either. Cameron reaches back up to take her hand again. Her fingers are cool and smooth and Donna holds to them tightly as Cameron leans down to press her soft lips against the insides of her thighs. Placing a hand on her stomach, feeling it tremble as her breath quickens, Donna settles back against the bed and shuts her eyes. Sensation overcomes her as Cameron finally, finally takes her into her mouth.Any time Gordon had offered to go down on her after the first few tries she’d turned him away. He’d reminded her of a dog lapping at water when he’d attempted it and hadn’t listened when she tried to educate him on what to do and where to go, so she’d convinced him she just didn’t like it. After a while she’d even convinced herself.But Cameron is alternating suckling on her clit and licking stripes beneath its hood and it all feels shuddering, fluttery, fantastic. She gets herself off functionally enough but, god, it’s not the same. The fever heat of Cameron’s mouth, the precise movements of it, the way she reacts in accordance with every whimper from Donna and every hitch of her hips, all the while rubbing a thumb gently across the top of Donna’s knuckles. The anxiety she felt at being so exposed, so vulnerable, only moments ago feels a thousand miles away. A distressingly loud noise escapes her throat as Cameron presses a finger, then two, inside her and barely lets her body adjust before pulling them out and pushing firmly back in. “Oh, god, that’s good, that’s so good,” Donna gasps, clutching at the sheets next to her like the edge of a cliff. A moan of approval from Cameron sends vibrations up through her pelvic bone and Donna cries out again, all of it so good she can barely stand it.Part of her wishes she could last longer, that Cameron would spend all morning licking and sucking and curling her fingers in a delightfully determined search for her g-spot, but warmth is beginning to bloom from her vulva, tingling up through her stomach and down her taut thighs. “Cam, I’m close, I’m really close.” At that, Cameron, always so focused, such a perfectionist, so goddamn good at what she does, manages to find what she’s been searching for so diligently and Donna’s entire body arches, lit up like a motherboard.Aftershocks throb through her as she melts back onto the sheets. She whimpers a little at the loss as Cameron pulls her fingers from inside her but opens her eyes and watches as she climbs up onto the bed next to her. Cameron is haloed in dusty light from the window as she sits cross legged and staring down at her. She has a mole above her left nipple Donna hadn’t taken the time to notice before. She wants to kiss it, wants to press her ear against it and listen to her heartbeat. “You okay?” Cameron asks, wiping the sides of her mouth with her thumb and forefinger. The gesture is a strange one, but familiar. With a start, she remembers where she’s seen Cameron do it before: the first time they met, in the restroom at Cardiff Electric. She’d watched Cameron brush her teeth in the mirror and perform that exact motion when she finished. She was an alien to her then, spidery limbs and accusing eyes that threatened her choices, her very existence. The lifetime they’ve lived together between the two gestures makes her ache.She sits up, placing a hand on Cameron’s neck and pulling her into a kiss. It’s surreal to taste herself on Cameron Howe’s mouth, but so much that used to be frightening and far away has become real so quickly that she has no time to consider its strangeness. Instead, she shifts her weight and pushes Cameron down onto her back. To her surprise Cameron pulls away, head falling back onto the pillow and looking up at her with stormcloud eyes. For a brief moment she’s afraid they’re finished, that Cameron’s decided at the last moment that she doesn’t want Donna. Then Cameron rumbles, voice low and deep, “I don’t want slow.” She makes a point to nip at every one of Cameron’s freckles and moles on the way down, relishing the salt taste of her skin and the softness of it. She’s transforming again, this time into some animal on all fours whose only instinct is to consume. She’s formidable, she’s confident, she bites down on Cameron’s nipple without a second thought, making her yelp and jolt. She wants to give her hickeys, mark her, bite her, let the planet know that Cameron is hers. And she wants to taste her, god she wants to know what she’s been missing and what other, lesser creatures have savored and then thrown aside. She wants all of her. She pulls off Cameron’s jeans and underwear in a single motion, tossing them behind her with unplanned frenzy. Her hands shake as she hitches apart Cameron’s legs and pulls them over her shoulders, settling in between her thighs. It takes a few moments to remember what to do through the anxiety and newness and heady heat but she gets her bearings after parting Cameron’s lips and spreading her open. She’s a hardware expert who once built an entirely new musical instrument. She excels in making delicate machines sing. Running her fingers experimentally along her folds, Donna maps her. When she feels sufficiently learned (and Cameron has started making little noises of impatience that she partially wants to ignore to continue her exploration, but she’s not that cruel), Donna slides her tongue tentatively in a close circle around Cameron’s clit. She hears Cameron hiss as she grabs her hair, spreading her legs wider and inching her hips forward. Pleased, Donna presses her mouth firmly against Cameron and pushes two fingers inside her simultaneously. Cameron tastes like the ocean and feels like velvet that’s been sitting in the sun. Closing her eyes, she builds a rhythm.Cameron has no abandon. She rolls her hips, thrusts back hard at her fingers, pulls her hair, moans out guttural, primal noises into the air of the room. Donna rides the waves of it, testing new tempos, learning eagerly. Her tongue aches and her forearm is starting to cramp, but that’s part of it. She doesn’t want it to end.But Cameron’s beginning to shudder, heels digging into the back of her neck, so Donna keeps the pace, upping the roughness only little, wanting to feel when she swells to the finale.Cameron’s thighs clamp around her ears and she rocks to the side, hands yanking at Donna’s auburn hair from the roots. She bucks and wails and Donna doesn’t slow, not even when she hears her name, until Cameron’s muscles soften and the the pulsing inside of her calms to an adagio. She extricates herself slowly, pulling Cameron apart and climbing up on legs full of pins and needles to collapse beside her. The house creaks around them, slowly coming back into focus. They stare at the ceiling, unmoving, not touching.After a moment she rolls onto her side, resting her cheek on her fist. “So, you think you screamed my name loud enough for everyone in the house to hear or just the guys who’re awake?”A grin spreads like sunshine across Cameron’s face and she turns to look directly into Donna’s eyes. “If they know, they know. Fuck it.” There’s a heat beneath Cameron’s statement, a challenge. Serious decisions will need to be made, compromises and tears and hurt, but the regret she assumed she’d feel is nowhere to be found. She holds Cameron’s stare. “You’re right. Fuck it.” And she leans down to kiss her.
10416831
Snakebite
{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Adam Raki", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by KissTheCannibal", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-23T00:00:00", "words": "1,927", "Additional Tags": "Demons, Black Butler AU, Panic Attacks, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Demon!Nigel, Young Adam, Fluff", "Relationship": "Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "The Serpent and the Stag", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Hannibal (TV), Charlie Countryman (2013), Adam (2009), Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
For a long while, he could only hear the thundering of his blood. His heart felt as if it was about to leap straight from his chest. Terror ran hot and cold just beneath the skin and his body trembled for it. Adam had tried counting, tried breathing, tried rocking, but nothing soothed. That was, until, he felt himself uncoiling silently. The sound of his racing pulse had been replaced by a consistent, rhythmic sizzle, like water on a hot plate or rain against the pavement. He found that by focusing on it, the chaos that was raging his skull receded and his heart took on a dull thud in its bone cage. He was still seated, knees drawn slightly towards his chest, but his hands weren’t shaking any longer. Opening his eyes felt like a blessing until it wasn’t. It was a shock, but not enough to send him spiraling immediately.Dazed, he blinked several times to see if the image would leave him in peace. A viper stared unblinking at him, its triangular head a meter away and frozen while its body undulated behind it. He recognized the species. Echis carinatus, the saw-scaled viper. He’d seen it once before on a school trip to the local zoo. It wasn’t a memory he held onto too fondly, but knowing what he was looking at helped in a way. He remembered the creature being small. This one was as big as an anaconda. It was taking on its unique defensive stance, thousands of serrated scales moving together to create something akin to a hiss. Adam was mesmerized by the churning patterns of grey, black, and white. A fleshy tongue darted at him and snapped him from his lapse.He was pinned in place by a pair of shining, gunmetal grey eyes split by the narrowest slivers of black. It hit him then that the viper hadn’t struck at him once, despite the clear irritation. For a moment, his frazzled brain made the urgent plea for escape. He could see nothing but a world of smoke from his periphery. They were surrounded by it. Echis seemed particularly unbothered by the setting. It never took that terrible gaze away from him. In a moment of stark clarity, Adam realized that it was waiting. For what was an entire question of its own.He licked his lips and straightened his shoulders. “Who are you?” came from his aching throat.“I’m Nigel, who the fuck are you?”The voice was distinctly male, accented, and ricocheted inside his skull. The serpent churned hard in time with it. Adam’s breath was stuck in his throat as he forced a swallow.Nigel was rapidly losing patience and Adam could feel his anger prickle on his skin like the charged air before a lightning storm.“A- Adam,” he managed before fear could steal his tongue. His body froze up when the viper deviated from its hypnotizing twists to inch towards him. The head was raised higher and Adam could see the smooth, white underbelly.“Can you, by any chance, tell me why the fuck I’m here, Adam? Why have you sent for me?”“I didn’t,” he blurted in his own defense. It sounded like an accusation and the sizzle of scales he got in reply sounded disbelieving somehow. He fisted his hands in the front of his khakis and stayed put. “I’ve never met a Nigel. I don’t even know what you are. At least, I’m not sure…”He sniffed once and was treated to another curious flicker of tongue.“What is it that you want, then?”“What I want…?” Blue eyes glittered like jewels.“You’re fucking desperate to have brought me here by accident. You want something. What is it?”Pink lips thinned with the effort it took to focus on answering. It wasn’t easy to think with a very angry, very venomous reptile hovering a short distance away. It dawned on him and brought warmth to his already blotchy cheeks. “I want a friend.” The statement sounded a little silly to his own ears, but it was the honest truth. The viper drew back in its own surprise and took on the same stance as before. Now the sound was harsh on Adam’s ears. He met Nigel’s stare with one of his own. The slits of his eyes widened a fraction before narrowing skeptically.“A friend?” It echoed in the back of his head. The snake was easing closer as it spoke to him. “You could tell me to do fucking anything at all, and I’d do it. I could kill, maim, and destroy with a simple instruction. And you want me to be your friend?”“I don’t lie. I hate liars. You would be my friend, if I asked?” There was a glint to those blue eyes that put an icy fear in his coldblooded heart.“You don’t want me as a friend, Adam.”The young man watched as those grey eyes flashed a warmer shade of amber and bronze. Adam suddenly wanted to touch those keeled scales. “You can’t know that for sure,” he replied softly. He was reaching out now, palm up. It was an invitation, a request for permission.“Naïve boy.”“Be my friend, Nigel.” His smile was small, hesitant.The snake bit into his palm.It was faster than Adam’s ability to track it and had struck without warning. He was too shocked to scream, but he did feel the hot tears spill over as pain exploded in his hand. The fingers of his caught appendage twitched feebly as Nigel held on to him. It was excruciating, the worst pain he’d ever felt, like thousands of needles being shoved through his skin. He could only stare for a moment longer before the pain blinded him completely.“You’re doing so well for me, Adam.”It was a purr that he could hear through the roar.“I can practically taste you now.”Unconsciousness closed in on him like a blanket.He was still cradling his hand to his chest when he came to. It throbbed with a dull ache, though he couldn’t see any blood.He was crumpled on the kitchen tile. Home again. Through the floating specks of darkness still clouding his vision, he could make out two black shoes that gave off the muted shine of leather, attached to trousers of the same color. His head was too heavy to lift more than an inch from the tile, but it was enough to peel his cheek away. It landed with a distant thud. Adam felt drained.“Hello, gorgeous.”The familiar voice came from above him this time, but his eyes were already fluttering closed. Fabric shifted nearby and strong arms snaked around him. He was brought up from the tile to a broad chest that radiated a soothing warmth. It took a moment, and as improbable as it seemed, the connection was made. This was Nigel. His friend.Adam made a fussy sound into the clean fabric he found himself burrowing into. “You bit me. Friends don’t bite each other.” They were moving. He opened his eyes in time to spot the mess he’d left on the floor. Nigel stepped carefully over the spilt macaroni and cheese that had started the whole episode. The panic that had seized him seemed so far away then. Adam closed his hand in the dark suit jacket. He was brought into the dark space of his bedroom and deposited into cool bedsheets. A warm hand closed over his own where it was still clutched in Nigel’s suit. His face and shoulders were cloaked in shadow. Adam could make out a stark browbone and streaks of silvering hair. The man took a seat beside him and placed a hand in his curls. “What has you so upset, hm?”Adam’s eyes were closed again and he shifted wearily. “My dad… My dad died today.”“Is that why there’s pasta on the kitchen floor?”“I slipped. I got home and it was time for lunch. I tried making it, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and then I had a panic attack and— ““You were scared.” It was more of a statement than a question. A dark curl was tugged straight and released.“I was very, very scared,” he agreed in a rush of breath. The hand still in his own squeezed his fingers. “Will you turn on the projector? Just there, on the bedside table.”There was a pause. The hand in his hair left to reach away. With a subtle click, the milky way filled the room. The stars turned slowly, illuminating the walls with specks of light. Some fell over Nigel, revealing striking cheekbones, a square jaw, and a pair of lips. He looked older than Adam by at least a decade. His skin was creased in places, smooth in others. Dark, deep set eyes were staring at him. Adam’s gaze skittered away. He drew his wounded right hand back to stare at his palm.To his own surprise, there wasn’t a wound at all. Silver lines glimmered faintly in the dim light. It was hard to make out their shape in its entirety.“It still hurts,” he complained softly.Nigel snared his wrist with purpose and brought the hand to his face. Adam could feel a hot, wet tongue gliding over his palm and a similar heat simmered in his belly. Those dark eyes were still fixated on him. It was downright possessive, that look. Adam squirmed and tried to yank his hand away. Nigel held on tight. It was only after emitting a rather embarrassing mewl that the man released him. He stood from the bed and bent to take Adam’s shoes from his feet, setting them beside the door.“Get some rest.”“It’s not time for sleep,” he protested weakly.“Get some rest,” came the reply. “I’ll clean up the mess in the kitchen.”Adam had very few objections to that. The thought of his macaroni mess bothered him. It would calm him to know that the issue was resolved. His lids felt heavy and closed on their own. He drifted for however long it took Nigel to clean the kitchen and turn off the stove. His new friend returned, jacket missing and sleeves pushed to the elbows. He placed a glass of water by the projector and toed his leather shoes off at the door, nudging them to sit neatly beside Adam’s.The young man could feel the mattress dip with added weight and reached lazily for the man who had gathered him up from the kitchen floor. He was getting used to the feeling of those rough hands on him, calloused and warm, sliding along his arms and shoulders. In his hair. The man was bent over him from where he sat, his face once again sunk into shadow. He was silent only for a moment longer.Adam could hear his lips part. “Why would someone so good,” he breathed, teeth clicking, “summon a thing like me?”The boy had no answer for him.They ended up together in the stars, sprawled lazily in a tangle over mussed sheets. Chest to back, Nigel looked to the head of curls pillowed on his shoulder. His free arm was draped heavily across Adam’s waist. He could feel the burn of the seal at the side of his neck. It was an airtight bond between them. He spent the night with his eyes open, watching over the precious creature who mumbled in his sleep, fingers twitching idly over Nigel’s skin.
10432482
Something Shyly
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Claude Giroux, Ivan Provorov, Travis Konecny", "Fandom": "Hockey RPF", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by iaintafraidofnoghostbear", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-25T00:00:00", "words": "1,114", "Additional Tags": "Daddy Kink, Caretaking, Crying, Light Dom/sub, Voyeurism, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, Age Difference", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Claude Giroux/Ivan Provorov, Travis Konecny & Ivan Provorov", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Ivan’s the only Flyer on the roster that’s never been alone with Claude. He knows it and he’s sure the rest of the team does, too. It’s hardly a secret what a lot of the others get up to, what they need from their captain to stay happy and healthy and ready to play; Ghost is a cuddler, Simmer needs “bro time,” Schenner needs to kneel. They’re all different, all varying levels of intimate. Ivan just wishes that made this part easier. “Ivan. I’m your captain. I’m here to take care of you, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me know what you need.” Ivan doesn’t have the words for what he needs, can’t explain it the way Travis seems to grasp it. That’s why when he looks over at his friend, Travis just nods and takes a deep breath to start explaining. They’re all red in the face by the time it’s all said and done, but Ivan’s fairly certain that Claude understands. “We’ll need time. I’m not going to rush this, alright?” Ivan nods in agreement, finally daring to look up. Claude looks flushed, but not embarrassed or angry or upset. Travis reaches over to squeeze his shoulder and gives him an encouraging look. Maybe that’s what makes him blurt, “Will you be there?” Travis only looks startled for a moment, then turns to Claude. “Can I?” There’s a definite lack of surprise in Claude’s face when he answers with, “Of course.” He almost asks to stop. Travis’ fingers in his hair aren’t quite enough to keep him feeling secure when he’s spread out, exposed like this, but then Claude is there, spreading his legs gently to kneel between them. Claude’s solid weight on top of him uncoils some of the tension in Ivan’s belly; he takes a breath and tries to relax into the bed, basking in the gentle motion of Travis’ touch. “You okay, kiddo?” Claude’s voice is soft, his gaze concerned when Ivan looks up at him. “Y-yes.” “Ivan,” Claude murmurs. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You tell me when it’s not okay, yeah?” “Yes.” Ivan runs his hands up over Claude’s shoulders, pulling him down so the older man’s pushing him more firmly into the mattress. He touches Claude’s muscled back, trim waist, then slides his hand back up to grip his biceps. With a little shiver, Claude dips down to take Ivan’s mouth, and he opens up for him, following Claude’s lead. “There you go.” Travis is a warm weight beside them, his hand still in Ivan’s hair. “He just wants to be good for you, G, don’tcha Provs?” “Please, G?” Ivan feels his face heat, but Claude blushes, too, even as he looks down at Ivan like he wants . Claude pushes himself up enough to get a hand between them. He caresses Ivan’s belly, brushing just along the top of his boxers. “Gonna touch you. You - you can move, but don’t come.” The touch of Claude’s fingertips to the head of Ivan’s dick makes him gasp, and he’s grateful for the permission to move because he can’t help but rock his hips up when Claude actually grips his cock. Claude keeps his touch slow and steady, leaving Ivan to grasp desperately at him, wanting to beg for faster but the words catch in his throat. It’s easier when Claude leans back in to brush their mouths together and Ivan can let his lips part so the low sounds building in his throat can slip free. “That’s it. That’s good, Ivan.” Claude picks up his pace, eyes focused sharply on Ivan now and he feels pinned beneath that look as much as he is by Claude’s body. It’s the look he gets on the ice, when he’s calculating, running plays in his head, when he wants the next goal so fucking bad they’d follow him through hell to get it. It makes Ivan’s cock ache. “Please,” he breathes into Claude’s mouth. “Please, Clau-” “No. Say it, Ivan.” Travis is petting his hair again, soothing him with a soft touch and soft words. “Go on. It’s okay. He wants to hear you.” Ivan shudders under Claude’s touch, trying to push the words from his mouth but he can’t. The room’s too quiet, even with their breathing and the faint creaking of the bed. Hooking a hand around the back of Claude’s neck, Ivan pulls him back down. “Daddy,” he breathes, so soft he’s afraid Claude won’t hear it, but then he’s choking out a cry as Claude’s hand suddenly goes tight around him. Claude curses low, and - true to his word - strokes Ivan faster. He thinks he says it again, maybe sobs it into Claude’s cheek, eyes screwed tightly shut when he pushes into Claude’s hand and comes into his own underwear. Ivan’s vaguely aware of Travis’ fingers unclenching from his hair - he’s not really sure when they’d gone tight - and rubbing almost apologetically over his scalp. Claude shifts enough to free his hand, wiping it somewhere on the sheets. “Hey. You were good, so good for me,” Claude murmurs, pressing kisses to Ivan’s cheek until he turns enough for their mouths to meet. “Can you look at me, kiddo?” Ivan’s vision is blurry when he finally pries his eyes open; it’s embarrassing to realize he’s crying but he can’t seem to hold the tears back. Together, Travis and Claude brush them away until they trickle to a stop, his body loose and heavy now against the sheets. “You okay?” Claude settles back down, bracketing Ivan in with his body and he welcomes the weight even if it presses against the mess in his boxers. “Yeah. I’m sorry I-” “No apologies.” Claude cuts him off, sure but gentle. “You were so good, Ivan.” Travis nudges in then to press a kiss to Ivan’s temple, lips quirked in a smile when Ivan turns to look at him. “You needed that. Look at you.” “He’s right. You’re relaxed. It’s a good look for you.” Claude nuzzles him for a moment before pushing up and off. He tugs Ivan’s boxers off and down, mopping him up as best he can with the fabric. Travis presses closer as Claude pads into the bathroom and they clean him up together. Claude offers him shorts, helps dress him when he accepts, and Ivan feels a final curl of relief when the other two men tuck him in between them in the bed. It’s easy to lay quietly with them for now, calm silence. “I meant what I said,” Claude speaks up after a while. “Any time you need that, want it? You come to me.” “Yes, Claude.”
10467270
Lipstick Stains On Your
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Allura (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Pidge (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron)", "Fandom": "Voltron: Legendary Defender", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by babyfairy", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-27T00:00:00", "words": "1,230", "Additional Tags": "Romance, Fluff, just let them be happy please", "Relationship": "Allura/Shiro (Voltron)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
In another life, Shiro thinks, this would be a quiet Sunday morning. The window would be open, the sky would be clear and blue, and Allura would be settled at her vanity across the room, doing what she is now.But he lives in the reality he does, which means he’s inside of a castle that’s also a space ship, he’s one of the leaders of the universe’s greatest hope, and he’s inside the bedroom of the princess of a lost planet.Still, the moment is terribly domestic.Shiro adjusts his legs across the arm of the day bed he’s on, watching Allura at her vanity table. It’s reminiscent of the ones he’s seen on earth; two thin doors disguise its place inside of the wall, opening to reveal a wide, square mirror that sits above a table top. Several smaller drawers face each other on either side of the table, with two small doors below the table.Allura is sitting before the mirror, legs crossed at the ankles on a short, cushioned stool, rifling through the drawers in the vanity.Shiro watches the princess removing tubes and containers and thin cylinders, then looks around the room again. He really shouldn’t be surprised at the fact that Allura’s room has hidden compartments, but there’s still so much he doesn’t know about the castle’s layout. He’s only ever been in a handful of rooms until recently.Across the room, Allura hums thoughtfully. She shifts a small basket into her lap and sifts through it, then retrieves another from the floor and swipes all of the table top contents into it. She replaces them with the contents of the basket in her lap. They look new, fresh, untouched.“Is that what you bought at the space mall?” Shiro asks.Allura nods, organizing the items. “I suppose it isn’t terribly necessary to decorate my face since I won’t have many gatherings to attend to anymore, but it’s a small comfort - it reminds me of how things were before the Galra attacked.”Shiro blinks, then smiles. So she bought make up. He can imagine Allura sitting right where she is, meticulously applying what he assumes is basically eye shadow and lipstick and blush. The right colors would enhance her beauty, would bring out the many shades of blue and silver in her eyes and compliment her rich skin tone.Humming again, Allura uncaps a tube of what appears to be lipstick and swipes it evenly across her lower lip. It’s a bold shade of pink that shimmers slightly in the light. The color compliments her dark skin so well that Shiro feels his heart constrict a little as she applies it to her top lip as well.Allura glides her thumb along the underside of her lower lip. She tips her head this way and that, smacks her lips once, and gives her reflection a satisfied smile. The lipstick looks fantastic on her and she knows it.Playfully, Shiro wolf whistles.The princess turns to him and asks, “What was that?”“It’s a noise people make on Earth when they see someone they find attractive,” He explains with a chuckle. “That color looks stunning on you, so I whistled my approval.”Grinning, Allura leaves her seat and moves to the day bed. “You think so?” She asks, batting her thick lashes coyly as she leans over him. “Because I am always dying to have your approval.”Shiro rolls his eyes. “Just let me tell you that you’re pretty for once.” He reaches out and loops an arm around Allura’s waist, dragging her into his lap, grinning at the small squeak she emits.“You always tell me that I’m pretty,” She responds, adjusting herself so that she’s straddled across his waist, one leg dangling off the edge of the day bed, the other nestled between his side and the cushions.Shiro nods. “Because you are.” He glides his hands along Allura’s thighs and up to her hips, squeezing them gently. “Because you’re the prettiest lady in the galaxy.”A warm laugh tumbles past Allura’s freshly painted lips. She smiles brightly, vibrant eyes crinkling at the corners. The lipstick compliments the paler shade of the wings under her eyes.All of the air in Shiro’s lungs leaves in a soft sigh of amazement.“You really over exaggerate,” Allura insists as she leans down. She presses a kiss to his nose, and then pulls back enough to breathe out a soft peal of giggles.He doesn’t have to ask what she’s laughing at - he can feel the smooth texture of her kiss print across the tip of his nose.“Well, now, that just won’t do.” Leaning in again, Allura presses a proper kiss to Shiro’s cheek. She sits up enough to admire her work, and then she grabs his chin to plant more kisses along his face.Shiro laughs happily, squirming under the pleasant touch. His hands wrap around her waist as she maps his cheeks and jaw in kiss marks. Allura leaves no part of his face untouched; she leaves at least three marks on his forehead, one on his chin, two under his left eye, all with resounding smacks that nearly echo through the room.Oh, how he wishes he had is phone. He’s desperate to document the moment; desperate to have this as a reminder that there is light that shines through the darkness when he needs it the most. It’s almost tempting to simply refuse to wash the lipstick off of his face.Allura saves his mouth for last. She kisses Shiro fully, sweetly, tenderly. Her fingers curve around the back of his neck as she bestows several more kisses on his lips, warmth and happiness radiating from her like sunshine.“The color doesn’t quite suit your complexion, Takashi,” She teases, tapping the bridge of his nose gently.Shiro huffs a laugh, but warmth unfurls in his stomach and blossoms through his bones. He absolutely adores it when she uses his first name.Humming, he runs the tips of his fingers along Allura’s jaw. “Guess you’ll just have to test the rest until you find one that does match.”Allura smiles warmly. She takes Shiro’s hand and kisses his palm, nuzzles her cheek against it. “You still look beautiful. Especially when you smile like that.”Once again, she renders him breathless. A small lump forms in his throat, so he slides his hand into her thick hair and pulls gently, meeting her half way for a tender kiss.————————————Later, when they finally emerge, his face is still marked with pink lip prints.Shiro can’t keep from blushing at all the shouting and laughter thrown his way over the kiss marks on his face. More than once he has to bat Hunk’s hands away so he doesn’t smear them.“I’m seriously gonna cry,” Lance insists, one arm wrapped around his middle, “Someone needs to find some way to document this! I need pictures!”Pidge is simply a tiny ball of uncontrollable laughter, her howls bouncing off the walls as she leans against Keith for support. Even Keith isn’t immune to the contagious amusement, though he’s pressing his lips together in vain to keep his laughter contained.Shiro looks across the room to find Allura watching him, a wide, pleased smile on her face. No, he won’t be washing her kisses away any time soon.
10414011
Survivor South Park
{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": null, "Characters": "Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman, Kenny McCormick, Butters Stotch, Wendy Testaburger, Bebe Stevens, Red (South Park), Shelly Marsh, Nichole Daniels, Craig Tucker, Clyde Donovan, Token Black, Tweek Tweak, Towelie (South Park), Henrietta Biggle, Pete (South Park: Raisins), Michael (South Park: Raisins), Firkle (South Park), Mike \"Vampir\" Makowski, Randy Marsh", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by MourningTBStyle", "chapters": "17/17", "completed": "2017-03-24", "published": "2017-03-23T00:00:00", "words": "67,236", "Additional Tags": "Survivor - Freeform, CBS, Elimination Game", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Pete (South Park: Raisins)/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Butters Stotch, Mike \"Vampir\" Makowski/Pete (South Park: Raisins), Kenny McCormick/Pete, Kenny McCormick/Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Bebe Stevens/Towelie (South Park), Shelly Marsh/Red (South Park), Bebe Stevens/Pete (South Park)", "Series": "Randy Marsh's Survivor", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "South Park, Survivor (TV 2000)", "Archive Warnings": "Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Sex", "Categories": "F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, F/F", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Randy stands dramatically on top of a mountain. “Twenty castaways will suffer in the extreme cold of a bum fuck town fighting to outwit, outplay, and outlast, to ultimately win the grand the prize of one hundred dollars.” Tweek standing next to a tree “Playing this game without caffeine will sure be a challenge!” Tweek shrieks as a bird flies near him. Token sitting on a log “As one of the only two black people on this season I feel the need to represent my people.” Randy takes a step forward “For the next twenty days, these children will battle to become the sole survivor!” Vampir faggily shakes his cape and hisses “I know most of these kids hate me but I’m here to prove that the darkness is on my side!” Kyle rests his head on his hand in deep thought “We’re out here walking through the wilderness and I’m just, like, wow! I can’t believe this is really happening” Bebe adjusts herself, “With these brand new puppies, I better be sitting at the finals!” Randy gets on a helicopter and keeps talking. “They’ll have to duke it out in challenges while enduring the elements… and each other.”He steps off the helicopter onto the snowy ground where four tribe mats are resting on the snow. The castaways begin to file in from wherever they came from. Nichole throws her hair back “It’s game the fuck on.” Cartman raises a fist. “These ass faces better respect my authoritah!” “What the fuck’s going on here man,” Towelie hits his joint. Randy smiled at the twenty kids. “You ready to get started?!”They were all like “Yeah!” except Craig who just didn’t say anything.Randy gestured to the four mats. “Then it’s time to divide you into your tribes, as you can see there are going to be four tribes of five. The first tribe is Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, and Butters, you’re the yellow tribe.”Butters was all like “Oh boy!” as he ran over to the yellow mat to join the other four. Stan looks at some ants building an ant hole “My tribe’s pretty cool I guess, as long as Fatass doesn’t eat all the food.” Randy continues “The next tribe is Wendy, Bebe, Nichole, Red, and my own daughter Shelly. You are the pink tribe.”Shelly blushes “Shut up, dad!” Wendy brushes her hair with her hand as she sits in the snow “Of course they put all the girls on to the pink tribe.” She rolls her eyes. “Next up is the blue tribe, Craig, Clyde, Token, Tweek, and Towelie.”Clyde helped to direct the confused Towelie over to the blue mat. Craig sighs as he watches the birds. “I hate it here.” Pete looked around at the other kids who were left and immediately put a hand over his face.“And the last tribe is… Pete, Michael, Henrietta, Firkle, and Vampir. You are all the black tribe.”“Why it gotta be black?” Nichole speaks up. Token nodded, his brow furrowed.The goth kids were distracted by trying to stand as far away from Vampir on the black mat as possible. Vampir jumps out behind a tree and hisses. “I already can tell that I’m an outcast on my tribe, but I will prevail!” He runs away. Randy claps “You all ready for the first challenge!?”Everyone clapped in a nonchalant manner.“This is the combined reward and immunity challenge, in addition to immunity you will be winning five extra bags of Cheesy Poofs for your tribe. Now here’s how it works. Each tribe will have to carry one member, who will have to do the puzzle, over the hill. The first tribe to finish will win immunity and the Cheesy Poofs and the second and third to finish just get immunity.”Randy pulls out a gun and points in it the air. “Survivors ready?” He shoots. “Go!”Tweek screams at the sound of gunfire.Kyle turned to Cartman and said “Okay Fatass, you gotta drag me over the hill so that I can do the puzzle.”However Cartman was distracted staring ravenously at the bags of Cheesy Poofs on the reward table.“Fucking concentrate Cartman, do you want to vote someone off?” Stan badgered him.Cartman swatted Stan away, “Get out of my face.” Then he picked up Kyle by the arm and started running. Stan, Kenny and Butters each supported another limb. “It’s like does he really think I don’t want to win the Cheesy Poofs?” Cartman takes a piss in the snow. Shelley barked “Which of you is the smartest?”Wendy coyly says “I guess I am.” Shelley throws Wendy onto her back and starts running.The blue tribe unceremoniously picked up Towelie and started sprinting. Clyde leaned onto a tree. “Towelie was the lightest so it was obvious that he should be the one carried.” Clyde stares off into space. Vampir hissed and swished his cape. “Who are we going to carry across, ssss?”Henrietta placed a hand of her hip. “Firkle, you fag.”Vampir tried to grab at Firkle but Firkle withdrew away angrily. “Don’t touch me you gay fucking piece of shit,” he spat.Randy commentated from the sidelines. “Looks like the Blue tribe already has an early lead carrying the towel, with the Pink team not far behind. Black has yet to leave the gate.”“Jesus Christ, let’s go Firkle, we’re losing.” Pete picked up Firkle against his will since they were already behind.“And the blue team has already made it to the puzzle, GO Towelie!” Randy yelled. The blue team threw Towelie on the ground at the foot of the puzzle, where he slowly picked himself up.“Uhhh, what am I doing?” Towelie mumbled.“The puzzle, you retard,” Craig bitched at him.“Well first, I’m gonna get a little bit high,” Towelie said, pulling out another joint.Meanwhile the Pink tribe had just made it to the puzzle with the Yellow tribe right behind them. “Pink is good, GO Wendy!” Shelley dropped Wendy without ceremony, and immediately Wendy went to work on the puzzle, which she already realized was an image of Mayor McDaniels’ face. “I mean it made sense, the Mayor is a cultural icon of the area,” Wendy gesticulated pretentiously at the shore of Stark’s Pond. Cartman threw Kyle onto the ground “Hurry up Jew! I want them Cheesy Poofs!”“Ow fuck.” Kyle rubbed his tuckus and he stood up to quickly place pieces together. He made some rapid progress but Wendy was already in the final stages of the puzzle.“COME ON JEW HURRY THE FUCK UP!” Cartman screamed.“SHUT THE FUCK UP CARTMAN, I’M TRYING TO WORK!” Kyle turned around completely from the puzzle to get all defensive at Cartman.Wendy slid the last piece of the Mayor’s blue hair into place. “Yes!” she yelled.“PINK TRIBE WINS IMMUNITY AND THE FIVE BAGS OF CHEESY POOFS!” Randy yelled throwing a finger from each hand in the air.Red jumps up and down “YES!”Shelly just nods like she knew they would get first.“Towelie are you ready to start the fucking puzzle yet?” Clyde said with attitude as Towelie took a fat rip off his joint.“Uhh, almost ready kids!” Towelie coughed. Towelie coughs up a loogie on the sidewalk. “I know these kids might not think much of me just because sometimes I like to get a little bit high. When they get older they’ll understand.” he lights another one up. At that moment the Black tribe finally showed up and dumped Firkle at the puzzle.Stan looked around with concern. “Kyle you really better hurry up, everyone else is here now.”“Relax I’m almost done,” Kyle told Stan as he easily slid the last few pieces into place.“YELLOW TRIBE WINS IMMUNITY!” Randy yelled. “Now it’s down to Blue and Black, one of you is going to tribal.”Firkle started sweating as the pressure got to him. “Fuck!” As he accidently let a puzzle piece slip from his fingers.Henrietta clapped her thighs together as she jumped. “You can do it, Firkle!”Towelie finally finished smoking his joint and started looking at the puzzle. “It’s a kitty!” he said contently, then started rearranging the pieces randomly.“Holy shit.” Token uttered as he realized Towelie was actually completing the puzzle.“It’s beautiful!” Towelie rubbed the finished puzzle of Mayor McDaniels’.“BLUE TRIBE WINS IMMUNITY!” The Blue tribe rejoiced loudly, raising Towelie up on their shoulders as their champion. Towelie sniffs some glue. “See I knew what I was doing the whole time,” he falls over. All of the castaways returned to their mats. Randy looked over to the Black Tribe. “Goths, I have nothing for you. I’ll be seeing you at Tribal Council tonight. Yellow Tribe Day 1  Butters sat in a field of flowers. “I’m really happy that we won immunity today, because I think these fellas might have booted me first.”“You fucking suck Kyle! We got second to that whore!?” Cartman lambasted Kyle again. Stan standing behind the shelter Kenny and Butters were feverishly working on before nightfall. “Kyle and Cartman being at each other’s throat is not going to be healthy for our tribe, I can just feel it.” Pink Tribe Day 1  As soon as the ladies walked into their camp, Red had excitedly planned how the tribe’s shelter would be built. “I know! We could build our shelter out of rocks!”Wendy patted Red’s shoulder condescendingly, “That’s a great idea, but I think it would be better if we used the tarp they gave us.” Shelley standing very confidently “I know I was recruited to be on the show by my dad, but I think this isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Blue Tribe Day 1  Token looking befuddled as the rest of the tribe started to build a campsite. “What do you mean we have to sleep outside?”Tweek fiddled with some rope trying to tie a knot. “I-it’s survivor dude, you know?” Token had his arms crossed “I don’t get how everyone could be so comfortable with sleeping outside, we’ll freeze to death!” Black Tribe Day 1  Pete and Michael were standing next to the haphazard shelter they built as Henrietta and Vampir went off to find firewood and Firkle went off to smoke by himself.“So we’re voting out Firkle right?” Pete bluntly stated.Michael taken aback. “I thought we were going to vote out that douche vampire kid.”“I mean Firkle cost us the challenge, he should go. If I fucked up the puzzle, I wouldn’t be surprised if you guys voted me out for it. It’s only fair.” Pete explained. Pete flipped his dyed hair. “There’s no way us four goth kids will make it to the final four, there’s also no way Makowski, excuse me ‘Vampir’, will flip from us because he’s expecting to get cut first. We should keep him around and use him to our advantage later.” “That does make sense though.” Michael looked to the ground. Michael leaned on his cane. “I can’t believe that this first vote is actually going to be hard...fuck man.” Firkle was standing alone smoking a cigarette. “Even though I totally blew the first challenge, I think that I should be fine.” Meanwhile, Henrietta and Vampir were looking for things to burn with their lighters for warmth when Vampir suggested “So do I have your vote per se?”Henrietta “Oh, yeah  I guess.” Henrietta stamped out a cigarette “I’m not voting with this faggy vamp kid, he has to be fooling himself if he thinks I would write Firkle’s name down over him.   Tribal Council Night 1 The black tribe sluggishly walked to tribal council with their torches. There were five lawn chairs as Randy stood being highlighted by the light of the many candles behind him. “Come on in.” he greeted. “Everyone dip your torch into a candle because once your flame is out so are you.”“That's gay.” Pete remarked as he dipped his torch into a candle.They all sat down as Randy started tribal council. “So Firkle, do you feel like it’s your fault that the Black tribe is here tonight?”Firkle angrily snaps “Get off my ass, old man.”“Alright, Vampir, you seem to already be an outcast, do you think that you might be going home first?” Randy continued.“I mean anything could happen per se, but probably.” Vampir looked to the ground.Henrietta raised her hand. “Can we vote already?”Randy sighed “Fine. Henrietta, you’re up first.”Henrietta got up to walk to Sparky’s dog house roof where pieces of paper and a marker were waiting there.Henrietta wrote quickly in cursive. [Mike Makowski] “I thought I would write your real name, you delusional twat.”Pete quickly ran up and voted.Firkle voted next and in a sloppy scribble [Vampir] “It’s either you or me.”Michael followed looking distraught before he voted.Vampir voted last. [Firkle] “Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so slow on the puzzle per se?”Randy spoke once Vampir was back in his seat. “I’ll go tally the votes. This is so exciting!”Randy returned with the shoebox with a slit cut into it with him. “Once the votes are read, the decision is final, the person voted out will have to leave tribal council immediately, and walk through my house. I’ll read the votes.”Randy pulled out the first vote.[Mike Makowski] “Mike? Oh that’s Vampir.” Randy chuckled.“Next Vote.”[Vampir]“That’s two for Vampir.”Vampir frowns.[Firkle]Randy quickly opens the next vote.[Firkle]“That’s two votes for Vampir and two votes for Firkle with one vote left.”Randy picked up the final vote.“And the first person voted out of Survivor: South Park is…”Randy flips the vote.[Vampir]“Vampir, I’ll need you to bring me your torch.”Vampir skulked as he grabbed his torch and headed over to Randy.“Vampir, the tribe has spoken.”Vampir opened the back door and walked off.“Now black tribe, hopefully this will get you into gear because I know as easy as that vote seemed, you won’t want to be making another boot anytime soon. Head back to camp.”The black tribe stood up, grabbed their torches, and cheesed it back to camp since they were freezing their nipples off. Vampir sitting in a recliner in the Marsh’s living room while Sharon disapproves in the background “I mean I’m only really shocked that it was a three to two vote, and not a four to one. They didn’t like me so I really had no chance per se. Good luck to everyone I guess. Next Time on Survivor: South Park:   Tweek sitting under a tree. “The pressure of the game is really getting to me!”   Also, a twist shakes up the game.   Cartman pushing Kyle. “Get the fuck out of my way, Jew boy!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy poses dramatically in front of Tom’s Rhinoplasty. “Previously on… Survivor.” A shot plays of Vampir jumping out from behind a tree. “Twenty unique castaways were brought to the wilderness of Colorado to test their physical and mental endurance against the elements… and each other.” “At the first combined reward and immunity challenge, the stakes were high.” A shot plays of Cartman dragging Kyle over the hill so they could win the Cheesy Poofs. “The all-girl pink tribe pulled into first thanks to Wendy’s puzzle skills, while Towelie and Firkle both stumbled.” A shot of Towelie getting high at the puzzle board. “When the Goths lost immunity, the obvious outcast Vampir thought he could find an opening in targeting Firkle, but it was in vain as he was voted out three to two. Nineteen castaways remain… who will be voted out tonight?” The camera zoomed out from Randy dramatically. Black Tribe Night 1 The goth kids walked back from tribal council all a bit in shock at the not nonconformist vote. “Was I surprised that dumbass Vampir got voted out? No.” Henrietta stands in the woods with a hand on her hip. “But I was honestly shocked that Firkle’s name came up twice. I thought the goths were a family, but I guess not,” she flicks her cigarette butt. “So which one of you fags voted for me?” Firkle accused Michael and Pete. Michael took a long drag from his cigarette “Firkle came in really hot when we got back to camp. It almost made me wish that I voted for him instead of that loser vamp kid.” “It was me! Are you happy?” Pete dramatically lashed out. “Whatever Pete, good to know where you stand.” Firkle turned away and walked off to smoke a cigarette. “I don’t feel bad about it,” Pete flips his hair, “Firkle is the reason we lost the challenge, and we need a strong tribe to survive. Plus if we kept Mike Makowski he would have been a shoe-in for the next one gone, nobody can stand him. So no, I’m not sorry Firkle.” Firkle angrily smokes a cigarette, sitting on the shore of Stark’s Pond. “I need to prove myself to these faggots, I thought they were my friends but it looks like I’m the next to go, god damnit.” Blue Tribe Day 2 Tweek stands nervously next to a tall tree. “So last night I was woken up by the smell of smoke.” Tweek jolted awake from his comfortable towel bed and yelped “Oh Jesus!” Token, Clyde, and Craig were rudely awoken by Tweek’s voice. “What the fuck Tweek.” Craig said flatly. “Guys I-I think our camp is on fire!” “That’s just Towelie sparking a joint, dumbass.” Token snapped at Tweek. At the far end of the towel a puff of smoke slowly rose. Token sharpens a piece of wood. “Honestly, Tweek does more harm than good for our tribe. He’s a wreck, and even though Towelie can’t go five minutes without the loud it’s really a tough call as far as who should go first.” Pink Tribe Day 2 Bebe thoughtfully sits on a stump, “The first night was rough. It was cold and our shelter was only half finished, plus our beds were made out of rocks, which… thanks, Red. Anyway, it’s a new day, we’re still five strong, and I’m ready to keep winning.” Wendy and Nichole worked to get a fire going, as Red finally got out of bed and stretched out, yawning. She walked over to the fire and sad on a stump silently. Red forlornly hugs her knees. “I feel… a little tired, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I just feel kind of depressed and I feel, I feel used… and so, last night, Shelly threw her arms over me and really pulled me close into her, which was kind of okay with me in the beginning because it’s cold out here but um… she started to, like, really, um, become really kind of sexual… I mean, specifically, she was grinding against me…” A few minutes later, Shelly woke up and walked over to help with the fire. Red stood up. “Um, Shelly, last night, you were kind of getting handsy…” Bebe looked at Shelly with mortified surprise. “Shut up nerd, I was asleep, in my dreams I was lying next to Stan crushing his skull,” Shelly replied dismissively. Red sat down. Yellow Tribe Day 2 Kyle sat in the snow twirling his ginger locks. “I was talking to Stan earlier and we agreed to have an alliance together so we can rid of that fat tub of lard first.” Cartman had whisked Butters away early in the morn to strategize with him. “So you know Butters, only two of us can get Xbox Ones, the others are there to just get us through the doors.” Butters nodded in agreement. Butters gaily pranced in the shallow waters of Stark’s Pond. “It sure was nice of Cartman to include me!” Kenny removed his hood to reveal his dashing good looks. “It’s obvious that I’m the swing vote as soon as we go to tribal council, to be honest that kind of turns me on.” Kenny adjusted himself at thought of power. Immunity Challenge Day 2 “Come on in, guys!” from different directions the four tribes filed onto their mats, responding to Randy’s call. “And get your first new look at the Black tribe, Vampir voted out at the first tribal council.” The other kids did not react because this was not a surprise. “Alright, you guys ready to get started on your next Immunity challenge?” The castaways responded with “Yeah!”s of varying levels of excitement, except for Red. “For today’s challenge four of you will have to make it across a balance beam and complete a puzzle hosted by our special guest, Officer Barbrady!” “Hi!” Officer Barbrady chimed at the end of the obstacle course. “The tribe that places first will get a pig to bring back to their camp. So Pink, Yellow, Blue, you each need to sit one person out.” Randy explained. “I’ll volunteer!” Red’s hand shot up. Kyle quickly pointed at Cartman. “Fatass, you have to sit this one out.” “I’m not fat you fucking Jew, can’t Jews not balance on balance beams anyway?” Stan eyed Cartman viciously. “Well do you want to do it?” Cartman looked at the challenge and was all like, “I guess nah.” Token quickly said “The towel is sitting out.” “Hey!” Towelie was shut DOWN as Tweek nodded so as to not cause a quarrel. But then Clyde clutched his stomach. “Uh, it’s okay guys, I actually have really bad poop cramps right now, I should sit out.” “Okay so, Cartman, Red and Clyde take a seat on the bench, it’s time to get started.” Everyone got in position as Randy again pulled out his gun. “Survivors ready? GO!” Randy shot a flying goose overhead. Tweek was the first to run up to the balance beam, shaking wildly. “Jesus Christ.” he muttered as he tried desperately to regain his balance, but he was so nervous that he pissed his pants as he fell off. Wendy, Stan, and Michael all run across like they weren’t retarded. “Blue team is behind right out the gate!” Randy observed. Towelie tried to get on the balance beam after Tweek fell, and got halfway across before a strong gale of wind swept past and pushed him right off. “God damnit,” Clyde said from the bench. Henrietta tiptoes her way through since her mother forced her take those damn ballet lessons. She jumped pass the finish line and queefs. “Take that mother, you cunt!” Kyle, despite being Jewish successfully moved on without any problems. Craig not giving a fuck finally finished the beam for his tribe. Bebe did a cartwheel across the balance beam to be a show off and because she could. Bebe’s hair flew in the wind. “I really don’t care what these people think of me. I know I’m going to be the sole survivor.” Token continues to sharpen his stick. “Our team was already like way behind, I knew I had to do something.” Token ran the fuck across that balance beam and reached the other side while Nichole, Pete, and Kenny were only a third of the way across. Tweek ran up behind him to try to close the gap, but was still shaking too much and fell off immediately. “I was up on that beam and there was so much going on, but I just kept telling myself, look forward, you got this girl.” Nichole sits on the slope of a small hill. “But I wasn’t at all ready for what happened next.” Kenny slipped off the beam right near the end and fell head first and cracked his head open, however his corpse made it past the black line so only Butters, had to complete the beam, yet he was too busy screaming at all of the blood on the ground. Firkle reapplying eyeliner. “That was really hardcore.” “Looks like Kenny is dead and can no longer compete in the challenge.” Randy commentated. “This could be a huge blow to the Yellow tribe’s chances!” Nichole continued to look forward and not give a fuck, hopping to the platform on the other side. “Come on Shelly, it’s all you!” Butters, Shelly, and Firkle all got on the balance beam to join the rest of their tribes while Towelie climbed on to try to get across again. Butters was still freaking out about the blood as he inched across. Stan was losing his patience. “Come on Butters, just close your eyes and don’t even look at it, we can still win!” Butters yelped and trotted across like a fag, shockingly not falling off even though his eyes were closed. “Yellow is across, GO on the puzzle!” Randy yelled. Officer Barbrady walked over to the Yellow tribe. “Hi kids.” Shelly looked over at Butters viciously - she wanted this reward. She tried to speed up but then lost her balance slightly, and after wavering she started to fall, but the balance beam caught her on the cunt. “OW!” Shelly screamed, but she only needed a second to recover before she could pick herself up and slowly start humbling across again. Towelie, employing a new strategy of wrapping himself around the balance beam, quickly shimmied his way across, pulling ahead of Shelly and Firkle, who had tiny ass legs and was therefore slow as fuck. Kyle struggled to put the puzzle together due to his grief over Kenny’s death. Randy sideways ran across the length of the course from the sideline. “Yellow is making slow progress on the puzzle, and the other tribes are only one member behind, it’s anyone’s game! It’s Shelly, Firkle, and Tweek!” Shelly gritted her teeth through the pain and rushed to the other side. “GO, Pink!” Randy shouted, and they started the puzzle. Officer Barbrady talked “The hint is T is for…” “TURTLE!” Kyle shouts as he correctly places the scrabble tiles in the correct order. “YELLOW WINS IMMUNITY AND A PIG!” Randy shouts as he throws his hands up in the air like he just don’t care. “Damnit,” Wendy said under her breath as she peered over to the Yellow tribe’s solution to figure out the puzzle. “It sucked because I really wanted that pig for our tribe,” Wendy clutches a bundle of firewood pensively. “But I knew once Kyle figured out the puzzle I could use his solution to keep my tribe safe.” As Tweek fell off the balance beam yet again, Firkle finally inched his way over to the other side. “GO, Black!” Pete, Michael, and Henrietta quickly got to work, while Firkle wasn’t even tall enough to see the board. Officer Barbrady walked over with a retarded smile. “You need some help there little boy?” he bent over to pick a reluctant Firkle up, knocking over the Black team’s puzzle in the process. “Oopsie!” Meanwhile Wendy had easily finished the puzzle. “Turtle!” she said confidently. “PINK WINS IMMUNITY!” All the ladies squirted simultaneously at the news. “RUN, Tweek!” Token shouted over to the other side of the beam. “The goths got fucked up by the white devil cop, we can still win this!” “I knew that my tribe was counting on me, and that’s what made me so nervous,” Tweek looks at a snowbank dejectedly. “I just couldn’t stop shaking, goddamnit I need some coffee.” The Goth kids managed to get their puzzle board back up as Tweek tried to calm himself and inch across. “RUN, TWEEK!” Token barked. Tweek shuddered so hard he almost fell off. Pete looked at the puzzle pieces. “What the fuck is this supposed to be?” “It’s fucking Turtle, did you not hear anything that just happened?” Henrietta quickly put the pieces together to burn this immunity challenge down. “BLACK WINS IMMUNITY!” Randy yelled, and Tweek jumped off the beam defeatedly. He walked over to the mat to join his tribe, where Token and Clyde were glaring at him. “Blue tribe, I have nothing for you,” Randy said as he handed out Immunity idols to the other three tribes and gave the leash of the small pig to Cartman. “But before you go back to camp I have one more thing to tell you…” The camera panned over the alarmed, questioning looks of the castaways. Craig stares forward blankly. “Oh no.” Bebe nervously clutches her tits between two trees. “I really like my tribe and where I’m at in the game, I’m not ready for a twist.” “Each camp has one hidden immunity idol, that you can play after the votes have been cast.” Red gasps. Red braiding her hair. “This changes everything!” “Now get back to camp, Blue tribe I’ll see you at tribal council tonight, and Yellow tribe, enjoy your pig!” Stan led his tribe away victoriously. “This pig is for you, Kenny!” Yellow Tribe Day 2 Kenny miraculously reincarnated all buff, in the nude “I wanna eat the pig.” Cartman pushing Kyle “Get the fuck out of my way, Jew boy! I’m gonna cook me some bacon!” “I fucking hate that we won this stupid pig, Cartman only wants to eat it when in fact pigs are highly intelligent creatures and I am morally against it.” Kyle said indignant as his curls bounced in the cold winds. Pink Tribe Day 2 Bebe aimlessly wandered through the woods, looking for firewood. “When Randy said there were Hidden Immunity Idols, I thought Wendy would find it first for sure,” Bebe twirls her hair in her fingers as she sits on the sidewalk. She arrived at a small clearing with flowers blooming. “Pretty!” she said blankly. Then she noticed a small crafted object nestled in the middle of the clearing. She walked over and picked it up. “But there it was, calling my name right after the challenge,” Bebe pulls out her idol and flaunts it in front of the camera before sticking it back in her panties. Bebe gasped as she read the small note attached to the idol. “This is a hidden immunity idol, you can use it only once before the votes have been read at a tribal council before the final five, and all votes against you will be negated.” She jumped up and down in excitement. “This game is mine to lose now.” Bebe tossed her hair. Blue Tribe Day 2 Tweek sitting under a tree. “The pressure of the game is really getting to me!” Tweek anxiously searched for more berries in the forest while Towelie took a walk to smoke a joint. Meanwhile, Token, Clyde and Craig talked at the fire. “I think it’s clear that the tribe’s three greatest assets are sitting right here,” Token said pompously. Clyde nodded. “They’re both fucking crazy, honestly. I would be okay with voting out either one of them. Token stared at a bush in thought. “I feel really confident going into this tribal council, I got my boys Clyde and Craig, and we’re going to trim the fat off this tribe.” Craig blinked two times before speaking “I really don’t fucking care.” Token held out both of his arms in a judgmental gesticulation. “Like, it’s really a competition which one of them is the worst.” He laughed with Clyde. Meanwhile, Tweek pulled Towelie aside on the shore of Stark’s pond. “I’m nervous, Towelie.” “So what the fuck’s new,” Towelie sighed as he tossed his roach. “I don’t think the other guys like me much anymore, and I think honestly we’re both in danger,” Tweek stammered. “I feel like my words are falling on deaf ears,” Tweek pulled at his hair. “Well, actually, I don’t think towels have ears. But I think that if I want a chance of staying in this game, me and him need to stick together.” Later, Towelie was helping to stoke the fire when a spark flew at him and he caught on fire. “Ahh help!” Towelie yelped. Tweek ran over and stomped the fire out on the ground. From the shelter, Token looked on, rolling his eyes. Token looking all thug. “I really can’t stand that fucking towel, all he does is smoke and be a nuisance to the tribe.” Token said something at normal conversational volume, but he was all the way over at the shelter so from the perspective of the fire it had to be in captions, “So how is a towel gonna survive in the wilderness?” Towelie pretended not to hear as he got up and brushed the dirt off of himself. “I’m getting really fucking tired of being called a towel.” Towelie hits his joint aggressively. Tribal Council Night 2 The blue tribe filed into tribal council and dipped their torches into the fire. Randy addressed them from his podium, “In this game, fire represents your life.” Towelie was really high so he shuddered a bit at the depth of this statement. “So Clyde,” Randy began without mercy, “what is your criteria for who to vote out tonight?” “Well, uh, I think we need to vote out the weakest link, so that we don’t keep losing,” Clyde looked at the ground nervously. “And do you think you are the weakest link?” “No,” Clyde said quietly. “Does anyone here feel as if they may be perceived by the tribe as weak?” After a few seconds, Tweek shakily raised his hand. Randy addressed him with faux-surprise. “Tweek, do you think you’re in danger tonight?” Tweek stumbled over his words nervously. “Well, definitely yeah, it’s - them three have the majority of the votes so they’ll - it’s either me or Towelie.” Token shook his head. Randy jumped on it with excitement. “Token, you look like you think what he’s saying is ridiculous. Do you disagree that Tweek and Towelie are in danger tonight?” “Well Randy, I don’t really feel as if my opinion is what matters here,” Token said matter-of-factly. “It’s just clear as day that there are three of us on this tribe who are here to play, one who is a complete anxious wreck, and a fucking towel.” Towelie turned to Token and glared. “You’re a fucking towel.” “But you are actually a goddamn towel! You caught on fire today!” Token got all up in Towelie’s face. Craig shook his head, overwhelmed. “Craig,” Randy took note of even the slightest movement, “do you think it matters that Towelie is a towel?” “Honestly, Stan’s dad, I really don’t fucking care at all. This whole experience has been really annoying and everyone has been yelling and stupid,” Craig deadpanned. “You guys might as well just vote me out tonight, I don’t even want to be here.” Randy’s jaw dropped. “Are you asking to be voted out, Craig?” “Yes, I am.” Clyde nervously touched Craig on the shoulder. “We have to stick to the plan, Craig.” “See?!?!” Tweek piped up explosively. “The three of them have a plan against me and Towelie!” “Actually, you know what, maybe we shouldn’t stick to the plan,” Token said furiously, “This fucking towel wants to target me for my race, and that’s just… inexcusable.” “Alright, well, it sounds like there are a lot of feelings that need to be let out with this vote. I’ll let you guys get to it. Towelie, you are first.” Randy tensely told Towelie. Towelie waddled up to vote. [Token] “I wanna toke you out of this game!” Towelie rolled a joint to purposely take a long time voting since he thought he was probably a goner. Clyde voted next,but the camera only shot the back of him to show off that fine ass. “Have to stick to the plan.” Token briskly walked up to vote. [The Towel] “I’ll call you whatever I want TOWEL!” Token’s voice raised a bit. Craig was the next to vote, the camera again showing some fine ass. “Whatever.” Craig voted. Tweek, the last vote wrote crisply, yet the camera doesn’t show who he votes for. “Jesus fucking christ that was a mess, but it might just work.” “I’ll go tally the votes.” Craig flipped Randy off. “If anyone has a hidden immunity idol, now would be the time to play it.” “What’s an idol?” Towelie hiccups. “Alright I’ll read the votes.” “First vote.” [The Towel] “That’s fucking disrespectful.” Towelie pouted. [Token] “Next vote” Randy whispered for suspense. [Tweek] Tweek’s head dropped into his hands. “That’s one vote for Token, Towelie, and Tweek. There’s 2 votes left.” Randy looks shocked at the next vote. [Token] “And the second person voted out Survivor South Park is…” [Token] Token looked at both Clyde and Craig in absolute fury. “What the fuck, guys.” Clyde, cried at the revelation, as Craig just looked forward at Randy, ignoring Token. Token walked over to Randy holding his torch. “Token… the tribe has spoken.” Randy snuffed his torch. Token turned around vengefully. “This tribe is fucked without me.” He walked away in a huff. “Well it looks like this tribal did not at all go as planned. This tribe needs to unify before it crashes and burns. Alright, get back to camp.” The blue tribe walked off surprised at what had just transpired. Token sat in the recliner while Sharon baked cookies in the kitchen. “That was such bullshit, I’m so furious that I could spit. They’re a bunch of idiots! Next time on… SURVIVOR: Stan grabbed Kyle’s arm. “Kyle, we might just have to kill it. Let it go.” Tweek smiles next to a bush. “It’s a brand new day for us!” Red throws rocks into Stark’s pond, screaming with anger. Nichole makes a face as she sits on a rock, “What the hell?!?!?” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy stood on his roof. “Previously on… SURVIVOR.” The footage plays of Tweek stomping the flames off of Towelie. “Things really heated up at the Blue Tribe when they lost the Immunity challenge. Even though it looked like Token had the majority,” switch to a shot of Token, Clyde and Craig at the fire, “his unexpected outburst at Towelie at tribal lost him his allies and he was blindsided.” Shot switches to Bebe wandering through the woods like a dumbass. “Meanwhile, on the Pink Tribe, Bebe stumbled upon the Hidden Immunity Idol, while the sleeping situation led to a conflict between Red and Shelly,” snippet of Red’s whiny confessional. “18 are left… who will be voted out tonight?” Blue Tribe Night 2 In the night vision lens Tweek looked even more crazy than before. “Did that just work or am I dreaming right now?” He cackled. “I’m pretty sure when Clyde said to stick to the plan, he was talking about me.” Clyde returned to camp sobbing still over being blindsided. “I can’t believe that happened.” He cried under the tarp pathetically. Craig sat in the snow pretzel legged “Clyde needs to get the fuck over it. He’s such a fucking crybaby and there is no way in hell he is going to win.” Later in the dark, Clyde pulled Craig aside into the woods. “Why did you flip?” Clyde whispered, his eyes still puffy. “I didn’t flip, I never said I was voting for anybody, and Token thought he could tell me what to do,” Craig replied indifferently. “Everything went wrong,” Clyde continued to cry sitting in the middle of a clearing. “I thought we were an alliance, and now I’m out here all alone… I know I’m next.” Pink Tribe Night 2 Red wandered away from the shelter in the dark, all by herself. “After what happened last night with Shelly I don’t think I can sleep tonight,” Red said in the night vision lens deep in the woods. Back at the shelter, Shelly and Wendy had already fallen asleep, while Bebe and Nichole sit at the low fire. Bebe looks around for a moment and whispered, “Where’d Red go?” “Honestly, I think Red is pretty weird, she was doing the most over the whole Shelly thing,” Nichole whispers in the night next to a large rock. “But Bebe was getting all scared that she lost herself out in the woods so we had to go out and find her.” Nichole split off from Bebe to look on one side of the camp. Suddenly she heard Red screaming and splashes of water. Nichole makes a face at the camera. “What the hell?!?!?!” She came through the trees to the shore of Stark’s pond, where she could see Red heaving rocks into the water and shrieking. Red sops up her tears with a pinecone. “I’ve really hit my breaking point.” Back at the fire, Nichole animatedly told Bebe what she had seen, “Bitch has lost it!” “Maybe we should just go talk to her,” Bebe arched an eyebrow in concern. “I don’t need nothing to do with her, we should just vote her out next,” Nichole said pettily, just loud enough to be overheard by Red, who was just returning to camp. “Excuse me?!?” Red shouted, provoking a gasp from Bebe who had no idea she was there. Nichole angrily turned to Red. “Well it doesn’t seem like you really want to be here ever since you got molested,” she said scathingly. Bebe intervened, wanting no part of the drama. “How dare you make fun of the fact that I was VIOLATED!” Red screamed with tears in her eyes. “I was sexually violated. To have some girl come up, she passed three other girls in the shelter, and never touched them. And she went too far, she crossed the line, and she crossed the line with ME.” Nichole didn’t really give a shit and tried to intervene. “Well-” Red cut her off, “Okay, I know you don’t know, you didn’t see it because her back was to you, she’s too big of a fucking slob to see around,” at this point she was yelling loud enough that it woke up Wendy and Shelly. Her voice cracked. “I was violated, humiliated, dehumanized, and totally spent , Nichole. It wasn’t sort of, Nichole, because her back was to you, Nichole. That’s all I’m--” “OH MY GOD, SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING NERD, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP,” Shelly shouted menacingly. Red strode away to throw more rocks into the pond. Wendy floats in the pond calculatingly. “At this point Red is pretty much dead weight, but it would be stupid for me to vote her out. Her, Bebe and I have been friends for a long time and she’s only making herself a more attractive candidate for me to go against in front of the jury.” “Nichole has such a bad fucking attitude,” Red hits two rocks together. “I guess the truth can’t make it to her brain under all that nappy fucking hair.” Yellow Tribe Day 3 “We’ve been out here for like a week or something now and when I woke up this morning I was fucking STARVING,” Cartman conversationally leans against a branch. “I was ready to eat the piggy.” “Moooooooom,” Cartman whined as he lay under the shelter before realizing that he wasn’t at home and he had to get food for himself. Leaving the other sleeping boys in the shelter, Cartman walked over to the small pen they had made for the pig. “I knew if I just threw it on the fire while the Jew was still asleep he couldn’t do anything about it,” Cartman still at the tree branch. “But when I went over to the pen…” Cartman approached the pen to see that the pig was gone. “WHERE IS MR. PIGGY?” Cartman shrieked, awakening the rest of his tribe. “What the fuck is wrong Cartman,” Kyle said as he smoothed his bedhead. “I think you know what the fuck is wrong you fucking gay hippie Jew, you took the pig!” “ What?” Kyle’s voice cracked. “You already know I can’t eat it, retard!” “Exactly, so you took it in the night and hid it away somewhere so that me and Keeny couldn’t eat it!” Cartman accused in a rapidfire fashion. “So we woke up this morning and the pig was gone, and Cartman and Kyle were at each other’s throats. Big surprise,” Stan kicked a rock with bags under his eyes. “So Kyle got all defensive and insisted that we just split up and look for the pig, to prove it had just gotten out.” Cartman and Butters walked through the woods together in search. “I think I see piggy tracks going this way,” Butters chirped as he looked at arbitrary marks on the ground. “We’re wasting time, Butters, all we’re doing is giving Keel a chance to run off to wherever he hid the pig and set it free,” Cartman said viciously. “Ooooh,” Butters replied, bewildered. Butters stares at the ground sadly. “I wish we never won this pig.” “Kyle thinks he can outplay me with his Jew trickery, but his days here are numbered,” Cartman at the branch again. “As soon as we leave he is the first to go- Butters, Keeny and me are locked in for the final 3.” Black Tribe Day 3 “Things have been going pretty slow here, we refuse to conform to having stupid conformist drama like the other tribes,” Michael combs his hair. As Pete and Michael went to collect firewood for the day, Firkle sat at the fire with Henrietta, who was writing poetry on a piece of bark. “After the first tribal I felt like an outcast, but time passed and I realized I didn’t really care,” Firkle draws a handicapped person in the snow. “Even if Pete still wants me gone, I think I can trust Henrietta to have my back.” “Wanna read my poem, Firkle?” Henrietta passed her piece of bark over to him. Firkle read it aloud, “I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there. Let’s vote Pete out next.” Firkle smiled. “So what, maybe Firkle is the weakest, but I trust him,” Henrietta put her earrings in. “If Pete was ready to vote out a goth day 1, does he really think we should take him to the merge?” Pete and Michael walked through the woods side-by-side. “You think Henrietta will be good to get Firkle next time?” Pete asked. “Should be,” Michael said blankly, taking a drag from his cigarette. “If we lose it’s probably because of him.” Immunity Challenge Day 3 “Come on in guys!” Randy yelled next to a large table covered in multiple sheets. The tribes filed onto their mats. “Get your first look at the new Blue Tribe, Token voted out at the last tribal council.” Nichole gasped, then glared at Craig, Clyde and Tweek. “I can’t believe those snakes got Token out,” Nichole crying on a stump. “I thought they were his friends.” “You guys ready to get started on your next Immunity challenge?” Randy continued. “Today you will be competing in a Survivor classic… the eating competition.” Red frowned, while Kyle hissed out a “yess." Because he was a fag. “We have Cartman on our tribe, there’s no way we could lose an eating challenge,” Kyle skips stones in the pond pointedly. “You will be facing off in four rounds, one-on-one-on-one-on-one,” Randy explained. “You will have 20 seconds to get your food item down; if you do you get a point for your tribe. At the end of the fourth round, the tribe with the least points goes to tribal, while the tribe with the most points wins an all-expense-paid trip to Casa Bonita.” “We’re winning this challenge,” Cartman said immediately. “Yellow and Pink tribes, you’re gonna have to sit someone out,” Randy pointed at their two mats. Red looked at the ground. “This should have been the challenge that I sat out,” Red sits in depression with a hilltop view behind her. “But I sat out yesterday.” “I think Wendy should sit out,” Bebe said thoughtfully, “so that if it’s a puzzle tomorrow she can play.” Wendy nodded in agreement. “Kyle’s gonna sit out for our tribe because he keeps Kosher like a faggot,” Cartman said. Kyle was about to get all defensive but realized Cartman was right and took a seat on the bench. Kyle crouched "Thankfully I can sit out due to being Jewish." Kyle readjusted his stance. "I'm glad we haven't lost yet. I'm pretty sure that tribal would be insane bullshit." “Alright, Wendy and Kyle take a seat on the bench, and the first four up are… Cartman, Bebe, Pete, and Clyde.” Randy pulled out his gun as the four approached the sheet-covered table. “And for round one you will be eating…” Randy dramatically lifted the sheet off the table to reveal four bowls of chili. “I call it Mr. and Mrs. Tenorman Chili. Twenty seconds starts NOW!” he shot his gun. “When I found out Stan’s dad had found the leftovers of the chili I made out of Scott Tenorman’s parents, I was kinda like wow, weak…” Cartman crosses his legs while sitting on a bench. “But then I remembered what was on the line…” Cartman had scarfed down the entire bowl of chili within seconds. While Bebe gagged and Clyde just started crying again, Pete put out his cigarette on his tongue and tipped the bowl back. “I burned my taste buds off so I couldn’t taste the carnage,” Pete relights his cigarette. “But honestly I think it would have tasted pretty good.” “Ten seconds left… Yellow and Black are good!” “Now is not the fucking time Clyde,” Craig said offhandedly. “I was just standing there crying and then I remembered… if we lose, it’s me gone next, so I can’t afford to be lame anymore,” Clyde tied his shoe. Clyde struggled through his tears to down the bowl of chili. “You can do it Bebe!” Wendy shouted supportingly from the bench. Bebe got nearly the entire bowl of chili stuffed in her mouth before she gagged it out onto the ground like a white chick. “Time is UP!” Randy yelled. “Everyone has a point except the Pink team.” Bebe returned to her mat with a defeated frown, chili on her chin. “It’s okay Bebe,” Red offered half-heartedly. “Next up is… Kenny, Nichole, Craig, and Henrietta. And you will be eating…” Randy lifted another sheet off the table. “A chunk of deer antler, harvested locally. GO!” Kenny tried to stuff the entire hand-sized chunk in his mouth, successfully getting it down but rupturing his esophagus in the process, he immediately started coughing up blood and died. Craig sighed exasperatedly at this development, carefully breaking the chunk of antler into pieces and eating them slowly. “I don’t eat fast,” Craig leans against a tree. Meanwhile Nichole licked at her piece with gusto, while Henrietta smashed hers against the plate to break it, then popped them into her mouth without thinking about it. “And everyone finished in time! Everyone gets a point, meaning Pink still trails by 1.” Nichole returned to her mat victoriously. “That actually tasted pretty good!” “Like fried chicken?” Red asked semi-innocuously. Nichole eyed her. “Rully?” “Next up… Butters, Shelly, Tweek and Firkle. And the food item is… ” He lifted the sheet to reveal four pinecones. “A pinecone.” “I wish I had been picked for the pinecone,” Kenny emerged from Starks Pond, once again reincarnated. “I eat that shit all the time.” “I swear to God if you fuck this up Butters…” Cartman threatened Butters from the mat. Butters shivered. “Sometimes I get kind of tired, on account of the fact Eric bosses me around so much,” Butters kicked a small rock gently. “But sometimes I feel like I just oughta listen to him, because I’m not half the man he is.” As Butters nervously nibbled at the pinecone, Tweek freaked out and just shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “I didn’t think I would have time, twenty seconds can go by so fast,” Tweek sits in the shade of a tree. Shelly took ambitious bites out of the pinecone, knowing her braces would protect her teeth. Firkle pulled out his lighter and burned the pinecone to ashes, and then threw them back like it was nothing. “Firkle really doesn’t get the credit he deserves,” Henrietta itches her twat. “Blue gets a point… and Pink… and Black… five seconds left for Butters,” Randy put incredible pressure on Butters’s fragile pussy. “Oh hamburgers,” Butters muttered under his breath, before stuffing the rest of the pinecone down his throat. “And again everyone manages to get the point, we have Yellow, Blue and Black with three, and Pink with two. Stan, Red, Towelie and Michael, take your places.” Red almost tripped on herself on her way to the table. “And your food is…” Randy swished the last sheet off the table to reveal… “Ewwwww,” Bebe said from the mat when she saw the four pieces of poo on the table. Red gulped. “This isn’t at all how I wanted my secret to come out, but now I have no choice,” Red cries in a thick grove of trees. “Guys… I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Red turned to address her tribe. “Why the fuck not bitch?” Nichole retorted. “I’m ANOREXIC.” Gasps from the crowd. “Oh this bitch,” Nichole shook her head as she weaved leaves together for the roof of the shelter. Wendy piped up. “Red you just need to eat for TEN SECONDS. I believe in you, you need to do it for the tribe!” “I can’t ,” Red burst into tears. “Jesus, Dad,” Stan wasn’t paying attention to all that female shit and was about to pop the shit into his mouth when he saw its face. “This isn’t just a piece of shit, this is Mr. Hankey’s wife.” “Howdy ho!” Autumn Hankey said in Stan’s hand. “I’m seriously Stan, eat the shit lady,” Cartman barked from the mat. “I’m not a murderer Cartman!” Stan lashed back defiantly. Similarly, Michael realized that his piece of shit was Mr. Hankey’s daughter Amber. He sighed. “Obviously Red wasn’t about to eat… well anything, apparently… so I wasn’t really digging the idea of eating some piece of shit’s child. I don’t even want to go to Casa Bonita,” Michael non-conforms while looking for food. “Yeah, honestly, as much as it nauseates me to say so, I think I’m going to conform to you guys on this one,” Michael said as he put Amber down and instead lit a cigarette. Randy looked surprised. “So no point for Yellow, Black, or Pink… that means, with four points, the Blue Tribe wins the trip to Casa Bonita!” Towelie, who nobody was paying attention to, had already long gobbled down Mr. Hankey’s son Simon, not really caring because towels can’t taste anyway. “YOU DID IT TOWELIE!” Tweek jumped up and down in excitement. “Uhh, what?” Towelie said in a daze. Kyle held Cartman back from murdering Stan. “GOD FUCKING DAMNIT STAN…” Cartman screamed in rage. Meanwhile Red returned to her tribe, who all stared her down with varying levels of discomfort, especially Nichole. “Blue Tribe, have fun at Casa Bonita. Yellow and Black, enjoy another night of safety. Pink, I’ll be seeing you at Tribal tonight.” “I know I let my tribe down today, but I think that tribal will probably be okay,” Red fixes her shirt. “It feels better now that everyone knows the truth about me. And besides, Wendy and Bebe are on my side, so even if they want to keep Shelly around for challenges, we can get that ghetto trash Nichole out.” Blue Tribe Day 3 - Reward Trip The Blue Tribe walked into Casa Bonita in awe; the entire restaurant was rented out for them. “Fuck, I’m high,” Towelie said, wandering off toward the Mexican band. Tweek smiles next to a bush. “It’s a brand new day for us! The last day has been the biggest 180 for me, from being on the chopping block to livin’ it up at Casa Bonita. I feel like my tribe is happy, maybe even getting along now that we have this chance to bond.” As Craig and Clyde silently rode the log flume ride together, Tweek sat at the table eating out of a basket of bottomless tamales. Suddenly, he felt a small piece of paper inside, which he pulled out to read. “So I was just sitting there eating tamales, and I found a clue to the hidden immunity idol!” Tweek tucked the clue back in his pocket. “And nobody even saw me take it.” Meanwhile, Craig and Clyde disembarked from their log to check out the treasure cave. “This is so much fun. Too bad Cartman didn’t get to come, this place is his favorite,” Clyde said flatly in an obvious transitional line fed to him by production. Yellow Tribe Day 3 “I fucking hate Stan and Kyle,” Cartman calmly eats some Cheesy Poofs. “Casa Bonita aside, I’m just sick of their hippie faces. Kyle is definitely harboring Mr. Piggy somewhere and I guarantee you 100% Stan is in on it.” Stan and Kyle walk down a trail in the woods. “So after Stan fucked up at the challenge, Cartman made us all split up and look for the pig again until we find it,” Kyle bitterly washes his hat, “probably because he was butthurt about not going to Casa Bonita and needed to jerk off because he got excited about it.” Stan stretched out, his stomach rumbling. “At least if we find this pig we can have some bacon for dinner.” Kyle winced. “Stan, I really don’t want to kill the pig.” Stan grabbed Kyle’s arm. “Kyle, we might just have to kill it. If you have it you should just give it up so that Cartman can stop screaming about it.” “I already told you, I don’t know where the fucking pig is Stan,” Kyle pulled away frustratedly. Meanwhile Kenny sneaks off through some brush far away from the camp, where another small pen had been haphazardly assembled. “I’m gonna eat the pig tonight,” Kenny hungrily rubs his hands together. “Where are you, Mr. Piggy?” Kenny called out, noticing that the pig was nowhere to be found. His call was soon met with loudening oinks, until the pig emerged from the brush holding a carved piece of wood in its mouth. “What the fuck is this?” Kenny said as he grabbed the piece of wood. He read the small note attached. “This is a hidden immunity idol…” Kenny looked to the pig. "That'll do pig, that'll do." “Woohoo!” Kenny throws his idol in the air only for it to land on his head, killing him. Pink Tribe Day 3 Shelly kicked some snow as she sauntered "I'm really mad that those turds couldn't just eat some turds. Now we have to vote a turd off." Before the girls couldn't even sit down and eat some cheesy poofs, Nichole immediately attacked Red with harsh words. "Red, you stupid white bitch. You trying to play by pretending to be anorexic!" Red crying thinking about the traumatic event. "Nichole, said some horrible things about my past, and I am just disgusted!” "Whoa!" Wendy bounced with her tits to try and stop Nichole and Red from getting into an altercation. "Thank the Lord that bimbo jumped in front me so I didn't clock that hoe." Nichole genuflected for the Lord. "Calm down! Red stay at the shelter and Nichole chill at the water hole or whatever." Bebe suggested. "It'll be better if you two separated." "Yeah we shouldn't have to have a monkey in our camp!" Red shrieked. "What did that hoe just say about me!?" Nichole outraged. "I never expected this kind of buffoonery when I moved into South Park." Nichole solemnly reflected on the racism. "I wouldn't be surprised if they voted out Token first on the blue tribe because he was black." "The tension in camp is really off putting." Bebe checked her fingernails. "It's mostly Red, Nichole, and Shelly's fault." "Everyone calm down!" Wendy successfully shut up Red and Nichole. "We have to vote someone out tonight and screaming at each other will only make things worse." "I only wanted to separate them so I could talk to Bebe about the vote." Wendy tapped a finger on her chin. After the scuffle, Bebe and Wendy went off near Stark's Pond to discuss the vote. "I don't know what to do, but it either needs to be Red or Nichole." Wendy frustrated at her fellow tribe mates. "Maybe we can see what happens at tribal and then decide." Bebe said while shrugging her shoulders. Wendy made a stank face, but nodded. Tribal Council Night 3 The five girls walked into tribal with their torches, then dipped them into the fire. “Now you have fire,” Randy said rather irrelevantly. The girls took seats, with Nichole and Red sitting on opposite sides, looking away from each other. “Well it appears as if this tribe has divided FAST,” Randy observed nosily. “Dad, just shut the fuck up, you’re being a nerd,” Shelly said, unamused. “Well Randy,” Wendy answered him ignoring Shelly, “lately we’ve been having some issues with tribe cohesion because we’re all tired and cranky, and none of us want to go home.” Nichole peered at Wendy in disbelief. “What she mean to say is, Red believes in the reinstitution of slavery.” Red’s jaw dropped open all defensively as the shot cut to her with a dramatic drum sound effect. “Nichole, I never said-” Nichole put out a finger to effectively hush Red. “Bitch you can just shut up, we all know what you are.” “Don’t tell me what to do Nichole!” Red said in shock, looking around to her tribemates for support. Nobody said anything for a few seconds but then Bebe felt bad so she piped up. “There isn’t only one person who is causing problems on the tribe, but I think that after this vote, we can all come back together and win again,” Bebe said thoughtfully as the camera panned to Nichole and Shelly. Randy just stared for a second. “...Wow. So Red, what determines where your vote falls tonight?” Clearly rattled, Red spoke carefully. “The person I am voting for is… she has the least class of anyone on the tribe.” Nichole frowned. Randy put his hands down on the podium. “And Wendy, what do you-” “Dad, I’m tired of this, I want to go to bed, just let us vote.” Randy rolled his eyes. “Alright. Bebe, you’re up first.” Bebe walks up to vote pretending to be like a supermodel. She votes. Red votes next. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” She writes down Nichole’s name. Shelly votes vengefully, her vote not revealed. “If we weren’t in this game I would destroy you.” Nichole writes [Red the Racist] “Fuck you white bitch.” Wendy votes all pretentiously with a drawing of a skull next to the name she writes down. Wendy sits back down as Randy booms “I’ll go tally the votes.” “If anyone has an idol, speak up now if you want to play it.” The camera pans to Bebe who doesn’t get up. “Alright, once the votes are read, blah blah, you have to leave. I’ll read the votes.” “First vote.” [Nichole] “Next vote..” [Red the Racist] “That’s one vote Red and one vote for Nichole.” Randy stated obviously [Red] “And the third person voted out of Survivor: South Park is…” [Red ☠] Red quickly stands up and grabs her torch with her red face. “Red, the tribe has spoken.” Randy snuffs her torch. Red turns back to her tribe. “Stupid people, stupid players!” She walks off. Nichole smiled pointedly as the credits music began to play softly. “Well it looks like you’re intent on getting the poison out of your tribe. If you keep infighting, you are sure to fail. Get back to camp,” Randy got in his limousine and rode away. Red sits cross legged in the reclining chair. “My tribe is dead to me. This did not sparkle well with me at all!” She frowns. Next time on… SURVIVOR Kenny approached Butters playfully. “Hey Butters, you wanna go to TGI Friday’s?” Tweek up in a tree looking for the idol. Henrietta bleeding. “What do you mean I can’t have a fucking tampon?” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy stands in the middle of the street. “Last time on SURVIVOR.” “The infamous eating challenge proved to be too challenging for some.” Shots of Bebe, Red, and Stan failing to eat the food. “Things really boiled over at the Pink Tribe where conflict rose from Nichole and Red.” Shots of Red throwing rocks into the ocean and Nichole being all what the hell? “Meanwhile, on the Yellow tribe, the tribe fractured after the pig they won in the reward went missing. Cartman openly suspected Kyle, but the real culprit was Kenny, who also managed to find the tribe’s hidden immunity idol,” shot of Kenny grabbing the idol out of the pig’s mouth. “Seventeen are left… who will be voted out TONIGHT?” Pink Tribe Night 3 The girls all walked back into camp in the dark. Shelly threw her torch down and jumped into her rock bed in exhaustion. The other girls sat at the dying fire. “Tribal tonight got pretty dirty,” Bebe unbuttons the top of her coat revealing a hot rack. “But I feel as if with Red gone, we can work as a team again.” “Thanks for keeping me over that crazy bigot slut, guys,” Nichole said to Wendy and Bebe honestly. Wendy smiled back hollowly. “By getting her target out, I’ve worked Nichole into the palm of my hand,” Wendy’s eyes bug out in the night vision lens. “Now I’ve got her and Bebe both on lock, and if we ever get in trouble I know Nichole will be the first target. I mean come on, she’s a minority.” “After I found out Token was gone, I honestly felt like the heads of my kind were being collected,” Nichole takes out her hair ties to reveal a dramatic afro, “but now I feel safe with my tribe, and I feel like I could go all the way now.” Yellow Tribe Night 3 Kenny reincarnated once again. “Now that I have this idol in my pocket maybe I can get some favors around camp.” Butters couldn’t sleep so he was just awake in the shelter. Kenny approached Butters playfully. “Hey Butters, you wanna go to TGI Friday’s?” “I was real nervous about the game so I couldn’t sleep. This has really screwed up my bedtime schedule.” Butters rubbed his knuckles together. “When Kenny asked me to go somewhere though, I was so excited to get out of our boring camp.” “Heck, TGI Friday’s? What’s the occasion?” Butters asked naively not realizing that TGI Friday’s was not open twenty four hours since he’s retarded. “I’ll tell you when we get there.” Kenny smirked devilishly as he and Butters ventured off. “Oh hamburgers, it’s closed!” Butters frowned, he really wanted some ribs. “I wanted to show you something, but you have to do this for me first.” Kenny slipped off his pants behind the restaurant just incase if any late drivers were out. Butters seemed confused. Kenny guided him. “Get on your knees and suck this dick.” Out of curiosity, Butters obeyed and gave a weak tit blowjob to Kenny, which satisfied his lust, for now. “Thanks, I have the idol.” Kenny pulled up his pants to reach his pocket to show Butters who gasped in response. “I couldn’t believe that Kenny has already found the idol.” Butters shook his head. “I didn’t even care about the idol. I didn’t know Kenny liked me like that and now I just want to know when I could do that again.” Butters sighed with a boner. Black Tribe Day 4 “This was probably the worst morning of my entire life,” Henrietta leaned against a rock bitterly. In the shelter, Firkle woke up nestled in Henrietta’s bosom, it was an accident he often made in the night but he fit in there so well and it was so warm. Then he looked at his feet and screamed. “Suddenly I thought I got hurt,” Firkle animatedly puffs at his cigarette, “like a raccoon bit my foot in the night or something. There was blood EVERYWHERE.” The rest of the goths woke up in alarm. Pete looked at the blood, noticing it was coming from Henrietta. “Henrietta, did you cut yourself or something?” Pete asked rather nosily. Henrietta looked confused for a second, and then she realized what had happened. Henrietta crying while smoking a cigarette. “I can’t believe I got my first period on SURVIVOR.” Michael casually lit a cigarette. “Camera people, aren’t you supposed to be getting a medic right now?” A few minutes later, Nurse Goodly arrived at camp. “Henrietta I’m sorry but we can’t give you anything for this, it would be an unfair advantage, and anyway if I had anything I wouldn’t be able to give it to you because I don’t have arms.” Henrietta bleeding. “What do you mean I can’t have a fucking tampon?” “I’m honestly happier than I’ve ever been in this game, everything that went down this morning was super dark and hopeless,” Michael blew smoke into the camera. Later, Pete and Michael took a gay little walk together. “Honestly, ever since Henrietta’s vagina split open to reveal Hades she’s become a little harder to deal with,” Pete feigned not giving a fuck as he relit a cigarette. “At this point Michael is my most valuable ally,” Pete flicked his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, Pete, honestly, I know you just want me to say it, so I’m just gonna spare the bullshit and say that it’s us against them.” “I refuse to conform to the indirectness and edit pacing of this show,” Michael spat at his cigarette butt in the snow. Immunity Challenge Day 4 “Come on in guys!” The Blue, Black, and Yellow tribes come into the challenge arena. “Get your first look at the new Pink tribe, Red voted out at the last tribal council.” No one really cared because Henrietta was still bleeding from her cunt and Towelie was vomiting from only smoking spliffs for four days and not eating anything besides shit. “Alright, for this challenge as you can see there is a large rope across Stark’s Pond, because we will be playing some Tug o’ War. If you get pulled into the water you’re out and must let go of the rope. We’ll be playing in tournament style. Tribe that gets fourth will go to tribal, the tribe that wins is going to get tacos!” “Tacos! I love me some taco flavored keeses.” Jennifer Lopez screams next to Cartman. “Shh. be quiet Ms. Lopez, I will get those tacos I promise.” Cartman calms his hand down. “Yellow, you have to sit someone out since you have one more.” Butters raises his hand. “That blowjob I gave earlier really tired me out, so I thought it was for the best to sit out.” Butters sat in the grass. “Alright, Butters take a seat on the bench. First teams squaring off are YELLOW against PINK.” The girls quickly huddled before taking their spots. “They’re obviously gonna pick Cartman’s fat ass to anchor their side, so Shelly you need to match his fat ass,” Wendy ordered her tribe around gently. The Yellow tribe predictably and quickly made Cartman be the anchor despite him yelling at Stan and Kyle that he wasn’t fat. “Survivors ready…. GO!” Randy shot his gun, but Kenny yanked at the rope half a second early, sending Bebe flying into Stark’s Pond. Kenny cackles. “Stupid bitch.” “Yellow tribe gets an early lead, Bebe’s already in the water.” Cartman started pulling with all of his strength, easily propelling Wendy and Nichole into the water. Already it was down to Shelly pulling for her tribe. “Shelly is carrying her tribe on her back!” Randy biasly cheers for his daughter. “Oh no you don’t…. turd.” Shelly clenched her braced teeth and pulled Kenny and Kyle into the water. She looked across the water in absolute rage at her brother Stan, who started shitting his pants. But it was too late, for Cartman’s enormously obese ass had already dragged Shelly just too close to the water, and she squawked as she fell in. “Yellow tribe moves on! Blue and Black take your spots on either side of the pond.” “Henrietta might be strong,” Tweek recalled the challenge as he brushed a bird’s nest out of his hair, “but she’s on her period, and Clyde’s also kind of fat.” “I’m so fucked...up right now. I have no idea what’s going on.” Towelie scratches his towel crotch. “I’m so high.” “Survivors ready? Go!” Randy shot another bullet which alerted some people to call the police. Towelie barely even held onto the rope, and still the rest of his tribe immediately pulled Firkle into the water, who flew off the ground screaming. Clyde flexes his arm muscles. “I play basketball.” He says in a monotonous tone again fed to him. Towelie felt bad that Firkle got wet so he jumped into Stark’s Pond after him to dry him off. “Always remember to bring a towel!” “We’re even at three and three.” Randy observed intensely. Henrietta was clenching her teeth through the pain in her groin, but when a spurt of blood gushed down her leg she lost her focus for a second, allowing Pete to get dragged into the pond. Michael, who was getting tired, then let himself get dragged in and immediately lit a cigarette. “We weren’t meant for sports,” Michael pontificates in a speech he’s given many times before. “Do we look like those Britney and Justin wannabe fag jocks to you?” With an unceremonious final tug, Clyde inched Henrietta to where her blood had landed on the ground, and she slid on it into the water. “We did it!” Tweek exclaims happy that he didn’t get wet. Craig sarcastically makes a woo sound. “For the win is Yellow v.s. Blue!” Towelie stumbled out of the pond in confusion to retake his spot as the Yellow tribe returned to the other side. “I need those tacos!” Jennifer Lopez bellowed all through Stark’s Pond. “Cartman shut the fuck up,” Kyle bristled at his tribe mate. “Survivors ready? Go!” Randy repeated himself. Clyde was no match for Cartman’s power of obesity so the Blue tribe was easily all pulled into the water securing Jennifer Lopez’s tacos. “YELLOW WINS THE TACOS AND THE IMMUNITY!” Randy yelled. The Yellow tribe cheered and hollered, and Kenny subtly grabbed Butters ass in the excitement, who blushed. “Blue tribe also wins immunity.” Randy stated less enthused. “Now it’s down to Pink and Black to decide who’s going to tribal council tonight.” “I can not go back to tribal right now.” Nichole worried. “Don’t worry guys, I got this,” Shelly whispered to her tribe before walking over to Henrietta and punching her in the pussy. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Henrietta screamed in pain. “Survivors ready… GO!” Randy shot his gun for a final time. Henrietta was still doubled over in pain and so she could barely hold the rope, only resisting for seconds as Shelly yanked her three tribemates in like nothing, before falling in herself. “PINK WINS IMMUNITY!” Randy yelled. Bebe, Wendy and Nichole pulled together for a group hug in relief, and tried to pull in Shelly, who was having none of it and pushed them all in the pond. “The other girls on my tribe are nerds,” Shelly picked her teeth with a stick. The goths lazily got out of the water, which was considerably redder where Henrietta had fallen. “Black tribe, I got nothin’ for ya,” Randy said when everyone got back to the mats. “I’ll see you at tribal tonight.” Pete adjusting his part. “I’m ready to vote one of these fags out.” Henrietta trying to stop the bleeding with a fish she found in the pond. “This sucks ass, but honestly, I don’t think it’s gonna be me tonight.” Yellow Tribe Day 4 “Today was a major success. I got Jennifer Lopez some tacos and we’re safe for another round.” Cartman boasted. “We are all scarfing down these tacos because we were starving, but then I noticed that there was a note hidden within the tacos.” Stan boringly narrated. “Hey there’s this note.” Stan picked it up and read it to his whole tribe. Butters tried to hide his shocked face by asking “What’s a pace?” “The idol is ten paces away from your watering hole.” Stan read. “Those assholes don’t even know that I have the idol in my parka pocket.” Kenny smirks from behind his hood. “I, Mitch Conner, need to find the idol if I am going to continue to fool these peasants.” Cartman moved his hand, yet rolled his eyes. Blue Tribe Day 4 Tweek looking for the idol in a tree. “I can’t find it anywhere!” Tweek talked to himself. As he jumped down from the tree, he misjudged how high he was, he fell and hit something hard on the ground. “Ow!” “I couldn’t believe my own eyes! I had found the idol!” Tweek jumped up and down. “I knew if I told Craig I could use it to leverage his trust.” Tweek hid the idol in his breast pocket and ran off to a certain blue hatted boy. “Craig!” Tweek stopped breathlessly as Craig watched the clouds. “What.” He moaned. “I found the idol!” Tweek could hardly contain his excitement and he jizzed in his pants. “Tweek told me he found the idol, which I guess means he trusts me or likes me or whatever.” Craig pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just really don’t care.” Black Tribe Day 4 “I have to make sure no funny business is going to happen at tribal like last time.” Firkle slit his wrist. As Firkle dipped into the woods to take a shit, Pete addressed Michael and Henrietta at the fire. “So, I think the obvious vote tonight is Firkle, honestly it’s still pretty nonconformist as the predictable choice today would be to vote out Henrietta because she’s on her period,” Pete explained. Michael and Henrietta nodded, smoking their cigarettes. “I guess it’d be best,” Michael responded hoarsely. Henrietta still holding the fish to her cunt. “I still don’t get why these fags think I’d be willing to vote out Firkle, Pete has no idea what’s happening at tribal tonight if thinks I’m with him.” “This is another hard vote man.” Michael dug his cane into the ground. “I don’t know if I should be loyal to Pete or if I should just vote with the other goths since Henrietta scares me.” Later, Henrietta and Firkle went off to the watering hole together. “It’s almost hard to decide which one would be better anymore.” Firkle said bitterly. “Pete may have voted me out but Michael has become a conformist to his game.” “Tell me about it.” Henrietta agreed rather bratty. “At the worst, we’re looking at a tie situation.” Henrietta washed some of the blood off her hands in the tribe’s drinking water. “I honestly don’t give a fuck, I trust Firkle and I’m not letting him get voted off tonight.” As it started to get darker the goths got tired of strategizing and sat around the fire chain smoking. “So Pete, are you gonna vote for me again?” Firkle asked after a long silence. Pete sighed and took another drag instead of responding. “This game is bleak, man.” Michael whined. “I know it’s probably me tonight,” Firkle yawned. “But I might as well put my vote in there for revenge.” Tribal Council Night 3 The four goths sauntered into tribal council for a second time. “Welcome back!” Randy greeted which was only met with scowls as the Black tribe placed their torches behind them. Randy smiled enthusiastically through the silence. “So Henrietta, how does it feel to have become a woman?” Henrietta stared at him. “Excuse me?” “Michael, does Henrietta’s female disease make her a target tonight?” “Ehh. I mean yeah, blood is everywhere at camp, but to be real I kind of like it,” Michael drawled. “Firkle, you really flopped at the challenge today. Do you think-” “I think I’m about to knock you on the head with this torch and burn you a vagina if you keep talking.” Firkle threatened. “And with that, it’s time to vote,” Randy continued casually. “Firkle, you’re up first.” Firkle slowly made his way up to the voting podium, where he wrote [Peet] in big messy letters. “You made the first move against the goths.” Pete walked up to the podium with a blank expression, and quickly scrawled [Firkle]. “I’m sorry, I guess.” Henrietta left a small trail of blood droplets on her way over to the podium. The camera showed a small stream of blood trailing down the back of her thigh. “It’s time for you to get the fuck out.” Michael walked over to vote, sliding slightly on Henrietta’s sheddings. The camera was angled so that his vote was invisible behind his hair. “I have to do this.” “I’ll go tally the votes,” Randy said as the camera slowly panned over the four goths’ unamused faces. “Once the votes are read, the decision is final. The person voted out will be asked to leave the tribal council area immediately. I’ll read the votes.” He unfolded the first vote. [Peet] Pete rolled his eyes. “Next vote,” Randy continued dramatically. [Firkle] Firkle lit a cigarette, anticipating the result. Randy unfolded the third vote. [Pete]. Pete narrowed his eyes slightly. “That’s two votes Pete, one vote Firkle, one vote left.” Randy took his time picking up and reading the final vote. With a ‘you done did it’ face he turned it around to reveal [Firkle]. “It’s a tie. Two votes Pete, two votes Firkle. This means we’ll be going to a revote, in which Firkle and Pete cannot vote.” Henrietta gasped so hard that more blood squirted out of her. “Henrietta, take the urn back with you.” She returned to the podium with a small frown and wrote down a name. “I don’t really care at this point.” Michael returned to vote again, not saying anything. Randy went to retrieve the urn again. The goths reflected on how long and unnecessary this seemed. “First vote,” Randy dragged out turning around the piece of parchment for about six seconds. [Pete] “And the second and last vote....” Randy froze for a moment before revealing [Firkle]. Henrietta shook her head. “We are completely deadlocked,” Randy tried to inspire emotion into the tribe. “This means we will have to go to the purple rock tiebreaker.” The background music swelled as Firkle blinked, realizing he was actually safe. “Firkle and Pete, you are both immune from being in the tie. That means Henrietta and Michael will be drawing rocks.” Randy brought the back with the rocks over to the seats. “Yellow rock means you’re safe, purple rock means you’re out.” Henrietta’s seat was dripping with blood as she held the rock out in her closed hand in front of her. Michael continued to smoke his cigarette with his other hand. “On three, turn your hand around, open your palms, and reveal,” Randy instructed them. “1, 2, 3, reveal!” Henrietta closed her eyes as she opened her hand, only allowing herself a squint to see what color her rock was as she heard Pete and Firkle gasp on either side of her. She saw that her rock was not yellow or purple, but red. “What the fuck?” she said in surprise. Then she looked at Michael’s rock, which was solidly purple. “Henrietta, your hands are covered in blood, man.” Michael said in amusement as he brought his torch up to Randy. “Michael, you have drawn the incorrect rock, so…” Randy snuffed his torch. “Get the fuck outta here.” Michael peaced silently, leaving the remnants of his tribe behind. “The Black tribe is down to only three,” Randy observed plainly. “You all need to remember that even when it seems as if it’s you against the world, sometimes in the game of Survivor, a little bit of luck is all you need. Now get back to camp.” Michael sat in Marsh’s living room as Sharon shrieked at all the blood on her back porch. “You know that’s how the fucking world works sometimes. I think it's better if I’m not playing the game anymore.” NEXT TIME ON… SURVIVOR Randy pulls sixteen new buffs out of his anus. “It’s time for a switch-up, everyone.” Clyde’s mouth dumbly open in manufactured shock. “This changes everything.” “Now the game really begins,” Wendy cracks her knuckles. Henrietta weakly clutches her gooch. “There’s no chance for me anymore.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy mows his lawn. “Previously on… Survivor.” Shot of Cartman being fat and winning the tug o’ war. “After Cartman used his size to his advantage to win the taco reward, he searched for the idol to secure power over his tribe,” shot of Mitch Connor scheming about the idol. “Little did he know that Kenny, the swing vote, had already found it and used it to pull in Butters,” action shot of Butters sucking Kenny’s dickie. “While Tweek found the idol on the Blue tribe,” shot of Tweek running up to Craig and showing him the idol, “The goths were forced to knock off one of their own, leading them to apathetically tie the vote to a deadlock,” shot of Henrietta and Michael drawing rocks. “And in the end, even though Firkle was deemed week and Pete deemed untrustworthy, it was Michael who drew the wrong rock and was sent home.” “Sixteen are left… who will be voted out TONIGHT?” Randy ran over a cat with the lawnmower. Black Tribe Night 4 The three goths returned to their camp in the dark without speaking. “Tribal tonight came down to pure chance, and I got fucked,” Pete coughs up some phlegm. “I’m pretty much alone here, the bridges are pretty burned.” Pete approached Firkle rather sheepishly. “Firk, man, can I bum a cig?” Firkle made a face. “I’m not even mad at Pete,” Firkle washed himself in Stark’s Pond. “But yeah, he’s definitely gone next of us three.” Henrietta, unable to sleep due to the aches in her vagina, wandered deep into the woods to find some leaves to stuff her panties. Suddenly she found some random guy in the woods. “Hey,” he said to her amicably. “Do you want a hidden immunity idol?” he pulled an idol out of his pocket. Henrietta frowned. “Why are you giving me this?” “I’m just gonna need about tree fitty,” the man said with a glint in his eye. Just then Henrietta realized it wasn’t some random guy, it was the Loch Ness Monster. “What the hell?” Henrietta cowered underneath the giant marine creature. “It was the Loch Ness Monster!” Henrietta battily washed off her vagina fish. “Get away from me, Loch Ness Monster!” Henrietta aimed her cunt at the monster’s eyes and squirted blood at them, blinding him. He dropped the idol, which Henrietta grabbed as she ran away crazily in the night vision lens. “I’m glad I got out with my life, let alone the idol,” Henrietta clutched the idol hopefully, masking its markings with her period blood. Immunity Challenge Day 5 “Come on in guys!” The Yellow, Pink and Blue tribes walked to their mats, which were laid out behind a large line painted in the snow that read ‘Start’. “Get your first new look at the Black tribe, now down to three, Michael voted out at the last tribal council.” The goths filed in begrudgingly. “Poor goths, having to vote out one of their own friends,” Butters sympathetically touched his fingers together. Suddenly, Randy pulls sixteen new buffs out of his anus. “It’s time for a switch-up, everyone.” Tweek gasped, and Nichole’s eyes opened wide. “Everyone drop your buffs, we are dissolving into two tribes of eight.” Clyde’s mouth dumbly open in manufactured shock. “This changes everything.” “Now the game really begins,” Wendy cracks her knuckles. “Ready to find out who the new tribes are?” Randy tempted the castaways. The kids responded with excitement. “All I could think was, thank Moses I’m not stuck with Cartman anymore,” Kyle stretches in a clearing. “Well, you will, right after this immunity challenge.” The castaways all reacted like “Aw, what?” in surprise and confusion. “Why you doin me like this Randy?” Nichole moved her head around as she spoke. “Today, you will be playing in the challenge as individuals, and only two of you can win safety,” Randy held up two fingers with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Those two will be the leaders of the two new tribes, and will take turns picking their tribemates. Then, both tribes will be going to tribal council tonight to vote someone out.” Bebe gasped. “I didn’t want to go to tribal council again so soon,” Bebe looked at the ground. “This is a crucial challenge,” Tweek bugged out by the fire. “The challenge is simple: a race through South Park, ending at the school where Principal Victoria will declare the winners. You may find some obstacles along your way, but keep running, because this is your only chance at immunity tonight - EVERYONE is going to tribal. Take your spots at the line.” Voiceover as Stan as he stands at the starting line “I want to win this so I get get a good tribe with my friends.” VO of Pete. “This is my shot to get myself to a good place in this game.” VO of Towelie as he hits a blunt at the start line “Personally, I don’t see race, I think we live in a post-race society.” Randy pulled out his gun. “Survivors ready…” the camera directly cut to Cartman, Henrietta, and Shelly’s faces. “GO!” he shot his gun, which immediately killed Kenny as the other fifteen castaways started running. “Already Kenny is out of the challenge, but it’s still slim chances!” Randy narrated as he got in his car to follow the race. Bebe pulled ahead of the pack early on, her tits bouncing as she ran. “The others might not think much of me, but I’m really quite athletic,” Bebe does some pull-ups on a branch. Suddenly Bebe was surprised by a horde of sixth graders approaching on bikes. “Look, a girl with bewbs!” the leader called to the rest, and they all animatedly surrounded Bebe, obstructing her path. “Sometimes there are advantages to being not as good looking,” Shelly said rather hollowly in a voiceover as she passed Bebe in the race. Henrietta, who was trailing near the back with Cartman and Firkle, had already started leaking on the racetrack again. “God damnit,” she muttered under her breath as she maneuvered around the sixth graders. “Wh-whoa!” one of the sixth graders yelped as his bike slid on the blood and he fell off, onto the ground. As Firkle ran by, Cartman noticed this development and squinted his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” Cartman cackling. Near the middle of the pack, Stan breathlessly poked Kyle on the shoulder as Craig trailed them closely. “Kyle, you gotta run faster, one of us has to win this.” Before Kyle could respond he tripped over a metal crutch and hit his little Jewish head on the ground. “Oh no!” Clyde said generically from a short distance behind them. “The disabled kids are here!” “Sup fellas,” Jimmy smiled crookedly at the kids as they ran past. “S-s-sorry bout that one, Ky.” Wendy and Tweek led the race at this point, trying to outdo each other. Tweek yawned as he ran, allowing Wendy to pull ahead a little. “It’s been like a week since I had coffee, man,” Tweek hugged himself. “Hey, man, you look really tired, want some coffee?” some random passerby asked him in a California drawl. Tweek couldn’t resist himself, he grabbed the cup without looking and shoved it into his face, that’s when he realized that the guy was a hippie and he had just walked directly into the middle of a hippie drug circle. “Oh Jesus!” Tweek squeaked, immediately getting contact high. He was soon joined by Towelie, who forgot about the race completely and started making friends. “This was the best challenge ever,” Towelie fucked up back at camp. “It’s still anyone’s race,” Randy said from his car. Nichole’s genetics started shining through, and she suddenly sprinted toward the front, challenging Wendy for the lead. “I want my game to be in my own hands,” Nichole enunciated. Wendy looked behind her and was dismayed by how close Nichole was - and the black girl was picking up speed. She could spot Pete and Clyde not too far behind her, as Stan and Kyle started to lose steam. While she wasn’t looking, Wendy tripped over a large frog. “It’s the Mexican Staring Frog of Southern Sri Lanka!” Clyde yelled dully from a distance. Wendy fell on the ground, and Nichole took the lead easily as Pete approached Wendy. “It was like my entire game fell out of my hands and shattered on the sidewalk,” Wendy sat on a large flat rock and gestured with her hand. “I had to do something.” Wendy sneakily ran over to a payphone. “Hello, 9-1-1?” she said into the phone with concern. “I just saw someone steal something from Jim’s Drugs!” Nichole smiled as she kept running as fast as she could; she could see the school close in front of her. “Finally a challenge for me,” Nichole smiling as she stretched her legs after the challenge. Back at the hippie drum circle, Firkle was engaging in conversation with some of the degenerates when he caught something big and fast moving in the corner of his eye. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY, DIRTY HIPPIES,” Cartman screamed mercilessly from the bicycle he had stolen from the 6th grader. Firkle jumped out of the way just in time as Cartman bowled through the drum circle killing several, but in the process Firkle accidentally headbutted Henrietta, causing a pocket of blood in her gooch to burst right in his face. Wendy caught back up to Pete, who was trying uncharacteristically hard. “I was in second place in the race, and I realized for the first time that maybe I could win this hundred dollars,” Pete gathering firewood. A look of dismay began to spread across Wendy’s face as she thought she was too late. She saw Nichole about a hundred feet in front of her, about to reach Principal Victoria at the school. But just then, a cop car arrived spontaneously and Officer Barbrady came out, grabbing hold of Nichole. “Alright, hold it right there, mister,” he told her patronizingly as he cuffed her, “give back whatever you stole from Jim’s Drug.” “I didn’t steal NOTHING! Hands up, don’t shoot!” Nichole struggled in disbelief. Wendy took advantage of Pete getting distracted by the racial profiling to pull back into first place. But just as she approached the finish line, Cartman surged past on his bike, reaching the finish just a second before Wendy. “I’m so glad that I got first in the race instead of saggy tits Wendy,” Cartman eating Cheesy Poofs lazily. “CARTMAN AND WENDY WIN IMMUNITY!” Randy yelled from his open car window. Wendy panted in slight frustration. “Of course I’m glad to be safe, but yeah, I wanted first,” Wendy confidently fixing her hair, “though I guess now they might not see me as a bigger threat.” After negotiating Nichole back from Officer Barbrady and resurrecting Kenny, Randy faced the castaways, now standing between a blue mat and a yellow mat. Randy handed Wendy a yellow buff while handing Cartman a blue buff. “You two are the captains and since Cartman crossed the finish line first, he gets to pick first.” “Damn straight, Stan’s dad, I’m picking Keel.” Cartman smirked. Kyle raised his brows in surprise as he walked over to the blue mat. “Me?!” “I don’t trust anyone to get that sneaky Jew out but myself,” Cartman picked his nose behind some trees. “Alright, Wendy, who are you picking?” Randy continued. “I’m going to pick, Stan.” Wendy grinned. “Stan is probably someone who Cartman wanted since he’s actually kind of strong.” Wendy filed her nails. “Nobody gets between me and my man.” “I’m picking Butters.” Cartman dictated. Butters smiled as he joined his ally on the Blue mat. “I pick…” Wendy pretended to think about it for a second. “Bebe.” Bebe walked over to the yellow mat and gave Wendy a hug. “I’m so happy Wendy and I aren’t getting separated,” Bebe combing her hair. “She’s definitely my closest ally in this game.” “I choose Clyde,” Cartman declared, and Clyde confidently joined his tribe. “Maybe my new tribe will actually want me,” Clyde standing in some bushes dumbly. Wendy looked around at all of the people left, and smirked a little. “Kenny.” The newly reborn boy walked over to the yellow mat. “I had to separate Kenny from Cartman, to cripple him strategically,” Wendy haughtily wrings water out of her hair. Cartman then chose Shelly for her challenge strength and to keep her apart from her brother, after which Wendy picked Tweek for his relative inoffensiveness. Craig looked around at the other unpicked castaways, then at the ground. “I hope neither of them pick me,” Craig evening out his hat. “I choose Craig,” Cartman said, and Craig cursed under his breath as he walked over to the blue mat. The camera panned over the remaining unpicked castaways - the goths, Nichole, and Towelie. Firkle rolling his eyes. “Of course we’re the last ones to be picked, left at the end with the minorities and the towels.” Nichole gaped at Wendy expectantly. Nichole braiding her hair “I just proved how much of an asset I am, and not even my former teammate wants me? This is privilege.” “I know Nichole wanted to be on my tribe but I don’t want people to think the girls are all banding together,” Wendy still drying her hair out, “cuz then they’d pick us off one by one.” “I choose Towelie,” Wendy said uncertainly. Towelie walked over to the wrong mat at first but then Clyde turned him around. Nichole scowled. “Nichole, I can tell you’re about to get up on the cross right now, so I’m just gonna pick you so you can shut up,” Cartman said ignorantly. Nichole huffed but walked over to the blue mat. “So only three left to pick, and who would have guessed,” Randy motioned at Henrietta, Firkle and Pete, “the three lonely goths. Time for you guys to be split up. Your pick, Wendy.” Wendy sized up the three goths, noting Firkle’s miniature size and the blood which still leaked down Henrietta’s leg. “I choose Pete.” Pete jaunted over to the yellow mat in what looked like excitement, to which Firkle rolled his eyes again. “Last pick, Cartman,” Randy said dramatically. “Henrietta or Firkle?” “I guess I’ll take the period chick,” Cartman decided apathetically. “That means Firkle, you will be joining Wendy, Stan, Bebe, Kenny, Tweek, Towelie, and Pete on the new Yellow tribe, while Cartman, Kyle, Butters, Clyde, Shelly, Craig, Nichole, and Henrietta are the new Blue tribe,” Randy listed off the names. “This will be a very busy afternoon for all of you, I’ll see both tribes later at tribal council.” “I don’t think the tribe picking could have gone any better,” Wendy putting on her hat confidently. “Eric chose a strong tribe, I don’t want to vote someone out already,” Butters missing Kenny as he reminisces under a tree. Henrietta clutches her gooch. “There’s no chance for me anymore.” Yellow Tribe Day 5 Wendy proudly led her tribe back to the Yellow tribe’s old camp. “Isn’t there still a pig around here somewhere?” Kenny lowered his eyes shiftily. “We have eight on the tribe now, so we need five to have majority,” Stan did simple math. “So I think we’re good, because I have four friends on the tribe: Wendy, Kenny, Bebe, and Tweek,” the camera cut to each of their faces as he said their names. “I just don’t know the other three that well.” As most of the tribe worked on expanding the shelter, Towelie stretched out his arms. “Welp, time for me to get a little high.” Kenny turned to him, intrigued. “Can I come with you!?” “Sure, Kevin,” Towelie smiled at him stonedly as they walked out of camp. “I’m down to have this towel on our tribe,” Kenny mad high sitting in a tree. This conversation triggered Pete and Firkle’s nicotine addictions so they soon after went on a walk to smoke. “Firkle may not trust me,” Pete voiceover as he walks through the woods with Firkle, “but on this new tribe we might be all we have.” “We have to stick together on the vote tonight,” Pete suggested. Firkle nodded as he exhaled smoke. “Which one should it be?” he asked rather flatly. “Bebe seems to be the biggest conformist out of all of them, so I think we should try to turn the votes against her.” “For all I know, Pete could be playing me,” Firkle crosses his arms bitterly. “He was fine with voting me out before, and I’m supposed to believe he’s looking out for me now?” Back at the camp, Stan, Wendy, Bebe and Tweek took a break from building at the fire. “Can we talk about the vote tonight?” Bebe asked gingerly. “Well we have the four of us and Kenny,” Stan explained gesturing to everyone present. “I’d be fine voting out any of the other three.” Tweek nervously spoke up. “We should probably split up the goths.” “Hmmmm,” Wendy cut him off subtly. “They are friends, yeah, but think of how useless Towelie is in the challenges. Not to mention, he’s probably a wildcard when it comes to voting.” “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like something I want to deal with.” Bebe immediately agreed with her ally. “So Towelie tonight?” Stan looked around at everyone for protest. Tweek frowned but said nothing. “I think I trust Towelie, but they’re right in saying he’s a bit of a wildcard,” Tweek contemplating his new alliance. “I mean he is high like all the time. But then I remember, he helped to save me the night Token went home, so I owe him one.” Kenny and Towelie came back to camp hella blazed, soon after Tweek anxiously pulled Towelie aside as soon as the others were distracted. They walked through the woods. “Towelie, they’re coming after you tonight.” Tweek tried to alert his ally to action. “That’s pretty mean of them.” Towelie frowned slightly. “We need to try to turn some of these votes around, but I don’t want them to realize we are together,” Tweek twiddled his thumbs. “Oh Jesus, this is hard. But maybe we can do it.” “Just tell me who to vote, man.” Towelie replied airily. “Towelie might not be worth saving, he doesn’t even really seem to care,” Tweek breaks up some sticks. “Still, I couldn’t help but keep worrying about it.” Stan and Kenny went to collect some water together. “You down to vote Towelie tonight, Kenny? We have five strong.” Kenny hesitantly nodded. “Okay.” Stan smiling contently. “I’m glad that Cartman isn’t around and I can fully trust Kenny now.” “I don’t really want to vote Towelie out,” Kenny still a little blazed. “He’s a pretty cool guy.” Later, Tweek and Pete worked together to tie together leaves to make a roof for the shelter, but Tweek’s hands kept shaking too hard. “You want a cigarette, man?” Pete held out the new box of cigarettes he stole from a cameraman in offering. “It’s time I started playing this game or whatever,” Pete adjusts his hair. They walked off together and Tweek started smoking the cigarette with hunger, it helped to fill the void of caffeine. “Hey, be honest with me, are you and those poser fags trying to vote me out tonight?” Pete was direct with Tweek. Tweek shook his head. “No, and honestly, I don’t really trust them that much,” he exhaled a large amount of smoke, “Fuck that feels so good.” Pete narrowed his eyes, sensing an opening. “Do you think we could turn the numbers on them?” Tweek thought about it, then shook his head again. “Nah, there’s just too many of them. To be frank they assume the goths are tight, so it might do you good to distance yourself from him.” “Firkle is definitely the one I’d want to work with the most,” Pete carrying water back to camp. “But I need to do what’s best for my game tonight.” “If I can get the goths to turn on each other, I feel like it won’t even look like I flipped, and then me and Towelie can both be safe,” Tweek paced anxiously. Blue Tribe Day 5 Cartman sat on his ass ordering Butters and Clyde around on how to complete the new shelter, as Kyle and Craig went off to try and find food. “Why do they listen to him?” Kyle asked Craig in frustration, Craig didn’t answer. “It sure feels nice to be included.” Clyde smiling. “Clyde’s already one of my pawns,” Cartman puts on his gloves calculatingly. “Of course I have Butters, now I just need to pull in two more to secure the majoritah of the votes.” Henrietta’s bleeding only intensified further as the afternoon went on, and when she went to complain to production again Cartman took the opportunity to pull Nichole and Shelly aside for a meeting on the shore of Stark’s Pond. “Nichole is an angry black woman, and Shelly is overweight and bossy, so naturally they will be easy people to beat later in the game.” Cartman explained brightly. Cartman looked around at Butters, Clyde and the girls. “I’m telling you people, this is all we need to make it all the way.” Nichole nodded enthusiastically. “I know Cartman’s crazy, but he’ll always be a bigger target than me,” Nichole washed her face. “And no way do I want him against me in this game.” “Yipee!” Butters chirped as the alliance was confirmed. “We can vote out anyone we want.” Cartman said alluringly. “So who should it be?” Clyde asked rather extraneously. “The girl on her period is pretty annoying.” Shelly reflected flatly. “Actually, all of these nerds are annoying, but I need to use them to my advantage to win the hundred dollars,” Shelly adjusting her retainer. “Right, okay, so we vote out the goth chick!” Cartman said patronizingly. “That sound like a good idea to everyone?” “Well shucks fellas, I’m fine with doing anything so long as we all stick together.” Butters blushed. “I’m in.” Nichole agreed. “If I go with these peasants and vote their way this round, they’re sure to listen to me and get the Jew out next round.” Cartman rubbed his hands together. Kyle and Craig returned back to camp, where Kyle surmised quickly what had happened. “That fucking fatass.” he dropped the basket of fruit he had gathered. “I had a feeling Cartman only picked me so that he could get me out as soon as he could.” Kyle furiously packs a snowball. Kyle stomped around looking for Cartman and his new alliance, but first ran into Henrietta, who had been refused a tampon yet again. “Hey, Henrietta,” Kyle could barely hide his anger. “Did Cartman just ask you to join an alliance with him?” “No,” Henrietta blinked. “I don’t want to work with that douchebag.” “Well good, because I think he just pulled basically the entire tribe off somewhere and now it’s just us and Craig against everyone else .” “Crossing me today would be a mistake,” Henrietta puts her makeup on calmly. When Cartman and his four allies awkwardly returned to camp, Henrietta wasted no time in calling him out. “Are you assholes serious? Are you really going to listen to that cumrag?” “What ever, bitch,” Cartman popped a Cheesy Poof in his mouth. “I do what I want.” Blood splattered from Henrietta’s pelvis as she advanced on Cartman. “I didn’t sit in these woods for five nights to get voted out by someone who plays with dolls.” “Henrietta wasn’t pulling any punches with Cartman, it was fun to watch,” Kyle dumped dirt out of his shoes. “And it probably saved me from being a target tonight.” “This stupid emo cunt is playing with the bull.” Cartman gesticulated wildly. “Now here come the horns!” “I’m so done with this bullshit,” Henrietta licking some of the blood off of her hands. “If I didn’t want to see these poser faggots get voted out so badly, I would just quit now.” Tribal Council - Yellow Tribe Night 5 The Yellow tribe filed into the tribal council area first, which was newly renovated with eight seats. “I’m sure a lot has gone down today strategically.” Randy addressed the new tribe. “Wendy, how do you feel about the tribe that you picked?” “I couldn’t be happier, Randy.” Wendy replied a little over the top. “We have a really strong group of people, and I think as soon as we can fight for our safety we’ll be 100% golden.” “Stan, is this tribe as unified as Wendy is making it out to be?” “Don’t twist my girlfriend’s words, Dad.” Stan replied with annoyance. “She never said the tribe was unified, and we’re not. Some of us are friends, and some of us just aren’t.” A sharp sound effect played as the camera cut to a shot of Pete, Firkle and Towelie sitting on one end of the area. “Pete, are you one of the friends Stan is talking about?” Pete frowned. “The only friend they see me as having is Firkle, and that’s just because we’re both goths. But really, I’m a free agent on this tribe.” “Bebe, what are the criteria for your vote tonight?” “Well, Randy,” Bebe paused for a second. “We have to vote out the weakest from our tribe, it’s obvious that we can’t keep dragging along someone who’s too high to even understand what’s going on.” “Look at all the pretty colors.” Towelie not even paying the slightest attention to Randy as he stared into the fire and was completely tuned out from the conversation. “Tweek, do you agree with what Bebe is saying?” Randy tried to stir up some chaos. “Well, Bebe’s definitely right, but things don’t have to be so cut and dry in the game of survivor.” Tweek was careful to not disagree with his alliance. “More than one person on this tribe is weak.” he looked over toward Firkle. “Well with that, it’s time to vote. Stan, you’re up first.” Stan made his way over to the urn and wrote [Towelie]. “Sorry man, but this isn’t a game for towels.” Bebe itches her tit as she writes down a name. Towelie wandered over to the voting booth, and scribbled a name across the parchment. Firkle gets up on a little step stool to reach the urn. [Bebe] “You’re a nazi conformist cheerleader.” Wendy strides over with a small smirk on her face, and neatly writes [Towelie] with a little heart at the end. Tweek twitches on his way over to the urn, and anxiously writes down a name, looking behind him compulsively to make sure nobody could see what he wrote. “I hope to god this works again.” Pete walks over to the urn with a blank expression and writes a name down. “Just trying to get by, sorry.” Kenny walks over and laughs a little as he writes a name down, the camera showing his rounded ass. “Good game.” Kenny sat back down. “I’ll go tally the votes,” Randy went to collect the urn. Tweek started to shiver, as Wendy sat poised behind him with her legs crossed. “If anyone has a hidden immunity idol and you want to play it, now would be the time to do so.” The camera lingered on Tweek, who just kept shivering. Nobody stood up. “Once the votes are read, the decision is final, and the person voted out will be asked to leave the tribal council area immediately. I’ll read the votes.” Randy unfolded the first vote. [Towelie] with the little heart. “Next vote,” Randy turned around the parchment to reveal [Bebe]. “That’s one vote Towelie, one vote Bebe.” Randy pulled out the next vote, which was another for [Towelie]. “That’s two votes Towelie.” He continued getting more intense. [Towelie]. “That’s three votes Towelie.” “Next vote,” Randy slowly revealed [Firkle]. Wendy chuckled. “Three votes Towelie, one vote Bebe, one vote Firkle.” Randy pulled out the next vote with a tone of urgency: [Firkle]. Firkle narrowed his eyes slightly. “Two votes Firkle, three for Towelie, one for Bebe, two votes left.” He unfolded the seventh vote: [Firkle]. Bebe frowned and Stan looked away. “We’re tied, three votes Towelie, three votes Firkle, one vote Bebe, one vote left.” Firkle’s mouth hung open as Towelie hung on the edge of his seat, almost too high to stay on. Randy looked at the last vote. “Fifth person voted out of Survivor: South Park…” he turned around the vote: [Firkle]. “Well fuck,” Firkle tossed his cigarette and brought his torch over to Randy as Wendy looked around at her tribe mates desperately. Tweek beamed. “Firkle, the tribe has spoken,” Randy snuffed his torch. Firkle unceremoniously exited the game into the Marshes’ home. “The rest of you get back to camp, you have made it to the final fourteen. We have one more tribal council to get through here tonight.” “Well that fucking sucked. I don’t really know what happened and I don’t really care.” Firkle relit a cigarette as he sat on the recliner not giving a fuck that Sharon was yelling about the smoke in her house. Tribal Council - Blue Tribe Night 5 Cartman led his new tribe into tribal council. Randy immediately accosted them with questions as they sat down. “Nichole, do you feel more or less vulnerable on this tribe than on your old tribe?” “I definitely feel safer now,” Nichole answered happily. “Before I felt I was being targeted for my race. Now I feel as if everyone’s on a level playing field.” “Except for those of us who are menstruating,” Henrietta interjected bitterly. “Shut the fuck up emo bitch, nobody wants to hear about it!” Cartman snapped at Henrietta. Henrietta glared at Cartman. “I’m not emo.” “What Henrietta means to say is,” Kyle tried to save the tribal council from getting derailed. “Cartman has most of the tribe sheeping him, except me and Henrietta and maybe Craig, so we’re obviously the next gone.” The camera cut to a shot of Craig, who was looking away from everything. “That’s a pretty wide statement,” Randy patronized Kyle, “so you’re saying Cartman has pulled Butters, Clyde, Shelly and Nichole into his fold?” “Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” Kyle responded indignantly. “Butters, do you feel like you are a sheep to Cartman?” Butters folded his hands. “Well, uh, no, of course not. Eric’s my friend, and obviously I’m gonna listen to him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to me.” Henrietta shook her head in bewilderment. “Now Cartman, some of your tribe seems to have some very strong feelings about you.” Randy said with a chuckle, “and yet you have immunity from the challenge today.” “Yeah, Randy, so they can all suck my balls.” Cartman looked away from Kyle and Henrietta. “So let me get this straight Henrietta,” Randy tried to drag out the drama. “You want Cartman out, but you can’t vote him tonight. So what’s the plan for you?” “Get out the one who is the most conformist to his plans.” Henrietta declared accompanied by a squirt of blood. Kyle nodded. “It sounds like you guys are ready to vote,” Randy said with excitement. “Shelly, you’re up first.” Shelly walked over to the urn quickly with a look of frustration and wrote [Henrietta]. “I get my period sometimes too, boo fucking hoo.” Butters walked up to the urn and drew a cute little picture next to the name he wrote. Craig made his way over to vote, thought about it, and wrote a name down quickly before sighing deeply. Cartman strutted pompously to the urn, and wrote [Henrietta] in big letters. “Bye, bitch.” Henrietta clenched her vagina on her way over to the voting stand, and wrote a name down with a small smile. “You made the wrong choice.” Clyde made his way to the urn to vote. “Five strong” he said as he wrote down a name. Nichole was up to vote next, she drew some little droplets on her parchment around the name [Henrietta]. “Keep bleeding, if you want to call me a sheep.” Kyle went up to vote last, frowning as he wrote a name down. “I’m sorry, but you’re definitely safe anyway.” “I’ll go tally the votes,” Randy retrieved the urn yet again. “If anyone has a hidden immunity idol and you want to play it-” “Hold that thought, Randy,” Henrietta suddenly stood up, pulling her blood-soaked idol out of her panties. Nichole’s mouth dropped open, and Kyle gasped in surprise. “It’s not that easy to get rid of me,” she pointedly looked at Cartman as she brought her idol over to Randy. After blotting it off with a washcloth, Randy announced “This…. is a hidden immunity idol. Any votes cast for Henrietta tonight will not count. I’ll read the votes.” Cartman’s look of confidence had quickly changed to one of absolute rage. “First vote,” Randy said, with a telling look on his face. [Henrietta]. “Does not count.” He pulled out the second vote. [Henrietta]. “Does not count.” The music in the background started to crescendo as Randy revealed the third vote [Henrietta], the fourth vote [Henrietta], and the fifth vote also [Henrietta]. “Three votes left and no votes for anybody count yet.” Kyle looked like he was about to jump out of his seat in excitement as Craig kept a poker face, while Cartman’s alliance of five braced themselves for the next vote. Randy slowly revealed the next vote: [Butters]. “Oh, hamburgers!” Butters muttered in terror. Clyde exhaled in relief. Randy slowly pulled out the seventh vote. “Sixth person voted out of Survivor: South Park…. [Butters]. That’s two and tonight, that’s enough.” Nichole sympathetically put a hand on Butters’ shoulder as he started to tear up. Cartman looked as if he was trying very hard not to rip the entire tribal council area apart. Butters walked over to Randy with his torch. “Butters, the tribe has spoken.” Randy snuffed Butters’ torch as he finally began to let the tears flow down his face. Butters turned back to look at his tribe as the music swelled emotionally. “Good luck, fellas, and no hard feelings.” As he walked away his tribe could hear him choke out “Loo loo loo, I’ve got some apples…” “Well that was clearly a complete upheaval. Only question is, when the idol gets played, will the one who played it just be the next out the door?” The camera dramatically cut to a close-up of Henrietta. “Get back to camp.” Butters just sat in the elimination recliner sobbing. NEXT T IME ON… SURVIVOR. Cartman and Henrietta screaming at each other at camp. Clyde moving his arms robotically. “It’s like World War III at camp.” Wendy knits her brow with determination. “They think they can outplay me… they thought wrong.” Kyle grabs Craig’s arm. “It’s now or never.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy fishing in Starks Pond. “Previously on… SURVIVOR.” Shot of Randy pulling the new buffs out of his anus. “A surprise tribe swap shook up everyone’s strategy. Wendy and Cartman won individual immunity and the power to choose the new tribes, and both soon formed majority alliances to dominate their tribes.” Laid over shots of Stan’s alliance at the fire and Cartman’s Starks Pond five. “At the double tribal council, both alliances’ plans were foiled, after Tweek rallied the outsiders on his tribe to save his ally Towelie and instead target weak link Firkle,” shot of Firkle’s torch getting snuffed, “and when Cartman’s alliance targeted Henrietta, she blindsided them with an idol, targeting Cartman’s closest ally Butters to weaken his influence,” shot of Butters’ torch getting snuffed. “Fourteen are left… who will be voted out TONIGHT?” Yellow Tribe Night 5 “I don’t know what happened at tribal tonight, I thought we had five votes strong,” Bebe staring crazily into the night vision lens. The seven remaining Yellow tribe members awkwardly sat at the dying fire. Stan was wearing a stank face but didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he finally piped up. “Whoever lied to us… just… screw you.” Towelie wandered off for a midnight toke, Pete went to go shit, and Kenny stealthily dipped away to jerk off. “The vote made me really pissed off…” Stan tearing up grass angrily. “At least it wasn’t one of the alliance gone, but we had the numbers safely so I don’t know why they messed up the plan.” “Which one of you guys flipped?” Wendy said in an intense hushed voice when she realized it was just the four of them. “I promise it wasn’t me,” Stan said submissively. “I know it wasn’t you Stan,” Wendy eyed Bebe and Tweek, the latter of whom was twitching uncontrollably. “I know whoever did this thinks they outmaneuvered me, but they didn’t,” Wendy’s eye twitching. “Nobody’s bested me until they’ve gotten me voted out.” “What? I voted for Towelie, do you really think I lied to you Wendy?” Bebe upset at Wendy’s suspicion. “It was revealing to me that Wendy thought that I flipped,” Bebe laying down sassily. “Shows how much she trusts me.” “Hold on,” Wendy realized something, “I already had figured out that Kenny must have saved Towelie because they smoke weed together now. If anyone else would want to keep Towelie it’s Tweek, he was on Towelie’s tribe,” she squinted her eyes at Tweek accusatively. “I was so scared of being found out I completely froze up,” Tweek reflecting on the confrontation. “Not cool Tweek,” Stan frowned at Tweek judgmentally. “We came to you wanting to help keep you safe,” Wendy whispered threateningly. “How can we trust you now?” “You’re not the queen of this game Wendy,” Tweek finally snapped at Wendy’s pretentious ass, “I don’t need your alliance.” “I really fucked up,” Tweek taps his foot nervously. “They’ll probably come after me next.” Wendy knits her brow with determination. “They think they can outplay me… they thought wrong.” Blue Tribe Night 5 Immediately after returning to camp Henrietta and Cartman let loose as each other as the rest of the tribe awkwardly watched. “I only wish you didn’t have that fucking necklace so it could have been your gay ass instead!” Henrietta screamed in menstrual rage. “Whatever bitch, we all fuckin know you’re going next anyway!” Cartman barked at her. "Everyone screaming at camp really upset my stomach." Clyde clutched his torso. "It's only a game." “You’re all idiots, four people can’t win the game and you guys know Cartman is just gonna line you up for the slaughter.” Henrietta angrily took a long drag. “Being called a sheep last night really upset me,” Nichole sitting on a small ledge. “But honestly I feel like Henrietta might be right, Cartman’s a douchebag and I don’t know if I should trust him.” “Well I’m sorry that like, I am a social person and made alliances and you, um, didn’t!” Cartman got all condescending with Henrietta. “It doesn’t matter, cumrag, because as long as they're not retarded,” Henrietta spat, “one of them will realize that they’re gonna get voted out after me, Kyle and Craig.” Kyle nodded silently from the shelter, not wanting to get involved with the yelling but feeling better about himself for supporting Henrietta’s cause. “I know if I just stay quiet enough and let Henrietta keep blowing up, she’ll still be the target instead of me,” Kyle sneakily crouches by some bushes, “and maybe with enough luck we can get one of Cartman’s alliance to flip.” “The goth chick is annoying as fuck but I don’t care about getting her out anymore,” Cartman reclines on a flat rock eating Cheesy Poofs, “now that my allies trust me I can get them to finally blindside Keel.” Immunity Challenge Day 6 “Come on in guys!” The fourteen remaining castaways filed onto their mats, once again in front of Starks Pond. “Last night Firkle and Butters were voted out at the double tribal council,” Randy explained smirking at the two bitterly divided tribes. “How is camp life with your new tribes?” Clyde moving his arms robotically. “It’s like World War III at camp.” Henrietta rolled her eyes at him. “The goths are a dying breed,” Henrietta picking at her fingernails. “Looks like Firkle and Pete are having as much luck over there as I am here.” “The other tribe must have gone even crazier than ours,” Stan sitting on a rock, “I’m pretty shocked to see Butters gone.” “Ready to get to your next immunity challenge?” Everyone knew they had no choice. “This challenge has two parts. In the first part, five of your tribe will dive down into Starks Pond one at a time to retrieve five bags of puzzle pieces. Once all five bags are recovered, the other two will use them to put together a puzzle. There’s also a reward for the winning tribe. They will win a blanket. Decide your spots.” Cartman immediately took command of his tribe not giving a fuck about the blanket, “Nichole and goth chick should do the puzzle because they’re girls. Girls are good at puzzles.” Shelly frowned at him. “What about me?” Cartman brushed her off. “Well I’m guessing honey tits over here probably isn’t great in the water, and we all know Nichole should stay out of there.” Nichole made a stank face, offended. Meanwhile on the Yellow mat, Wendy predictably insisted on doing the puzzle. “Want me to do it with you Wendy? I’m pretty good at puzzles,” Tweek offered. Wendy glared at him. “I think it should be me and Stan, we work well as a team.” Stan nodded sheepishly. Randy pulled out his gun as Stan, Wendy, Nichole and Henrietta took their places near the puzzle boards on shore and the rest lined up at the starting line. “Survivors ready... “ Randy shot his gun. “GO!” Bebe and Clyde were the first two to dive in for their tribes. Unfortunately Bebe’s new implants made her tits so dense that they dragged her straight to the floor of the pond, where they crashed into the earth and cracked a massive fissure, out of which a hoard of Crab People emerged. “Looks like Bebe’s already having a little trouble down there,” Randy said with some worry. Kenny heroically jumped into the water to save Bebe’s life, but he was intercepted by the advancing Crab People, one of whom snipped off his head with its claws. Meanwhile Clyde, who was a safe distance away, had already untied his tribe’s first bag from the floor of the pond and swam back to the surface. “Clyde back with his first bag of puzzle pieces!” Randy dramatically announced. “I knew I’d get my tribe an early lead,” beads of water from the challenge glisten on Clyde’s body. “I’m a strong swimmer.” Shelly dove in for the Blue tribe, while under the water, Bebe flashed her tits to the Crab People in desperation, hoping they would save her from drowning. Her approach was well received as one of them snipped her bag of puzzle pieces from its tether and swung Bebe onto his back before ascending to the surface. “Bebe back with her tribe’s first bag of puzzle pieces!” A second later, Shelly appeared on the surface, breathing heavily. “Shelly has her second bag of puzzle pieces! Go, both tribes!” Pete and Craig dove in, both now having to maneuver around the Crab People, who at this point had started chanting all like “Craaab People, Craaab People.” While Pete struggled in dodging them, in fear their claws would snip at his long hair, Craig didn’t give a fuck and swam directly past, earning an even greater lead. “Didn’t the Crab People just end up being gay guys anyway?” Craig stares at the camera. “Craig has Blue’s third bag of puzzle pieces!” Nichole cheered from the puzzle board as Craig tossed his bag ashore. Cartman dove into the water, flailing his arms madly to swim. “I might want the fags on my tribe out pretty bad, but I wouldn’t throw a challenge to get them out,” Cartman buttoning up his jacket. “It’s worth it to see the look on Wendy Testaburger’s face when she loses.” Cartman’s fat allowed him to quickly sink to the bottom of the pond and he grabbed his bag of puzzle pieces as Pete emerged on the shore. Pete gasping desperately at his tribe “There are Crab People in that water!” Towelie side eyes Pete, “I thought you weren’t a pussy, emo kid.” Towelie dashed into the water in an attempt to catch up to Cartman but quickly realized he was just floating on the surface because he was a towel. “Looks like Towelie’s having a bit of trouble!” Randy laughing at Towelie. Tweek realized he was the last one left on his tribe so he was like “Ahh!” and then ran into the water. Tweek francically flailed as he grabbed the Yellow tribe’s third bag of puzzle pieces. Henrietta smoked as Nichole cheered “We can do this Blue tribe!” Cartman emerged from the water gasping for breath and dog paddling breathlessly, struggling to the shore. “Guys you will not believe this, but I think I found Native Americans under the water!” Kyle confidently ran into the pond, taking a big dramatic breath before diving under. “I knew that I should be the last one to go for our tribe in case we needed to come back from behind, because I can hold my breath underwater for a really long time,” Kyle bragging near some rocks behind the camp. Tweek returned to the shore exhausted. “Tweek back with the Yellow tribe’s third bag of puzzle pieces!” Tweek looked around to see that there was still two bags to be grabbed yet, Towelie was floating in the pond high and Kenny was still dead. He looked at Pete being a pussy and Bebe stretching out her tits like she was all done, so he knew he needed to bite the bullet and go back in. “Fuck.” Tweek bellyflopped back in for the last two bags as Kyle’s head popped up from the pond. “Kyle back with his tribe’s last bag!” Kyle tossed the bag onto the shore. “GO, Henrietta and Nichole!” As Henrietta and Nichole untied the bags Nichole whispered “Real titty you want to throw this shit?” Henrietta poured the pieces out. “Maybe. Who do you want to target?” “The fatass.” Nichole dramatically threw a puzzle piece into the pond. “Oops!” “What the fuck bitch,” Cartman barked from the mat, “I thought girls were good at puzzles!” Nichole turned around and glared at him. “I guess not black girls,” Cartman said defensively. “Fuck you!” Nichole flashed a titty, just one. As the debacle of Nichole and Cartman was going on, Tweek finally got his shit together and got the last two bags for Towelie and Kenny, who had reincarnated, as Tweek handed the last bag to Stan and Wendy. “Go, Stan and Wendy!” Randy screamed. Stan and Wendy swiftly and systematically picked up and untied the bags of puzzle pieces. “The Blue tribe had a huge lead on us,” Wendy dramatically adjusting her hat, “so it was time for me and Stan to work as a team.” Tweek and Bebe cheered for their tribe mates as Stan and Wendy quickly got to work on the puzzle. Wendy and Stan being gay together gave them a boost especially since Henrietta and NIchole were not trying. Stan and Wendy successfully figured out the puzzle in record time. “We did it!” Wendy screamed as she jumped into Stan’s arms. The music swelled with hope and emotion as Stan held Wendy. Randy handed the tribal immunity idol to Towelie who immediately fell over because it was heavier than him. “Yellow tribe, you’re safe from the vote tonight. Blue, I’ll be seeing you later at tribal council.” “I feel like I just proved my worth in this game,” Stan excited in the woods. “On the spot I decided to throw the challenge because I realized I was wrong to align with Cartman’s fat bigot ass,” Nichole filing her nails. “I hope we can get him out tonight.” Yellow Tribe Day 6 The Yellow tribe returned to their camp in high spirits. “Good job at the puzzle today Wendy!” Tweek kissed up to Wendy by the fire desperately as Bebe boiled some water. “Thanks!” Wendy smiled egotistically. “We’re all in such a good mood I feel like we can forget that Tweek is a lying sack of shit,” Wendy running her fingers through her hair. Meanwhile Towelie wandered off with the new blanket the tribe had acquired from the challenge. “This blanket’s fucking gorgeous,” Towelie caressing the blanket, “I didn’t come on this show looking for love but looks like it found me.” A shot of Towelie in the distance fucking the blanket. Blue Tribe Day 6 The tension was thick as the Blue tribe filed back into camp. The silence was agonizing until Cartman finally broke it. “Well Nichole, next time, okay, tell us you can’t read before you volunteer for the mental challenge.” “I can read, you fat fuck,” Nichole retorted. “I’m so sick of being treated as a second class citizen on my tribe.” Nichole spit on the ground. Later Nichole snuck off with Henrietta as the latter smoked a cigarette. “I was serious at the challenge, I’m ready to flip on Cartman,” Nichole whispered dramatically. “Cool, we can probably get Kyle on board too.” Henrietta replied nonchalantly, slowly blowing out rings of smoke. “Yesterday it was five against three and the odds seemed impossible,” Henrietta lazily washing her face, “but now Butters is gone and Nichole is jumping ship, so it actually looks like we have the majority.” As Cartman non-discreetly assembled his alliance to plot, Henrietta, Craig and Kyle remained at the fire. “So Nichole wants Cartman out,” Henrietta informed the other outsiders casually, “would you guys be down?” Kyle got really excited. “Really? That’s great!” “I’ve had to live with this fatass for six days and I’m fucking done,” Kyle defiantly adjusting the pouch of gold on his necklace. Kyle animatedly leaned into the fire to address Craig and Henrietta in a low voice. “So tonight, it’s Cartman. Don’t act happy today, act like one of us is going, but at tribal, we all have to write down Cartman. Okay?” Cartman is at the shore of Stark’s Pond with Clyde, Nichole, and Shelly. “Alright tonight we strike, the jew is going down.” Clyde nodded his head, Shelly shrugged her shoulders as Nichole smiled devilishly. Nichole tossing her hair. “Cartman thinks he’s running the show but really, I’m the swing vote tonight.” Tribal Council Night 6 The Blue tribe took their seats at tribal council, with Kyle and Cartman pointedly sitting on opposite sides. “Let’s get into this, Nichole at the challenge there seemed to be some animosity, why?” Randy jumped onto any semblance of drama. “We have some racists on my tribe...AGAIN.” Nichole rolled her neck. “And who are you talking about?” Nichole glared over at Cartman, who just looked away innocently. “Cartman, do you want to respond to this accusation?” “I didn’t say anything racist, I actually suggested she do the puzzle in the name of, you know, affirmative action and whatever, and it’s not my fault she sucked at it,” Cartman spewed out defensively. “Henrietta, you and Nichole blew a huge lead at the puzzle, do you think you might be a target for this?” “Not really,” Henrietta sighed with annoyance. “Kyle, any thoughts going into the vote tonight?” Kyle made crazy eyes. “All I can say is, this might be the last opportunity to make a move, don’t miss your chance.” The camera panned over Henrietta, Nichole, Craig, and finally Cartman who rolled his eyes at Kyle’s Jew antics. “Alright. Shelly, how are you doing?” Randy wriggled his eyebrows at his daughter. “I’m fine, dad, god!” Shelly huffed. “It’s time to vote, Clyde, you’re up first.” Clyde walked up to the podium writing a name down. “This is a business move.” He places his ballot in the box. Nichole goes next, she writes [CARTMAN] “Fuck you, I hope you get diabetes.” Henrietta voted next and she fingered her pussy to get some blood and wrote a name down with her blood. Shelly made her way up to the podium and cast her vote. “I always thought you were annoying anyway.” Craig voted in a particularly boring way. Kyle triumphs to the voting podium [Cartman] “You’ve made my life hell since day 1! Forget you go home, goodbye!” Cartman walked up boisterously writing Kyle’s name down. “Check mate kike!” Randy went to go tally the vote as the tribe sat in fevered anticipation. “If anyone has the hidden immunity idol and wants to play it now would be the time to do so.” The camera shows the whole tribe just sitting there. “Alright, once the votes are read the decision is final, the person voted out will have to leave the tribal council area immediately. I’ll read the votes,” Randy took the top off of the urn to get the first vote. “First vote… [Kyle].” “Second vote… [Kyle]. That’s two votes Kyle.” Kyle started sweating as Randy took out the next vote. “Next vote… [Kyle]. Three votes Kyle.” Cartman started grinning. “Next vote… [Cartman],” Randy revealed as Cartman chuckled. “[Cartman]. That’s three votes Kyle, two votes Cartman.” Nichole bit her lip. “Next vote… [CARTMAN]. We’re tied, three votes Kyle, three votes Cartman, one vote left.” The camera showed shots of Cartman, Henrietta, Nichole, Craig, and finally Kyle as Randy slowly lifted up the final vote. “Last vote… and the seventh person voted out…… [Kyle].” Nichole’s mouth fell open as Kyle whipped his head around, trying to find someone to glare at. Cartman laughed hysterically as Kyle brought his torch over to Randy. “Kyle… the tribe has spoken.” Randy snuffed Kyle’s torch and he left without looking back, trying to ignore Cartman taunting him like “neh neh neh neh neh neh” behind him slowly fading away. Nichole looked at Henrietta nervously. “Very close vote tonight and a very revealing tribal council, this tribe is clearly split into two factions and in survivor it is unite or die. Get back to camp,” Randy wistfully told the castaways. Kyle sat on the vote off recliner. “Just wow, I’m shocked. I really can’t be too angry because now I get to shower. I just hope they take down Cartman soon. I would be livid if he won the whole thing.” NEXT TIME ON… SURVIVOR. Nichole frowning. “I jumped on a sinking ship.” Towelie sharing a blunt with the blanket. “Now that I’m playing for two in this game there’s a lot more I need to take into account.” Stan and Wendy making out as Bebe watches from afar holding a tit in loneliness. “I may have shot myself in the foot on this one!” Tweek croaking hysterically. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy plowing into Sharon, he looks up at the camera. “PREVIOUSLY ON SURVIVOR!” Sharon sighs. “After a hot and saucy victory, the Yellow tribe was in good spirits,” shot to Towelie sexually violating his blanket. “On the Blue Tribe tensions ran high,” a clip of Cartman and Henrietta screaming is shown. “This lead to tribe’s division even further during the immunity challenge.” Nichole’s tit makes a cameo. “At Tribal Council, the feud between Kyle and Cartman came to an end.” A shot of Kyle’s torch being snuffed. “Thirteen are left...Who will be voted out tonight?!” Randy climaxes into Sharon. Blue Tribe Night 6 “The vote had to be for Kyle tonight, Cartman is going to run himself into the ground. I know that, everyone knows that.” Craig enumerates before continuing, “I wanted them to vote me out before, but I think it’ll be easier to just win the game.” Cartman’s tits are shrinking as he’s been starving, “Yes! Fuck Yes! That’s what Kyle gets for stealing Mr. Piggy away from me.” Henrietta throws her bag down in the poorly made shelter, she freely lets her vaginal leakage hit the floor. “What the hell, did you have to do that?” Clyde said in an annoyed tone. Henrietta ignores Clyde and takes her lighter and just throws it onto the shelter, burning it down. “What the fuck! BITCH YOU’RE BURNING OUR CHEESY POOFS!” Cartman screams. Henrietta nonchalantly walks off into the woods, “Whatever, burn it down, burn it down.” Clyde and Cartman struggle to calm down the flames, Craig stands there all gay not doing anything. “I think Henrietta tried killing me tonight.” Clyde said in a somber tone against the stars. “This is so frustrating, like you think you have the game going your way, then you get to tribal and BAM! Egg on your face.” Sighing, Nichole hangs her head down. She frowns, “I jumped on a sinking ship. Now Henrietta burned down the camp and my chances to win the game.” Yellow Tribe Night 6 Low ethnic moaning in the soundtrack over a shot of the moon high in the sky. Nightcam shot view of the seven members of the yellow tribe huddled under their 5-person-sized shelter. Bebe holding her tits for warmth the following morning. “Last night was the coldest night yet, and seeing as the shelter is too small anyway, it was time for some cuddling.” Two bright green dots emerge in the night cam view, and Kenny’s voice emerges “What the hell?” “That slut Bebe was trying to touch my junk,” Kenny massaging his scrotum. Stan’s gay-ass pussy diplomatic voice awkwardly broke the silence of everyone on the tribe being awake. “Okay so, can someone move back or something, because I can feel someone’s dick hitting my back.” Towelie coughs, “I’m sorry man, Blanket over here is just really horny, you know?” Towelie sharing a blunt with the blanket, “Now that I’m playing for two in this game, there’s a lot more I need to take into account.” Pete bitterly smoking a cigarette with raccoon eyes. “So we’ve been on this tribe for a few nights now, but I guess we can’t figure out a sleeping configuration where Bebe’s tits aren’t in someone’s face. Go figure.” After a long pregnant pause, Tweek gives up on sleeping and gets up to go for a walk. The tribe dissipate from under the shelter, with only Bebe remaining there trying to sleep. She watched Stan and Wendy making out from afar holding a tit in loneliness. Bebe with mascara running down her face. “It just sucks not having someone by your side out here. My vagina is just so dry.” Immunity Challenge Day 7 “Yellow tribe, come on in!” Randy shouts, glowing from his recent diddling of his wife. They nonchalantly trot in looking ragged as shit. Bebe’s hair is greasy as fuck as she grins at the camera. “Get your first look at the new Blue tribe, Kyle voted out at the last tribal council.” Cartman leads the tribe. “What?” Stan gasps in a faggy manner. “This is crazy, I can not trust the other tribe.” Stan shook his head and ball his fists in the snow. “Are you ready to get to today’s challenge?” Most of the remaining kids just shrugged their shoulders. “In Stark’s Pond, there’s a balance beam, one member from each tribe will be trying to balance and shove off the opposite tribe member into the wata. If you stay on the beam, you earn a point for your tribe, first tribe to four points will win immunity and a great reward.” Randy smiled as he shit his britches. “You’ll be going to City Wok!” “I love the shitty chicken and the shitty beef!” Clyde read off a cue card. “Yellow tribe, you have one extra member, who are you sitting out?” The tribe unanimously all states “Towelie.” Towelie jumps up, “Yay!” “Alright, we’ll take our positions and you’ll have to decide the order you go in.” Randy dully explained as each tribe huddled together. “So the fat people need to go first, that way we can get three points easy, bam, boom.” Nichole gesticulated. “So Cartman first, then Henrietta, then Shelly.” “Fuck you too...turd.” Shelly mumbles. “I am not FAT, okay?” Cartman complained, “It doesn’t matter, we’re going to destroy their shitty team, am I right guys?” “Yeah!” Clyde says all optimistically while Henrietta poops a little as some blood runs down her leg. On the yellow tribe, Stan thought that it was his duty to delegate positions since he was white and male. “Okay, so I’ll go first then Kenny, Bebe, Wendy, Pete, and Tweek will go last.” Pete nods since Stan actually remembered his name. “So who should go if it ties three to three?” Wendy asks in a smug way. “I guess, me?” Stan puffed out his chest. Tweek bugs out as a pigeon flies too close. “Everyone take your spots!” Dramatic shot change to the balance beam with Cartman and Stan on either side. “We have Cartman taking on Stan.” “You’re going down, gay boy!” Cartman crouched as Randy shot a bullet from his gun. Cartman waddles on the balance beam to get closer to Stan, but is crippled due to his weight. Stan easily advances and shoves Cartman into the pond. “That’s my boy! Yellow leads one to zero!” Camera cuts to the next round. “We have Henrietta taking on Kenny. Survivors ready…” Randy shoots his gun again. Tweek yells from the little boats they keep the castaways on between rounds. “Don’t slip on your cunt juice, fatty,” Kenny chortled. Henrietta remained still as a statue. “Henrietta hasn’t moved an inch,” Randy commented patronizingly. “I was always really good at balancing from ballet practice,” Henrietta showing off her first position. Just then, a large canadian goose that had been killed by Randy’s gunshot, fell from the heavens and struck Kenny in the head, killing him. His dead body slumps overs into the water. “Henrietta wins a point! We are even one, one!” A gay window movie maker transition with stars and shit fly by and Bebe and Shelly are now on the beam. “I’m nervous, but I think I can beat her, it’s like David and Goliath!” Bebe ties her hair back emphasizing her large breasts. “Survivors ready? GO!” Randy screams like a dickhole. “Ahhh!” Shelly charges and grunts, Bebe defensively stands in her place, Shelly collides with her boobs and bounces into the water. “Did I win?” Bebe blinks waiting for a response. “Yellow takes the lead, two to one, are you okay Shelly?” Randy takes concern for his daughter. “I’m fine, Jesus!” Shelly pouts like a wet pussy. Another quick jump cut, “Next is Wendy vs. Nichole!” They both unceremoniously get ready to take each down. “Go!” Randy shouts! They both tip toe their way across, however Nichole trips and almost falls off. “In my head, I’m just like fall, bitch, fall! I knew I had to concentrate though,” Wendy sits on stump looking a bit more deranged due to starvation. Before letting Nichole rise to her feet, Wendy pushes her in. “Yellow leads three to one! Blue really needs a miracle here!” Randy says overlaid on a shot of the Blue tribe mostly looking hella pissed. “Next up we have Clyde taking on Pete,” Randy voiceover as Pete lights a cigarette up on the balance beam. “Survivors ready…” Pete groaned as the gunshot went off. “I know challenges aren’t my strong point but we only needed one more point, and I had it in the bag,” Pete smirking. Clyde awkwardly shifts his weight to try to karate-chop Pete off the balance beam, but Pete blows some smoke in his eyes causing him to wildly miscalculate his swing, and he fell right the fuck off. “My eyes really hurt,” Clyde moans as he rubs his eyes. “I think I have pinkeye!” “Yellow tribe wins immunity and some shitty wok!” The Yellow tribe erupts into cheers and embrace as Clyde starts crying because he lost the challenge. “Blue tribe, you don’t win anything but a reservation with ME at tribal council tonight, I’ll see you then.” Yellow Tribe Day 7 “It’s really great to support local business, and I love the City Fried Pork!” Wendy affably chewing on some fake-looking meat. The Yellow tribe filed into the City Wok, which had mostly been completely reserved for them, other than a table in the corner where some asian lady was singing. “Wait a second, that’s internet personality Wing!” Stan cried out with excitement. Wing giggled asianly. “Welcome to Shitty Wok, take ya orda prees,” the guy behind the counter said. The yellow tribe filled their plates with shitty buffet style food and quickly divided into groups to eat. Stan and Wendy sit next together in a booth, they share lo mein and do that gay lady and the tramp thing with the noodles. Tweek anxiously passes by them hoping for some positive interaction but receives only glares in return. He goes to sit in the corner alone. “I really think I shot myself in the foot on this one,” Tweek rubbing his stomach from indigestion. “At this point I think my best bet would be to lay low and hope that someone else annoys them more than I do.” Bebe then arrives with a plate full of only white rice, “Hey guys!” Wendy gives Bebe a fake ass smile. “Wanna sit with us?” “Bebe’s got everyone a little annoyed after the sleeping situation last night, but I think this reward was a good healing experience for everyone,” Wendy grinning condescendingly. “I really liked this reward, I don’t normally get to eat that much, you know, it’s really not that easy coming from the poor side of town.” Sad ass music swells as Kenny continues speaking, “Eating bad chinese food really lifted my spirits.” “I want chang sauce! Where’s the chang sauce?” Towelie screams. “Give me some fucking CHANG sauce.” “That P.F. Chang’s had some really poor service,” Towelie smokes a bowl while intertwined with Blanket. “Fortune cookie fo everyone,” the racist caricature passed out fortune cookies to each of the yellow tribe. “An auspicious wind brought you to this point,” Wendy read her fortune to Stan slowly and contemplatively. “What does yours say?” “You’re not supposed to show people, then it doesn’t come tru,” Stan said retardedly. Stan opening his fortune in the bathroom. “The two tribes will become one when eleven castaways remain.” Stan fervently counting on his fingers. “Oh my god, let me read my fortune!” Bebe cracks her cookie with fucked up nails, she quietly reads to herself, “Only two will face the jury.” She lightly gasps. “What was yours Bebe?” Wendy, the nosy cunt. “Oh nothing, you know, it won’t come tru!” She laughs it off. “I can’t read, help!” Tweek takes Towelie’s fortune and reads it to him, “Your love life is quickly picking up, catch that wave?” Tweek says with uncertainty, before he cracks open his own. “Mine told me that allegiance is the most important thing in this game,” Tweek yanking at his hair. “It’s like the cookie knew that everyone hates me!” Pete sitting by himself for the reward opens his cookie and doesn’t eat it. “My fortune told me that all idols have been found,” Pete feverishly smokes two cigarettes at once, “Like fuck, I don’t have an idol.” Kenny gobbles down his fortune cookie, pulling the little tab of paper out of his mouth. “Death surrounds him.” Kenny looks up at the flourescent ceiling light. Blue Tribe Day 7 “I’m honestly kind of glad we lost this one,” Cartman scratching his anus with a cheesy poof dust-covered hand. “There are too many sandy vaginas on this tribe coming after me and we need to cut some dead weight,” laid over foreboding shots of Nichole and Henrietta as the tribe walks back to camp. The tribe returns to the ashen remains of their camp. “So, anyone wanna come get some water with me?” Nichole looked around with gusto. “My head is definitely on the chopping block tonight, Henrietta was my only ally left and she’s too loose of a cannon for me to trust her,” Nichole wincing as she stretches her arms, “Now I just have to hope for a crack in the alliance. After Nichole and Craig left for the well, Cartman side-eyed Henrietta venomously. “Don’t you have to go douche or something?” Henrietta scowled and left to smoke a cigarette. Cartman turned to Clyde and Shelly, who remained at the remains of the fire pit. “So which bitch tonight guys?” “I’m fine either way,” Clyde blurted out diffidently. Shelly nodded stoically. “At this point, I think it’s best to just stick with this alliance,” Shelly taking off her gloves to reveal a vicious hangnail. “The numbers are here, and my name has yet to be in anyone’s mouth despite the fact that I’m a huge physical threat.” “I think it is time to play the game,” Craig motions after slight prodding from production. Jump cut to Nichole and Craig carrying water, “So what’s the deal?” Nichole asks in a polite tone to please Craig’s white sensibilities. “I know you hate Cartman, but I think there’s bigger fish to fry,” Craig nasally responds, as the camera shows Shelly lounging on the snow, soaking up some sunshine. Meanwhile back at camp, Shelly prods Cartman. “You know, those turds have been gone for a while. What if they’re looking for the hidden immunity turd?” “And that’s when it hit me,” Cartman shaking his head slowly. “Sometimes this game can be a little tricky. I thought it was over just because we got the Jew out.” When Craig and Nichole return to camp, Clyde is the only one there, sitting impatiently. “Uh, hey Craig, wanna come talk for a sec?” “Nichole was stifling my game, don’t cockblock me bro,” Clyde tying some leaves together. “This is a crucial vote and sometimes you just need to talk to someone, like we’re going to tribal in ten minutes!” Nichole finds Henrietta smoking her cig on the shore of the pond. “What’s your problem?” Nichole asked flatly. Henrietta flicked her cigarette. “What’s yours?” “I honestly could not care less if it’s me tonight,” Henrietta throwing a pinecone tampon in the river. Clyde frantically led Craig to behind a large patch of trees, where Cartman and Shelly were waiting. “Okay, here’s how we all have to vote,” Cartman took the stage, “we need to put two votes on fat goth cunt and two on monkey queen, in case one of them ends up pulling out the idol.” Shelly counting on her fingers. Shot closes in on Craig’s kinda big nose. Tribal Council Night 7 The Blue tribe sauntered in after an exhausting day of not eating and strategizing. “So Blue tribe, you’ve been out here a whole week! How are you doing?” Randy cheesily smiled at them, Henrietta took the opportunity to self harm. “Mr. Marsh, Henrietta burned down our camp since she’s fucking crazy!” Cartman raved, stupidly jumping at the bit. “I was making a statement, you cock fart.” Henrietta didn’t even look at Cartman. “Really??” Cartman barked incredulously. “Well when it’s obvious that you’re lower down on the totem pole than the black chick, I would think you would think twice about making statements!” Ominous shot of Nichole with the bell sound effect. “Yeah, you’re out of line,” Clyde laughed nervously. “Skank!” “Shelly, how do you weigh in on all of this?” Randy smiling paternally. “Dad, I’m trying to lay low, shut up!” Shelly grinded her teeth in anticipation for this vote. “Who here feels like they might be in danger tonight?” Randy asked casually. After a moment, only Nichole and Henrietta raised their hands, with the latter spilling blood onto her hair. “Nichole, you’ve been called a lot of things the last few tribals,” Randy explained over a shot of Nichole looking outraged. “Black. In danger. Do you think you have a chance to claw your way back up?” “I mean this is what the game of Survivor is all about,” Nichole moving her head back and forth. “If I’m too black for these people, I guess it’s my time to go.” “It’s time to vote, Shelly, you’re up first.” Shelly angrily writes down, [Henrietta] “You burnt the picture of my long distance boyfriend Amir, fuck you, I hope you hemorrhage.” Craig votes and simply smirks like a little shit. Cartman jaunts over to the urn and scrawls, [Niggole], “Checkmate, nig!” Henrietta bleeds on her way up, she sighs and signs a name. Nichole skips her way to the voting booth, “If this is the last vote I get to cast, at least I tried, that’s what matters. Mua das a kiss.” A shot of Clyde’s sweet ass as he votes in a boring manner. “I’m sorry.” “I’ll go tally the votes,” the music built over close-up shots of Nichole, Henrietta and Craig. “If anyone has the immunity idol and wants to play it, now is the time to do so.” The camera pans over the tribe and no one stands up, Cartman claps like a seal. Once the votes are read, the decision is final, and the person voted out needs to GTFO. “First vote…” [Niggole] Randy chuckles, earning a middle finger from Nichole. “Next vote…” [Henrietta] She rolls her eyes. “Next vote…” Randy repeats, [Clyde] Clyde gasps, “This changes everything!” “One vote, Nichole, Henrietta, and Clyde. Three votes left.” [Nichole] A shot of Nichole looking expectant and ready to get up. [Clyde] He gasps again, “Two votes Clyde, two votes Nichole, one vote Henrietta, one vote left.” “And the eighth person voted out of Survivor: South Park…” The camera douchily hovers over Nichole, Clyde, and Henrietta. …[Clyde]. “The tribe has spoken.” Clyde’s mouth drops open as he wordlessly grabs his torch. A close-up shot of Cartman’s face showed the flames reflecting in his eyes. The hashtag blindside comes up in the corner of the screen. “Clyde… the tribe has spoken,” Randy snuffs Clyde’s torch. “Time for you to go.” Clyde tries to say something, but garbled his words and walks off into the Marsh house. “Allegiance is the most important thing in this game,” Randy tells the blue tribe cryptically as the camera shows shots of a perturbed Shelly and Craig looking apathetic. “Head back to camp.” Clyde eating a stick of butter. “I didn’t even think they were voting for me tonight. I don’t wanna go home, I hate black people!” NEXT TIME ON SURVIVOR SOUTH PARK Shelly picking out her teeth with a stick. “That turd lied to me.” Wendy wildly making gesticulations at the fire. “It’s a straight shot for us!” “Nothing in this game could make me happy,” Henrietta moans as blood flows from her wrist and cooch. “She’s just too much temptation, man,” laid over a shot of Towelie jerking off under the water. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy waiting in line at the Whole Foods, he punches an old lady in the back of the head, “LAST TIME ON SURVIVOR!” Shot of Wendy and Bebe giving each other fake ass smiles in the City Wok. “While the Yellow tribe chowed down, the shrinking Blue tribe was put to the vote once again,” shot of Clyde running like a faggot to lead Craig to the alliance meeting. “Cartman tried to call the shots, but after a botched vote split plan, outsiders Nichole and Henrietta were both spared as Clyde was blindsided.” “Twelve are left, who will be voted out TONIGHT?” Camera zooms out to reveal the produce section. Blue Tribe Night 7 Low, ominous music plays as the night cam shows the five remaining Blue tribe members filing back into camp. “Honestly I thought it was gonna be me last night,” Nichole’s eyes popping out of her head. “I guess Craig was actually serious about making a move, but honestly Cartman’s gonna be so mad now I’ll probably be up on a cross by the morning.” Camera shows Nichole, Henrietta and Craig awkwardly sitting around camp as Cartman and Shelly scowl at a distance. “So we blindsided another one of the fatass’s peons last night, and for some reason we haven’t heard a word out of him yet,” Henrietta ruffling her hair. “He’s just hiding in the shadows with that dyke chick.” “I’m seriously going to murder all of them,” Cartman bitching to Shelly. “Wanna restrain Michelle Obama for me as I hold goth bitch’s face in the fire?” “I know,” Shelly cracking her knuckles. “But we’re gonna have to at least try to get those turds back if we want a chance at staying in this game. Craig, first of all.” The camera cuts to Craig sitting in the shelter. “That turd lied to me,” Shelly picking out her teeth with a stick. “But meewwwwm,” Cartman displeased. Cartman barely keeping it under a lid. “I swear to fucking christ I am going to kill one of these fags very soon. The only reason my hands aren’t around the welfare queen’s neck is because it would endanger my chance of the hundred dollars.” Cartman finally loses his patience and runs over and grabs Henrietta’s lighter when she pulls it out to light up, and lights the new camp they had built over the last day on fire. “FUCK YOU CRAIG, FUCK YOU EMO CUNT, FUCK YOU GHETTO SLUT, ESPECIALLY FUCK YOU CRAIG.” Shelly facepalms in the distance dismayed as Nichole pats some embers out of her hair, shrieking. “At this point, I think I’m the only one Eric trusts,” Shelly chewing on her retainer. “It’s gonna take some turd-handling to save him next vote.” “I guess we might have the numbers now, but nothing in this game could make me happy,” Henrietta moans as blood flows from her wrist and cooch. Thunder cracks and rain starts fallin’ on the Blue shelter, putting out the rest of the dying flames. “Lame,” Craig whines as he rolls onto his stomach. The tribe all gathers under the new, new half-assed shelter roof in uncomfortable silence as Cartman sheepishly eats cheesy poofs. “I’m not at all surprised that Cartman’s too afraid to say shit now that his numbers are gone,” Nichole holding a knee indignantly. “He can burn down the camp ten more times, doesn’t change the fact his obese racist ass is next gone.” “This tribe isn’t that bad, I don’t think,” Craig reclining in some daisies. Yellow Tribe Day 8 Uplifting shot of Stan, Wendy and Kenny chopping coconuts on the beach after all of the Yellow tribe’s food is dampened in the storm. Kenny misses and chops his foot off, provoking laughs from all. “So there was a big storm last night, but the tribe overall still seems to be in good spirits,” Stan wringing out his poofball hat. “We just keep winning and it’s hard not to feel like, you know, one of us is winning the hundred dollars.” “Hey Pete, can I ask you something?” Bebe and Pete sitting in the dilapidated shelter. “Whatever,” He sighs. “Do you have a girlfriend in South Park? Or no?” Her hair waves in the strong wind. “Not really, dating seems pretty conformist.” Pete begins to smoke another cigarette. “I really think that I like the weird emo kid, he just seems so deep, you know?” Bebe giggled making her titties jiggle, “It helps to flirt a little in this game, you have to cover ALL of your bases.” Kenny, reincarnated after bleeding out through his ankle, walks past Bebe, laughing like a hyena with a nip basically out, to get his water bottle from the shelter. “So I happen to overhear Bebe throwing herself at the goth kid,” Kenny contemplative in the Tom’s Rhinoplasty parking lot. “It got me to thinking, the goth kid is kinda hot.” Towelie finally sobers up enough to release himself from the clothesline upon which he was drying from last night’s storm, and walks off for a smoke with Kenny, hiding his towel boner. Towelie and Kenny split off to their smoking cave, “Man, when is this camping trip going to end? I wanna go home, I really miss Washcloth, and the little blonde girl is really turning me the fuck on.” Towelie whips out his luxury item, and tokes the fuck up. “I don’t know man, but I think I need to make another stop at TGI Friday’s.” Kenny whips out his dickie. “So last night during the storm, I had a wicked dream that the immunity challenge had something to do about throwing balls or something?” Tweek rocks back and forth next to a frozen Stark’s Pond, “Like I don’t know if it means something or if I’m just going crazy. AH!” Immunity Challenge Day 8 “Come on in guys!” Randy’s voice echoes of the South Park Recreation Center. The castaways file in all wearing gym clothes that they received from treemail. “Yellow tribe, get your first look at the new Blue tribe, Clyde voted out at the last tribal council.” “Wow.” Bebe shutters in her jersey. “Today’s challenge, we’ll be playing some bball. Each team will have three shooters and two defenders. The first tribe to score five baskets will win immunity and reward.” Quick shot to Wendy and her hungry eyes, Randy continues, “The winning tribe will get to spend the night… in my house. My wife Sharon, will cook your meal, you'll be able to shower and will get to sleep in a bed. Shot of varied castaway reactions being like “wow!” “I need to win this, I don't want some dumb turd to touch my sheets.” Shelly stated looking hella ripped in her gym clothes. “Yellow tribe, you have two extra members and you can’t sit the Towel out in back to back challenges.” Randy said all patronizingly. The yellow tribe huddled together like titty, “I think the women should sit out.” Kenny spit, which only earned him a glare from Wendy. “Can I sit out?” Tweek gaily raises his hand, “Same.” Pete lit up a cigarette. “Okay, Dad, we're sitting out Tweek and Pete,” Stan reports for the tribe unprovoked. Randy nods proudly. An aerial transitional shot breaks into the beginning of the challenge with sound effect of ethnic-sounding man groaning in a prolonged fashion like “OOOOAHHHH”. “For Yellow, we have Stan, Bebe, and Towelie shooting, For Blue, Cartman, Nichole, and Shelly are shooting.” “The defenders for Yellow are Wendy and Kenny, while Craig and Henrietta are defending for Blue.” Randy raises his arm to shoot his gun, “Survivors ready? Go!” Nichole immediately grabs a basketball and scores from the three point line. “I don't know what came over me, I just knew that we could not go back to tribal.” Nichole panted while she drank some Dasani water. Bebe throws a ball and misses. Henrietta is busy bleeding on the basketball court making it especially difficult for any of the defenders to block. Shelly throws her ball a bit aggressively, but still scores a point. It grazes Wendy’s pancake titty upon its descent but she don’t even feel nothing in those. “Blue is up by two!” Randy gaily shouted. Towelie is too busy tying up his arm to shoot up heroin. “Ugh!” Stan groans as a basketball hits Henrietta in the vagina. “I feel warm,” Towelie with a needle sticking out of his arm. Bebe anxiously grabs the ball that bounced off of Henrietta’s cunt and tosses it for dear life at the basket. “Bebe scores for Yellow, we’re at TWO… ONE!” Cartman goes for a ball, and stumbles over one of Towelie’s used syringes. Nichole shoots another basket and is all like, “Swish! Boom!” Wendy narrows her eyes. “I swear to God, black lives matter, but I just had to best Nichole in this challenge. It became a personal matter.” Wendy with fire in her eyes. Stan tries to toss a ball, and he’s way short. “Jesus.” “Work on your stance Stan,” Randy from the sidelines, as Henrietta works to block a comatose Towelie in the foreground. “Don’t help him, Dad god!” Shelly throws a ball at Randy. Cartman is already sweating as he weakly throws a ball. “Basketball is simply for black people,” Cartman’s fat arms jiggle as he shoves some more Cheesy Poofs in his face. Shelly punches Cartman out of the way to get another ball. She easily runs and scores the fourth point for Blue. Bebe shoots again for Yellow, but is blocked by Craig. Meanwhile Nichole had already reclaimed a ball for Blue, Wendy puts on her meanest game face and prepares to intercept her but Nichole weaves away and instead goes for the weak point defended by Kenny, she jumps off of his face and slam dunks the ball. Kenny falls and his neck and a loud audible crack is heard. “NICHOLE WINS FOR BLUE TRIBE!” Blue tribe all erupt into orgasmic celebration. Nichole gets all cute and jumps on Craig’s shoulders as Kenny dies. “Sounds like you were thirsty for this win, Blue tribe,” Randy attempting to relate with the children. Nichole nods emphatically and takes the tribal immunity idol, which is just a shoebox from him. “No tribal for you tonight, and you win the night in my house!” A weaker set of “woo!”s is heard. “I was pretty excited to fuck with Stan’s stuff,” Cartman sitting next to Grandpa Marsh in the kitchen. “Wait! Agh! Towelie isn’t getting up!” Tweek screams as the camera pans to Towelie seizing in the middle of the basketball court. Randy gasps, “We need medical!” Nurse Gollum and the dead fetus on her head rush out with some Narcan. “We're stabilizing him!” She screams as Bebe starts crying. Time passes and Towelie doesn't die in the middle of the challenge. “Okay, Blue tribe you'll be heading to my house. Yellow tribe, even after Towelie’s near death experience, you still have tribal council tonight.” Randy sends off the tribes and they fuck off. Blue Tribe - Reward Trip Day 8 A sweet shot of Craig’s ass is shown as the Blue tribe shares a shower. “Yess. Yessss.” Cartman moans. “So we won the challenge today which was pretty kewl,” Cartman sheepishly rubbing his nose. “I don’t think I was in any danger of going anyway because that faggot Craig doesn’t have any balls.” Craig passes Cartman a bar of soap. “Thanks Craig,” Cartman replies affably. “I'm actually glad we won today, I finally got a fucking tampon.” Henrietta explains as she shoves an extra tampon up her nose. Swelling victorious music plays as Sharon serves food to the blue tribe sitting at the dining table. “I made your favorite Shelly!” Shelly was so hungry she started eating with her hands. “It was really special for me to have that moment experiencing another culture,” laid over Nichole getting glared at by Grandpa Marsh, sitting next to her. The music switches to the strategy brewing track as Cartman pensively puts a hand to his mashed potato-covered mouth. “So guys,” he started definitively, alerting the tribe to attention. “First of all, I want to apologize for burning down the camp earlier,” he coughed, “This was a big win, and I think it’s given us the momentum we need. But while we may have won today, and we’re knocking them down to six, there’s only five of us,” “I’m glad you can count, fatass,” Nichole interrupted. “Fuck off bitch,” Cartman deadpanned calmly. “The five of us are gonna get picked off one by one if we don’t stick together, especially once the two tribes become one, so solidarity is key.” “Yeah,” Craig nodded. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Nichole giving Cartman racially-offended crazy eyes. “Do you want a chance at the hundred dollars or not?” Shelly muffled through bites of food. “Is it worth my integrity?” Henrietta muttered cuttingly as she picked bits of chicken out of her teeth. “It’s twisted enough that this fat fuck thinks I’m gonna work with him, but the fact that Craig is willing to?” Nichole twitching. “No way in hell am I staying loyal to these snitch ass bitches, but I guess I need to keep my options open.” “Just think about it guys, we need to kick Wendy Testaburger in the balls,” Cartman indignant. Nichole looking down at her plate. “I guess you’re right. Five strong guys.” Craig nodded, a little more emphatically this time. Henrietta made a vaguely affirmative gesture from across the table, she was busy trying to smuggle Sharon’s home-cooked peas into her cleavage. “Five strawng!” Cartman barked. “I would rather watch HGTV with my bitch mom than put my trust in Eric Cartman, but I’m not really in a position to turn down an alliance,” Henrietta with her hair up drying in a towel wrap. “No way in hell would I take these losers to the final fi,” Cartman shoving chicken pot pie in his mouth in the Marshes’ bathroom. “But as long as they’re stupid enough to do what I say, they’ll make valuable assets.” Yellow Tribe Day 8 “Almost dying at the challenge really woke me up, stay woke.” Towelie smoked a bowl desperately. Wendy had pretentiously brought the tribe around their flaccid fire for a meeting. “So after the Towel gets back from his confessional, we need to have an intervention.” Stan furiously nodded. “It's oppressive to tell the Towel what to do, if he wants to die sooner, more power to him.” Pete flipped his bangs in a gay manner. “But obviously I wasn’t gonna speak up against this rah-rah-rah tribe.” Towelie stumbled back into camp. “Where am I?” He notices all of the cold glances directed at him. Bebe piped up, having a slight nip slip, “Towelie, we have something to say to you.” “Yeah, we all love you Towelie.” Wendy said gaily. “So what? Eat my butt.” Towelie slurred. “It was really hard watching Towelie destroy himself, I've been his ally and friend since day one.” Tweek wiped a tear away, “I just want him to be okay.” “Towelie, if you're continue your lifestyle, you're gonna freaking die!” Stan exclaimed. “Good! You don't know shit! It's hard being a towel.” Towelie slumps over like a towel. “You don’t fucking know me, and also, fuck off!” He storms away, ending the intervention abruptly. An ominously low tone plays over the lingering shot of the other tribemates standing around the fire. “Uhh… let’s build some sand castles guys!” Bebe suggests awkwardly. Wendy, Stan and Tweek all agree fervently. “Morale is getting pretty low at camp, and we were all obviously worried about Towelie, so I decided to bring some fun to the tribe, to lift our spirits.” laid over shots of Bebe laughing enthusiastically as she plays with the sand. Pete pipes up. “I can go get some water to, like, make wet sand.” Bebe grins and her tits jiggle in agreement. “After all, I can still look forward to talking to Pete, I feel like he’s my best friend here now that Wendy’s busy with dicke,” Bebe stretching showing her fine ass. After Tweek leaves with Pete to help with the water, Stan turns to his alliance, “I think it’s obvious who has to go tonight,” with a twinge of manufactured sadness. Wendy passes him a shovel. “It’s really too bad, Tweek deserved to go next,” ominous drum bang as we quickly jump to a shot of Tweek smiling innocently as he carries water buckets, “but we need to do this for Towelie’s own sake.” Kenny shrugs nonchalantly. “Definitely,” Bebe standing up from her completed sand castle. “I think I’m gonna try to go check on him.” “I love Towelie, but I think the stress of the game is bringing out his self-destructive tendencies,” Stan with his arms crossed. “It’s depressing to be around and I want to send him to a better place.” Meanwhile, Pete and Tweek stand at the water fountain in the school, filling their buckets. “We need to keep the Towel in.” Pete blandly states. “Yeah, but how do we get the votes?” Tweek anxious. “We should just try whatever we can, we only need one more of them to vote with us,” Pete straining to lift his heavy bucket. “It’s a pretty foregone conclusion that Towelie is the vote tonight,” Pete patching a cigarette with a sticky-note he stole from Principal Victoria’s office, “but he’s probably the one vote Tweek and I can count on going forward. I can’t afford to spit in the face of the four of them in power,” cut to the alliance of four building sand castles, “but if I can save the Towel and keep their trust, I’m in a golden position.” “Who should I tell Towelie to vote for?” Tweek asks as the boys exit the school. “Wendy?” “No. We can’t conform to that feminazi’s game, that’s the first thing she’d expect,” Pete shuts him down dryly. “Then who?” The camera shows ominous shots of each of the sand castle crew. Pete paused for a moment. “Remember back at the last vote, how Towelie was supposed to go but Kenny switched his vote? Maybe if we tell the conformists that they’ll cast him out like they did to you,” Pete reflects brutally. Meanwhile, outside of camp, Bebe found a sad and lonely Towelie hiding behind some bushes. “Are you okay, Towelie?” Bebe bounces her titties while crouching to talk to him. Towelie turns to face her, revealing his quickly hardening towel dick. “Oh, uh, hey.” “Do you need to talk to someone, or do you want to be left alone?” Bebe’s tits at Towelie’s eye level. “Uhhh….” Towelie stuttered, still a bit on heroin. “Can I see that,” he sputters through a dry mouth. “What?” Towelie suddenly sprung up, thrusting his face in between Bebe’s sweet tits. “This is nice.” Bebe started to scream. “No! Please stop!” But then Towelie covered her mouth with some of his towel body, undoing her top with his other towel hand as his throbbing erection pulsated against Bebe’s tiny thigh. “Don’t worry, pretty princess.” Towelie sticks a finger in Bebe’s tight virgin (?) pussy, evoking a muffled squeal, and pushes her over behind the bushes as he begins to have his way with her. Meanwhile, Stan finally finished his sand castle. “What do you think, Wendy?” Wendy smiled insincerely, placating Stan. “Wendy and I are the strongest alliance in this game,” Stan sitting on a rock casually. “We have this system where, I talk to Kenny, she talks to Bebe, and that way we’ll always have the numbers. Chinese God or whatever told me that we merge into one team after this vote, so as long as we stick together we’ll have a good shot.” Tweek and Pete return to camp. “Wh-where’d everyone go?” Tweek dripping with paranoia. “I don’t know. Kenny went to whiz,” Wendy replied flatly. “We were just building sand castles.” Pete started feeling himself. “So do you guys have any thoughts on the vote tonight?” Wendy and Stan looked at each other. “Honestly, I think it’s gotta be the towel,” Wendy leveled with the two outsiders. “And is everyone down for that? Is Kenny?” Pete kept pressing. “Yeah,” Stan answered abruptly with a hint of annoyance. “Why wouldn’t he be?” Meanwhile in the woods, Kenny is peeing on some moss when he catches a glimpse of Towelie stumbling in the distance. “Hey Towelie!” He got close enough to see the tears streaming down Towelie’s face, and moments later Towelie was throwing himself in Kenny’s arms. “I fucked up, man,” Towelie wetting Kenny’s parka with his and Bebe’s collective juices. “I’m sorry Towelie, I know it’s rough being on the outs,” Kenny innocently patting Towelie on the back. “I just -- I really needed that hundred dollars, man. I’m broke and I owe someone money, man, I didn’t think I could fuck up this bad, I just wanted to get a little high first,” Towelie pouring his heart out to Kenny. “I really felt bad for Towelie, I grew up in the wrong part of town and I can tell how much he means it when he says he needs that money,” Kenny tearing up. “Like fuck man, that’s some heavy shit.” Sad music plays as the shot switches to Towelie and Kenny walking through the forest together. “I have to write his name down tonight, but this is hard, man.” “She’s just too much temptation, man,” Towelie jerking off under the water. Shot of the sun rapidly setting, as Bebe finally stumbles back into camp. “What’s up Bebe?” Pete greets her warmly. “Oh, uh… nothing. I’m fine,” Bebe takes a seat in the shelter. “You still good to get the towel out?” Wendy pries nosily. “Oh yeah, of course,” Bebe replies noncommittally as she lays her head down. As the tribe gathers their torches and prepares to leave, Tweek can’t contain himself anymore and pulls Towelie aside behind a dumpster real quick. “I don’t know if we saved you, man,” Tweek tugging on his hair. “Pete and I tried to see if we could flip some votes, because Kenny lied to them last vote, but then we decided--” Towelie cuts him off, totally spent. “It’s okay. Stick to the plan, dude.” Tweek furrows his brow. “What plan?” “You don’t remember?” Towelie paused, staring at Tweek. “Oh, that wasn’t you. Orange jacket kid… Kyle? Yeah. He told me to vote Tweek, and I’ll be safe,” Towelie smiling calmly. “ What?!” Tweek aghast. “That’s me! We can’t vote me!” “Honestly I was taken aback, why would they target me this round?” Tweek pacing around manically. “I realized, maybe they were afraid of an idol getting played and wanted to split the vote? And that’s when it hit me...” Shots of the tribe carrying their torches in a single-file line outside of camp. “I really don’t know what could happen tonight,” laid over Tweek carrying his torch, with Towelie struggling to keep up behind him. “I might be out of options.” Transitional shot of a gale of wind blowing one of the sand castles with intense ethnic moaning in the background. Tribal Council Night 8 The seven members of the Yellow tribe file into the tribal council area and sit, Tweek still looking bugged as fuck. “It’s been a few days since I’ve seen you guys,” Randy smiled at his son fondly. “How’s the tribe holding up, Stan?” “Fine, dad,” Stan made a stank face. “We’re a strong team.” “A strong team, and yet… I noticed a lot of surprised faces at the last vote. Wendy, did that vote go as planned for you?” Randy made a shit-eating grin. Wendy looked affronted. “Well, sometimes locking in every single vote in a tribe of eight can be hard to manage. But I still feel confident in the unity of this tribe.” “So it’ll be a unanimous vote tonight, then?” Wendy paused. “Yes, I believe so.” Several tribe members awkwardly looked over at Towelie, who was practically falling off of his stool. “Why’s that?” Randy kept pushing. “It seems as if it would be for the benefit of the well-being of one of our tribemates if he were to go home,” Wendy explained slowly and deliberately. Randy gave up on Wendy, realizing she was too much of a tight-lipped cunt to spit out a name. “Towelie, it seems like they’re all looking at you. Do you think Wendy’s talking about you?” “Yeah, I think Wendy’s talking shit,” Towelie sputters. “Do you think it’s your time to go home?” “Absolutely not Jeff,” Towelie rubbed his towel nose. “I came here to win that hundred dollars, for Washcloth, and to help start turning my life around,” he explained emotionally while lighting a joint. Kenny frowns while Bebe shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I might just be a towel, and yeah I might make some mistakes, but this is the chance of a lifetime for me.” “Tweek,” the blond boy jumps and squawks when Randy addresses him. “Do you think there could be value in keeping the towel?” Tweek stares at Pete uncomfortably. “I think that I need to vote with my heart tonight, and make the decision that’s best for our tribe going forward.” Pete returns the glance with confusion. “I think it’s time to vote,” Randy looks around excitedly. “Bebe, you’re up.” Bebe casts her vote wordlessly, an empty look in her eyes. Pete nervously scrawls down a name. “I hope this isn’t a mistake.” Wendy approaches the urn wide-eyed and writes [Towelie] “Your luck’s finally out.” Kenny scurries over, suppressing giggles as he votes. “Bang bang.” Stan looks down as he walks over to vote. “Take care of yourself, man.” Towelie somehow makes it over to the urn and writes a name. Tweek’s eye twitches as he writes down a name. “I didn’t want to have to do this.” “I’ll go tally the votes,” Randy goes to get the urn as the camera shows Tweek, Pete and Bebe looking nervous. “If anyone has a hidden immunity idol and you want to play it, now would be the time to do so.” The camera flashes from Bebe, to Tweek, to Kenny. ...and Kenny stands up. “You know Randy, I know how it feels to be dealt a shit hand in life,” he advances toward Randy. “And I don’t think it’s fair to let our friend Towelie’s dream die just yet. So I’m playing this for him,” he shits the idol onto Randy’s podium. Gasps from the tribe. Shot of Wendy looking ready to murder somebody. Randy hesitating to pick up the idol “This is indeed--” “HOLD THAT THOUGHT RANDY,” the volume of Tweek’s voice rising exponentially. He desperately reaches into his pocket and pulls out his idol, running over to Randy. “I’m not going home tonight.” Pete’s mouth falls open. Stan pinching his nose. Kenny all like “what the hell?” Randy looks pleased. “These are both indeed hidden immunity idols. Any votes cast for Towelie OR Tweek tonight will not count. I’ll read the votes…” Shots of Tweek looking all red in the face, Wendy twisting her body around rapidly trying to ask people who they voted for, Towelie looking blissfully intoxicated. “First vote…” [Tweek] “Does not count.” Tweek’s eyes glisten. “Next vote,” [Towelie] “Does not count.” [Towelie] “Does not count.” Towelie retardedly claps his towel hands. “I’m gonna win.” [Towelie] “Does not count.” Tweek shaking his head, while Bebe nervously taps her foot. Wendy bites a finger. “Fifth vote,” [Towelie] “No votes count still, two votes left.” “Next vote... “ music viciously crescendos [Stan] . Wendy grabs Stan’s thigh. “Oh, no.” Kenny all like “Uh oh.” Pete smiles. “And the ninth person voted out of Survivor: South Park…” [Stan] Randy sheds a tear, “I’m going to need your torch.” Stan, dumbfounded, grabs Wendy in a prolonged embrace before bringing his torch over to his father. He plops his torch in the little hole and turns to his tribe. “That was super fucking lame.” “Stan, the tribe has spoken,” Randy snuffs Stan’s torch. “Time for you to go.” Stan walks back into his house. “That was probably the most unpredictable vote yet,” Randy clicking his tongue at the Yellow tribe. “Doesn’t seem like you guys are much of a team at all. I’m done with you, head back to camp.” “I’ve never been so happy to lose something in my entire life, I don’t have a clue how it happened but I don’t give a shit, dad,” Stan breaking the fourth wall as he sips on a Capri Sun. NEXT TIME ON… SURVIVOR Tweek banging his head against a tree “Stupid stupid stupid!” “As of last night, he’s dead to me in this game,” Wendy eyeing Kenny like prey. Henrietta spitting. “I’ve never felt so commodified in my life.” “I don’t feel so good,” Bebe puking as Pete holds her hair. Randy doing a gay eyebrow thing. “Drop your buffs.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy sharts into a microphone at the local bowling alley, “I’m Steamy Ray Vaughn,” He points at the camera, “PREVIOUSLY ON SURVIVOR!” “At the boring basketball challenge, Nichole easily dominated for the Blue tribe.” Shot of Nichole making a basket like swish! “Things went from bad to worse for Yellow as Towelie had a heroin overdose at the challenge.” Montage of Towelie having a seizure while Nurse Gollum works for her paycheck. “The Blue tribe enjoyed a nice meal while they agreed to work together moving forward.” The blue tribe looking awkward around the Marsh dinner table. “But the Yellow tribe saw only dissent, as even after Towelie’s episode,” shot of the Yellow tribe intervention, “and some other flubs,” shot of Towelie railing Bebe, “an explosive tribal council ended with Stan getting blindsided out of the game with two votes after two idol plays; one played by Kenny, saving the towel,” shot of Wendy glaring at Kenny viciously as he shits out his idol, “and the other by Tweek, fearing for his own safety in vain, cancelling the one vote cast for him by Kenny,” Tweek shaking his head as Stan walks back into his house. Randy outside the bowling alley. “And it’s time for the game to be shaken up once more, eleven are left who will be voted out tonight???” Yellow Tribe Night 8 The six remaining tribe members return to camp silently, everyone feeling constipated from the blindside. A few minutes pass, and finally Pete nudged Bebe. “So uh, you okay?” Bebe exhausted. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Pete touched her shoulder tenderly. “Listen, I know you probably think I didn’t vote the way--” Bebe grabbed Pete and pressed her lips to his. She then took his hand and led him into the woods. “Why are we out here?” Pete asks in a monotone. “I wanted to show you something,” Bebe pulls her top off revealing her voluptuous breasts. “Oh,” Pete raised his eyebrows, undoing his tight black skinny jeans to reveal his pale ass dick. Bebe laughs playfully and flashes her cooter, and they bang on some dead leaves. “Today was such a whirlwind,” Bebe leaning her head on a hand, her hair shimmering in the night camera light. “I don’t even know what to do about Towelie, like how am I supposed to tell my tribe what happened? I really just needed some comfort, and Pete’s dick looked pretty comfortable,” she smiles drily. “How’s it feel, Wendy?” Wendy sitting in the shelter staring into space, tapping her foot in rage. “That was probably the worst possible outcome tonight,” Wendy looking hysterical in the green light of the nightcam. “Not only is my boyfriend out of the game, but my alliance was literally torn limb from limb. I thought we had four strong going forward, but now Stan is gone, and I think it’d be pretty hard for me to trust Kenny anymore,” ominous drum beat as camera cuts to Kenny laying down with his parka pulled over his face. “But I have to try and rebuild, or my chance at the hundred dollars is over.” Camera shows Tweek sitting far from everyone in the shelter except Towelie, who was out cold beside him. Tweek banging his head against a tree. “Stupid stupid stupid! I thought for sure Wendy would have thought to split the vote, but instead I wasted my idol. Now I’m fucked!” Dramatic shimmery cymbal noise as time lapse shot shows the sun coming up. Pete laying down in the shelter smoking his morning cigarette with gusto as Bebe stirs next to him. “So I had sex with Bebe last night,” Pete with an uncharacteristic smirk. “Pretty sweet. I feel bad for calling her a conformist before, she’s, uh, she’s pretty cool.” Suddenly Bebe awakens with a jolt, retching, and vomits little bits of Cheesy Poofs all over her drying jacket. Pete jumps. “Uhh, you alright?” “I don’t know, but… I don’t feel so good…” Bebe pukes as Pete holds her hair. “I woke up this morning feeling absolutely awful,” Bebe looking baggy-eyed. “Both of my feet hurt, and I hope I can still compete in the challenge.” Tweek and Towelie tying palm fronds even though the shelter had long since been finished. Tweek turns to Towelie, “I can’t believe we made it through last night.” Towelie rubs his eyes, hungover. “Yeah, we won.” “I guess the orange jacket kid saved me last night, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going home. That hundred dollars is mine,” Towelie rolling a king-size joint confidently. Shot of Kenny tending the fire with a short, long stick, the rest of the tribe out of view. “Camp feels fucking weird now,” Kenny cracking his neck. “I’m fucking pissed off that Stan’s out of here, I already feel dumb for helping the towel. Now Wendy’s clit is in a twist.” Wendy gingerly approaches the fire, uttering her first words at camp since tribal. “Can I talk to you Kenny?” Kenny pauses. “Sure whatever,” he mumbles. “I know this is an individual game and everything and you have to make your own moves--” “Shut up bitch, I didn’t write Stan’s name down last night,” Kenny shuts her down. “Right,” Wendy backpedals, her face reddening. “But I just don’t understand why you couldn’t tell us about the idol, like I would have understood!” “No you fucking wouldn’t,” Kenny fully turns to her, becoming aggressive. “Ever since you came to this tribe it’s been all about you and your alliance and your moves, like who died and made you queen Jesus?” Wendy opens her mouth to start yelling, but stops herself and scurries away. Kenny chuckles. “She’s fucking cray,” Kenny unwrapping a Pop-tart. “I need to try to get Kenny back on my side as a number, but as of last night he’s dead to me in this game,” Wendy eyeing Kenny like prey from afar. Blue Tribe Day 9 The Blue tribe five sit around the fire eating a breakfast of Hamburger Helper. “After I got to spend the evening at the Marsh’s house, I was sooo happy,” Craig stretching his quads. “I’ll go get the tree mail, I guess.” Henrietta pops up. “When I walked to our little gay mailbox, I just knew something was up, I felt it in my bones.” Henrietta shivered in the snow. Henrietta reading the treemail at the fire, “When things combine A storm’s a brewing Only one will survive Eviction is looming.” Cartman all like “oooooooo.” Cartman giddy. “I knew that the mail meant that we’re becoming one tribe. Time for the real game to begin. Of course I have this gay little alliance of five, and I know that Keeny would never vote me out, but I’m certainly not going to mention that.” Shelly ponders, “Eviction? This isn’t Big Brother.” She scowls. “Quiet Shelly,” Cartman snaps at her. “We have to start thinking now. There are five of us and six of them, who can we get to vote with us?” Everyone thinks for a moment. “How about Tweek?” Craig throws out there. “That could work, we just need to get Wendy out of this game as soon as possible. Then we’re golden,” Cartman explaining with authoritah. Shot of the girls nodding. “Tweek has a boner for me, I know he’ll flip.” Craig stands in the middle of a field. “I’m just listening to everything they’re saying and being like,” laid over the tribe talking animatedly, then cut to Nichole making a sarcastic face. “Uh-huh. Yeah. You right. Every single word they’re saying is a weapon for me in this game. Stupid crackers. Stupid crackers!” Immunity Challenge Day 9 “Come on in guys!” Aerial shot shows the two tribes convening on top of Phil Collins hill, where Randy stands dramatically in front of eleven narrow posts, arriving from opposite sites. “Blue tribe, get your first look at the new Yellow tribe, Stan voted off at last night’s tribal council.” Shocked reactions from the Blue tribe. Nichole whispers something to Henrietta. Cartman’s all like “Whaaaat?” “You seem surprised, Blue tribe. Shelly, was this not what you were expecting?” Randy asks sympathetically. “My brother is a turd and I’m happy they voted him out,” Shelly replies bluntly. “I’m really not that surprised that gay boy is out,” Cartman skipping rocks on the pond. “I guess he just couldn’t cut it out mya.” Randy puts a hand on a hip. “Well the surprises don’t stop there,” he does a gay eyebrow thing. “Drop your buffs.” The castaways look around excitedly despite the hella transparent treemail. “You are now one tribe!” The tribes join from their separated mats, reuniting with their old tribemates. “Yeah!” Nichole whoops. Hopeful music swells as Craig tears off his buff, throws it in the dirt and stomps on it. “It’s a whole new game now, and I was pumped to see my girls Wendy and Bebe,” laid over a shot of Nichole getting embraced emphatically by Wendy. “I’m shocked Henrietta and her suicidal vagina have survived this far,” over Pete cutting a cigarette with Henrietta. “But I’m glad that somehow more than one goth has made the merge.” “As soon as I saw Keeny, I knew I had one more vote locked down,” laid over Cartman smacking Kenny’s ass. Kenny giggles coquettishly. “Yo there’s mad fucking heads up in here now,” Towelie looking around, annoyed. “Before we continue celebrating, let’s get down to today’s immunity challenge,” Randy interrupts the mingling children. “And we actually have a special guest helping us with the challenge today…” suddenly a chopper pops out from behind a cloud and approaches the peak of Phil Collins Hill, delivering Mr. Garrison to the castaways. He carried a carton of eggs in one hand and Mr. Hat in the other. “Hello class,” Mr. Garrison greets the kids. Mr. Hat waves. “Hello, towel. Your challenge today is, each of you will be caring for an egg as you balance on one of these posts,” he opens the carton of eggs to reveal that they all have little faces and clothing on them. “If at any point you drop your egg, touch your egg with your hand, or you fall off your post, you lose the challenge. Last boy and girl standing wins individual immunity!” Dramatic shot of an egg shattering on the ground in close-up, then cut to a wide shot of all 11 castaways climbing onto their posts, each placing a cutely-decorated egg upon their head. Randy puts his hands up, “and 3… 2… survivors ready… this challenge is on, hands off your eggs.” Tweek wobbling immediately as the challenge kicks off.. A strong gale of wind picks up Towelie and knocks him onto his tuckus. His blue towel egg rolls off the side of the hill, smashing on a boulder. “Towelie is already out a few seconds into the challenge, wow.” Randy amazed and gay. Bebe’s tit jiggles slightly in the wind and her stomach gurgles. Wendy next to her, still as a statue with her eyes closed. “I could never hurt a fly, so I knew I could stay focused on keeping the egg safe,” Wendy meditating. Pete continues to smoke his cigarette, his head completely still. Henrietta suddenly throws her arms out beside him, wobbling out of control as the camera shows her thick ass toppling off of the post. Her goth egg with a bleeding egg vagina shattered a red yolk over her hair. “Seriously?” “And Henrietta’s out of this challenge, we are down to nine. And everyone’s looking pretty solid,” shot of Nichole and Shelly struggling to stay still. Cartman mumbling to himself as Craig holds his arms up slightly. Camera shows a shot of the face of Phil Collins Hill as a ‘10 minutes elapsed’ caption pops up. “You guys have been going for ten minutes, and I want to make this challenge a little more interesting,” Mr. Garrison pipes up. “The next 3 of you to step down win a field trip to the planetarium!” “I love the planetarium,” Craig says and immediately jumps off of his post, carefully removing the plain-looking egg from his head. “Being so poor, I never really get to leave home, a chance to go see the stars would mean a lot to me,” Kenny wipes a tear from his eye. “We always had to have pop tarts for dinner, there were no trips to the planet-orium for me.” “I’ll go,” Kenny raises his hand. He steps off, his egg rolling off and splatting in front of Tweek, who flinched at it. Cartman starts babbling uncontrollably as he loses his balance. He pretends to step down as he falls. “It’s okay guys, I wanted to go to the planetarium anyway,” he plays it off. His fat egg does not break on impact, but he steps on it as he walks over to Mr. Garrison. “Okay boys, let’s go to the planetarium!” Mr. Hat says as the boys are picked up by the chopper and fly away. “It’s down to Tweek and Pete for the boy’s immunity.” Randy narrated. “Like fuck, jesus. Just focus Tweek, you can do this.” Tweek spazzes out while Phil Collins Hill is in the background. “I can TASTE the immunity.” Camera shows some birds flying around so as to indicate passage of time. Bebe placing a hand on her stomach as Nichole finally starts to wobble, her hair falling out of place, “Shoot. This isn’t worth it, fuck my hair,” Nichole steps down, trying to roll her black egg forward so it didn’t break on her hair, but it instead just shatters on her face. “I could have stood up there all night, but I don’t want to stick out any more than I already do,” Nichole gesturing at her hair with a stank face. Tweek glances over at Pete with desperation. “Pssst. Pete. PETE.” Pete opens a single eye, spitting out his cigarette in annoyance. “What?” “I need this one, man,” Tweek chattering his teeth. “Please.” Pete visibly conflicted. “I realized, it’s probably not best for me to win this one anyway,” Pete shrugging, a trace of Bebe’s hot pink lip gloss on his neck. Pete dramatically pretends to fall off. Randy throws his arms up. “And Tweek wins immunity for the boys, after an impressive nineteen minutes!” Tweek smiles with relief as he steps down. “It’s really a relief to know I’m not in the hot seat tonight,” Tweek sipping out of a coconut happily. Randy puts the necklace around Tweek’s neck. “And we are down to three for the girls’ immunity,” he lists their names in a prolonged fashion. “Wendy, Bebe, and Shelly. Wendy has not moved an inch this ENTIRE time.” Shelly sighs through her retainer. “My legs.” “I knew there was no way I could stay up there longer than Miss Turdette,” Shelly massaging her aching legs. Shelly hops onto the ground, her pink-dressed egg splattering on the ground unceremoniously. “And Shelly’s down,” Randy announces, disappointed. “And then there were two, Wendy and Bebe.” Bebe biting her lip. Wendy starting to make a weird sexual face as she remains focused. Multiple shots of the girls grunting and struggling cutting over each other as a ‘Time elapsed - 30 min’ captions pops up on the screen. Randy shakes his head in disbelief. “You two have been at this for thirty minutes.” Nichole cheers and claps from the bench. Bebe’s eyes starting to droop as she clutches her stomach again. “I feel terrible,” she whines. A sudden violent coughing fit turned into loud projectile vomiting, causing Wendy to flinch for just long enough for her little pink egg to tumble right off her head. “And… Bebe wins individual Immunity!” Wendy looks down in shame as Bebe continues vomiting. Randy cautiously places the necklace around Bebe’s neck, then faces the rest of the tribe. “The rest of you will be seeing me tonight, but not before you head to your new camp, and I’d say it’s probably a good idea to get started on that new shelter, huh?” Wendy groans as Randy throws a map to Pete. “Now get outta here.” Merged Tribe - Reward Trip Day 9 “I’m really excited to go to the planetarium.” Craig smiled for the first time. “So fags, we need to vote Wendy’s bitch ass if she doesn’t win immunity today. She’s standing in our way of getting Xboxs, see?” Cartman explained as they walked into the planetarium. “Fuck yeah,” Kenny agrees with enthusiasm. “Queens get dethroned, and a lightning’ll strike a lone tree on top of a mountain faster than anything.” “Agreed,” Craig keeping his cards close to his chest. “With our three vagina votes we should be all set,” Cartman delineating misogynistically laid over shots of Shelly, Nichole and Henrietta searching for the new camp spot. “But we all know this is truly a gentleman's game, right?” He extends his hands to Craig and Kenny, and they do a gay 3-way handshake thing. “Ken, Craig and I could just steamroll this game,” Cartman making violent gesticulations. The boys all laughing affably as they take their seats in the planetarium next to Mr. Garrison and Mr. Hat. The seizure lights of the presentation kill Kenny instantly, and his head explodes all over Craig. “Gross.” Orange Tribe (Merged Tribe) Day 9 “Ahhh! We fucking made the merge!” Nichole restyling her hair drastically, it will remain this way for the duration of the competition. Wendy claps her hands as the seven children plus towel huddle around their barren new camp. “Before we do anything, we should pick a tribe name.” Wendy flashes a smile at the camera as it zooms in on her orange buff around her neck. “We should name it Dank.” Towelie whizzes on the new camp, marking his territory. “How about Ennui?” Pete flips his hair in an attempt to conform, Henrietta crosses her arms and glares at him. “Pete has totally conformed to the game, I don’t know if I can trust him any longer. Out of all the goths to make the merge, I hate that’s it Pete. He makes my pussy hurt.” Henrietta brushes her hair with a pinecone. “That’s a great name!” Bebe pipes up, being hella obvious that she getting the dickie. Everyone else is like “Sure, whatever.” Pete and Henrietta start working on making a fire, while Wendy, Bebe, and Nichole start working on the shelter. “Hey,” Wendy whispers, as a shot of Tweek and Shelly painting the merged tribe flag making it look all bedazzled in the distance. “I think that us five should stick together tonight, vote out Eric. He’s a cancer.” Wendy explains as one of the supporting shelter tree branch smacks her in the titty. The goths nod, while Nichole makes a statement, “Fatass was tooting on about how the Blue fi need to stick together, what if we just target someone everyone would be cool with getting rid of? The towel’s days are numbered.” The music plays that ominous cymbal noise as it the camera pans to Towelie making meth in the forest. “Yes!” Bebe looking much fatter with the immunity necklace around her neck. “I’m not too sure about making a truce,” Wendy being penchant as she sits atop a snowy mountain, “If we have the numbers now, just take the plunge.” “Well whatever we end up doing,” Wendy looking pissed off. “Pete, do you think you can get Tweek’s vote? I don’t trust him.” Pete pauses pointedly. “Uhh, maybe. I’ll talk to him.” “I definitely trust the girls more than that tub of lard,” laid over a shot of Nichole counting votes on her dark fingers with the camp group. “But if he thinks he needs my vote, I might as well use that.” The sun rapidly moves through the sky, indicating it is now afternoon. Shot of Cartman, Craig and Kenny returning to camp. “Well the planetarium was fucking sweet, I wish you guys could have gone,” Cartman brags to the girls building the shelter, who look nonplussed. “This is all you guys have built so far? Where the hell am I gonna sleep?” “Cartman is just… a menace,” Wendy’s eye popping out in rage. “I don’t feel safe with him at camp.” Cartman leans in to whisper something in Nichole’s ear, then runs off to join Tweek in making palm fronds. “What was that about??” Wendy paranoid as hell. “Girl I tole you, he thinks the Blues are still together. I have to go and get the plan from him,” Nichole tries to calm Wendy down, but she continues hyperventilating, meanwhile Tweek lights up as Cartman says something to him in the background. “So Cartman comes up to me and asks if I want to switch things up,” Tweek yanking at the bottom of his shirt in excitement. “It was just the opportunity I needed to revive my game.” Cut to Cartman leading Tweek through the woods close to camp to a large boulder, where Craig, Kenny, and Shelly had already shown up. A quiet dripping sound is heard as Henrietta finishes urinating on the other side of the boulder, she and Nichole then join them. “Okay guys,” Cartman leads with his fat hands. “This, right here? One of us is winning that hundred dollars unless someone fucks up.” Tweek rubbing his hands together in delight as Shelly grins toothily, “Sounds like a plan.” “Looks like we have all the power,” Shelly ruthlessly chewing a pistacchio. “We got seven here, so they can only fuck us over if someone pulls out another idol. It’s vital we keep our plan airtight,” Cartman pointing at the members of his new alliance randomly. “We pick off the other four one by one.” Cautionary beats as camera shows Wendy, Bebe and Pete sitting in the shelter, and Towelie wandering around aimlessly nearby. “Sounds dope,” Nichole feigns excitement. “Seven strong!” “Who’s the first to go?” Tweek bouncing with energy. “It’s obvious we gotta cut the head off the snake, gahs, Wendy Testaburger,” Cartman narrowing his eyes as he gestures to Kenny and Tweek. “You guys did a good job slaying the dragon last night, now we take out his pride.” Kenny shrugs in response to the complement. “I’m down.” “I do hate that pretentious conformist bitch,” Henrietta admits. Henrietta spitting. “I’ve never felt so commodified in my life. A few days ago these fags were ready to vote me out of the game and now I’ve got little miss sunshine screaming in one ear and Fat Hitler screaming in the other,” she sighs, despondent. “That’s the game, I guess. I still hate it here” “Hell no I’m not voting Wendy out!” Nichole getting loud as she holds some medium-length sticks that she’s gathering. “I’m just gonna let Cartman thinks what he wants to thinks.” Dramatic music plays as Nichole speedwalks back to the partially-built shelter, where Wendy is trying to massage a woozy Bebe’s back. “Yo, I got something to tell you guys.” The girls walking along the shore of Stark’s Pond. Nichole looks around in all directions real quick, her newly styled braids swishing around, to make sure nobody was in earshot. “I’ve chosen my side, the line is drawn in the sand,” Nichole showing off a leg. “So Cartman just pulled MAD heads out to that big rock and said the vote is you, girl,” Nichole talking fast, pointing at Wendy. “WHAT?” Wendy flares up. “How many people does he have?” Nichole struggling to count. “Uh, he got that big bulldyke bitch, blue hat boy, twitchy, and the goth chick…” audio fades as the girls crowd in closer. “It was absolutely worse than I thought,” Wendy with her head in her hands. “I needed to change tracks, and fast. I knew Kenny would jump ship but even without Nichole, Cartman has six votes against me, and that means I’m gonna need every last vote I can get,” cut to Towelie rocking back and forth as he hums to himself. The realization hits Wendy. “We have to keep the towel tonight. I think he’s the one vote we need to have a chance at the numbers.” “Then what do we do?” Bebe frustrated, her midsection bloating up exponentially. “We have to take our shot out now, it’s the only way,” Wendy clapping her hands together definitively. “Vote Eric.” Nichole touches her shoulder in agreement. “It could be a big mama move tonight,” Nichole looking shiesty. Intensifying music plays as the camera cuts between shots of Nichole pulling Henrietta aside by the well, Bebe laying down in the shelter whispering to Pete, and finally Wendy plopping herself down on a stump beside Towelie. “Hey, Towelie,” she grins. “How’s your day been?” Towelie instinctively passes his spliff to her, “I don’t think anyone likes me anymore,” he tears up some grass. “That’s not true Towelie, we all care about you,” Wendy takes Towelie’s hand. “In fact, I think you deserve to be here more than some others…” she launches into her guided tour of why Towelie should sheep her ass. “I don’t think I can trust that girl,” Towelie looking hella sketched. “I don’t like her eyes.” Meanwhile, Pete finally manages to pull Tweek aside. “Wendy’s on the warpath, dude,” he attempts a nonchalant tone. “This is our chance to jump ship, the girls are never gonna trust us,” Tweek spazzing. “That may be true, but Bebe’s actually cool, and do you really think we fit in with Middle America either?” cut to Cartman, Kenny and Craig eating rice jovially. “You have to listen to me, Tweek, we can’t jump on a sinking ship.” Shot of Tweek reacting pensively, he looks kinda pissed. “If the last few votes have taught me anything, it’s that I should just find a strong group and stick to the plan,” laid over Tweek grabbing his torch, the immunity necklace dominating his gaunt body. “Pete may think this is our best move, but maybe this game is taking us in different directions.” “It’s a war, and only one comes out alive,” Cartman pressing the wrinkles out of his shirt. “If it’s me tonight, they can’t say I went out without a fight,” Wendy stomping her foot with determination. Tribal Council Night 9 The orange tribe files into the expanded tribal council area behind Randy’s house, Stan visible on his computer through a window in the background. Randy clasps his hands together proudly. “Congratulations, you all have made it to the next phase of the game, meaning those who get voted out will now compromise the jury who will decide which of the final two castaways will win the game.” Some half hearted clapping among the tribe, Henrietta rolls her eyes. “So Craig,” Randy starts off. “What’s the new camp like?” “When I found out the tribes were merging, I was sooo happy,” Craig emoting. “And I loved going to the planetarium today.” “Towelie, do you feel better or worse on your new tribe?” “Much better, Jeff,” Towelie sounding more sober than usual. “There’s so much less pressure on me at the Ennui camp, I only had to get a little high,” jarring tone as camera cuts to Bebe shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Bebe, on the other hand-- you look miserable,” Randy taking delight in Bebe’s pain. “And also kinda fat.” “I think I got sick this morning,” Bebe looking shook as hell. “I don’t know what happened, but I love my new tribe…” she suddenly grabs her stomach. “Yeah, they’re great.” Randy raises his eyebrows incredulously, but drops it. “Tweek, you’re in a tribe of eleven now.” Tweek winces nervously. “Yes, Randy.” “Surely this opens up a huge range of strategic avenues to take. Think you’ve found a good niche?” “I think we’ll see when the vote shakes out,” Tweek gulps, again staring pointedly at Pete. “There’s only so much you can do when you don’t know who you can trust, and who’s out to get you,” camera shows shots of Shelly, Wendy, and Pete as Tweek explains himself. “He brings up a good point, Wendy -- in such a big tribe, that can also mean that many more people against you,” Randy opens the door. Nichole flips her braids and shifts confidently, excited for the outcome. Wendy grins, clearly anticipating the question. “That’s definitely the case for me tonight, Randy. It’s because I’m smart, I’m not afraid to throw my weight around in this game, and to some members of the tribe,” sharp ethnic grunt as camera cuts to Cartman, who is leading his head on a hand douchily, “when a woman does that, it makes her the biggest target.” “That bitch has no idea what she’s talking about,” Cartman scoffed. “She thinks she knows how to play when she let her gay little boyfriend get voted out last night.” “At least I’m not a fucking dictator!” Wendy starting to yell. Tweek jumps. Craig making a ‘rly?’ face. Cartman laughs. “Calm down, slut. You can talk to me when you can hold down a solid--” “AAAAAAH!” All eyes are suddenly on Bebe as she falls off of her stool, a large pool of liquid forming beneath her. “Jesus Christ, is she dead?!?!” Tweek screams from the back row. Nurse Gollum erupts from the Marshes’ shed, checking Bebe’s vitals. “She’s going into labor!” Shocked reactions from the tribe. Nichole’s mouth falls open. Cartman is delighted. Pete covering his face in horror. Wendy jumps to Bebe’s side, where Nurse Gollum repels her away with the dead fetus attached to her head. “Why didn’t you tell me, Bebe?” Wendy reaching out for her friend desperately. “Who is the father?” Bebe convulsing in in the middle of the yard, gesturing at Pete to come to her side, which was widely misinterpreted by the other castaways. Pete looks like he’s about to vomit. “I didn’t know a baby happened that quickly!” The camera shows Sharon looking on from the house, concerned. “Randy what’s going on out there?!” Stan turns his head for a moment from the window of his bedroom upstairs, then walks away. Nurse Gollum thrusting her hands into Bebe’s gooch. “Push, Bebe!” Bebe shrieks from the pain, biting down on her teeth. “We need a towel!” Nurse Gollum cries. Towelie springs into action. “Always remember to bring a towel!” His theme music plays as he slides in between Bebe’s teeth, allowing the baby to start crowning. “You’re almost there, Bebe! One more big push!” Nurse Gollum encouraged Bebe, the dead fetus jiggling. Bebe’s horrific screams are muffled by Towelie as her vagina explodes, a small piece of cloth with a single hand, an eye and a lima bean-shaped mouth emerging. Nurse Gollum cuts the cord, and promptly peaces out. Towelie hops out of Bebe’s mouth, and sees what has become. “Uh oh…” Cartman starts cackling. “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” Wendy incensed. “Why did you have sex with Towelie?!” Bebe looks up weakly. “I didn’t have a choice, Wendy. He held me down and RAPED me, Wendy.” Towelie, unsure of what to do, attempts to mop up the afterbirth. More shocked reactions among the tribe, Henrietta looking done as fuck and Kenny putting his hand on his forehead. “So in conclusion, Kenny,” Randy continues with the tribal questioning. “What bearing will all of this have on your vote tonight?” Kenny at a loss for words. “You know, Randy, I think this shows that sometimes, you just gotta let ‘em go.” Randy nods approvingly. “I think it’s time to vote. Shelly, you’re up.” Shelly steps up to vote, unphased, and votes [Wendy] “At least you got to see the miracle of childbirth.” Nichole steps cautiously around the birth juices cuz she can’t be fucking up her shoes. She writes down a name while shaking her head incredulously. Craig votes. “Is that a period?” Pete tries to hold a poker face as he walks over to vote, writing [Cartman] “Sorry, but this is my best move tonight.” Kenny scratching his neck with discomfort as he approaches the voting table. The camera shows his package, droopy with regret. Cartman not even attempting to contain his laughter as he writes [Wendy]. “Best tribal council ever.” Henrietta totters over to vote [Rapist Towel] “This is officially the most disgusting thing I have ever associated myself with.” Towelie crawls over, dense, heavy and bright red with afterbirth, and writes [Wendy]. “You don’t have me fooled, missy.” Tweek looking distraught on his way over to vote, hesitating before writing a name. Wendy mustering up a look of relatable worry as she strides over to vote. “This might have saved me.” Bebe somehow makes it over to the urn, bleeding profusely and carefully holding her abomination spawn. “I’ll go count the votes,” Randy walks away quickly, his face wrinkling from the birth smells. He returns with the urn. “If anyone has a hidden immunity idol and you want to play it, now would be the time to do so.” Camera closes up on Bebe, sitting on the ground leaning against her stool and holding her child to her breast. She does nothing. “Okay. Person voted out will have to leave the tribal council area immediately. I’ll read the votes…” Camera shows dramatic close-ups of Henrietta, Tweek, Cartman and Wendy. “First vote…” [Wendy] Wendy looks up at Randy, squinting. “Second vote…” [Cartman]. Cartman scoffs. “One vote Wendy, one vote Cartman.” “Third vote…” [Rapist Towel]. “Towelie.” Towelie pouts. “One vote each for Wendy, Cartman and Towelie.” “Next vote…” [Wendy] Wendy nods with a wince. “That’s two votes Wendy.” “Fourth vote…” [Cartman] “We’re tied, two votes Wendy, two votes Cartman.” Cartman still unphased. “Next vote…” [Wendy] Randy flips the next vote real fast [Wendy] Wendy’s face starts to crack. “Four votes Wendy, two votes Cartman.” Randy slowly opens the next vote. [T Happy Birthday] He looks at the tribe in confusion. “Who cast this vote?” An awkward silence. Kenny finally raises his hand. “Me.” “Who is this vote for? You have to write a name, Kenny.” Kenny looks at Towelie, then Cartman in shame, “Towelie.” Craig arches a brow. “It’s Towelie’s birthday?” Kenny nods slowly. “I guess I was the only one who knew.” “Anyway, that’s four votes Wendy, two votes Cartman, two votes Towelie,” Randy tries to regain control of the tribal council. “Next vote…” [Towelie] Towelie visibly perturbed. Wendy puts her head down. “That’s three votes Towelie.” “Next vote…” [Towelie]. “We’re tied. Four votes Wendy, four votes Towelie, one vote left,” the music reaches an intense operatic section as quick-cut shots of Kenny, Bebe, Cartman, Towelie, and finally Wendy looking back up at Randy. “Tenth person voted out of survivor and the first member of the jury…” [Towelie] “That’s five, and tonight that’s enough, bring me your torch.” Wendy pipes back up immediately. “Good riddance, you fucking scum,” she spits at the towel as he forlornly brings his torch over to Randy. “Towelie… the tribe has spoken,” Randy snuffs the torch of a teary-eyed Towelie. “You will join us every tribal council from now on as part of our jury, but for now, it’s time for you to go.” Towelie turns back to the tribe, eyes reddening immediately as he tokes on a fresh joint. “You guys are fucked without a towel out here.” He wanders away. “Well tonight, you may have lost a towel, but you have gained a new one.” the camera shot jumps to Bebe breastfeeding her child. “Things will only get crazier from here, head back to camp.” Randy motioned and the final ten castaways left. “I didn’t think that Bebe would have a baby that fast, I really hope I get to see my new baby daughter,” Towelie wipes a tear from his towel face, “I can’t afford to lose another custody battle.” NEXT TIME ON SURVIVOR “That baby is disgusting and is an abomination,” Nichole says overlaid a shot of Wendy taking care of Bebe’s child. Cartman barrels through camp, “WHO THE FUCK VOTED FOR ME?” “Hey Pete, you wanna go to TGI Friday’s?” Kenny propositions. Tweek looking very pensive sitting on top of a boulder, “This is a delicate situation.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy polishing his new pistol at Jimbo’s Guns, he points the gun at the camera, “PREVIOUSLY ON SURVIVOR!” Shot of Craig stomping his buff into the dirt. “The game turned on its head when two tribes became one, and after a grueling immunity challenge,” shot of Nichole’s egg shattering on her face, “it was Tweek and Bebe who ended up without egg on their face. With everyone scrambling for new alliances,” shots of Wendy talking to the goths, Cartman’s boulder alliance, and Towelie glaring at Wendy, “Wendy and Cartman fought to get votes against each other. But in a heart-stopping tribal council,” shot of Bebe’s vagina exploding. “Bebe became a mother, while the father was blindsided,” Shot of Towelie’s torch finally getting snuffed. “Ten are left, who will be voted out tonight!?” Randy shoots Jimbo in the shoulder and robs him. Ennui Tribe Night 10 The tribe walks back in the night vision lens, most of them tossing their torches onto the snowy ground. Cartman barrels into camp, “WHO THE FUCK VOTED FOR ME???” Everyone sheepishly looks around as the camera closes up on Tweek’s uncomfortable face. Tweek staring bug-eyed at the night camera. “I have no idea how that happened, but I have to make sure nobody ever finds out how Pete and I voted.” “That vote really surprised me, I definitely thought that I was going home.” Wendy brushed her hair out of her face as a harsh wind blows through. “Tweek, we need to grab some water.” Craig monotonously states. “I need to solidify my final two with Tweek.” Craig jams his hands into his pockets. Jump shot to Craig banging Tweek in the woods on some dead ass leaves. “Like, man I needed some release, I haven’t had coffee in such a long time,” Tweek sighs and wipes his nose, “Craig’s cummies helped, but it’s just not the same.” Meanwhile, back at camp, Bebe is holding her baby while the rest of the tribe slightly avoids her. “Everyone might judge me for having Towelie’s baby, but I just feel better now that he’s gone,” Bebe looking determined as Dishrag bites her tit. “I’m so glad the plan switched last night when I gave birth, it’s a brand new day for me!” Wendy returns after making a loud fire. “What’s up? You okay?” “Ever since Stan got fucked over, Bebe is my number one ally.” Wendy sits in the snow all methodically. “Yeah, I’m just not sure what to do with Dishrag.” Bebe sighs. “Dishrag?” Wendy is befuddled. “That’s her name.” Bebe pats her child rag on the head. “Bebe being a free woman and all is cool I guess.” Pete smokes a cigarette, “But her pussy being tainted by the towel kills my boner now.” Cartman lounges in the shelter forcibly shoving cheesy poofs into his mouth. “Save some for the rest of us, fatty.” Nichole farts in the shelter. “Fuck you!” Cartman muffles out. Rolling over, Shelly screams, “Everyone SHUT THE FUCK UP.” Camera cuts to Kenny, sitting in the middle of everything silently. “I feel hella exposed after tonight,” Kenny looking done as fuck. “Randy blew up my shit man.” Everyone quiets down and Kenny whisks Pete away. “You wanna go to TGI Friday’s?” Smirking Kenny grabs Pete by the wrist. “I wasn't sure where Kenny was taking me, it sounded conformist.” Pete squats near the TGI Friday’s. “I’m gonna fuck the goth kid.” Kenny ordered a stack of ribs and handed his menu to his waitress. “Suck this dick,” Kenny commanded. He whips out his throbbing manhood while grabbing Pete by his faggy hair and pushing him downward. Pete was a sub and therefore complied, but Kenny suddenly stopped him just as he was about to accept the package. “But first, let’s roob at each other’s nipples,” Pete smiled at the less educated boy mispronouncing the word rub. “I’m not sure what came over me, but sometimes you gotta suck some dick. I think I have a new ally in this game.” Pete smiles with jizz all over his face. Ennui Tribe Day 10 The sun rises all like “AHH.” Discordant music plays as various members of the tribe are roused by crying noises. Shelly tossing and turning looking pissed. Henrietta sticking cigarettes in her ears. Camera settles on Bebe passed out as fuck with Dishrag having a fit on her bosom. “That baby is disgusting and an abomination,” Nichole says overlaid a shot of Wendy bouncing Dishrag. “Bebe’s been really down after she had her daughter, I feel like I’m more of a mother to Dishrag than she is.” Wendy dramatically rolls her eyes. Shot of Wendy wiping Dishrag’s anus (?). Pete approaches her. “Need some help?” “This baby is suffocating me,” Pete smoking dejectedly. “I wish I never stuck it in that conformist slut,” cut to a shot of Bebe picking her nose as Kenny looks hot beside her. A shot jumps to a smoking circle of Kenny, Tweek, and Henrietta. “I’m hella glad Towelie left all his LOUD here.” Kenny rolled another spliff. “You know what? Nine Eleven WAS an inside job.” Tweek states while Henrietta punches her titty in agreement. “I think Pete was replaced with a clone, he’s super conformist now, it sucks.” Henrietta laments as she sharts. “I should be able to trust Pete, but he might be my biggest threat in this game,” Henrietta flatly as a sudden cautionary drum beat plays, cutting to a shot of Pete holding Dishrag. “If we can’t get to the bottom of this, it will be my undoing.” Shelly looks onto the kids fucking around with Dishrag, most likely scarring the towel with their poor parenting skills. “I’m just jealous I guess,” Shelly huffs, “You know I could never have that.” She wipes a tear, “My vagina is such a turd. How could there be a God if he gives a twelve year old girl ovarian cancer?” Shift in music as Nichole and Craig join Shelly in the shelter, Nichole making a sassy gesture. “I’ve had up to HERE with all this towel business.” “Yeah like what even is that?” Craig nodding in agreement still feeling good after diddling. “Like Bebe is my gurl and everything but what was she thinking?!?!” Nichole shaking her hands dramatically, then laid over shot of Nichole continuing to bitch to the shelter people, closing up on Shelly’s unemotive face. Low ominous beats as Cartman stands at a distance from camp, alone. “I know how to get the vote off of me,” Cartman rubbing his hands together, ‘I’m gonna steal the towel baby, drown it in Stark’s Pond, this will lead to a search partah where everyone will blame Blackie,” a quick shot of Nichole looking down in the shelter. “And then she’s gone and we move onto another day.” Eerie music as Bebe chops a coconut, while Dishrag sits in the shelter at a distance. “I’m playing this game for two now,” Bebe smiling as she chops coconuts. “I’m learning how to survive as I’m learning how to be a mother. But make no mistake, my one and only alliance is to Dishrag. I love him and he comes before the game.” Music comes to a halt as Bebe chops another coconut aggressively. “Bebe?” a caption comes up on the screen as Wendy calls her name from afar, quiet from this camera. “Where’s Dishrag?” Shot of Bebe looking PRESSED as the music kicks up again. “And then suddenly I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Cartman running through the woods, covering the baby’s mouth. “It’ll all be over soon.” Shot of the serene facade of Stark’s Pond before Cartman erupts from the woods and launches the baby into it. “They’ll never find it here!” Cut to Bebe looking cracked out, “Dishrag?!?! Where are you?” as Wendy, Pete, Nichole and Henrietta look around aimlessly in the background. “Whoever dared to mess with Bebe’s child?” Wendy looking militantly feminist. “I’ll have their head.” Nichole wrinkles her nose. “What’s that smell?” Cartman pops up from behind a bush, wiping his ass. “What’s all the commotion ladies?” “I had to make sure I had an alibi,” laid over a shot of Cartman insincerely helping the search party. Craig returns to camp after he collects tree mail and yells to his scattered tribemates, “Hey guys, look at all the monop money I have.” “My baby is missing Craig!” Bebe screams hormonally. “But it’s time for the challenge right now,” Craig reads, “ From Vegas to Monte Carlo, The savvy players know That the ones who push their luck Win enough to fill a truck. Until their luck runs out. Come back, luck! they shout.” Craig ponders while Nichole shrugs her shoulders at the white people poetry. “The fuck could that mean?” Shelly asks for everyone. The camera transitions to BIG waves in Stark’s Pond before the children walk to the immunity challenge. Immunity Challenge Day 10 “Come on in guys!” The 10 remaining castaways file in all rich with monopoly money. “It's time for the survivor auction!” Randy said all gay as the castaways take their seats in the little structure thing. “Some items will be revealed, while some will be secret, and you can only bid in increments of $20. Each of you only has $500, so spend wisely - your heart’s desire could be the last item.” The cast is all like ooo, Cartman’s stomach grumbles. “First item up for bid, some McDonna nugs!” “I love nugs! UGH!” Nichole orgasms and fans herself with her monop money. “Twenty dolla,” Nichole puts a finger up. “Forty,” Cartman interrupts shiestily. “A hunna!” Kenny, smirks and gets a boner at the thought of spending money. Nichole sweating nervously. “Uh… $120.” “Going once, going twice, sold to the lady with the braids,” Randy announces. Nichole does a little dance as she walks over to retrieve her nugs, complete with a pallette of dipping sauces. “Thaaaaank ya Randy,” Nichole says popping a nug in her mouth. “I knew I needed them nugs,” Nichole rubbing her stomach with satisfaction. “I really liked the sauces.” “Okay, next item…” Randy slams a big box on the table. “Will remain hidden.” “A hundred!” Wendy pipes up immediately. “Anything that could be an advantage in this game, that’s all I’m focused on,” Wendy gamebotting on a branch. Tweek glances over at Wendy, narrowing his eyes. “One-forty.” “One-sixty,” Wendy smiles, blinking at Tweek. “One-eighty,” Tweek persists. Wendy makes a stank face. “Five hundred dollars, Randy,” she concedes and walks up to collect her prize. “Oooh what’s in the box?” Randy gets excited. He reaches in to reveal… a small strip of paper. He hands it to Wendy. “You have just bought the power to send three tribemates to Exile Beach immediately,” Wendy read the note with confusion. “They must dip the fuck out from the auction and therefore cannot bid on any more items,” she looks up in frustration and makes an awkward sound. “The absolute LAST thing I needed was to alienate people,” Wendy putting her hands in her head in exasperation. “But luckily, I was saved by what happened next…” “Send me,” Henrietta tossing her cigarette on the ground petulantly. “I don’t want any of this consumer shit anyway.” Wendy grinned, thrilled to have an out. “Okay so I’ll send the goths and, uh…” she peered at Cartman, then shook her head, looking at the angry girl to his right. “Shelly.” Shelly lowered her eyebrows. “Right now the girls could take control of the game, and Shelly could make a powerful ally,” Wendy tying a shoe contemplatively. “I hope the goths can talk some sense into her.” “Okay, goths and Shelly, please bring me all yo money, and get the fuck out!” Randy commands as Pete looks hesitant to leave the challenge early. Shelly stomps out of the challenge without looking at anyone. “I’m excited to go to Exile, my pussy is too crowded at the Orange Tribe camp,” Henrietta taking off her panties. “Next item is… some double dew and Kentucky Fried Chicken.” Randy reveals the delicious chicken. Before anyone can even react, “Fuck you guys, take all my money Stan’s dad.” “Sold to the fat!” Randy bangs his little hammer, Tweek pointedly winces. Cartman quickly gobbles up the Colonel’s chicken. “Okay, next up some Tweak’s Bros. coffee.” Tweek gasps, “My greatness weakness.” “Five hundred!!!” Tweek screams. Randy slams the gooch with his mallet and Tweek dashes up to get his fix. “I love the Survivor Auction!” Tweek frantically organizing coconuts by size back at camp. Randy brings up another secretive black box, “This is the last item of the auction.” Kenny, Craig, Bebe and Nichole all get wide-eyed in shock as they all grasp their little purses with monop money. “What if Dishrag is in there?” Bebe wiping sweat off of her swollen tit. “I had to get that box.” “Sixty,” Nichole called out reluctantly. Kenny shook his head at the colored girl, knowing she had wasted some of her money on nugs. “Three - hunna, Randy.” “Four hundred,” Bebe comes in hot rubbing her nip in desperation. “Five… hundred… dollars,” Craig drags out in a monotone. “I’m in on this Randy,” Kenny slams his wad of bills down on the table as well as his dick. Bebe also raises her hand, her other hand digging for her money in her cleavage. “Okay, since all three of you have $500, we will draw rocks to determine who gets the box,” Randy pulls out a little bag and hands out a rock to each of the three. “The two black rocks get nothing, the white rock gets the box,” Nichole shaking her head at the racism in the background. Bebe peers at Craig and Kenny nervously as Randy counts down. “Three, two, one… reveal.” Bebe accidentally drops her rock as she instinctually reaches to expose her genitals, the camera closes up on the ground to reveal it is BLACK. Meanwhile Craig and Kenny stare at each other indifferently, then turn over their palms. “Congratulations KENNY, you win the box which contains…” Randy opens the box and makes a Let’s Make a Deal lady gesture at its contents. “Individual immunity!” Starving, Kenny takes a huge decadent bite out of the immunity necklace, rupturing his esophagus and killing him. Exile Beach Day 10 “Exile Beach was desolate as fuck, I thought it was really cool and hardcore. I’m glad that Henrietta and I are here together.” Pete smokes a doobie. Henrietta angrily reading a line fed to her. “Exile Beach was crazy because we had no idea how everyone else was gonna vote! I’m sure Wendy and Cartman have made up already.” Shelly angrily throws rocks into the opposite side of Stark’s Pond. “Fuck Wendy, she’s an ugly lipstick lesbian, AHH.” Henrietta exhales deeply. “She’s all for vagina power and everything. She was telling me and Nichole yesterday that the five girls could just team up and take control.” Camera shows Pete keeping a poker face as he aggressively drags at his cigarette. Shelly drops her rock. “Interesting.” “I hate all the female turds on this tribe but I think I could tear their pussies apart in the end,” Shelly watching the clouds from atop a hill near Exile Beach. “I could go either way.” “Of course that vapid bitch is trying to get all the girls together,” Pete rolling his eyes gayly. “This has to end.” Shelly looking conflicted sitting on the beach. “I hate this game, I don’t even care anymore.” Henrietta extends a cigarette to her. Ennui Tribe Day 10 “So after my delicious snack, I realized I had no one to deposit my cum into,” Kenny explains in a maudlin fashion, “I guess I could fuck Craig? I don’t know, I’m just wasting my time.” Shot of Wendy corralling Bebe, Nichole, and Tweek as Cartman did the same with Kenny and Craig near Stark’s Pond. “So we’re all good to vote Cartman tonight, right?” Wendy dictates. “Hell yeah, Henrietta will vote that way too, she fucking hates Cartman.” Nichole adds to their numbers. “But what about my baby!?” Bebe cries. “No one even cares that my newborn towel is MISSING. Like what the fuck? I don’t care about the hundred dollars, this game isn’t fun anymore.” Bebe kicks some snow. A loud groan overlays while Cartman blabs to Kenny who is fondling Craig. “That bitch Wendy has to GO!” Cartman spitting little crumbs of Cheesey Poof everywhere. “I’m still pissed off about the last vote,” Cartman knitting his fingers together, “and I will get my revenge, but the girl with the big vagina is still the first to go,” booming drum beat over a shot of Wendy talking amicably with Nichole. “Craig you can get Tweek to vote our way, right?” Cartman ignores Kenny sexually molesting Craig. “Sure.” Craig nasally pops a boner. “Tweek’s his own person, I mean I want to take him to the end.” overlaid shot of Tweek spazzing out near some sticks, “I just can’t control his vote.” Craig lounges sexily as he gives this confessional. Inquisitive groan plays as the camera shows Wendy pacing around camp contemplatively. “At this point, I trust my alliance, and that’s all I can do in this game. We’re about to go to tribal and I figure I’d look around for Dishrag once again, to set her mind at ease,” Wendy giving an oh-so-good-samaritan's smile. “Dishrag, where are you?” Wendy crouching on the ground, poking around Bebe’s bag. Captions show her gasping, “oh, what’s that?” “And there it was,” Wendy looking deadass into the camera. “The idol was in her bag.” Rhythmic grunting as a shot shows Wendy and Bebe walking away from camp swiftly. Wendy gives her friend a big sad look. “This could be my last stand, Bebe,” she reaches. “I think we have the numbers,” Bebe apathetically, still worried about her baby. Wendy getting impatient at Bebe’s failure to bite. “I might just need a second chance in this game. I need that more than anything, and that fatass that took your baby has to go.” “So I totally trust that we have the numbers,” Wendy explaining diplomatically, “but it’s nice to have some extra assurance.” Tribal Council Night 10 The soundtrack picks up into a fast tempo as the seven from Ennui reconnect with the three exile biddies. “Let's bring the members of our jury...Towelie voted out at the last tribal council.” Randy states at Towelie stumbles in somehow looking worse than he did while in the game. Randy immediately begins “So Bebe, after birthing how has camp life been?” “Someone STOLE my baby, Randy, and they're sitting here tonight.” Bebe shadily looks around while Towelie gasps from the peanut gallery. “Who do you think stole it?” Randy asks. “I bet it was the black girl,” Cartman interjects. “What the fuck? Why would I steal an ugly monster from Bebe’s vagina?” Nichole scowls, as Bebe frowns. Kenny smiles looking hella blazed. “Whoa, that's some harsh words for a young mother.” Randy condescends to Nichole because he's racist. “Dad, these turds are WILD, there's no use in trying to change them.” Shelly interrupts as Pete nods in agreement. “So Wendy,” Wendy’s face jerks into a smile as she anticipates Randy’s question. “How do you feel about the vote tonight?” Wendy leans forward a little, her eyes buggin out. “There is obviously one person to blame for everything here, HE’s calling the shots. I don’t need to name names,” she flips her hair feigning confidence. “You say HE,” Randy gets all excited as he follows up, “Henrietta,” Wendy looking unsettled as the focus is shifted from her. “There are only ten of you left, and five of the six women who came out here still remain. That’s half of you!” “Yes, Randy,” Henrietta sighs. Nichole does a little dance celebrating the ladies in her stool. “Think that might factor into the vote?” Henrietta takes a drag as Wendy stares her down. “I think I’m gonna have to decide how non-conformist vagina power is.” “Well, look at that it’s time to vote, Shelly you're up first.” Shelly walks up to vote, [Wendy] “Knowledge is power.” Nichole votes and shakes her head. A nice shot of Craig’s ass is shown. Cartman writes in all caps, [WENDY] “I've wanted to do this since the very first fucking day. See you later bitch.” Pete flips his hair as he writes down a name. “I'm pretty sure you stole my kid, I can never forgive you.” Bebe holds up, [Eric] Kenny votes sexily licking his lips. In a crazed fashion Tweek writes, [Cartman] “Man, I think I hate you, even though hate’s a strong word, yeah.” Henrietta sighs and votes. Wendy gives a shit eating grin. “This is my house, my town, my island.” Wendy walks back, Randy narrates, “I'll go tally the votes.” The camera pans over Henrietta’s poop face. “If anyone has an idol and would like to play it, now would be the time to do so.” Wendy looks over to Bebe, she don't move. Randy nods, “I'll read the votes.” “First vote,” [Wendy] “Second vote,” [Wendy] Wendy's gooch clenches. [Eric] Randy faggotly opens the next vote, [Cartman] “We’re tied, two to two, next vote.” [Wendy] She huffs, [Cartman] Cartman clenches his fists. [WENDY] Randy pauses, [Cartman] “We are tied again! Four votes Wendy, four votes for Cartman, two votes left.” A close up of Cartman rubbing his chin and glaring down at Tweek and the goths. [Wendy] “And the eleventh person voted out and second member of our jury is…” [Wendy] She gasps, “Well before I go, Bebe I hope your IDOL saves you next time.” The camera wildly shows Tweek and Nichole gaping as Wendy grabs her torch. Cartman applauds as Wendy’s torch is snuffed, “Wendy, the tribe has spoken, it’s time for you to go.” She spins around spitting out, “At least I’ll get to watch from the cheap seats, peace.” Randy concludes, “Well that surely was a shocking a tribal council and there is still more to come, head back to camp.” “Just like that, I’m out of the game, I’m not too sure what some people are doing clinging to Cartman in that fashion,” Wendy crosses her legs on the elimination recliner, “I’m not too sure if it’s going to continue to benefit them, Cartman will always find another scapegoat to target. Good fucking luck to them.” NEXT TIME ON SURVIVOR… “Guys, we’re out of food…” Bebe begins to sob. Tweek being spun out, “I am deathly afraid that I’m gonna get kicked off at any minute! THEY ARE ALL AGAINST ME!” He screams. “I’m sick of all the white people, hashtag kill all white people.” Nichole writes in the snow angering the rednecks. A rustling in the bushes, “Who could that be? I’m not expecting anyone.” Bebe says. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy masturbating to an Asian woman getting farted on, he ejaculates EVERYWHERE. “Previously on...Survivor!” “The castaways went on a towel hunt,” shot of Wendy and Nichole searching some bushes. “It was interrupted by the auction immunity challenge,” shot of Craig shooting up the chance that Dishrag will die in the wilderness by handing out the monop money. “During the challenge, Kenny ate immunity, and Wendy made a big miss steak.” Shot of the goths and Shelly being told to get the fuck out of the auction. “At Exile Beach, Pete planted the seed that Wendy was not to be trusted.” “This lead to a messy tribal council with Wendy being voted out six to fo.” Shot of Wendy getting her torch snuffed. “Nine are left, who will be voted out tonight?” Randy hurriedly wipes jizz off of himself as Sharon barges in. Ennui Tribe Night 10 Night vision cam shows the tribe filing back into camp, mostly in good spirits as Cartman flashes a grin to the camera and Kenny’s erection stands out proudly. Bebe bringing up the rear with glowing tears streaming down her face. “I’ve hit rock bottom,” Bebe looking defeated hugging her knees. “My baby is gone, my best friend got voted out, and now everyone knows I have the idol. I’m ready to leave this game.” Camera shows Nichole and Henrietta standing a few feet away from the shelter as the rest of the tribe, sans Bebe who was crying in the bushes, winded down. Nichole’s skin is a weird color in the night camera. “What the hell do we do now?” “The same thing we were doing before,” Henrietta blinks, smoke rising over her face as she peers over at Bebe. “Is Barbie gonna kill herself?” “I’ll go talk to her,” Nichole leaves Henrietta, who rolls her eyes. “Funny that nobody even seems to suspect I voted against the glitter squad,” Henrietta kicking a rock with boredom. “I feel sorry for Mama B but she’s gotta get her head back in this game before it becomes WHITES ONLY,” laid over Nichole strutting over to Bebe, her unbridled titlets flapping a bit. A rustling in the bushes. “Who could that be? I’m not expecting anyone,” Bebe says. Suddenly, an echoing thump as Nichole drops to the dirt. “RAT!” Nichole screeches as she hits the flo. Bebe gasps with delight. “Dishrag?!?!” Her baby, who Bebe’s black tribemate had tripped over, ran over to its mother as swelling emotional music plays. “And then I found my baby!” Bebe looking YEARS younger as she holds Dishrag to her nip. “I thought I was never gonna see my little rape baby again.” “Ay,” Cartman barking over from the shelter. “The black chick had the retarded towel baby the whole time? Oooooh.” “What?!?!” Nichole flaring up as she brushes the dirt off of herself. “Nichole, you had my baby this whole time?” Bebe shooting Nichole a glance. Shot of Craig frowning at Nichole from the shelter. “You really think I would kidnap that demon spawn?” Nichole fires back. “You’ve been judgmental of Dishrag his entire life, you probably left him for dead!” Bebe starting to raise her voice, getting up in Nichole’s face. “Yeah that’s fucking evil, hoodlum!” Cartman adding fuel to the fire. “How dare you!” Nichole looking like she’s about to yank on Bebe’s hair, then an ethnic shout is heard as Pete suddenly gets between them. “Get the fuck away from her,” he shoves Nichole aggressively. “I didn’t fucking do nothing, shit!” Nichole storms away from camp, her steps punctuated by tribal grunts as the music intensifies. “Everything is going perfectly,” laid over Cartman watching the scene with gusto. “I knew Wendy’s gay hippie liberalism was the only thing keeping harmony between the races.” “I had to come in hot on Nichole so nobody would think I was gay,” laid over shot of Pete holding Bebe defensively. “That’s just another layer of the game.” “I’m sick of all the white people, hashtag kill all white people.” Nichole writes in the snow angering the rednecks. Ennui Tribe Day 11 All of the grunting evens out to a low moan as the camera shows Shelly standing on the shore of Stark’s Pond at dawn, her eyes closed. Shelly sitting up straight, pounding dirt out of her shoes. “We finally got Testyturds out, and the girl alliance is dead. Maybe the girls woulda been easier to beat in the end, but I think I made the right move last night.” Camera shows various tribemates starting to wake up in the shelter; Tweek’s hands shaking as he tends to the fire. Tweek shifting uncomfortably on a stump. “I never got to talk to Pete because of stupid Exile Beach, and then I got left out of the plan. I can see the writing on the wall. I know I’m next.” Arrhythmic beats play as the camera shows Pete and Tweek walking into the woods. “What the hell is going on man, I know my name’s going around,” Tweek’s speech speeding up from anxiety. “Relax, it just had to be Wendy last night. Everything is fine, man,” Pete played it cool. Echoing grunt as Tweek glares at Pete uneasily. Tweek being spun out, “I am deathly afraid that I’m gonna get kicked off at any minute! THEY ARE ALL AGAINST ME!” He screams. Meanwhile, Kenny is about to place a hand on Craig’s fine ass as they lay next to each other in the shelter when Bebe pipes up. “Guys, we’re out of food…” Bebe begins to sob. A shimmering cymbal sound effect plays as the camera shows Cartman’s shocked reaction. “We forgot to ration our Cheesy poofs,” Craig looking at the ground sheepishly. “I’m hungry.” Tweek and Henrietta return from the well with water as the tribe’s attention is drawn to Cartman’s blubbering. “Gahs, hey-Keeny, we’re out of food!” Cartman shakes Kenny’s shoulders violently. “Tweek!” the little blonde boy screams, caught off guard. “I swear to Christ you’re here to tell me there are more Cheesey Poofs.” Tweek sweating. “Uhh, I don’t know-” “Maybe your fat ass is just gonna have to hunt for some food,” Nichole pipes up for the first time after being racially outcasted the entire morning. “How about you sit your ass in the fire so I can make some negress pot pie!” Cartman barked at her. “Everyone calm down,” Bebe stands up, motioning to her deformed offspring who was wailing demonically because of the fuss. “You’re upsetting Dishrag. Besides, I’m lactating, you can all just take turns sipping from my boobie,” she slips her tender breast out of her parka. Kenny screams, “MILK!” And quickly suckles on her nips. “Watching Kenny get up all on that titty, ugh really made my loins hurt.” Pete dramatically blows smoke into the camera. “I need meat to survive! Bebe’s boob milk isn't enough.” Cartman complains, as Shelly glares at everyone from the shelter. “Maybe, you shouldn’t have eaten fucking everything, I’m fat too, but you don’t see my gobbling food into my craw everytime I see it.” Henrietta dramatically throws some twigs into the fire and peaces out to smoke. “I’m so sick of this, I swear to God, I better get to make an appearance on Family Feud out of this.” Henrietta angrily crushes some rocks with her thighs. “What’s up her vagina?” Craig asks earning not much of a reaction from anyone. “Whatever, screw you guys, I’m gonna take a dump.” Cartman left to poop. Everyone dipping allows Pete to take Bebe away from camp. Pete holding Dishrag, “I really needed to tell Bebe something, all those conformist cunts were cock blocking me.” “Hey, I just want to let you know that even though Dishrag isn’t mine, I still want to be his father.” Pete told Bebe while looking at the ground. “I didn’t mean it, I just want to secure the vote with Bebe, I know it’s fucked up, but we ain’t married.” Pete dramatically lit a cigarette, “Once this game is over, our relationship is over.” Bebe’s eyes and tits glow, “Wow, thank you Pete, as a young mother I need all the help that I can get!” Immunity Challenge Day 11 “Come on in guys!” Randy yells as the starving children waddle into the challenge arena. “Kenny, I’m gonna have to take the immunity back,” Randy states. “The poor always get what they earn ripped away from them,” He throws the poorly constructed jewlery back at Randy. “Immunity back up for grabs,” Randy cheesily smiles like a pedophile. “Wanna know what your challenge is today?” Shot of the castaways looking weak from malnutrition, Bebe falls over. “Well we have a special guest here today to give you guys the challenge…” Randy’s voice was drowned out as the sounds of the chopper approached. “HELLO THERE CHILDREN,” Chef steps out of the helicopter holding a large platter. “Hey Chef!” The kids answered in unison. “Today you are gonna have ten minutes to eat as many of my chocolate salty balls as possible!” Chef dramatically brandished the cover of the platter. “We weighed you children before this challenge and whoever gains the most weight wins the Immunity necklace!” “I could eat Chef’s black ass if I had to,” Cartman looking ravenous. “I’m lactose intolerant, I am at a severe disadvantage,” Pete smoked a poorly rolled cigarette. “And the two of you who gain the least will be sent to Exile Beach,” Chef made a spooky hands motion. “I’m so fucking ready,” Bebe puts Dishrag down on the ground so xe can’t munch on her tit. “Survivors, ready?” Randy pulls a gun out and shoots Chef, “GO!” Randy pulled a large sheet off of a table that was there the whole time, that was covered in chocolate salty balls. Cartman was the first to make it there, shoveling them into his mouth as Kenny dropped to the flo and picked at the ones Chef had dropped when shot. A ‘4 minutes elapsed’ caption hovered over the bottom of the screen. “You’ve been eating for 4 minutes,” Randy narrated superfluously as Nichole made guttural eating sounds. The camera showed Shelly wincing as she picks chocolate out of her teeth as Pete noncommittally nibbles on a ball. Tweek begins yelling like “AHHHH,” with chocolate covering his face giving the appearance of doo-doo. “Now that I’m not eating for two anymore, I think I should try to take some of these with me,” laid over a shot of Bebe shoving chocolate salty balls in her cleavage. “I don’t think I need the necklace today.” Randy claps, “Times up! Let’s see what you have.” The castaways lined up next to a large Biggest Loser-sized scale that had arrived there at some point. Henrietta was the first to step on, donning a grey sports bra that had never been seen on-screen. “At first I thought for sure Henrietta had us beat in this challenge, then I just remembered she’s just fat,” Craig wiping his mouth. Henrietta plopped onto the scale and a loud beep was heard as a +3 showed up on the display screen. “You gained not one, not two, but three pounds Henrietta, good job,” Randy congratulated her as she stepped off. “Craig, you’re next.” Craig walks onto the scale in a TIGHT ass tank top. A few beeps play and +1.4 popped up. “Haha, you SUCK, Henrietta is still in the lead with three pounds.” Randy mocked, “Kenny you’re next.” Kenny steps onto the scale only for a large parasitic worm to erupt from his midsection, as his corpse fell to the ground as a -30 appeared on the screen. “Rest in peace Kenny,” Randy frowned at the dead child. Montage of Shelly stepping up to reveal a respectable +6, which Randy nods approvingly at, and Tweek and Nichole both still being skinny as fuck with their shitty +0.4. Pete gingerly steps onto the scale, a dismal -0.2 pops up on the screen. “Are you trying to win?” Randy asked him judgmentally. “I just had a baby, I should be a shoe in! I have had like zero time to lose any baby weight.” Bebe smugly smirks at the cameraman, the one who wants to rape Bebe. Bebe stands on the scale confidently as it beeps, a +10 pops up leading Bebe to be all like “yeah!” and jump up and down, causing some of the chocolate salty balls to topple out of her tits. The screen changes to a +5. “So Cartman is last up, right now Shelly is in the lead with a 6 pound gain,” shot of Shelly flexing a muscle as Cartman steps onto the scale with an uncertain expression. The scale beeps dramatically in and out of a commercial break, to finally reveal a +8. “Wha-wh-whaaat?” Cartman feigns shock at the results. “Congratulations Eric, you win individual immunity you fucking fatass!” The rest of the tribe stands up and claps as Randy struggles to fit the necklace on his fat neck. “Alright, so Pete and dead Kenny, get the fudge out,” he dictated as they picked their shit up and walked off. “It’s really burning my tits that I have been to exile not once, but twice.” Pete rolls his eyes, “I can’t afford to be all isolationist and gay.” “Nobody noticed me water-loading with Bebe’s titty juice after the first weigh-in,” Cartman taking a watery shit with a stone-cold expression. “I knew this necklace was mahn.” Exile Beach Day 11 The only shots the editors could use was the first shot of Kenny and Pete walking in, the rest were of Kenny raping Pete until tribal council. Ennui Tribe Day 11 “So we go back to camp and surprise, mother fucking surprise, Cartman had rounded big dyke and stank fag up to go talk about voting out the minorities.” Nichole squatted on a rock. Cartman jaunted away from camp, caressing the necklace, “Try voting for me now!” Tweek looked awkwardly between Bebe and Nichole, “What do we do?” Bebe pouted her lips, staring at the ground. “I’m inclined to vote for the person who stole my baby.” “I didn’t do it,” Nichole immediately breaking down. “Man, this is some bad fucking juju right here,” Tweek looking hella spun, “I know for a fact that Bebe has an idol, she’s gonna play it. I can feel it in my bones.” “I guess when you take a dump everyone ignores you,” Henrietta wiping her butt, “I have no idea which conformist I’m voting for tonight. I’ll probably ruminate over it while Mr. Marsh is yelling at us.” “The black chick tonight?” Craig asks nasally to the intimate huddle of Cartman and Shelly in the woods, ominous drum beat and cut to Nichole sitting on a stump alone. “No, see, that’s far too easy,” Cartman devious. “Now Nichole has to come back to us, so we can pick off the others,” tribal moan as the camera shows Bebe and Tweek by the fire. “The only problem is, Bebe Stevens has the idol.” “Knowledge is power,” Shelly nods in agreement. “After Craig talked with Cartman and the tall fat girl, I knew I needed to get into his ear and on his dickie.” Tweek brushes some of his wild ass hair back. As the sun began to set like OOOOOOOOOH, Nichole and Shelly tended the meager fire in the middle of camp. “Let me in on the vote, could you puh lease?” Nichole pouted as she threw some twigs into the fire. “Uh, sure.” Shelly answers in a hushed tone. “This game is really falling into place for me.” Shelly puffs out her chest. Meanwhile Tweek sighing as Craig manhandles him in the woods. His eyes bug out a little “Craig, we have to talk about something important.” “More important than this dick?” Craig whips out his throbbing length. “What are you pregnant too?” Tweek looked Craig deadass in the eye, subverting their sexual dynamic a bit. “We need to throw our votes, see?.” As he showcases his butthole. “I don’t think they need my vote tonight,” Craig blinking. Intense bell sound effects play as the camera shows Cartman walking through the woods with Shelly and Craig again. “Of course I know everything can change on a dime,” Cartman fixing the part in his hair. “But at least I have the necklace tonight.” Henrietta decided to lick her own cunt for sustenance in light of the food shortage while Cartman charged at her. “Listen Bitch, You gotta vote Pete.” Cartman dictated in a very messy fashion. And she is all like, “I guess.” Tribal Council Night 11 The final nine castaways file into the backyard of the Marsh house. Randy looks like he’s gotta pee. “Please welcome the first two members of the jury, Towelie and Wendy, voted out at the last tribal council,” Wendy appears with a dramatically short haircut that she got at Ponderosa for some reason, she looks pissed. Before Randy can begin, Bebe is already leaning over into Pete’s ear and whispering. “Why you whispering?” Shelly shoots daggers at Bebe. Taking his chance, “Yes, Bebe why are you whispering to Pete?” Randy puts a hand on his chin. “Uhhh, mind ya business.” Bebe decides to say. A quick shot to Craig and Kenny looking hella suspicious. “So Cartman, you are normally a target at tribal, how good does that necklace feel tonight?” “Stan’s Dad, it feels fucking amazing. It’s good to put the minorities in their place.” Cartman sneers while Nichole and Henrietta are shown looking mildly uncomfortable. “Now who here feels like they could be in trouble tonight?” Randy peers at the remaining castaways. Bebe, Pete, Tweek, and Nichole all raise their hands. Wendy mouths a ‘wow’. “That’s half of the tribe, Tweek why do you feel this way?” “Man! I don’t know the game can change at any minute, I’m scared.” Tweek slouches in his chair. “It’s time to fucking vote,” Randy announces, “Shelly, sweetie, you’re up first.” Shelly stomps the runway and votes in a blase manner. Craig votes and he wipes his nose, “Dude, stop molesting me.” Defiantly writing in capital letter, [NICHOLE], “You stole my baby, fuck you.” Bebe folded ha paper. Pete takes a long time before writing down a name. Cartman lets the immunity necklace jangle on his breasts, “Checkmate.” “You crossed me before, payback’s a BITCH!” Tweek shakes with [Kenny] in his hands. Sighing, “You’re still the most conformist cunt out here, bye.” Henrietta scrawled in cursive because she’s gay. Kenny has his hood pulled up since it started snowing heavily during the tribal council. His words are muffled as he holds up his vote. Nichole wipes some tears from her eyes, “This game is hard, I need to win though.” She votes. “I’ll go tally the votes,” Randy gaily dips to collect the voting urn. “If anyone has an idol and would like to play it, now would be the time to do so,” Randy stands all gay. Bebe digs in her cleavage “Pete, I think you might need this, take this accursed thing away from me!” Pete readily takes the idol that is covered in Bebe’s boob juice, he hands it over to Randy. Randy wipes it off, “This IS a hidden immunity idol, any votes cast against Pete will not count, I’ll read the votes.” The camera quickly jumps to Cartman’s red face. “Once the votes are read, the person with the most votes needs to get the fudge out.” “First vote,” Randy reads dramatically [Pete] Pete scowls and rolls his eyes. “Does not count. Second vote,” [Pete] “Does not count. Third vote,” [Pete] “Three votes for Pete all don’t count. Next vote.” [Bebe] She laughs. [Bebe] “Two votes for Bebe.” [NICHOLE] Nichole shakes her head, “This is racism.” “Next vote,” [Kenny] “Two votes for Bebe, one vote for Kenny, and one vote for Nichole. We have two votes left.” The camera pans over Henrietta’s and Craig’s bored faces. [Kenny] Randy pulls out the final vote and quickly reveals. [Nichole] Wendy gasps from the jury. “We have a tie . Two votes Bebe, two votes Nichole, and two votes for Kenny. This means we’ll be going to a revote, in which Bebe, Nichole, and Kenny cannot vote.” “Shelly please take the voting box back.” Shelly returns looking slightly spooked, she quickly writes down a different name. Pete rubs his temple, his gooch is sweaty. “Thanks Bebe, I can't believe it.” [Nichole] Tweek, still shaking, he votes in a nonchalant way. “Haha, that's what you get you stupid cunt, checkmate!” Cartman smugly holds up, [Bebe & her boobs] Henrietta sighs and writes down a name. Craig’s vote is obscured, however his sexy face is not. After everyone has voted Randy dips again while the music intensifies like fuck. “Blah, blah, once I read the votes, I got shit to do.” Randy quickly pulls out the first vote. [Bebe] She just shrugs and is all like, “Wow, I didn’t see that coming!” “Next vote,” [Nichole] She looks on somberly. [Nichole] Randy reaches his hand in the box to retrieve another paper. [Bebe] The music begins to play ambient drums as flashes of Bebe and Nichole’s face are shown, they both look pensive and constipated. “Two votes Bebe, Two votes Nichole. Two votes left.” Randy sternly pulls out another vote. [Bebe] “And the twelfth person voted out and third member of our jury…” [Bebe] She nods her head and she dips her titties into Pete’s face as she embraces him. Grabbing her torch, Bebe has a bit of a nip slip. “Bebe, it’s time for you to go.” Randy snuffs ha torch. She waves, “Pete please take care of Dishrag!” Pete smirks as Bebe walks off into the Marsh’s house. “Well that really shook up the game, good night castaways, you are gonna need that rest.” Randy peaced into his house and the eight children collected their shit and left. “I’m glad I saved Pete, I really am happy that I found a love connection on the island. This has been a whirlwind of an adventure.” Bebe pauses. “I’m a mother now, wow. This really changed everything.” NEXT TIME ON… SURVIVOR! “We have to eat it,” Cartman dictates while everyone looks starved and depressed in the shelter. “I want my revenge,” Pete flips his hair. Kenny smoking a leftover spliff, “Well, I guess people still hate the poor.” Shelly’s mustache is very noticeable in this confessional, “It’s down to the wire, we need to flush out the turds.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy smoking a hard ass blunt with Towelie at Ponderosa, “Previously on Survivor!” “The cast is retarded and ate all the food,” Quick shots of Kenny clamping onto Bebe’s succulent titty. “This lead to production staging an impromptu eating challenge.” Chef jumps out of the helicopter being all like “Hello children!” “Cartman stereotypically won because he’s so fat, why are you so fat, you’re such a fat cat, Cartman.” Randy coughs, “The tribal was crazy, Bebe played her idol on Pete, essentially saving his emo ass.” Pete looking grateful at tribal, “However, the vote tied and Bebe was the one who wound up getting burned.” A shot of Bebe’s torch getting snuffed. “Eight are left, who will be voted out tonight?” Randy shoves a baby in the oven. Ennui Tribe Night 11 As the tribe walks back into camp, it begins to heavily sleet onto them. Everyone is covered in snow and their gooches are shivering. Tweek shaking all cracked out. “I’m cold.” “I'm so glad we got rid of that slut tonight. Kenny spits into the snow, “Now fucking Pete isn't a problem.” Laid over a shot of Pete’s hands turning blue as he smokes a cigarette by his lonesome. Tribal moaning as the sky gets dark in a time-lapse shot, the tribe is effectively trapped in the shelter due to the winter weather. Nichole rubbing her stomach in the corner of the shelter. “The girls are a dying breed out here, and I know I’m probably next. At this point I’m almost ready to go, we’ve been out of food for days and I’m just trying to survive this one night.” “Listen, guys,” Nichole’s desperate face looking wacky in the night-vision cam. “We have to eat something, or we may not even make it through the night,” Craig somberly nodded in agreement, as they both glanced at Kenny dying of hypothermia several feet away. “How are we gonna go out and find food in this weather?” Tweek anxious. “We don’t have to,” Cartman banged his hands down on the floor of the shelter, his enormous titties wailing in hunger. “We have something to eat right here,” he pointed a finger in Pete’s direction. “I don’t want to eat him, he’s gay,” Shelly narrowing her eyes at Cartman. “I mean the demon baby, obviously,” Cartman gesticulating wildly at Dishrag, swaddled up inconspicuously at Pete’s breast. Nichole flares up her nostrils with disgust. “I don’t know if I can eat that.” “Suck it up bitch,” Cartman shut down the black girl. “The last time I won something we could kill and eat in this game I let it slip through my fingers, I’m not making that mistake again. We have to eat it,” Cartman dictates while everyone looks starved and depressed in the shelter. “Towelie wouldn’t like that, he seems fucking crazy. He would probably kill us all!” Tweek shook violently from the cold/from being spastic. “Well he’s not here right now,” Craig piped up dully. “And I’m starving.” “Me too, I need protein to refuel my cummies,” Kenny added without ceremony. “To me, it seemed like an obvious choice,” Shelly shrugging. “When the food’s there in front of you, eat it.” “I’ll try to get a fire going,” Shelly breaking sticks angrily. “I wanna eat it RAW!” Kenny begins to turn a bit blue. “Fine,” Nichole grumbled. “It was really revealing to me, seeing everyone fall in line with this ‘eat the baby’ plan,” Pete frowning. “I know Bebe and I were kind of a thing and that’s her kid but I knew better than to say anything. My head’s been out of this game.” Uplifting music plays as the tribe begins tearing Dishrag into pieces, muffled screams are heard as he bleeds out. Close-up of Cartman shoving Dishrag’s nose and forehead into his mouth with gusto. “Oh my god, it’s so yummy.” “It’s like an orgasm in my mouth.” Craig chews with his mouth open like a fucking pig. “The tribe’s decision to eat a weird towel baby really surprised me,” Henrietta applies her make up, giving herself a banging smoky eye. “I thought they were bigger pussies.” Shelly picked her teeth with a broken pinecone, “Towel tastes delicious, it almost tastes like chicken.” After the feast, Tweek and Craig broke up to bone in the woods. “Craig, we need to make a move soon. The money should be ours.” Tweek hums as Craig sucks on his dickie. Craig makes a slurping noise as he looks up at Tweek defiantly. “I see which way the wind is blowing.” “If the people in power aren’t coming after me, why try to take it from them?” Craig stretching post-coitus. Meanwhile, Henrietta and Pete are writing poetry together for old time’s sake. “Henri, do you think this game has changed me?” She ponders while carving ‘die’ into her wrist, “I mean, yeah. You like became a stepfather and shit.” “Mmm, perhaps.” He flips his hair. Ennui Tribe Day 12 The waves crash from Stark’s Pond like woosh at the base of camp. Nichole is braiding Shelly’s hair to give her dreads. “I’m really happy to share my culture with Big S, in this game I’ve always admired her, she’s really skrong.” Nichole smiles in a goofy manner. Meanwhile, Cartman, Craig, Tweek and Kenny gather wood. “Stick to the plan, gahs. Only eight people left, and we have Shelly on our side,” Cartman plotting, as the camera jarringly cuts to a shot of Pete and Henrietta awkwardly sharing a cigarette due to low resources. “The goth fag’s days are numbered, he’s lucky his slut girlfriend gave up her spot for him,” Cartman grinning with Dishrag’s dried blood showing on his shirt. “Can we vote out the black girl if he wins the necklace,” Craig requests apathetically. “We might have to spread our votes on the girls, who knows if they have an idol,” Tweek acting hella paranoid to keep face. “I guess for now I’m still part of Cartman’s plans,” Tweek contemplative, on a bench. “But I don’t think voting Pete out of the game would be a good move for me.” Nichole still in the shelter is now giving Henrietta cornrows, “I got a proposition for you girl.” Nichole says while grabbing a fistful of Henrietta’s greasy black hair. “I’m listening.” Henrietta lights her long ass cigarette stick. “It’s time.” Nichole curls some of Henrietta’s hair. “Time for what?” “IT.” Immunity Challenge Day 12 “Come on in, guys!” The remaining castaways stumble in as the camera pans to a line of dummies representing each castaway tied up to crosses. Each cross was held up by three ropes, and a torch stood next to each cross. “Take your positions in front of the doll of your likeness,” Randy instructed them. Nichole made a stank face at her stereotypical-looking doll. “You all were just asked a series of questions regarding your fellow tribemates. I will now ask you these questions again, but this time, you are trying to guess the answer that you think was the most common. If you got it right, you get to chop a rope of one of your competitors; when all three of your ropes are chopped, you’re out of the challenge. Last person standing wins immunity.” The castaways are shown shuffling through their flipbooks of the names of the tribe. “First question, survivors ready?” Craig looking pensive as shit while carefully flipping through his papers. “Who is the stankest member of the tribe?” Everyone confidently flipping through names. “Reveal,” the castaways all hold up their answers; everyone answered Henrietta except Nichole, who held up ‘Cartman’. “The correct answer is… Henrietta.” Henrietta smiles like she just won the stank award for best stank. “Everyone got it right except Nichole, so everyone except Nichole can chop a rope. Craig, take the axe,” “So predictable,” Henrietta rolling her eyes as she sniffs her vag. Craig takes the axe and makes a beeline for Nichole’s black doll. “Sorry,” he says insincerely as he chops Nichole’s first rope. Tweek then takes the axe, he looks around nervously and then apologetically chips away Henrietta’s rope. She wasn’t bothered. Shelly grunts masculinely as she splits Pete’s first rope. Cartman is the next to chop, “Nichole,” He swings down triumphantly. Henrietta makes her stand and spits in Cartman’s face while chopping his first rope. Pete follows Henrietta and doesn’t say NOTHING while he cuts Cartman. Kenny mumbles something incoherently as he chops Henrietta’s second rope. “One round in and this challenge is still anyone’s game,” Randy narrates. “Nichole, Henrietta and Cartman all down to one rope apiece. Nichole, how does it feel to see your doll up there on the cross?” “Oh, my blood is BOILING, Randy,” Nichole wiped the sweat off her tit. “Let’s get it on.” Randy smiled at Nichole’s antics. “Next question,” he begins dramatically. “Who do you least want to see again after this game?” A few seconds pass, the camera shows Tweek making a constipated expression. “Reveal.” Nichole pointedly answers ‘Cartman’ again. The goths also answer with ‘Cartman’ while everyone else answers with ‘Nichole’. The camera shows Cartman’s shit-eating grin as Randy reveals, “The correct answer was… Nichole. Craig, Cartman, Shelly, Kenny and Tweek got it right, Craig take this axe boy.” “Sure thing, Mr. Marsh. I’m gonna even it out.” Craig knocks Pete down to one rope left. Tweek takes the axe next, clearly pressed that he had to take someone out of the challenge. “Ohh, I hate this,” Tweek put his face in his hands. “Sorry, I’m just going random,” he walks over to Nichole’s doll with shame and chops her last rope, lowering her cross into the flames, where her dark-skinned doll ignited immediately. Nichole shed a tear. “Lowercase t for time to leave, Nichole take a seat on the bench.” Randy placed his hands on hips. “Random my ass!” Nichole screams. Tweek winces feeling hella bad. Shelly then takes the axe, being much less of a pussy than Tweek was about taking Pete out of the challenge. The flames lit the cigarette his doll was holding before burning the doll to a crisp. Pete didn’t make a big deal, walking over to the bench all like “It’s cool, guys.” He lit a cigarette. Cartman then took the axe. “Sorry, sweet tits, but I’m gonna follow suit,” he shiestily cut Henrietta’s last rope, she flipped him off as she took a seat. Kenny finally took the axe, trying to look nonchalant as he took a swing at Tweek’s first rope, as all of the outsiders had been taken out. Tweek cringed in the background. “And just like that, we’re down to five to win this challenge,” Randy gestured patronizingly to Nichole, Pete and Henrietta sitting on the bench.. “Next question, who is the biggest threat to win this game?” Cartman chuckles as he flips through his book. “Reveal.” Cartman and Craig answered ‘Cartman’, Tweek and Kenny answered ‘Pete’ and Shelly answered ‘Craig’. “The correct answer was… Pete,” shocked reactions among the castaways as Kenny’s penis smiles. Randy extends the axe to Tweek, who squawks with astonishment. “Payback, sorry.” Tweek ain’t that sorry as he weakly chops away at Kenny’s first rope. “I gotta be a lil strategic.” Kenny strolls over to Shelly, angering her bussy. “Craig still has all of his ropes, Tweek, Kenny, and Shelly all have two, while Cartman hangs on with one.” Randy narrates. Dramatic shot of Craig, with a small smile on his face. “Next question,” Randy glares at the castaways. “Who on this tribe would you trust with your LIFE?” Close up of the castaways looking all hot and confused as they pick their answers. “Reveal.” Kenny dramatically holds up ‘Pete’ and Tweek holds up ‘Craig’ as Cartman, Craig, and Shelly all hold up ‘Shelly’. “And the correct answer is… Shelly. Ahh.” Randy swoons gaily as he hands his daughter the axe. “It’s time to cause some chaos.” Shelly grins. She hits Craig in a cold manner, earning a look of discontent from him. Cartman takes the axe, and shrugs as he follows suit and chops Craig’s second rope. “Sorry man, I want the necklace tonight!” “Well you’re not getting it.” Craig nasally knocks out Cartman. He flips him off. Nichole applauds from eliminee bench. Cartman is LIVID. “HEY!” he flares up at Craig as Shelly holds him back. Craig side-eyes him with contempt, “Get over it fatboy, it’s just a challenge.” Cartman stomps over to the bench. “You’re gonna regret it.” “Craig’s true colors really showed at the challenge today,” Cartman posing dramatically against a tree. “Oh boy, fifth question. We got Kenny, Shelly, and Tweek at two, and Craig at one. Who is the laziest member of the tribe?” Everyone racistly answers ‘Nichole’. She scoffs from the sidelines. “And everyone is right! Craig, take back the axe.” “Whatever,” Craig cuts one of Shelly’s ropes, earning some gasps from Nichole and Tweek. Shelly eliminates Craig and his bland looking paper mache mannequin burns like the local hot topic. He is nonplussed as he takes a seat on the bench. Tweek is all “Ahh!” as he raises the axe above his head to chop Kenny down to one. Kenny accidentally chops his hand off as well as Tweek’s rope. “Everyone has their last rope. Next question, Who thinks they are smart, but they are really NOT?” Shelly answers ‘Nichole’, Tweek answers ‘Kenny’, Kenny answers ‘Cartman’. “The correct answer is… Kenny.” Kenny throws his cards on the ground, “Fucking for real?” Tweek gives a shit eating grin as he eliminates Kenny from the challenge. “And just like that, we are down to two for immunity, one rope all, Tweek and Shelly. One of you will win this challenge. The next question is… who deserves to win this game the most?” Dramatic music begins to play as the challenge is about to end. “Reveal,” Tweek contemplates his answer but is all like whateva and shows ‘Kenny’. Shelly is a narcissist and picks ‘Shelly’. “The correct answer is...Kenny again, most of you wrote because he is poor along with it.” Tweek jumps up as celebratory tribal music begins to play. He skips over to Shelly’s dykey looking doll and releases it into the flames. Shelly looks on with envy as Randy places the necklace around Tweek’s sleek twink neck. “Tweek, safe tonight at tribal council, guaranteed a one in seven shot at the prize,” Randy with a glint in his eye. “For the rest of you, one of you is gone tonight, so pack ya bags,” he chucked the deuces up and the tribe filed away. “The necklace was all I needed, it’s time to make my move,” the immunity necklace making Tweek’s eyes really pop. “Yeah, I wanted to win, but did I need it tonight?” Shelly crossing her arms. “Honestly, probably not.” Ennui Tribe Day 12 Kenny smokes a leftover spliff, “I guess people still hate the poor.” Cartman pulling Craig into the woods immediately after returning to camp. “Are you with me or against me?” Craig looks him dead ass in the eye. “I’m with you, all the way.” “Don’t ever fuck me around like that again,” Cartman glaring at him intimidatingly. “I don’t feel bad for what I did,” Craig eyeing the camera defensively. “If the blacks and the goths thought we were unified, we would be in trouble.” Henrietta and Pete are having their smoking session while Nichole ambushes them at the edge of Stark’s Pond. “We need to fucking mobilize before the white man takes us down!” Nichole begins to lay out ha plan to the receptive goths. “I’m done pussy-footing around, we only need two mo.” “I want my revenge,” Pete flips his hair, “I’m not gonna let these fags run me out of town easily, see?” Meanwhile, Cartman gathers the rest of the tribe by the fire. “We have all the power right mya.” “This is essentially another round of, do whatever keeps the alliance happy. I honestly don’t care which one of those fags we vote out,” Cartman laying back. “It’s totally not about race.” “Why don’t we finally take out the black chick? We don’t need her vote any mo,” Kenny suggested. Fervent nods in agreement from Craig, Tweek, and Shelly. “Yeah, disenfranchisement,” someone said. “I need to stay team loyal, even though Nichole ain’t half bad,” Shelly stroking her new braid forlornly. Tribal shout like “hoooo” as the sun sets, Tweek sneaking off to talk to Pete under the excuse of taking a dump. “This is our last chance to take this shot,” Pete putting his foot down, to put out the butt he had just thrown on the ground. Tweek starting to hyperventilate. “I don’t think Craig is gonna do it! They’re getting racist again,” ominous shot of Nichole flipping her braids. Pete holds Tweek’s shoulders steady. “You know which name to write. We’ll figure out the rest.” “Jesus, Cartman pulls the same shit every time we have to go vote and his ass is on the line.” Henrietta vapes from a pinecone she fastened together. “I know what to do.” Cartman returns to camp, with his chest puffed out. Henrietta shouts, “Cartman, you fat fuck, it won’t even matter if you make to the end. Who the fuck would vote for a piece of shit fascist like you to win?” She tosses ha unfinished cig at him even though she’s about to run out. Henrietta doesn’t care, she’s a renegade. “Bitch you would have been out day the fuck five if I hadn’t offered my coattail!” Cartman spits at her. “I’m here because of the loch ness monster! Give me tree fiddy cunt.” Henrietta screaming at Cartman as Nichole looks on in the background predatorily. “Diabetes slut is lucky it’s not her,” Cartman spitting into the tribe’s drinking water. Music crescendos as the tribe is shown marching away from camp with their torches. “I’ve been sleep on this neo-nazi scumbag for long enough, and I’m just fucking tired of it,” Henrietta slashing at her thighs. “This is my last stand for my people in this game,” Nichole up in arms. “Baby Jesus let me survive tonight.” Shelly’s mustache is very noticeable in this confessional, “It’s down to the wire, we need to flush out the turds.” Tribal Council Night 12 The tribe looks disheveled as ever as they stumble into Randy’s backyard. “Let’s bring in the members of our jury, Towelie, Wendy, and Bebe voted out at the last tribal council.” Bebe has her hair curled and her tits out in a nice dress. “So Craig,” the camera shows the blue-hatted boy reacting indifferently to Randy’s probing. “Things heated up today at the immunity challenge. Did that show some lines in the sand?” “It was just a challenge, we were all trying to win,” Craig answers flatly. “Uhh, that’s some buhhshit,” Nichole comes in hot from the corner of the tribal area. “Look at who the fuck was chopped off first,” the camera shows the second-class citizen goths nodding on their side of the seats. “It was exactly like when we picked new tribes, nothing has changed since then.” “So Pete, you think there are two clear sides?” Pete puffs on his cigarette contemplatively. “Less two sides, more one big cancerous alliance that threatens to absorb everything in its way,” he casts a judgmental glance at Cartman and Craig. “Wow,” Randy not sure how to respond to that tone. “Shelly, what are your thoughts on the vote tonight?” Shelly folds her hands together. “Like always, dad, it’s stick to the plan.” “So you’re in this alliance?” Shelly blinking. “We’ll have to see about that.” “Everyone is so caught up on calling out an ‘alliance’,” Cartman unable to contain himself. “Are the two emo fags not an alliance? Maybe some people in this game know how to stay loyal and keep trust, and some don’t, not my problem,” he wipes his nose. “Kenny, how are you feeling about tonight?” Randy changes the subject. “Feeling like I need to bust a nut later, Mr. Marsh. May we vote please?” “Alright, it’s time to vote. Henrietta, you’re up,” Henrietta totters over to the urn and writes [Cartman] venomously. Tweek’s hand shaking a little bit as he writes a name, “It’s too late to make more mistakes.” Shelly looking down as she writes a name. Nichole strides over angrily and scrawls [Cartman], “I never want to look into your blue eyes ever again.” “If I have to write your god damn name down again, I swear to god.” [Nichole] Cartman tosses his vote into the shoebox. Pete scribbles out a name, “You like that little man?” Craig sighs as he votes giving off that angsty twink vibe. Kenny writes down [Nichole] with defiance, “People like you are the reason I’m poor!” “I’ll go tally the votes,” Randy goes to grab the urn. “If anyone has the hidden immunity idol, do what you do,” the camera showed Kenny for some reason but nothing happened. “Once the votes are read the decision is final,” Randy pulled the lid off the urn sexually. “First vote… [Nichole] Nichole flips a braid out of her face. “Next vote…” [Nichole] “Pfft.” Nichole grabs her lil bag that production gives everyone.. Randy begins to read the next two votes in quick succession. [Cartman] [Cartman] “Two votes Nichole and Two votes Cartman.” [Cartman] Randy pauses for a moment before he reveals the next vote, [Nichole] “We are tied again! Three votes Nichole, three votes Cartman.” Randy flips the next vote all quick-like. [Cartman] Cartman whips his head around. “What?” He glares at Craig. Craig flips him off. “I didn’t fucking do that.” “Thirteenth person voted out and the fourth member of our jury…” [Cartman] “Please bring me your torch.” Cartman gave Tweek and Craig a death glare as he stood up and walked over to Randy, Tweek making face at Craig all dumbfounded as Shelly stares into the flames. “Cartman, the tribe has spoken,” Randy snuffs Cartman’s torch. “Time for you to go.” Audible whimpers are heard as Cartman exits. “Looks like Cartman was right about them alliances, eh?” Randy winks at the final seven. “Get back to camp.” “I had a feeling the fags were poised to get rid of me, and I let them get one step too far. I learned my lesson, next time it’s MASC ONLY.” Cartman’s cheeks still lookin a lil red. NEXT TIME ON… SURVIVOR! It’s total chaos at camp. “I’m not fucking lying,” Craig stone-cold. Shelly giving the camera a toothy smile. “They all think I’m so stupid.” “I think Kenny gave me gonorrhea? My dick is hella weird,” Pete inspecting his gross ass pale dick. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy does some cock magic for the contestants voted off before the merge, “Previously on Survivor!” “The castaways were starving, I thought their stomachs might explode!” A shot of Nichole look peckish with some stale Cheesy Poofs. “In a desperate decision, they ate Dishrag.” Montage of Dishrag screaming and being eaten to death. “This gave them enough gusto to backstab each other at the coconut chop challenge.” Dramatic cuts of the paper mache dolls catching fire. “Tweek pulled out the immunity due to his bland inoffensiveness.” Tweek looking hella smug with the necklace around his thin neck. “During the vote, Cartman couldn’t catch anymore breaks and became the fourth member of the jury. Seven are left, who will be voted off tonight!?” Randy made his dickie go behind Butters’ ear. He retrieves it and Butters giggles asianly. Ennui Tribe Night 12 Dramatic drum beats play as the tribe returns to camp in the dark, camera zooms in on Craig’s stank expression. Craig staring the camera down. “I don’t know what happened.” Tweek and Kenny exchanging weakened, hostile glances from across the shelter. Awkward silence among the group as Henrietta’s gooch wails in the corner. “So even though we’re out of food and I’m pretty sure I have toxic shock, something went right in this game,” Henrietta searching for unfinished butts on the shore of Stark’s Pond. “Soon they’ll have to conform to us.” Craig soon complains of poop cramps and dips, prompting Tweek to ask Shelly to help him find some medium-sized sticks. “I think everyone was shocked by Cartman going tonight,” Tweek’s skinny shoulders shrug in the night-vision cam. “Now Craig’s testes are all twisted up and I’m scared!!” Shelly non-reactive to Craig’s piercing glare. “Why did you guys flip?” “I didn’t fucking flip, don’t tell me what I did. I’m not fucking lying,” Craig stone-cold. Tweek’s head bobbing precariously as he turns to look at both. “I told you it was time to make the move Craig!” Craig shakes his head in frustration, his dickie not taking the bait. “Listen,” Shelly lowers her head slightly to level with the whiny fag. “We weren’t supposed to need Tweek’s vote, but if me and you and Cartman voted Nichole…” “Kenny,” Craig deduces coldly. Tweek narrows his eyes, happy to have his paranoia justified. “People may be sleeping on this game, but I knew exactly what I was doing,” Shelly crossing her arms, strong like a tree. “It was time to unclog that big turd from the game, now that nobody would think it was me. Trust and loyalty are foreign to the gays.” Ennui Tribe Day 13 "SO, there’s still two crackers in the game that would rather have me gone over a bigot.” Nichole brandishes her new weave to the camera, it’s pretty and pink. “I know Craig is a snake, I suspect Shelly, but dang I did ha hair and this is how she repays me? That would be a major disappointment.” Nichole acting sleuthy, “Hey Shelly, you want me to do your nails?” Shelly still has that vicious hangnail, “Yee.” After they get some privacy in the shelter Nichole whispers, “You can be real with me, did you vote me last night?” “I didn’t, I knew it was high time I washed my hands. Cartman had to go.” Shelly furiously nods. “Voting out Cartman was the biggest move of the game, they were already lumping me in like I was retarded or something,” Shelly sits in the snow, hugging her tree trunk legs, giving the camera a toothy smile, “They all think I’m so stupid, but this is my game, Cartman’s gone and it was because I wrote his name down.” Shot of Kenny sitting up in the shelter as his tribemates vegetate in the sun, famished. “Uhh, guys,” Kenny stands up definitively. “I’m going to die if we don’t find food soon, we have to do something,” Henrietta raises her brows incredulously as he grabs the machete and disappears into the woods. “I may have played myself into a corner on this one,” Kenny chomps on a rotten-looking apple. “But now that I’ve made the tribe weak, hungry,” laid over a shot of Nichole being too slow to swat a fly off her tit, “I can control the way they feel. And now that Fatboy is gone, it’s time we eat the damn pig.” A few minutes later, gasps as Kenny drags the pig carcass into camp. Pete, immediately aroused by Kenny’s masculinity. “Jesus, where did you find this?” Kenny made an indeterminate sound as he threw the pig onto the fire. “Who would vote me out now?” Kenny breaks into a low chuckle. The camera shows Nichole and the goths munching on some pig in the shelter as Tweek lays down from indigestion pains in the background. “This game is turning around,” Pete says out of nowhere, pig visible in his teeth. “Tweek is too scared to even think about making a move,” Henrietta leaning on a fat arm. “It’s like I’d probably eat him, you know?” Nichole’s eyes go wide as she makes a hand gesture to silence the fatter girl. “No, listen, y’all, it was Big S that voted with us last night, the homos can’t be trusted!” “I know that after that aids tribal council, Craig hasn’t been okay.” Tweek pensively sitting on a stump. “I needed to seduce him to get him focused. This is not the time to blow it!” Tweek twitches. Luring Craig into the jungle where everybody winds up boning on some dead ass leaves, Tweek shows off a shoulder with a come hither stare. “Tweek, don’t be gay. I’m not in the mood.” Craig sulks like a fat lesbian who gets denied cake and pussy. “But please? Dick is my new favorite thing besides coffee.” Tweek becomes slightly deranged. “STICK YOUR DICK IN ME!” He jumps on that dickie. Immunity Challenge Day 13 Uplifting music begins to play as the final seven walks into the large space that’s a maze. “You guys have been out here for thirteen grueling days,” Randy puts a hand on a hip gayly. “I think it’s time for a little love.” Kenny pops a boner, glancing at Pete predatorily, but then they all get spooped by a middle-aged woman wearing a bikini running at them from the horizon, her bush all poofin out. “Mom!” Craig runs to his adoptive mother, she opens her arm as the blissful soundtrack lingers as long as their hug. Craig starts sobbing into his mother’s cushiony groin. “Craig, say hello to your mother Laura,” Randy smiling wistfully. A neat looking lady arrives on the scene, smiling cautiously at Henrietta. “Hi, sweetie,” she waves from Randy’s side. “Oh my god, why are you following me mom?” Henrietta’s gooch clapping in anger. A dirty little girl pops out of the bushes, Randy puts a hand on ha shoulder. “Kenny, say hello to your little sister Karen.” Kenny runs up to her and locks her in a long, tender embrace. Randy chuckles. “Just a hug, now!” A tear falls down Karen’s dirty face. “Kenny’s my big brother, but he’s so much more than that. He’s just incredible, he can do anything he puts his mind to.” Swishing of a cape is heard, “You missed me, per se?” “Pete, this is your boyfriend, Vampir!” “What the fuck?” Pete’s face becomes as red as his fugly dye job. “Vampire fag is not my boyfriend.” “Don’t play hard to get per se?” He flutters while Pete hides behind Kenny’s starving ass. Vampir hisses. “The stars foretold my return.” Chanting of “Time to go to work, work all day, search for underpants hey! We won't stop until we have underpants! Yum yum yummy yum yay!” echoes around the challenge area. “Oh fuck, why?” Tweek murmurs. “Tweek, meet your old pal, the King of the Underpant Gnomes.” Randy gestures to a midget. An unfamiliar brown boy is the next to come out. Shelly immediately cries out like a dying whale. “Shelly, welcome your long-distance boyfriend Amir.” Oohs and aahs from the tribe at the unconventional interracial relationship, as Shelly throws her arms around Amir. Shelly emotional sitting on a boulder. “He’s so charming in person.” Finally, a black man emerges from the bushes, Nichole knows it’s for ha, but she doesn’t recognize him. She glares at Randy with racial oppression. “Who dis?” “Nichole, say hello to ya daddy!” Randy makes a big face. She gasps and rushes over, “Where have you been?” “Prison, baby, but I’m out now.” They hold hands. “I never met my daddy, how did they find him?” Nichole sobbing. “I can’t believe it.” “Okay now that you all done being gay, who’s ready for the next immunity challenge?” Randy summons Tweek over to take the necklace back. “For this challenge, all the loved ones will be blindfolded. The castaways will be SCREAMING at their loved ones to guide them through the maze. First person to get their loved one to the end of the maze wins Immunity, and also a reward,” he flashes a smile, “your loved one will return to camp with you tonight.” Many emotional reactions from the tribe, except for Henrietta. “More time to actually meet my true, flesh and blood father,” fat tears running down Nichole’s face, “That’s priceless.” “The winner also gets to pick someone else to have their loved one return to camp,” “Survivors ready, GO!” He shoots Kenny in the throat, Karen is all like “Huh? What? Kenny, help!” “AMIR GO RIGHT!!!” Shelly’s voice kills a few birds just by sheer volume. The camera shows Laura Tucker bumping into walls. Craig over on his platform struggling to scream over the rest. “No, go left! Left!” “We can do this Henrietta!” Mrs. Biggle tries to encourage her daughter from the near-beginning of the maze, as Karen is seen wandering aimlessly in the background. Henrietta sitting on her platform smoking a cigarette, as a zany percussive sound effect plays. Tweek jumping up and down, “Left Undapants gnome! Left! Ahh!” Tweek topples off his platform on to the ground. Nichole’s long-lost father hobbling through the course, lagging just behind the Underpants Gnome, as Nichole shrieks, “Let’s go! Let’s go! We got this daddy!” “Mike! You gotta run!” Pete tries to yell, but his early smoking years have already wrecked his voice. “That’s not my name!” Vampir stands firmly at one of the many dead ends in the maze. “Whatever,” Pete bums a cigarette off of Henrietta. Randy shouting over all of the chaos, “This challenge is going into a tailspin! Nichole is in it! Tweek’s in it!” camera shows Laura Tucker still hopelessly lost, going in the dead ass wrong direction. “AMIR YOU’RE ALMOST THERE!!!!” Shelly bursts Kenny’s eardrums after he just reincarnated. Amir making a face of intense concentration as he throws his hands around. Quick shots of Nichole’s and Tweek’s faces as Amir is then shown stumbling through the finish line. “SHELLY WINS IMMUNITY!!!” Randy jumps up in the air. Shelly barrels through the course to crush Amir in an embrace. She screams victoriously into Amir’s brown shoulder. A transitional shot where a man moans like “Whoaaa” shows Shelly with the necklace on. “Alright, now Shelly,” Randy addresses his daughter proudly. “You get to pick someone else to have their loved one come back to camp.” Camera shows Shelly making a pensive expression. “Winning this challenge could change everything in this game, but there was someone I just had to pick,” Shelly hugging a knee with Amir nodding next to her. “Sorry turds, but how can I not reunite someone with their prison daddy?” She points at Nichole, who promptly starts whooping, grasping her father’s hand. “I knew Big S was a solid bitch,” Nichole wiping the tears away, sitting on ha daddy’s knee. Randy grins shiestily. “Well I have good news for you that might make you feel better about that tough decision,” camera shows Tweek’s eyes bugging out. “Everyone’s loved ones are coming for a visit.” Henrietta groans in protest as Kenny plants a kiss on Karen’s mouth. Ennui Tribe Day 13 “Oh Henri, deary, the shelter looks so small!” Mrs. Biggle places her hands on her face in manufactured shock. “How can you sleep at night?” “I agreed to do this game to get the fuck away from mother,” Henrietta sighs, “This is some bullshit.” Shelly and Amir hold hands in the shelter. “What do you even eat out here?” Amir asks to break the awkward silence. “Well this blonde slut who got voted out, the towel raped her and she had a baby turd that we had to eat when we ran out of food,” Shelly explains with gusto. Amir smiles with discomfort. “I can’t believe my Shelly’s been roughing it out here for two weeks,” Amir looking amazed at the camera with Shelly blushing beside him. “It’s a winter wonderland out here!” Camera shows Kenny looking on hungrily as Pete smokes a cigarette laconically while Vampir tries to talk to him. “Seeing my lil sister really rejubinated me,” Kenny sputters, “I think I want Pete to have my baby.” Kenny approaches the goth boy and rubs his boner on him. “Can we talk in the woods, Pete?” Pete nods submissively and gets up to follow Kenny, only to be followed by Vampir. “I know this game like the back of my hand, per se, and I have to ensure the victory of my good friend Pete,” Vampir smiling toothily. Meanwhile, Craig and Tweek were being similarly cockblocked by Craig’s mother Laura. “So who are you kids voting out next?” Laura prods excitedly, as Tweek stares at her bikini bottom uncomfortably. “Kenny’s gone next, it’s already decided,” Craig horny and impatient. Henrietta and Nichole sitting by the shelter with their parents. Nichole smiles when she realizes they’re alone. “So which fag goes first?” Henrietta shrugs. “I don’t give a FUCK,” as her mother gasps behind her at the fact she is aligned with the black chick. “My little girl is making dangerous decisions in this game,” Mrs. Biggle clutching her pearls. “I wish I could help her, but that’s never been possible.” Meanwhile, Craig and Tweek finally getting down to business when Kenny, Pete, and Vampir suddenly arrive through a bush. “Woooooah!” Kenny exclaims, his dicke hardening instantaneously. Tweek squawks for a moment, but is quieted by Kenny’s gloved finger entering his butthole. “This is how you pass the time, per se?” Vampir inquisitively becomes aroused. Tribal drums play as the camera shows a heavily-blurred shot of Kenny unzipping Pete’s pants as he sits on top of Craig. Tweek is heard yelping sexually. “One thing led to another, and then suddenly we were ALL part of it,” Tweek recounting the situation with confusion and bruises on his slender neck. The bushes rustle and Karen is all like “Hey! You left me out of the orgy again, big brother?” She grabs Vampir by his long hair, “Bite my pussy, vamp kid.” “I’m not normally into chicks, but that Karen girl can really use her tongue!” Craig looking exhausted. Camera shows the post-orgy awkwardness, the castaways and loved ones in varying degrees of undress as Karen passes a bowl to Pete. “This just proved that I’m in a power position in this game,” Kenny lounging shirtless. “My vote could make the gays sink or swim tonight.” Sudden shift in the music as Pete and Kenny are shown walking away from the site of the orgy. “You know we can’t trust Tweek,” Kenny looks Pete in the eye sultrily. Pete nods in agreement. “I know it’s gotta be one or the other.” “What if they have an idol?” Kenny tries to plant a seed of doubt in the goth kid. Pete looks concerned. “And now I’m realizing, if I can get them to split the vote, I could really send home whoever I wanted,” Kenny rubbing his hands together, as he shifts his hips around with discomfort for some reason. “I got the fortune at the City Wok saying all idols had been found,” Pete peering into the confessional camera. “I know how to count, this boy is tryna fuck with me.” Camera cuts to Kenny cornering Tweek and Craig in a clearing while they create anal beads out of small coconuts and some leftover Dishrag entrails, “The minorities have too much power, tonight I think it’s lynch or lose for us,” Kenny implies a hate crime as Craig nods fervently. “I don’t trust that slut for a second,” Tweek glaring into the camera. Meanwhile the girls were making some cheesy puff stew while Nichole began to count on her fingers how many for real castaways were still at camp. Shelly and Amir are getting a bit handsy in the shelter. “Yo Big S, the boys are planning a vagicide. Where they at?” Shelly looks at her sternly while Amir fingers her pussy. “Hmm.” “I feel like I can trust Nichole despite the stereotypes of her people,” Shelly explains wokely as Amir looks on proudly. “And tonight, I think the decision comes down to us. How’s that for pussy power?” she puts on a crooked grin. Henrietta is a slumbering while production is trying to round up all the loved ones to get the fuck out. A boat materializes in Stark's’ Pond to take them away. Pete nudges Henrietta with his shoe, “Bitch get up, I need to talk to you.” “I am voting my way tonight, Pete. My mother being in my presence gave me full blown AIDS.” She turns away. “Henrietta is a such a bitch sometimes. God.” Pete flips his hair and chain smokes. “This vote is kinda important.” Tweek desperately pulls Pete aside just moments before tribal. “So that was weird earlier, huh.” Pete gulps awkwardly. “Uh, yeah.” “I saw Tweek in a whole new light today,” Pete licking his lips with uncertainty. “And now, ironically, I’m not sure if I can trust him, at least as long as both he and his stank little boyfriend are here.” “We’re on the same page, right?” Pete stammering as Tweek is shown starting to hyperventilate. “I hope Pete doesn’t think of me differently now that he knows that I can take not one, not two, but three dickies inside me at once!” Tweek scratches his chin. Shots of the tribe gathering their torches and marching out, Craig passively looking around for his underpants, all like “Guys, where are my underpants?” Pete looking visibly uncomfortable. “I think Kenny gave me gonorrhea? My dick is hella weird,” Pete inspecting his gross pale ass dick. Nichole giving the camera a stank eye. “We really need to split up the gays tonight, these white people crazy if they let them survive another vote.” Kenny cackling behind a tree. “Tonight, whatever I say goes!” Tribal Council Night 13 The tribe files into the Marshes’ backyard with torches in hand, Tweek wincing as he sits down on his stool. “First let’s bring in the members of the jury, Towelie,” He’s wearing a fancy bowtie looking considerably sober. “Wendy, Bebe,” Bebe has her hair pulled back into a ponytail. “And the last person voted out, Cartman” Cartman gained twenty pounds at Ponderosa and is PISSED. “So, how is everyone doing after the family visit?” Randy places a hand on his chin. “Meeting my daddy was all I could have asked for, and I can only thank this beautiful program for that,” Nichole pandering to production, her eyes glowing with tears. Kenny apathetically nods beside her. “Well, all of our underwear is gone!” Shelly pouts with her pussy hanging out. Tweek winces and shifts in his chair. “Randy, my dick hurts.” Kenny just whips it out, obviously having gonorrhea. “Oh boy, does anyone else's dickie hurt?” Randy asks. Tweek, Pete, Craig, and Henrietta all raise their hands. Nurse Gollum emerges from the shed all like boom, “I got some tests to run.” The voting music plays as Nurse Gollum performs some medical witchcraft on the long line of faggots. A banner pops up over the bottom of the screen reading ‘The results are in!’ Nurse Gollum stands next to Randy. “So I understand there’s been some unsafe play on this island, and especially in an exotic climate such as this, that leaves you prone to STDs,” camera cuts to Tweek looking mortified. “Henrietta,” Nurse Gollum begins, “You’re clean, you’re just suffering from toxic shock.” “Aw, man!” Henrietta strokes her toxic pussy in grief. “As for the rest of you,” camera shows a shot of Tweek, Pete, Kenny, and Craig all looking hella nervous, “You got gonorrhea, wrap your dickie next time!” she runs back into the shed. Nichole just shakes her head in shame. “Nichole, does this change anything?” “Well Randy, this is surprising! I guess gonorrhea revealed the lines in the sand.” She rolls her eyes. Tweek freaking out, he stands up on his stool. “This disease says nothing about my loyalty, NOTHING HAS CHANGED,” close up on his contorted face, glowing with sweat. Cut to Kenny looking hella bemused at the drama. Randy makes an incredulous face. “Wow. How do you feel going into this vote, sweetie?” He addresses his daughter. Shelly crossing her arms. “All of these turds are getting a little too comfortable with each other, that’s what I think.” Close-up of Craig looking stank in reaction to this. “Craig, do you think she’s talking about you?” “The nurse lady just told me I have diarrhea, how do you think I feel Stan’s dad?” Craig not putting up with the bullshit. “Well, it's time to vote. Kenny, you’re up first.” Kenny strolls to the voting booth, with discharge oozing from his cock. “Game over.” Shot of Craig’s sweet ass as he votes because he still making the same ass stank face. “You broke my dick.” Pete’s goth hair looking hella greasy in the torch light as he writes down a name. “Looks like you’re getting blindsided twice tonight.” Henrietta lights a cig before smirking as she writes [Pete] “I can't believe that you're such a conformist slut.” Tweek sniffling, still reeling from his gonorrhea diagnosis, votes in a benign way. Shelly forcefully rips the cap off of the marker. “It's the end of the road, turd.” Nichole looking pissed for some reason as her braids swing in her face, “Y’all WHACK,” she turns on her heel and struts back. “I’ll tally the votes,” Randy sidles past the cast, visibly unnerved by the spread of disease. “Once the votes are read, the decision is final, you can come in and have some lasaga that Sharon is making,” Randy says cordially while a shot is shown of Cartman rubbing his hands together from the jury. “Ooo,” Kenny looking a little deranged. “First vote…” [Pete] Pete’s eyes fly open, and he looks wildly around at his allies. “Next vote…” [Kenny] Kenny shrugs from his seat. Randy opens the next vote nonchalantly, [Craig], still no visible change in Craig’s expression. “Fourth vote,” [Tweek] He begins to cry like a fag. “That’s one vote for Pete, Kenny, Craig, and Tweek, three votes left,” slow, booming tribal drum beats over shot of Nichole shaking her head as Pete wears a look of horror next to her. “Next vote…” [Kenny] “What the hell?” the sound of Kenny’s muffled voice as Craig clandestinely grabs Tweek’s hand, smirking. Randy picks up the next vote as the music begins to speed up and more ethnic grunts are heard. [Craig] Craig’s eyebrows going crazy as Kenny glares at the fags from behind. “That’s two votes Kenny, two votes Craig, one vote Pete, one vote Tweek, one vote left,” Randy narrates slowly, chewing the scenery as the camera shows the four faggots in various states of distress. “Last vote, and the fourteenth person voted out of Survivor: South Park and fifth member of the jury is…” Randy opens the vote. Multiple shots of Wendy and Tweek looking like they about to take a dump. [Craig] “Wow.” He stands up and grabs his torch, too stank to say goodbye to his crying slampiece reaching out ta him. Henrietta sighs while Kenny tries to hide his shock. Wendy turns to Bebe on the jury, her hand covering her mouth. “Craig, the tribe has spoken,” Randy snuffs his torch and the camera shows him walking into the warm Marsh house bathed in blue light, his ass in the middle of the shot. “I think after tonight, one thing is clear,” Randy looking at the cast patronizingly, “Wear a condom.” They all pick up their torches and leave. NEXT TIME ON… SURVIVOR “Please, sir!” Tweek begging to someone on his knees. Pete looking deadass at Kenny in the woods. “That’s the plan, TRUST.” Henrietta throwing the last few cigarettes into Starks’ Pond. Nichole’s eyes bug out in shock. “Bam!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Previously on Survivor!” Randy stands up at his AA meeting. “Shelly was feeling very content with herself for putting the final nail in Cartman’s coffin.” Shot of Shelly looking hella smug while she lounged in the shelter. “At the immunity challenge, almost everyone was excited to see their loved one.” A shot of Shelly embracing Amir and Nichole meeting her father. “While others were stank about it.” Montage of Henrietta glaring at her mother during the challenge. “Things heated up back at camp when the gays boys decided that an orgy was in order.” Heavily blurred shots of Tweek being a slut are shown. “However, the cum they shared wasn’t enough and Craig was blindsided by a pussy reformation.” Shot of Craig getting his torch snuffed. “Six are left, who will be voted out tonight!?” Randy sits down and the alcoholics clap for him. Ennui Tribe Night 14 Tweek sobbing hysterically, “That DEVASTATED me. My game is practically over,” Tweek forlorn glances up to the sky, “They can vote me out whenever they want and I can’t do anything about it.” It begins to lightly drizzle on the remaining castaways. This doesn’t stop Kenny from dragging Pete in the woods for a celebratory rim job. “Craig going was necessary.” Pete smokes a post-coital cigarette. “Between Henrietta, Kenny, and now Tweek without his stank little slampiece, I have my options open.” “I wish Craig was still here, I miss his fine ass.” Kenny pouts while Pete rails him from behind. Meanwhile, the girls and Tweek are hiding under their pitiful leaves to stay dry. “Are those two fags fucking again?” Henrietta incredulously asks while her mascara runs down her face. Shelly grunts in agreement. Nichole tries to fix her frizzing hair. “With none of the girls getting votes last night, I feel fantastic!” Nichole says and throws her hands up in the air. A camera close up Tweek’s sweaty face. Tweek shivering on a stump, “I'd like to do more than survive, I'd like to rub it in their faces.” Music changes to an intense shimmery track featuring some low moaning, laid over Shelly and Nichole walking down the beach. “Only four to go,” Nichole grinned. Shelly nodding fervently. “At this point, I think everyone’s considering how they’re gonna get to the end, and which turds they would win against before the jury.” Shelly wraps her hands around her thick dykey kneecap. Camera shows the two girls wading through the water of Starks’ Pond, looking for sea cucumbers. “Oooh!” Nichole yelps ethnically as a fish brushes by her pussy. “I flipped to the girls, and now it looks like Nichole is content to sit in the final two with me,” Shelly with a sly grin. “But we’re gonna have to see what’s best for ME.” Camera slowly zooms out from Shelly and Nichole in the pond to reveal Tweek hiding up in a tree nearby. Tweek hugging his chest. “I can’t play from the bottom, time to find some CRACKS.” Ennui Tribe Day 14 The sun shines over Kenny’s nude ass as he lays in the middle of camp. “I feel hella comfortable, Tweek’s ass is now weakened, those dumb girls would NEVER think that I’m a threat.” Kenny masturbates to his strategic planning. “Pete still banging as ever, I am the king, this is my town.” Nichole and Pete are sitting by the weak fire, “Day fourteen! Wow.” Nichole states. Pete nods and blows smoke out of his nose. “It’s pretty impressive that these conformists didn’t genocide me earlier.” Pete rests his head on his hand, “I’m so close to the end, I need to be extra careful moving forward.” Back at camp, Henrietta sat in the shelter alone, looking around stankly as Kenny tended the fire. “I think it’s obvious what my chances in this gay game are,” Henrietta’s pale round cheeks shining in the sun. “Everyone knows I won’t win, but then because of that they want to keep me longer,” she shakes her head. “I might as well just be invisible, but what else is new?” Mischievous music plays as the camera shows Henrietta tottering away from camp. In the shelter, Tweek looking hella paranoid. “Where’s she going, Pete?” “I don’t know man, probably to take a dump or a period or something,” Pete offers Tweek another cigarette. Gong sound effect as the shot cuts to Henrietta sitting in the diner sipping a coffee, the fat waitress lady glaring at her with concern. “Are you going to order anything besides coffee?” Her nametag read ‘Joanne’. “Shut the fuck up, old bitch, my vag is dirty and I need to think.” Henrietta burns her tongue on her hot coffee. “Seeing my capitalist whore mother made me realize how much I don’t want to go home,” Henrietta applying makeup in the diner bathroom. “And now that my vag is cursed, the target on my back is even smaller.” Shelly emerges onto the scene with the Tree Mail “Guys! I got tree mail! It looks like it has to do with cards.” Shot lingers on her staring at a Queen of Spades. Kenny hums, “I hope it’s strip poker.” Cut to Pete smirking like a hoe. Immunity Challenge Day 14 “Come on in guys!” the final six file into the challenge area where six small tables and a larger covered one are set up. Henrietta’s tit bounces as she takes her spot on the mat last. “For today’s challenge, you’ll have to build a house of cards, the person who can build the tallest one in thirty minutes will win immunity. However, you don’t have to play in this immunity if you don’t want to.” Randy smiles like a piece of shit. Nichole’s eyes bug out in shock, “Bam!” Randy strides over to the covered table and whips off the tablecloth like WHOOSH. Camera shows the castaways all like “UGHHH” “A breakfast buffet, featuring eggs, link sausages, Kix cereal and a HOT BAGEL,” Randy gestures to the vat of just-add-water eggs that festered in the cold air. “If you opt out of the challenge, it’s ALL YOU CAN EAT,” camera shows Tweek groaning into his hands. “Okay, so who’s getting a nice hot breakfast and giving up their chance at immunity?” Randy gestures at the hella food. Henrietta, Tweek, and Kenny all step forward. Pete scowls, glaring at the three opt-outers from behind. “My alliance/friend/slampiece are all sleep, what the fuck? Now I have to win immunity.” Pete flips his hair. The scene changes in a quick transition, cymbals are being smacked, quick shot of Tweek gulping down coffee at the breakfast table as Randy gets all loud, “Survivors ready? Stack them cards!” Shelly aggressively starts smacking cards down on the table, while Pete takes a much slower approach. Nichole, standing between them, looks between them nervously before placing her first card down, it immediately blows over in the wind. “Fuck,” Nichole’s mouth is blurred. At the bottom of the screen, “twenty minutes later,” appears. Kenny has suffocated after shoving five pancakes in his mouth at the same time. “Shelly is in the lead with a six foot tower, Nichole is in second with five feet, Pete is lagging behind with his tower only being two feet tall.” More ethnic grunting plays as Henrietta dips some french toast in some syrup. “Did Henrietta really have to eat? She’s already fat.” Shelly says while cards topple behind her. Pete makes a strained expression as he slowly places another card. “Pete, trying to take it slow and steady…” Randy narrates, as Pete’s house dissolves. “And it all comes crashing down.” Pete looks like he shat his pants as he instinctively reached his ass pocket for his pack, but then shook it off and started stacking cards again. Henrietta scowls from the buffet table. “I could smoke a butt AFTER I get the necklace,” Pete trying to justify his poserness. A ‘28 minutes elapsed’ caption pops up over the bottom of the screen as rats are shown chewing on Kenny’s corpse. Tweek shaking as he drinks his sixth cup of coffee. Randy shaking his head incredulously. “Shelly is ATTACKING this challenge with an eleven-foot tower, Nichole trailing at 9, with Pete now at four.” Shot of Nichole’s pit-stains as she scrambles up the footstool-ladder to place her next cards. The music kicks up with an ethnic man chanting all like “OOOMAMAMAMA” and the camera cuts to a long shot of all the castaways. “Thirty seconds left!” Randy announces intensely. “Come on, mama,” Nichole mutters to herself, shown in the closed captioning. Shelly bites into her retainer as she pulls cards out of her mouth and cleavage. Suddenly, a plane swoops down into Shelly’s tower killing three thousand. Faint sounds of a woman screaming “RICHAAAARD” as she drowns nearby in Stark’s Pond. “And Shelly’s tower is down! Nichole takes the lead with fifteen seconds left!” Randy shocked as the camera shows Shelly looking irate and Pete biting his lip, picking up the pace. “Three, two, one, and…” Nichole is shown cheering as she throws up her arms. Randy puts his hands up “Nichole wins immunity!” Nichole screams, “Yeah!” While wearing cargo shorts. Randy places the necklace around Nichole’s pony-tailed head as the door of the mangled plane opens. “Oh my god, there was a survivor of the crash!” Henrietta exclaims in a line fed to her by production. The smoke clears and it is Kathy Lee Gifford, protected by her glass bubble. “Oh my god, it’s Kathy Lee Gifford!” Randy shouts, and the castaways all cheer. “Thank you,” she smiles from inside her bubble. Ennui Tribe Day 14 “Even though I have the necklace, there is still work to do.” Nichole smacks her fists together, “Big S could go! I don’t like the sound of...that.” Quick shot of Nichole and Shelly scheming near the watering hole. “I got a plan.” Nichole drops the bucket into the water. “Which turd needs to go?” Shelly scratches her gooch impatiently. “It might be me tonight if those retards realize that I am a threat,” Shelly rests in between two trees in a hammock. “I’m banking on the fact that the gays are still bitter about Craig going. I took a high risk in voting out Craig, hopefully I get my high reward.” “We tell Tweek that Kenny is going, and we tell Kenny that Tweek is going. Boom!” Nichole shows off her pearly white teeth. Camera switches to a shot of Nichole, Shelly, and Henrietta walking along the shore of the pond from behind. Nichole turns to Henrietta with a shrewd expression. “Now I know we need to keep ya boy Pete, so who should it be tonight?” “I don’t give a shit, honestly, Pete can go whenever,” Henrietta gives the camera a stank expression as the other girls can’t see. “They think I’d never write Pete’s name down,” Henrietta crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “That’s cute.” Tweek is busy off with Pete smoking hella cigs and looking really high on caffeine. Tweek looking down at the ground where someone shat a few hours earlier. “I really should have played for immunity today, but my caffeine addiction prevented me from doing so. Now I have to turn this game around.” “Please sir!” Tweek is on his knees, “I’d do anything to stay.” “This island just does things to you, man.” Pete dramatically looks to the ground. The jovial gong sound effect plays as Pete’s dong enter Tweek’s mouth. Camera shows several colorful birds flying away nearby as the grunts of lovemaking are heard. Swirling shot comes to rest on Pete and Tweek laying naked on some leaves. “You know,” Pete narrows his eyes as he lights a cigarette. “Right now we could make the biggest move of the game, and vote out Shelly.” Tweek’s eyes light up. “She’ll probably win the rest of the challenges anyway! This is our last chance.” “Becoming a giant slut really has worked in my favor.” Tweek states while his hair bristled from the wind. Kenny is busy jacking off while Nichole interrupts him by stumbling through the bushes. “Oh good! Kenny, the vote is Tweek.” Nichole brushes some foliage off her tit. “That black bitch ruined my jizzing routine.” Kenny dourly squats to take a dump, “I miss my meth lab/parent’s house.” Tweek washed away his new cummies in Stark's Pond when Shelly creeped up on him scaring the shit out of him. “Hey Tweek, the vote is Kenny.” Tweek bewildered was like “Say what?” Shelly just ominously nodded and left him alone. The scene shifted to Pete ruffling his hair while walking in the forest with a plump Henrietta. “You good about the vote?” Pete cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure,” Henrietta noncommittally tosses her roach starting a small fire. “Henri, can you not be a cunt for a second? Your vote really matters tonight.” Pete angrily stops walking as Henrietta leaves him in the dust. “I’m tired as hell of people trying to tell me how powerful my vote is,” Henrietta sighing wistfully as camera cuts to a shot of Nichole looking disenfranchised. “I’m PISSED.” Pete looking hella deranged in his tight pants. Frantic track playing as Pete is shown scrambling through the woods. He finds Kenny still jerking off. “And next thing I know, the goth fag is up in my business again telling me that Stan’s bulldyke sister has to go,” Kenny making bug eyes at the camera. “Bang bang!” “That’s the plan, TRUST, Kenny, TRUST.” Pete begging like a sub. Kenny puts a muscular working-class hand on his chin. “I’d believe Tweek will do it, his desperate little twink ass is on the bottom. Who’s the last vote?” Jumpshot to Tweek trying to talk Henrietta down. “You have so much to live for Henrietta, the game is almost over, it’s the END GAME!!” Camera shows Henrietta throwing the last of her cigarettes into Stark’s Pond. “I’m ready to kill myself,” The soundtrack deepens as Henrietta sighs, “There is really no point to life anymore.” The shot lingers on Henrietta attempting to drown herself in Stark’s Pond. Pete’s rat ass appearing yet again on the scene. “Henrietta you just need to vote for like TEN MINUTES.” Henrietta’s fat tits emerging from the pond long enough for her to retort, “You don’t even care that I threw out the cigs you fucking poser.” Nichole and Shelly have their torches resting on their shoulders, “C’MON TURDS, MY DAD SAYS WE HAVE TO GO!” Shelly screams at her tribe mates. “I’m tired of relying on her,” Pete hormonally sneering into the camera. “If there was more time in the day I would seriously consider voting her out as an act of providence. Now it could be me tonight!” “We should have this vote in the bag-uh, but in this game who knows,” Nichole slowly shaking her head, camera cuts to her confidently striding to tribal carrying her torch, the immunity necklace bouncing against her bosom. “But you know it ain’t me tonight!” “Pete’s in the driver’s seat for this vote,” Kenny’s nips are erect as the sun sets dramatically for this confessional, “It’s good to switch positions in the bedroom AND in the game of Survivor.” Tribal Council Day 14 The final six drudge through the slush and into their seats. “Before we begin, let’s bring in the members of our jury, Towelie, Wendy, Bebe, Cartman, and Craig voted out at the last tribal council.” Craig still looking hella stank and bitter as Randy didactically spoke. Nichole pushes her breasts out to show off the fandangled necklace she earned, “So Nichole, you’re safe tonight, how does that affect your vote since normally everyone votes for you...because of your blackness.” Randy hella trails on. “WELL, I’m feeling gucci as fuck. SIR.” Nichole smirks. “So does that mean you’re in power now? Have you flipped the script on systematic racism?” “I live day by day in this game, Randy,” Nichole making drawn-out circular motions with her hand. “It’s a race! Rapido! Rapido!” Towelie yells from the jury. Whistling sound effect as Randy cuts him off, “Towelie brings up an interesting point. Tweek, in this race to the finish, how do you position yourself with the best odds?” Tweek takes his skinny little hand off his mouth, leaning forward. “I’ve had to adapt to stay safe, the path to the end is NOT straight,” camera shows Nichole rolling her eyes. “Shelly, you came awfully close to winning immunity today before flight 7 crashed into your card building, do you feel safe tonight?” “Frankly Dad, I don’t.” The camera closes up on Bebe gasping. “Anyone can go. Tonight is the first night that I feel scared for my life in this game.” Shelly feeds into production’s hand. “Henrietta, you don’t look excited about any of this. What are your chances of surviving this vote?” Henrietta looks up for the first time, her eyes looking puffy as fuck. “Zero percent Randy, I’m killing myself after I cast my vote.” Ominous dinging sound as camera shows Tweek gasping and Shelly narrowing her eyes. “Now Henrietta, with so few votes until the end, don’t you think--” “I’m not ALLOWED to think out here Randy, from day one I have been nothing but a piece of meat for these mass consumers to fight over,” Henrietta explains melodramatically, camera shows Wendy holding up a fist in solidarity. “You deny me a goddamn tampon, you make me watch that blonde slut birth a retarded abomination child, and now I can’t get the fucking cap off, and I still have five people screaming at me telling me who to vote,” explosive moaning sound effect as the camera shows Tweek, Shelly, and Kenny’s unnerved reactions in quick succession. “Let’s help Henrietta out by voting as soon as possible.” Pete nods assisting Henrietta’s suicide. “Oh boy, uh Shelly, you’re up first.” Randy’s bias showing through. Shelly’s kankles are very noticeable as she walks up to vote, “You’re getting too comfortable with that dick in your mouth.” Tweek is shaking from all the commotion at tribal, he votes in a blase manner. Kenny holds up a [Shelly] vote, “I wanna floss with ya jugular.” Nichole making a shiesty face at all the drama as she scoots over to the urn. “It’s getting good .” She votes. Pete sighs and flips his hair like a faggot while he votes. Henrietta votes for [Kenny] as well as ties a noose in the meantime. “I hope you’re fucking happy.” “I’ll go tally the votes,” Randy looks slightly perturbed at Henrietta’s knotwork. Nichole holds the necklace in front of her face, protecting herself as Randy retrieves the urn. “This is your LAST fucking chance to play an idol,” Randy grandstands. Nobody does nothing because ain’t no idols. “Once the votes are read the decision is final,” Randy says dramatically as a wide-angle shot shows all of the castaways and atonic gongs are heard. “First vote…” [Shelly] Shelly scowls a little, crossing her gooch. “Pow!” sound effect as the next vote is unfolded. [Kenny]. Kenny rolls his eyes. “Next vote…” [Kenny], “Two votes Kenny, one vote Shelly,” shot of Pete and Shelly both looking nonplussed. Randy grins as he reveals the next vote, [Shelley], spelled incorrectly. Shelly narrows her eyes more, as Nichole’s expression hardens as she continues to shield herself with the immunity necklace. “We’re tied, two votes Shelly, two votes Kenny.” Blindside-esque music building up as Randy slowly reveals the next vote, [Shelly]. “That’s three votes Shelly, two votes Kenny, one vote left,” Shelly looks murderous as Tweek puts his face in his hands. “Last vote…” [Kenny], “We’re tied,” Pete shown looking perturbed, he turns and glares at Henrietta, who is tightening her noose. Kenny goes flaccid. “As per the rules of survivor, we will now revote, Kenny and Shelly you cannot vote this time, the rest of you must vote for either Kenny or Shelly,” Randy explains as he rubs his hands together. Pete shoots a death glare at the girls, “Think about what you’re doing.” Henrietta immediately shouts, “I’m going to fucking rocks. I’m not scared of death OR of rocks.” Shelly chuckles, turning back to look at Pete savagely. “What voting out your slampiece?” Camera shows Tweek looking constipated. Kenny rebuts with, “Shelly is strong you guys, and also a man.” “Enough,” Randy bangs his dick on the table. “Nichole, take this here urn.” Nichole ethnically carrying the urn back to the table on her head, she scathingly casts a vote. “Are you waitin on me to DIE?” Pete brushing his gay hair out of his face as he leans on the table pensively. “This is the moment that counts.” Tweek just holds his vote up and goes “AHH!” before shoving it in the urn. “See you at the welfare store, slut.” Henrietta drunkenly writes down [Kenny] again. “I’ll go tally the votes,” beads of sweat running down Randy’s face as he retrieves the urn again, he shadily glances at Nichole so as to imply she should just get it again. “Once the votes are read, the decision is final,” Randy talks loudly over the deafening soundtrack. “First vote,” [Shelly] Shelly begins to clutch her gooch. “Second vote,” [Kenny] “We’re tied,” Randy pointlessly narrates. “Next vote…” [Kenny], Pete shaking his head condescendingly as the caption shows him muttering “R tards.” “Last vote…. And the fifteenth person voted out of South Park,” [Kenny], “Bring me your torch.” Kenny hangs his head as the super-emotional exit track plays, Pete shown shedding a tear in hysteria as Tweek buries his head in his crotch. Shelly exhales, cracking her neck. Kenny trips and falls into the fire as he bring his torch to Randy, he is heard screaming as the fire rages. “Kenny, the tribe has spoken,” Randy shakes his head in mourning. “With more than half of the jury being full, it’s time to think about the...ENDGAME.” Randy ominously disappears into the Marsh house. The final words music plays as Kenny’s charred corpse is shown being eaten by rats. ON THE TWO PART SURVIVOR FINALE… THE FINAL FIVE CASTAWAYS BATTLE IT OUT TO WIN THE HUNDRED DOLLARS Will it be... Henrietta, the lost soul? “I swear to fucking God if Pete asks me about another vote, I’m going to pull out his eyes and shit in his eye sockets.” Nichole, the black sheep? “I have a twenty percent chance to win the game, that’s way more than what Affirmative Action normally gets me.” Pete, the dark horse? “I can’t believe I made it, I still have flashbacks from the beginning of the game. I’ve come so far, I can’t lose now.” Shelly, the strong whoa man? “I can easily beat these turds and win my way to the end, like look at these guns.” She flexes. Tweek, the hyperactive spaz? “AH! Fuck yes! I’m so excited for the end game!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy stands on the New York soundstage in front of a live studio audience, “Previously...on Survivor!” The crowd cheers. “The season began with twenty young South Park residents beginning an adventure of a lifetime.” The shot of everyone looking clean and fresh as they get split up into their tribes. “The game began with the goth kids being the obvious weak tribe.” A shot of Michael kicking a rock. “This lead to Vampir being the first boot.” Vampir’s torch getting snuffed. “After the second immunity, idols came into play,” montage of Bebe, Kenny, Tweek, and Henrietta finding their respective idols. “Towelie immediately became target number one on day two, however Tweek cracked Token’s alliance making the Blue Tribe look hella racist.” Token’s torch gets snuffed. “On the overlooked Pink Tribe, Shelly totally molested Red, nevertheless Red’s racist remarks and anorexic antics lead to the only unanimous vote so far.” Red’s torch gets snuffed. “The goth tribe couldn’t keep up with Henrietta’s period and went to rocks.” Michael’s torch gets snuffed even though no one ever even voted for his pale ass. The second titty twist happened, everyone dropped their buffs and ran to be the captains of the new Blue and Yellow tribes. Wendy and Cartman were the ones who got to dictate who joined their tribe. Wendy’s Yellow tribe quickly disobeyed her by voting out weak Firkle over super liability Towelie. Meanwhile Henrietta made a big move by correctly idoling out minion Butters.” Back to back shots of Firkle and Butters getting their torches snuffed. “Nichole and Henrietta decided that they needed to throw the next challenge and their titties out to eliminate Cartman. In a twist of fate, Kyle was blindsided.” Kyle gets his torch snuffed. “This lead to another loss where Clyde was then tossed out by his perceived best friend Craig.” Clyde crying as his fire goes out. “Towelie’s self destruction then took the Yellow tribe by storm. Kenny pitying the poor towel negated the four votes against him while Tweek paranoidly wasted his idol in the biggest blindside yet.” Stan’s torch gets snuffed. “Once the merge hit so did Bebe’s pregnancy. Towelie’s raping came back to haunt him, finally ending his cockroach legacy.” Towelie’s torch gets snuffed. “After this Cartman was not done winning out his rivalries, finally eliminating strategic feminazi Wendy,” Wendy’s torch get snuffed. “Another blunder leads to Bebe protecting Pete and falling on the sword for him.” Bebe’s torch gets snuffed. “Sick of being associated as Cartman’s lackey, Shelly plunged the knife in his back.” Cartman’s torch gets snuffed. “Shelly successfully ousting the head of the snake rattled the gay boys. In another crazy vote, Craig took the bullet.” Craig’s torch gets snuffed. “Finally, last episode Nichole and Shelly hatched a plan to pit Kenny and Tweek against each other. It only worked on Tweek and that was enough to send Kenny out.” Shot of Kenny being burned alive. “Five are left, who will be the sole survivor?” The crowd cheers even louder than before. Ennui Tribe Night 15 The castaways stumble into camp while their dimly lit torches lead them back to their ramshackle fort. “I have to rethink my game plan now,” Pete heavily inhales his nicotine cigarette, “Having to rely on Henrietta was my Plan B, but I fear that might also fall through.” Camera focuses on Pete squinting in the distance before zooming out to reveal Henrietta and Nichole dragging in a net of fish from the pond. Nichole squawks in surprise at seeing all the fish. “Last nights vote only proved that we are in the driver’s seat,” Nichole’s skin looking hella clear as she hacks at a branch with the machete. “The gay illuminati has been VANQUISHED.” Not much is said as Shelly stokes a large fire to roast some Cheesy Poofs on. “Changing my mind like that last night really bothers me,” Tweek scratching his scalp vigorously, “The girls now have us outnumbered and I’m worried that I just blew it.” Jumpcut to Pete and Tweek sucking on each other’s dickies in desperation. Pete removes Tweek’s dick from his mouth to blandly strategize, “We need to win immunity tomorrow morning.” A popping noise is heard as Tweek frees his mouth. “Big S has it all lined up to win!” “We might as well just vote for a winner now!” Tweek pulls a lock of hair out. Ennui Tribe Day 15 Shot of Henrietta moving the butt to collect rain water. Shelly’s deep voice booms through the camp, “We got tree mail!” “It says, that the challenge will be...a marble race!” Shelly raises a brow skeptically. “This might be a retarded challenge that a turd could beat me at,” Shelly cracking her knuckles under her muted purple mittens, flashing a smirk. “But I don’t think I’ll be needing that necklace tonight.” “The treemail was really cryptic, I don’t think anyone really knows what to expect,” Pete sweeps his overgrown hair out of his face. Pete and Henrietta awkwardly cutting a cigarette by the fire. “I feel like I have to win today,” Pete says as he passes it to the bigger girl. “Fat chance,” Henrietta chortles, the shot revealing her foopah. “Let’s just be honest, Pete has been a poser since day 1 of this game,” Henrietta shaking her head with resignation. “I’m tired of his whining when he knows he has nothing to be afraid of.” “All I’m saying is, I would never write your name down Henri,” Pete sputters, evoking a guttural chortle from Henrietta as she put the cigarette out on her vag. “You’re so good at this game, Pete,” she side-eyes him stankly as ominous bell chimes play. “We’re so close to the end now, I can’t let this slip through my fingers,” Pete tapping his foot with thirst. Immunity Challenge Day 15 “Come on in guys!” Randy motions the final five into the big arena with an oversized marble run sitting in the middle. “Nichole, I’m going to need the necklace back.” Randy snaps his fingers at Nichole. “She took the necklace and THREW the necklace,” Shelly says and under her name it just reads ‘she’s gay’. After picking up the necklace and brushing off the snow, Randy began, “For today’s challenge, you will be playing in a marble race! Shelly will have the blue marble, Pete will have the red marble, Tweek will have the yellow marble, Nichole will have the purp marble, and Henrietta will have the black marble.” Randy gets his gun ready in one hand and is ready to drop the marbles in the large, swirly contraption with his other hand, “Marbles ready? Go!” He shoots. Intense ethnic moaning as the collision of marbles is heard, Shelly is shown frowning in the sunlight as Tweek bounces nervously next to her. “I was scared for my life white cameraman,” Nichole is shown sitting by Stark’s Pond. The camera follows the purple marble, edging ahead of the other four in its spiraling path. Nichole is pictured making fists with anticipation. Then the red marble inches ahead and Nichole’s all like “RULLY?” Pete tries to keep a poker face, taking a prolonged drag of his cigarette as Henrietta glares at him. Meanwhile, Shelly’s eyes remain glued to her blue marble. “I hate this stupid challenge, I could probably cream these turds in anything,” Shelly spitting in the pond. “This shouldn’t be a game of random chance.” The yellow marble gets stuck behind the other marbles, Tweek is all like “Ah!” “This is the best shot I have at winning immunity, I suck!” Tweek winces. “It’s a race between purp, red, and blue!” Randy exclaims, as the camera shows a quick shot of Henrietta’s fat marble lagging behind. “It’s the final lap! Which marble will fall out first!?” A montage of Shelly, Nichole, and Pete all looking expectant and constipated. Gasps through the crowd as Tweek’s stagnant ball began rolling straight downward, toward the middle. He starts jumping up and down expectantly. “Tweek coming from behind!” Randy stroking his dicke. The sound of a marble hitting the snow signifies that challenge is DONE. D O N E, DONE. “And the winner is...blue! Congratulations Shelly!” Randy runs over to hug his daughter. “Fuck yeah dad I did it!” Shelly crushes her father. “I can easily beat these turds and win my way to the end, like look at these guns.” Shelly flexes her gross arms. “Once again, the plan goes completely awry,” Tweek throws up his hands exasperatedly. “I don’t know if I can get out of this one!” “Well get the fuck out, I’ll see you at tribal council tonight.” Randy motions for them to leave. Ennui Tribe Day 15 “Shelly winning the immunity, I’m so proud of my girl, but it might not really help me.” Nichole pensively drawing out the vote plan in the snow, “I have a twenty percent chance to win the whole game, that’s way more than what Affirmative Action normally gets me.” Jaunty tribal music plays as Tweek pursues Nichole walking through the forest. “At this point, every vote counts, Nichole has the most… differences from the other two girls,” Tweek pressing his hands together. “I hear what you’re saying!” Nichole overwhelmed. “It’s just, do you really think either of those… girls will take you?” Tweek walking on eggshells. “Everyone’s trust is being tested now, and it may be true that you can’t trust anyone,” Nichole smiling at the camera. “But my faith in the Lord is unshakeable.” Pete and Henrietta are smoking on everyone’s laundry, “Look, I think we need Nichole to go.” Pete bluntly makes the plan to Henrietta who looks very disinterested. “I swear to fucking God, if Pete asks me about another fucking vote, I’m going to pull out his eyes and shit in his eyes sockets.” Henrietta tosses her cigarette butt. Henrietta fakely smiles, “Sure,” Laid over a shot of Tweek making a discreet hand motion at Pete to cash him in the woods to suck dicke, “Tweek has been, is, and always will be a loose cannon in this game,” Pete laughing, his face reddened. “We may be on the wrong side of the numbers, I can’t have him risking our position.” Shelly and Nichole wait until the camp is clear before making any moves. “OK, Big S, what’s the plan?” Nichole earnestly asks while hugging her knees. “It’s very delicate, because if we target one of the goths, we will need the twitchy boy’s vote, however if we vote Tweek we might have to go to a tiebreaker at four.” Shelly and her moustache nod at her prediction. The camera shows Henrietta stretching her titties a distance away from the other girls. “I think we can trust her,” Nichole looking at Shelly earnestly. Camera shows Shelly’s unchanged expression. Henrietta totters over sipping some drank from her canteen, “Yo H, the plan is Tweek. Is that g?” Nichole’s cleavage reflects the sun. “Yeah, I guess,” She tumbles into the camp for a nap. “Mines and Big S’s big fear is that H might never vote out her friend Pete,” Nichole wipes some sweat off of her big forehead. “But it’s comin on down to it, and we’re gonna run out of hussies to vote out first!” Tribal Council Night 15 “Come on in guys,” Randy narrates while the final five put their torches in the hole. “Let’s bring in the jury, Towelie, Wendy, Bebe, Cartman, Craig, and the last person voted out, Kenny.” Kenny looking fresh with his new body and nip piercings. “So Shelly, how does it feel with the necklace around your neck?” Randy shows favor. “Well Dad, I was worried that the challenge would be a turd and out of my hands.” She pauses, “But God is on my side. Thanks God.” Tweek nervously frowns, “Tweek, looking at who’s left, are the chances that it’s you high tonight?” “Randy...I think so. I think it’s my time tonight.” He begins to tear up, “With Kenny gone, it’s clear who has the power in this tribe,” funeral bell effect as camera shows Kenny looking nonplussed, followed by Shelly looking stank in the necklace. “And who is that?” Randy prods. “It’s a peenie-slaughter, Randy!” the volume of Tweek’s voice increasing. Wendy looking amused on the jury with her feminist bangs. Nichole rolls her eyes in a very extra fashion. “Now Pete, you have a penis, how does this make you feel?” Randy indulges. “Pretty gay, it could be me tonight, but I trust in my alliance,” Pete trying to remain nonchalant, followed by a shot of Henrietta non-reacting, as Nichole stares into the flames. “Well it’s time to vote, Shelly, you know what to do.” Shelly heads up to vote, “You’ve been the lynchpin for the opposing side this whole time. I should have struck sooner.” Pete desperately needing a haircut writes down a name fervently. “It’s a long shot, but if there’s one thing I’m willing to bet on in this game, it’s me.” Nichole chewing the scenery as she looks hella confused, leaning against the table as she considers her vote. “Is it time to be snakin?” Tweek panics and poorly scribbles a barely legible name on the parchment. “Sorry, but my life's in danger!” Henrietta smokes heavily masquerading her vote from the camera. “Whoops.” Randy waits for Henrietta’s fat ass to sit back down, “I’ll go tally the votes.” The camera pans and the soundtrack begins to sound like two hefty men railing each other. “Once the votes are read, the person with the most will have to fucking leave. I’ll read the votes.” “First vote,” [Pete] Pete looks bewildered. “Second vote,” [Nichole] She nods. “Next Vote,” [Pete] He frowns, Tweek gasps realizing that he’s safe. Henrietta smiling with bemusement. [Nichole] “We are tied, two votes Pete, two votes Nichole, one vote left.” Nichole and Pete both on the edge of their seats. “And the sixteenth person voted out of Survivor: South Park and the seventh member of our jury…” [Nichole] “Nichole, I’m going to need your torch.” Randy is secretly giddy that the black girl is finally out. Henrietta speaks up, “Why did you lie to me? I would have voted for Pete.” Nichole doesn’t say nothing back though as the blindside sound effect plays. “Nichole, the tribe has spoken.” He snuffed her torch, “However, head to the jury bench, we are having the final four immunity RIGHT NOW.” Immunity Challenge Night 15 Tweek’s head darts around all like “What??” “That’s right, before tonight is over we will play another immunity challenge, right here, at tribal council,” Randy points at the floor. “And somebody else will join the jury.” Pete’s eyebrows rise dramatically as Shelly grips the necklace with primal instinct. A jumpcut shows the final four with little dry erase boards and Randy got the necklace back from Shelly. “We will be playing jury trivia, I will ask seven questions each one about a different jury member. The person who gets the most correct will win immunity and have a one in three shot of winning the hundred dollars.” Everyone nods and understands. “Okay, first question is about Nichole, what is her favorite drink?” The final four furiously write down answers. Randy smiles, “Reveal.” “Tweek answered with Orange Fanta, Pete said, Watermelon something, Henrietta rolls her eyes with Water, and Shelly said specifically Dasani Water. Nichole, the correct answer is?” Nichole still dirty and kinda pissed about being voted out retorts, “Yeah, it’s Dasani Water.” Randy pontificates, “Shelly and Henrietta both have one point. Next question, how many times has Kenny died on the island?” Everyone's all like say what? “Shelly reveals zero, Henrietta says ten, Pete wrote eleven, and Tweek said three. We will give a point to the person closest without going over, the correct answer was fifteen. Everyone has a point except for Tweek.” Tweek pouts gaily. “Third question, what is Craig’s guinea pig named?” Tweek beams. “Reveal, Shelly and Pete both put I don’t know, Henrietta wrote, ‘Fuzzy Piece of Shit’ and Tweek got it right with ‘Stripe’. Everyone is tied at one.” Randy pointlessly talks. “Next question, how fat is Eric Cartman? Closest without going over will get the point.” Randy smirks while Cartman yells all like “Hey you guys!!” “Henrietta wrote, 225, Pete just wrote fat, Shelly said 300, and Tweek wrote 185. The correct answer is...240! Henrietta steals the point!” She smirks, Pete’s skinny ass looking defeated next to her. “Next question, what is Bebe most proud of?” The contestants seem a bit confused, especially Tweek. “Henrietta wrote her abomination spawn, Shelly reveals her child, Pete wrote her virgin (?) pussy, Tweek said her boobs.” Randy scratches his chin, “The correct answer is...Dishrag! Henrietta and Shelly are tied at two while Pete and Tweek have one.” Cartman screams “Her baby is dead!” Bebe is hella sad. “Okay next question, What is Wendy’s favorite gender?” “Henrietta wrote vagina, Shelly wrote girls, Pete said females, and Tweek said none with a question mark.” “The correct answer is neither! She’s a feminist duh, Tweek, Henrietta, and Shelly are all tied with two, while Pete only has one.” “The final question is how old is Towelie? The closest without going over will get the point and most likely win immunity!” “Shelly said twelve, Henrietta wrote sixteen, Pete said twenty-one, and Tweek reveals thirty.” “The correct answer is...seventeen in towel years! Henrietta, congratulations you win immunity!” The music swells as Henrietta stands up to get the necklace around her beefy neck. “Henrietta, are you surprised to be the one person here, with a one in three shot at the prize money?” Randy tilts his head sentimentally. Henrietta frowns. “Uh, yeah, I guess I can win a challenge even if I’m a little bigger than the others,” the camera lingers on Cartman sitting on the jury. “Well, Pete does this change anything?” Randy dumbly asks the remaining contestants, waving his hands awkwardly. “Yeah, Mr. Marsh, Shelly doesn’t have immunity, she needs to go.” Pete pipes up. Shelly gives him a death glare. “Shelly, feeling a little less safe without that necklace mya?” Randy toys with his daughter. Shelly flares up immediately. “Well Tweek, I’m not voting you so please don’t vote for me, either of them won’t take you to final two,” she defends herself, spitting a little because of her braces. Climactic drum beat as the camera dramatically cuts to the two goth kids sitting on one side of the area, segregated. “You don’t know that.” Henrietta smiles with the necklace. Tweek just stutters under his breath. Randy swoops in on him predatorily. “Nervous for the vote tonight, Tweek?” Tweek screams briefly. “I’m loyal to the people that I’m with,” he stammers as Shelly slams her puss down impatiently next to him. “Y’all please vote for Pete, he’s going to win the game if you let him in the final two. Don’t be turds ugh!” Shelly scowls, glaring at her tribe mates in menstrual rage. Towelie from the jury is all like “Yeah!” “Henrietta,” Randy presses as the camera cuts to a close-up of her oblong form in a swing votely fashion. “What is your criteria for the vote tonight?” “We are all just stumbling through darkness,” Henrietta looks up dully, the fire making the bags under her eyes glow eerily. “It looks like I don't even need to ask anything, are you all good to vote?” Henrietta shrugs her shoulders. “Alright, Henrietta you're up first.” Henrietta signs a name and also writes a poem in the bottom corner. ‘I'm god, you're god, we are all god.’ Shelly is next, [Pete] “This is it.” Tweek brushes some of his wild hair back before casting his vote. Pete is last and he appears shaken, “I hope I can trust you Henri, it should be us in the end.” Randy ominously posing with his hands behind his back, “I’ll go tally the votes.” Quick shot of Tweek, Pete, and Shelly all looking nervous in various angles. “Once the votes are read, the decision is final. The person voted out will have to leave and go into my house. I’ll read the votes.” “First vote,” Randy frowns. [Shelly] “Second vote,” [Pete] “Next vote,” [Shelly] Randy sighs, “And the seventeenth person voted out and eighth member of our jury,” [Shelly] Shelly is furious, her face is red and she stomps to grab her torch. “Shelly, I’m sorry the tribe has spoken.” Randy snuffed her torch. Shelly tosses her torch at the castaways like a javelin, however she misses and it pierces Kenny’s neck, killing him. Shelly runs into the house screaming “Mom!!! I’m starving!” “Well that was a ride, get the fuck out. I’ll see you for the final immunity challenge tomorrow.” Randy storms inside and slams the backdoor. “Those turds, I was so damn close.” Shelly picks up a lamp and throws it against the wall. The Marsh house begins to flood with Shelly’s period. Randy walks out on the New York soundstage dressed all nice, making a dismayed face as the camera shows Kenny’s body spurting blood. “That’s gotta hurt!” The crowd goes wild. “Two tribal councils down, one to go and then it’s down to two!” Randy said hispanically, pandering to that demographic. STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO OF THE SURVIVOR: SOUTH PARK FINALE. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy jumps out from behind some fake ass bushes on the sound stage, “I hope you liked those commercials! Now let’s get back to the action!” The crowd starts bum rushing the stage. Ennui Tribe Night 15 Pete grabs Tweek and Henrietta in for a hug. “Thanks for staying loyal guys.” Henrietta looks nauseated to the gooch. “Final three!” Laid over Tweek looking tired as he lays on the shelter, “Everybody thought I was weak from the beginning, and now here I am beside the two loser goth kids,” camera reveals Tweek’s eyes wide open in the night vision lens, “Pete still has a fine dicke though.” The boys leave to “chill” in the woods, leaving Henrietta alone by the dying embers of the fire as a Peruvian flute plays in the background. “Pete thinks he’s so slick for still being here.” Henrietta angrily files her fingernails, “He’s such a poser, I hate him.” Jumpcut to some slow jazz music as Tweek confirms the final two with a dick in his butt. “I really feel good, no matter what happens at the final immunity I think I’m going to be sitting at the final tribal council.” Pete flashes a gay smile. Ennui Tribe Day 16 Henrietta is alerted by production to get the post coitus sluts to have some hot breakfast. “Hey, you guys! We have food!!!” “Before they let us eat they forced us on a scale to show how much weight we lost.” Henrietta frowns. Pete steps on the small scale, “Wow I lost fifteen pounds.” He’s looking slim thin now, no longer slim thick.Tweek’s gaunt little ass is next, “I only weigh ninety pounds!” “That’s the thinnest I have ever been! Jesus Christ! I hope I’m not anorexic now.” Tweek’s bare shoulder pops out. A pissed Henrietta waddles onto the scale showing that she barely lost anything. “I guess I’ll always be fat.” Henrietta slumped on her side in a neat confessional. Profile shot of Tweek awakening brightly with a big cup of coffee, standing erect. “There’s only three of us left, meaning it’s time to burn down our campsite and pay tribute to those who went before us,” Tweek smiling. Henrietta’s black-painted lips curve into a smile as she clicks her fancy lighter and drops it on the shelter, igniting it. “Nothing made me happier than watching my cage burn,” Henrietta’s eyelashes flutter youthfully. Time lapse shows the little shelter burning up, then the final three gathering their torches and filing away. Tweek looks back wistfully, shedding a tear. “I really grew as a person here,” Tweek’s eyes glowing in the camera as the tag of his shirt is visible. Against his will, Pete reads the note production handed to him, “Before you compete in your final immunity, you must press f to pay respects to the seventeen people you had a hand in voting out.” “All these conformists thought a goth could never do it,” Pete grandstanding in the confessional. “I’ll relish stepping on their graves, and they’ll still vote me to win the million dollars.” “Lame.” Henrietta begins walking ahead of Tweek and Pete.The camera closes up on Vampir’s torch.“I remember this fag.” Henrietta crosses her arms while Tweek shrugs. Pete winces with discomfort. Flashback to Vampir jumping from behind the tree and hissing. “Even though I didn’t last very long, I still think this was a positive experience, per say.” They approach the next torch, the tag reading ‘Token’.“Token,” Henrietta reads. “He was black, right?”“Yeah,” Tweek frowns. Slow-motion flashback to Token getting heated at tribal. “As a black man, my chances in this game were significantly lower. I’m proud of myself, this game really showed people’s true colors.” They continue to move on through the trail production made for them. The camera zooms in on Red’s name tag.“Who was Red?: Pete scratches his head.Tweek and Henrietta shrug their shoulders. “Survivor really ruined my life, I will never forget Shelly’s rough hands around me…” Red shutters over the shot of her throwing rocks into the ocean. Tweek struggles carrying two torches, he shakes.“Next is Michael,” Pete sighs, “He left too soon.”Henrietta nods, but gives a neat stank face. Montage of Michael smiling, being pulled in the water, running across the balance beam, “Survivor was pretty gay and conformist. That’s it, leave me alone.” The continue on approaching two torches this time, the tags read Butters and Firkle.Pete looks mortified feeling terribly guilty about being a turncoat as Tweek picks up Firkle’s torch.“Poor Firkle,” Henrietta says as she purposefully says nothing about Butters. “Despite hating my Survivor experience, I oddly wish I could do it over again, huh.” Firkle is only shown smoking in his flashbacks. “Oh hamburgers! I went so early, my parents grounded me. Professor Chaos needs a second shot!” Jarring cuts of Butters sucking Kenny’s dick, as well as him jumping up and down at a challenge. “Kyle was chill, I felt bad for him despite the fact he would be a super conformist if he lasted any longer.” Henrietta explained with Tweek eagerly nodding. “I got bested way sooner than I expected,” Kyle explaining over a shot of him holding his breath for a really long time. “Survivor was brutal and I wish I got to play it longer.” The sun glistened Tweek and Pete’s pale ass skin as they walked up to grab Clyde’s torch.“I’m pretty sure this kid is retarded.” Pete admitted. “This game really shows people's true colors,” Clyde still bitter sitting cross-armed as flashbacks play of him melodramatically delivering production-fed lines. “It’s like World War III at camp!” “Captain America is next huh?” Pete ponders.Tweek snickers, “I wasted my idol, but seeing Stan get fucked over really warmed my gooch.” “You know what? Fine dad, I’ll say something, I got that purple grape, I can bake a cake.” Stan stank as ever as his blindside is shown. Key change in the background music as Towelie’s torch appears on the horizon. Tweek frowns uncomfortably. “Oh.” Towelie begins to mumble, “I know I fucked up, it’s okay though...I got high.” The extremely uncomfortable birth scene is shown as Towelie mops up the afterbirth. Tweek smiles when he approaches Wendy’s torch a bit quicker than the Goths.“I really like Wendy,” Tweek says gaily, earning glares from mostly Henrietta. “Survivor really tested me, and the only portion I failed was having a penis between my legs.” Wendy contemplated, “My wish is to play in a season where it’s gender balanced.” A shot of her building a sandcastle with Stan is shown. Music slows down as Bebe’s torch is approached, camera shows Pete’s dicke shedding a tear.“I thought I knew all there was to know about Bebe, and then she got pregnant,” Henrietta reflects dully. “I came into this game a little girl and came out a woman,” Bebe with a slight smile, followed by shots of her cartwheeling across the balance beam and holding Dishrag up in the sunlight. Henrietta sees Cartman’s torch and pointedly spits on it. “Oh my god you guys, this game was rigged.” Cartman fatly accuses, “How dare they disrespect my authiortah.” Tweek stares at Pete uncomfortably as they approach Craig’s torch before he whispers to himself, “Daddy.” “I just wish they voted me out sooner, eliminate me!” Craig’s various shots of looking hella stank. A cloud passes over the castaways, leaving Kenny’s torch in shadow. Pete stomps out commemorative cigarette at its base.“Poor Kenny,” Tweek frowned. “He really needed this money.” “Man, I gotta a lot of dickie out here, if anything I’m glad I at least got cummies out of this.” Montage of Kenny’s deaths set to the sad tribal music. More rhythmic drums are heard weaving into the soundtrack as the final three reach Nichole’s torch.Henrietta just shrugs, “She was my black friend.” “Survivor really made me realize something, racism always wins.” Nichole flashing just one titty at that one challenge. As the final three walk up to the final torch, Tweek notes, “Shelly was on Pink and then went to Blue.” “This game was just too full of turds, I feel like I let my dad down by not winning. I will get my vengeance.” Shots of Shelly tugging real hard on the rope in the tug o war challenge. The final three finally arrive at the top of Phil Collins Hill, where a large sling shot pointed towards the sun is set up.Henrietta reads the note that was left to them, “Launch the ones you remembered into the sun!!!”They pack the torches in and let them fly as the soundtrack begins to play the ethnic man orgasming track.Randy pops out from some bushes, “It’s time for the final immunity challenge, Henrietta I’ll take the necklace back,” Randy gently lifts the necklace around Henrietta’s rotund chin as she whispers a satanic prayer into it.“It’s hand on a hard idol, you gonna stand on these perches see? And place one hand on the beautiful necklace. You fall off or let go of the necklace. YOU LOSE. Last person standing gets the final necklace and has a fifty fifty shot of winning the cash money.” Randy explains.Dramatic cut away to some banging drums, the final three are in place. Camera closes in on Tweek looking determined as he takes his spot. “I’ve had my coffee and I’m feeling great!” Henrietta’s fupa flaps in the breeze as she steps onto her spot. “Standing? That’s easy, I do it all the time.” She says sarcastically. Pete exhaling deeply as he steps up. “I don’t even need to win, they’ll both take me.” “Survivors ready? It’s on.”The camera spins around Phil Collins Hill to show time passage.“You've been standing up there for about thirty minutes.”Close-up of the idol, showing Henrietta’s fat hand shifting uncomfortably. Randy getting all up in their faces. “Feeling the pain yet, Henrietta?”“Please get away from me,” Henrietta grunts. Her knee audibly cracks.Tweek begins to scream uncontrollably, his whole body convulsing.“What hurts the most, Tweek?” Randy approaches the lithe blond boy predatorily.Tweek’s legs shaking. “M-mmy bussy,” he turns red as Pete smirks across from him.Pete’s all like “Wow, I can't feel my arm.”Another hour passes, Randy takes a dump near them.Tweek suddenly screams, “What was that?” rubbing his head with his free hand.“What?” Henrietta pipes up, shuddering as her focus as broken. Hail starts falling on the castaways, clicking audibly against the top of Phil Collins Hill. Tweek starts screaming uncontrollably again.The tribal chanting in the background intensifies as Randy gets all up in they faces again. “Those posts are gonna get slippery now!” Camera closes-up on Henrietta’s foopa swinging to and fro. Pete winces as Tweek shuts his eyes, wailing in pain.“I can't go on anymore,” melodramatically Pete takes a tumble and is out of the challenge. Gentle piano tones as Randy runs over to help Pete’s fragile fag body over to the bench.“Wow, you made it three hours Pete,” Randy clearly unimpressed as Pete pretends to be sad.Shot shows the face of Phil Collins Hill as the hail storm continues.“We are down to two, peenie versus vagine.” Randy gaily narrates.Two more hours go by, Tweek is still yelling. Henrietta is bleeding from some hailstones in the crevice of her pussy but bites her dark-painted lip through the pain.“I can go all day, all night.” Henrietta smirks.“It's party time woo!” Tweek mutters.“This could be a hundred dollar challenge,” Randy enunciates each word, savoring them as they popped out his mouf. “At this point it’s a question of who wants it more?”Tweek slowly twists his body to face away from the idol, carefully keeping his arm intact.Henrietta makes a move she sucks in a deep breath and then goes, “Boo.”Tweek startled lets his hand that is touching the idol drop like a dumbass, he crumples to the ground crying.“HENRIETTA WINS FINAL IMMUNITY!” She doesn't celebrate much as she nearly falls stepping down from the pedestals, her tits sag when the necklace is placed on her. “You have a fifty fifty shot at winning the money. I hope you make the right decision tonight. Now get the fuck out.”Stunning helicopter shot of the castaways walking away from Phil Collins Hill in the hailstorm. Ennui Tribe Day 16 “I had to win that one… and I blew it,” Tweek looking significantly aged as he attempts to hide his baggy eyes. “Well Henrietta winning was unexpected, however I'm not disappointed so tribal council should be a breeze.” Pete smokes at the base of a tree. Some ambiguously oriental-sounding plucked string instrument is heard as Henrietta smokes a cigarette by the fire in silence. “It’s amazing,” Henrietta’s pale face glistening, “neither of the fags have even said a word to me since we got back. I guess everyone knows what’s gonna happen.” Her tiny white people lips part into a hearty grin. Camera shows a bird picking at some nuts on the ground, then out of nowhere Tweek’s blond head pops out from a bush where he was sucking Pete’s dicke.“So I’ll see you around I guess?” Tweek wipes Pete’s cum from his mouth.“Yeah,” Pete says emptily.Dramatic cut to nighttime, a prairie dog is shown choking on a cigarette butt and dying. Tribal Council Night 16 The final three walk into tribal, their torches not giving off as much light due to the hail still smashing them in the gooch.“Take a seat, take a seat right over there.” Randy gestures. “Before we begin let's bring in the jury. Towelie, Wendy, Bebe, Cartman, Craig, Kenny… and booted at the last tribal council, Nichole and Shelly.” They seem surprised that Henrietta won another challenge.“So tonight works a little differently,” Randy patronizes the final three. “Henrietta has the immunity necklace, after a spectacular challenge today atop Phil Collins Hill. Nobody can vote for her. That means Tweek votes Pete, Pete votes Tweek. Cancel each other out. Henrietta holds the sole deciding vote of who joins the other eight jurors.”Bebe coos, excited, her vagina is frothing.“Henrietta, what affects your decision tonight?” Randy asks vaguely.Henrietta shrugs in annoyance. “Uhh, I want one of them out more than the other.”“Pete, Tweek, would you each like to make one last plea to Queen Henrietta?” Randy jokes patronizingly.“Henri, you have known me for the longest time. I remember the emo times. It's cool you don't have to listen to me, but do you really want a conformist in the final 2?” A shot of Tweek wincing at this. As Pete ends his statement by folding his hands into his lap.Tweek takes this as a cue to stumble through a plea, “Uh, yeah take me to the end? I don’t know.” He sighs fairly resigned from the game.Randy nods, bored, “So Henrietta you ready to make a potential hundred dollar decision?”“Yeah, whatever.” She gets up to go to the voting booth.The camera shifts from the jury to Tweek, then Pete.Henrietta stands at the podium for a few seconds before she writes down a name.It cuts away.“I’ll go tally the vote.”Cartman sneers from the jury. Towelie is rolling a mighty spliff.“Once the vote is read, the decision is final, the loser will be the final member of the jury. I'll read the vote.” Randy opens the shoe box.The music crescendos as Tweek pulls his hair and Pete frowns.“And the eighteenth person voted out and the final member of the jury is…”Randy flips over the computer paper.[Pete]Wendy gasps audibly, Nichole grins.Pete appears shocked, doesn't say anything and picks up his torch.“Pete, the tribe has spoken.” Randy snuffed his torch. “It's time for you to go.”Pete lights up a cigarette and peaces out.“Henrietta, Tweek you two have made it as far as you can in this game. Now the power shifts to the jury. The nine of them will decide who will win the hundred dollars and hold the title of sole survivor. Enjoy your final night outside.”Tweek still looks stunned as he picks up his little bag. Pete chills on the elimination recliner, “I'm impressed that Henrietta did that. I'm just unsure if she could have beaten either me or Tweek in the jury vote. Whatever the game was fun. Gg everyone.” Ennui Tribe Night 17 “Voting out Pete made me really FUCKING glad. Like he was such a douche.” Henrietta brushes her sleek black hair with a twig. Tweek is shown jumping up and down looking spazzed in the night vision “What the hell was Henrietta thinking! I think I just won the money! Thanks God!” Henrietta and Tweek regret burning down the camp a little bit. They cuddle for warmth, Tweek taking refuge in her bosom as it lightly snows on them.The sun cracks the horizon warming everyone's gooch for the final tribal council. A shot is shown of the charred remains of the shelter in the morning sunlight as a female singer coos ethnically. “This is it, my last chance to convince everyone that I'm not a shaky piece of shit.” Tweek beams still tired. “I'm content, can you stop talking to me?” Henrietta spin kicks the cameraman in the dick. Final Tribal Council Day 17 Henrietta and Tweek walk in still dirty as tit and take their spots next to each other.“Alright for the final time, let’s bring in the jury. Towelie,” Towelie has on a neat blue bowtie. It matches his towel skin.“Wendy,” She is wearing a lilac dress, her hair pulled back into a bun,“Bebe,” She has lost most of her baby weight and looks slick in her button up dress shirt and her black skirt.“Cartman,” He struts in looking pretty much as he always does, fat and in those shit brown pants.“Craig,” Craig still wears his blue hat, he smiles at Tweek since he’s gay.“Kenny,” Doesn’t have any nice clothes so he is still wearing his ratty orange hoodie. He obviously sits with a boner.“Nichole,” the black girl strides in in a cute floral dress. She gives a big toothy smile.“Shelly,” Shelly stomps in wearing a white blouse and black recital pants, this is her Sunday best. She looks pissed off as she takes her seat.“And voted out at the last tribal council, Pete.” He’s still wearing all black, Ponderosa gave him some hair dye and now the red in his hair is more vibrant than ever.“Alright, before we give the jury a chance to interrogate you, each of our finalists will have a chance to give an opening statement. Tweek, the floor is yours,” the camera closes-in on Craig in the jury seating as Randy explains.Tweek adjusts his posture in his seat, “When this game started, I was petrified that I was going to be voted off early. I dug my heels in and played as hard as I could. I feel that most of you underestimated me...for the most part. This was a daylight robbery, hand me the check.” Tweek proudly finishes his little statement.Henrietta purses her lips. “My good friend Tweek here has had the privilege of being paranoid this game. None of you fags even gave me the time of day. I was playing from the outside in, and made it past each one of you without needing to scramble. I knew how and when to keep myself safe,” quick shots of the jury reacting ambiguously to this, finally landing on Nichole nodding slowly.Randy nods after Henrietta’s diatribe. “Spicy, okay, the jury you will each get to ask Henrietta and Tweek a few questions. After that it will be closing statements and then you will have to decide who deserves the cheesy bread.”“Craig, you’re up first.”Craig sniffles as he stands up and takes his spot before the finalists. He holds himself stiffly.“I don’t have anything to ask the fat emo chick,” Craig pipes up bluntly, Henrietta scowls. “Tweek, do you love me?”Tweek stammers, “Y-yes.” The camera cuts to Pete who looks a bit annoyed.Craig nods, satiated. “I’m outta here,” he takes his seat.“Okayy,” Randy slightly taken aback. “Next up, Kenny.”Kenny’s fine ass steps up, “My question is for both of you. On a scale of one to ten, how hot am I?”Henrietta pipes up, “You would look better with a lip ring or something. Six.”Kenny peers at Tweek, expectant.Tweek mumbles, “Uhhh, blonds aren’t really my type, but eight.”“Thanks, Good luck.” Kenny winks at them and sits down.“Wendy, you’re up.”Wendy nods and hops on up to address the final two.“First I’d like to say congratulations to the both of you. You achieved what the rest of us failed to do. Now in this game we saw a lot of ugliness. Misogyny,” the camera cuts to Cartman. “Racism,” the camera shows Nichole. “Sexual assault,” the camera shows a long shot of Towelie and Shelly. “Did you stand idly by and let the evils of this game and real life corrupt those around you?” Wendy practically spitting being all indignant and sanctimonious.Tweek furiously shaking his head in agreement as a virtue signal, “I tried voting Cartman like ten, ten, ten times. I tried butting out of conflict so my head wouldn’t be on the chopping block. What do you want Wendy?”Henrietta shrugs, “I profited and that’s all the matters. I don’t give a tit about your white feminist problems.”Wendy looking somewhat incensed. “Okay,” is all she can muster out as she returns to her stool.“Bebe, you’re next.” Bebe fiercely jumps up.“I’m glad I got to go after Wendy, my question is, what the hell happened to Dishrag? How could you let that happen to him?” Bebe on the verge of a nervous breakdown.Tweek caught completely off-guard. “He uhhh, ran away.”Henrietta lights a cigarette and begins smoking, “He tasted like chicken my dear.”Bebe, now in tears, “Ugh!” She runs back to the jury bench. Towelie pats her back even though he raped her.“Wow, next up is Cartman,” Randy now a bit uncomfortable.“Well, well, well. The power is in my hands see?” Cartman cracks his fingers as he towers overs the firepit between him and the final two. “If you could play perfectly who would be sitting next to you in the final two?”Henrietta frowns, “Uh, I think I did play perfectly. But if I had to pick someone else I would have brought Firkle.” She finishes her cigarette and stomps on it.Tweek clears his throat, “My plan was originally to bring Towelie to the end.”“Interesting, that’s all I need. See you later losers.” Cartman waddles back to his seat.“Shelly, sweetums, you’re up. Randy stretches out his leg.Shelly makes her way to her spot powerfully, turning to the finalists with a piercing glare.“I was this close,” Shelly pinches two of her sausagey fingers together, “to winning the hundred dollars. I could almost taste it. My question is, give me three adjectives that you think describe how you played.”Henrietta farts, “I don’t know, annoyed, and in the right place at the right time.” Shelly unfazed by this answer.Tweek squints his eyes, showing great mental effort. “I played with intensity, adaptability, and FIRE.” Camera shows Wendy putting her face in her hands on the jury.“Thanks turds,” Shelly spins around manly and goes back to the bench.“Nichole, you’re up next,” Randy smiles at Nichole as she sunnily gets up and walks over, her dress flowing as she moved.“I’ve been ready since I got voted out. Henrietta, I expected for someone like Big S to backstab me, but you? For really? I know Shelly was a wolf, but you...god damn it. You were the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Why the HELL should I vote your ass to win?” Nichole crosses her arms.Henrietta flabbergasted, “I didn’t think I could beat you. It’s as simple as that...I’m sorry.” Henrietta forlornly stares at Nichole’s black mouth.Nichole does not seemed impressed, “Tweek, I’m not going easy on you, you were spineless and a slug in this game. What did you do? Seriously riddle me that and you get my vote.”Tweek is racistly afraid of Nichole’s black anger, “Well, I prevented rocks at final six?” He seems uncertain. “I always made sure there were bigger threats around me.”“Dat it? Randy I’m good.” She drops her mic and sits back down.Music slows down emotionally as Randy points at the gay goth boy. “Pete you’re up.”Pete gently flips his hair out of his face as he turns directly to Tweek. “Tweek, I have one question for you. What was our relationship?”Ethnic screaming as the camera shows Nichole’s mouth agape, Bebe making a stank face, Cartman looking thoroughly entertained, Craig looking like he wants to punch a titty.Tweek, beet red, can hardly answer. “Strategic.” Henrietta looks away in discomfort.Pete says nothing, and returns to his seat.A tear runs down Randy’s face. Towelie runs over to dry it off before taking his spot in front of the finalists. “Towelie, finish us off,” Randy commands.Towelie pulls a spliff out from behind his towel ear and sparks his crack lighter at the end, inhaling audibly. He blows a cloud of smoke, Wendy starts coughing like a pussy. “Puff or pass?”Henrietta, a little bit intrigued by the hot bud, “Puff please,” Towelie scuttles over and hands her the blunt. She takes a big hit, because she’s a big girl.Tweek glances at the towel, a bit discomforted. “Puff…” Tweek hesitantly takes the good good and like a noob sticks the burning end skraight into his mouth. He tries to hit it but immediately begins choking intensely. Kenny is shown making a face of judgment from his seat.Towelie makes a little nod at Randy, thoroughly blazed. “That’s all I need to know, man.”Randy is at this point feeling it a little from all the smoke in the very crowded tribal council area, “well then, for the last time, it’s time to vote. As a reminder, jury, you are voting for a WINNER. Finalists, you WANT to see your name on the parchment tonight. Shelly, dear, you’re up first.”Shelly looking absolutely frigid as her black velvet pants walk over to the urn. She writes down a name. “Maybe you’re not a turd after all. Enjoy the hundred dollars,” a small smile peeks through her braces as she puts her vote in.Craig giving Pete the evil eye as he walks over to the urn. He promptly scrawls [Tweek] on the parchment and holds it up faggily. “You win, we both win.”Puffing out his chest Cartman struts up the walkway to the voting urn, “Whatever, I’ll win All Stars. You are the better option in my eyes.” The camera cuts away before he starts scribbling on the paper like a retard.Wendy crisply sighs as she approaches the papers, writing in her fancy cursive, [Henrietta] “You both deserve it, but girl power I guess.”Nichole looks straight ahead as she marches over to the urn. She writes down a name with a face of shock, shaking her head. Camera shows an overhead sidetitty shot as she holds up her vote. “Wow.”A shot of Kenny’s sweet ass is shown for the last time as he walks up to the podium, he smiles and writes down a name.Pete scowls on his way up, “This game has hurt me, I just want the world to burn, You are both conformists and I’d rather abstain.” After production prodding Pete eventually votes.Bebe and her tits shiver on her way up, “Whoever wins, good job.” Bebe bends over to write down a name.Lastly Towelie stumbles up, he’s really high, “Congrats!” He hiccups knocking over the voting urn.Towelie returns to his seat, Randy nods and cleans up Towelie’s mess.After tallying the vote, Randy dramatically returns with the urn and rests his hands on his podium. “Well, the winner of the hundred dollars is in this urn right here, but I won’t read these votes here, we’ll announce the winner in New York City!” Randy walks off down the street, into the sunset. Victorious strains and tribal screams are heard as the camera closes in on the final two sitting by the fire. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Randy pops out and the crowd loses their shit. Everyone looks clean and a bit older. Randy smiles suddenly donning a leather jacket, “This has been a wild ride, thank you to our twenty guinea pigs. Now REMEMBER that you want to see your name, they were voting for a winner! I’ll tally the votes.” Henrietta and Tweek recoil and hold each other’s hands. Randy melodramatically places the cover of the urn down next to it. “First vote…” [Tweek] The crowd erupts into cheers, camera shows shot of Tweek’s parents’ faces in the crowd. “Next vote…” Randy dramatically pauses and the audience screams in anticipation. He giggles and opens the vote, [Henrietta] Henrietta’s family is shown, ha mother claps extremely hard. Her brother Bradley is gay and smiling real hard. “Next vote…” the camera shows Tweek’s face, glowing with sweat. [Tweek] A shot of Craig proud and horny. “Fourth vote,” Randy holds the vote for an extra second, [Tweek] The gays in the audience yell for gay Tweek. “Takes five votes to win. Five votes left. Next vote…” [Henrietta] . The crowd doesn’t get as loud, most of the goths refuse to play along to the conformist applause. “Next vote…” Randy makes a face of surprise as he reveals the next vote, written in fancy cursive. [Henrietta] The audience screams as Wendy is shown grinning shittily. “We’re tied, three votes Tweek, three votes Henrietta. Three votes left,” Randy grandstands as Henrietta is shown slightly perturbed by the loud reaction by emos in the audience. The camera shows Tweek, who is on the edge of his seat. “Seventh vote,” Randy opens this vote fast, [Henry] A camera shot of the jury shows Craig looking pissed off, Nichole’s black mouth breaks into a wide smile. “And the next vote…” Randy gives a shit eating grin, “And the winner of Survivor: South Park… [Henrietta] Henrietta gasps and falls to the floor. The pre merge hussies run out to camera mug. Firkle jumps on Henrietta’s big tummy like “wee”, she still on the floor. Randy lookin all jolly as the cast is hugging each other on the stage, it’s mad noisy and he screams “A wild debut season, we’ll talk more with our contestants in a minute, we’ll be asking Towelie is he clean? We’ll talk to Wendy, Cartman, and more after some messages, shoutout to these tunes arranged by Veronica Crabtree!” the camera shows Mrs. Crabtree rockin out on that synth as the screen fades out. After the Cheesy Poofs commercial, it cuts to the twenty castaways sitting on a three tiered bench. Randy waves his hand around to signal for the audience to shut the fuck up. “This was a shocking season all the way thru, but to many the most shocking moment came right at the close, when our winner Henrietta Biggle,” the camera shows a close-up of her looking all dolled-up and happy, “committed goth-on-goth crime on her friend Pete Hastie,” close-up on Pete nodding sadly before cutting away to footage of Pete shedding a faggy lil tear as his torch gets snuffed. Back to Randy, “Pete, after playing such a strategic game, how did it feel to get taken out by your right-hand bitch?” “I probably should have won but I honestly don’t give a fuck anymore Randy,” Pete wincing as Bebe is shown nodding emphatically the row behind him. “But let’s be realistic Pete, had Henrietta stuck to plan and took you to the end-- I mean, who on that jury would have voted for Pete?” Randy insists douchily. Awkward silence as part of the crowd cheers wildly, Bebe and Tweek awkwardly raise their hands. Kenny shrugs. Randy painfully changes the subject, “And let’s not forget about Tweek, just a few votes short of the hundred dollars,” loud applause is heard. “Tweek, how has your life been since the show ended?” Tweek blushes. “Survivor really changed my life, it inspired me and my boyfriend to take the next step and now we’re married,” he shows off his ring. Craig reaches down to him from the bench above, straining to reach Tweek over Cartman’s fat thigh. The audience screams wildly as Randy is all like “ooooh.” As they quiet down Randy takes the opportunity to address Craig, “And would the new Mr. Tweek ever return to Survivor again?” Craig is repulsed by this question. “No.” The top of Pete’s discomforted-looking face is visible in the bottom of the haphazard camera shot. “One of Tweek’s most noted moves was his blindside of my own little boy, Stan,” cheers are heard as the camera closes in on Stan, who’s wearing a fancy turtleneck sweater. He awkwardly waves of the applause as Randy continues, “Stan how did it feel to be beat by your sister this season?” The women in the audience scream loudly as Shelly pops up and shows off her biceps. Stan doesn’t know what to say, his moment clearly stolen. “I don’t know, proud?” “Thanks, turd,” Shelly turns around and condescends him, provoking laughs from the audience. Red’s livid face is visible in the background of the shot. A return from another gay commercial shows a flashback to the goth tribe going to rocks, Michael looking apathetic as he strolls away from Tribal Council. Randy looks amused, “The goth tribe was, frankly, a train wreck at the start of this game. I can’t believe one of you won!” He exaggerates an incredulous expression to provoke laughs from the audience. “Michael, how did it feel to be taken out by drawing the wrong rock?” Michael looks surprised to be asked a question. “Uhh, it was pretty gay I guess, but this whole experience was pretty gay.” “Firkle, often deemed the weakest link of the Black tribe. Just when it seemed like the tribe swap saved your life, you were sent packing. Are you and the other goths still friends?” “Yeah it’s cool,” Firkle and Michael look uncomfortable as the shot closes in on them and Butters. “This was like two years ago anyway, I don’t care man.” Henrietta pipes up, clutching her hundred dollar check possessively. “Just because I won the game of capitalism doesn’t mean I’ve changed or any of us have changed. I’m gonna spend this hundred dollars on cigarettes and eyeliner.” “Another tribe that got off to a rough start was the Blue tribe, let’s take a look,” Randy points to a random corner. Footage plays of Token bossing the tribe around loudly, Tweek crying, Towelie smoking weed and Token getting blindsided as Clyde’s mouth is AGAPE. “Token, your ouster was another shocker,” Randy talks to the black boy as he is seen nodding confidently in agreement. “Seeing the season play out, do you still think they made a mistake?” “You know Randy, uh, it doesn’t matter if my going or not going would have helped their game, I was voted out for a bigger reason, and that is racism,” Token looking very woke in a hat and shades. Clyde looks very uncomfortable in the row in front of him. Craig makes a pouty face, “I voted you out because you were being annoying.” Token scoffs, “It’s okay Craig, I know you’re ruh. It’s fine.” Randy breaks in to whitesplain the situation, “But Nichole, you made it all the way to top five!” Black women can be heard cheering in the audience. Nichole opens her mouth to answer, but is cut off by Wendy sitting a few seats over. “Randy, it’s uncanny how this game emulates real life. I thought my smarts could win me that hundred bucks but in the end, the ugliness of the game got to me, I couldn’t be an assassin anymore.” Cartman, two seats down from Wendy, is visible stifling his laughter. Wendy gets stank realizing this, but continues anyway, “In the end it mattered more to me to get out racist, chauvinist assholes like Eric Cartman than figuring out my best path to victory.” Randy’s eyes open up wide shiestily. “Cartman, do you have a response to that?” Cartman rolls his eyes. “It’s just a game, bitch. Need some help getting that sand out of your vagina?” Nichole breaks ha silence. “It’s easy for you to say it’s just a game when you haven’t been pushed down every day of your life for being a monkey or a welfare queen. I had to represent my people ever since Token got voted out on Day 2, and I think my longevity in the game is thanks solely to me. I didn’t get no help.” More screams from the black women in the audience as Token raises a fist in solidarity. Randy awkwardly smiles and segways into the next segment, “Another very controversial castaway, he smoked, he overdosed, he raped, it’s none other than Towelie.” The crowd boos. Towelie waves his short towel arms “I’m not a crook!” He slurs. “Towelie, what caused your behaviour out on the island?” Randy incredulously asks. Towelie rolls another joint, earning glares from Kyle and Butters in the row above him. “It was all strategy see, it would have worked if Bebe didn’t have her baybay, see?” Bebe agrees with a short nod, Randy jumps to her, “Bebe, you lost your baby because of the cannibalistic nature of this cast, how have you been?” She shakes her blonde ass head, “I’ve been doing well, I adopted a small handkerchief to ease the pain. She’s about four months old now and I’m so happy.” The camera cuts to a picture of Bebe cradling her handkerchief. “So no hard feelings toward the cast for their actions?” Randy pries. Bebe fakes a smile. “I try to forget,” clearly trying to ignore Cartman sitting right the tit next to her. Tired of being tiptoed around, Cartman jumps his fat tits into the conversation. “Aight listen, if you were out there with nothing, absolutely nothing to eat but the Cheesey Poof dust out the bag and maybe a pinecone, when Keeny’s gay ass stole the damn piggy, that you wouldn’t eat the retarded towel miscarriage?” Wendy is seen slowly turning toward Cartman in feminist rage, the cast breaks into argument as Randy frightenedly signals for a commercial break. The Chinpokomon commercial ends and some of the contestants have switched seats due to the argument. Randy clearly looks pressed for time. “Alright really quick, just to talk to a few more of you, Kyle how did it feel to suck so hard in this game?” Kyle purses his lips sentimentally. “I mean I think I learned something, it wasn’t really about winning the hundred dollars I mean, Henrietta’s still kind of a loser and I got that stipend check-” Randy cuts him off, “Butters your elimination was heartbreaking, have you recovered?” Butters frowns with regret. “I do feel like I have some unfinished business out there in the woods, but I am oh so proud of myself for how hard I tried, hi Mom and Dad!” he excitedly waves to his parents in the audience. “And finally Henrietta, what do you have to say to any Survivor hopefuls out there, who are dreaming of applying?” Henrietta looks bemused. “Fuck you mom!” “I’m afraid we’re all out of time to talk to our incredible cast, because we need to show you a special sneak preview of our NEXT season, that’s right we got renewed! And we are going to the MYSTIC RUINS,” he points to another corner of the camera shot. A dramatic drum begins to play and a man begins to scream “Oh way ohhhh,” A flock of chaos land on the muddy ground. “In the hot and humid jungle of South America, twenty four people will hit the ground running.” The silhouette of a girl with braids is shown diving for a flag. “They will build a new society and while getting acquainted with this exotic, mystical new location,” shots of the jungle and suspiciously cultural-looking pyramid thing, “they’ll be battling the elements -- and each other.” Several sets of legs shown running down the beach, “With the prize money raising to a thousand dollars, the game can only get uglier… this spring Survivor is BACK!” Sneakers shown running through the jungle. “Speed’s my game.” Bottom half of a fat body shown working on a puzzle with a voiceover, “Wahaha they’ll never see me coming.” Female with prominent cameltoe legs are shown as the tribal screaming intensifies, “I want to show the world that I can overcome the HIV virus AND the game of Survivor.” The logo spins around, ‘Survivor: Mystic Ruins; Mario & Sonic at the Olympic Games’ APRIL Randy and the twenty South Park biddies are having their after party. “Thank you for watching catch you next season!” He shoots his gun for the last time. It hits Kenny.
10492845
Are you free tomorrow
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, James \"Bucky\" Barnes, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Find the Fanfic (Toxicphandom)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-29T00:00:00", "words": "341", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, fdfwrites", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Tony Stark", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Bucky was sitting and pouting on the couch staring at the couples on both sides of him. They decided to all get together to watch movies since it was Friday night. The movies had just started and he was already regretting coming. Watching Clint laying on Steve and Sam resting his head on Natasha's lap really wasn't helping how cripplingly lonely he was already. He chanced a glance to the right to see Tony leaning against the arm of the couch already completely engrossed in the movie. He was too busy staring at Tony to see the look Steve and Sam shared across the room. He sighed and resigned himself to another quiet night he would spend trying to find a way to talk to Tony but inevitably give up on and mope about when he went home. He woke with a start as the movie ended and everyone moved to get up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and saw that Steve was smirking which was never a good thing. Steve walked over and stood in front of Bucky and Tony and pulled something out of his pocket. "Hey guys I was wondering if you're both free tomorrow? I have tickets to the Mets game." Tony smiled and said, "Yeah, I'm free tomorrow." with a smile. Bucky shrugged. "Yeah I'm free too. Why are you inviting us on your date though?" Steve shook his head, "I'm not. It's your date, have fun!" He tossed two tickets onto Bucky's lap and ran out the door behind Clint. Sam winked before him and Natasha followed them out. Tony looked over towards a very red Bucky, "Hey Bucky, why did Steve think we needed to go on a date exactly?" Bucky sighed and looked over at Tony meeting his eyes. "Because I really like you Tony. You don't have to go if you don't want to, but I would really like it if you w-" He was cut off by Tony grabbing his cheeks and kissing him softly. "I'd love to Bucky. "
10491978
Rebecca
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn, Quentin Lance, Donna Smoak", "Fandom": "Arrow (TV 2012)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by realityisoverrated", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-29T00:00:00", "words": "2,929", "Additional Tags": "Smoaking billionaires, olicity - Freeform, flommy, Toliver, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Childbirth", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn/Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn/Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn/Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak", "Series": "Infinite Love", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/M, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
>Artwork by Lademonessa Felicity adjusted the birthday hat onto Bobby’s head, “Are you ready to wish your dada a happy birthday?”Bobby nodded his head and held out his arms. “Sshh,” he whispered when his mom lifted him into her arms, “it’s a surprise.”She waddled from Bobby’s room, past what would soon be the new baby’s nursery and into her bedroom. Tommy was asleep on his stomach in the center of the bed. He’d surrendered his spot on the edge of the bed three months earlier when Felicity started to get up multiple times in the night to pee. Felicity sat on the edge of the bed and placed Bobby down. Their son crawled across the bed and gently stroked his dad’s face before shouting, “Happy Birthday, dada.”Tommy lurched from his sleep and Felicity had to cover her mouth to hide her smile. “Hey, little man,” Tommy said gruffly. “Nice hat,” he smiled sleepily.“Mommy gave it to me,” he snuggled against Tommy.“Why are we up so early?” Tommy reached over to find the other side of the bed empty. “Where’s Ollie?”“He’s making breakfast,” Felicity informed her husband. “Happy Birthday.”“Is the theme of my birthday, masochism?” he asked covering his eyes with the back of his arm. “What’s maso – maso -,” Bobby wrinkled his nose, “maso -kizm?”Felicity groaned. It was bad enough Bobby chose the worst possible moments to repeat swear words, she didn’t need him learning words like masochism. There were enough rumors about her marriage without her three-year-old telling the playground that the theme to his dada’s birthday party was masochism.“Masochism is waking your dada for breakfast before seven,” Tommy held Bobby closer.“Your present is coming,” Felicity winked at him.Tommy studied her for a minute and she saw the moment he understood what she was saying. He sat straight up with Bobby clutched against his chest, “Now?”“Not this second, but today,” she laughed. “I hope you don’t mind sharing your birthday with this little one?”Tommy scooted across the bed and kissed Felicity before he kissed her belly, “Hey, birthday baby. I can’t wait to meet my present.”Bobby wriggled from Tommy’s arms, “I’ll tell daddy to start the pancakes.”“How far apart are your contractions?” Tommy rubbed her belly.“About twelve minutes,” she kissed the top of his head. “I called my mom. I told her I’d call again when they’re seven minutes apart.”“You feeling okay?”“Aside from the contractions, I feel fine.” Felicity leaned against him, “I’m a little nervous.” She knew what to expect this time, she wasn’t afraid of the pain. Now, she worried about Bobby. Childbirth wasn’t without its risks and she didn’t want to leave her son without his mother.Tommy held her and rubbed her lower back. “I’m nervous too,” he rested his cheek against the top of her head.“You better go take a shower,” she said sitting up. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us and I need you looking pretty.”Tommy ran his hand over his scruff, “I better go. I can’t rush pretty.”Felicity swatted his backside as he climbed from the bed. He hoisted her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. She stood up on her toes and solicited a kiss. “Happy birthday.”He kissed her forehead, “I love you. Both of you.” Felicity was braced against the kitchen counter panting through a contraction when Tommy entered the kitchen. Oliver was trying to distract Bobby who was visibly concerned about his mom. Tommy was immediately at Felicity’s side with a hand on her lower back and one low on her belly. When the contraction subsided, Felicity slumped against her husband.“How long?” Tommy asked.“Ten minutes,” Oliver answered. He sat Bobby in his booster seat, “Who’s ready for pancakes?”Bobby sat quietly and stared at his mom with his wide blue eyes. His hands were clasped together against his chest.“I’m okay, monkey,” she smiled reassuringly at her son. “Let’s have breakfast.”Bobby looked between his dads for confirmation that his mom was all right. Oliver kissed the top of his head, “Mommy is fine.”“We promise,” Tommy smiled. “What kind of pancakes did daddy make you today?”Bobby’s face lit up with a smile, “Drums.”“Fun,” Tommy failed to sound convincing.Bobby loved the drum set his grandfather had purchased him for his third birthday. He’d spent the past three months glued to his present. Felicity wanted to give him lessons. If they were going to have to listen to their son pound on the drums, he might as well be doing it with a purpose.Oliver crossed the kitchen and took Tommy’s face between his hands and kissed him, “Happy Birthday. I love you.”“I love you,” Tommy kissed Oliver gently.“One more year til forty,” Oliver grinned.“I love you less now than I did three seconds ago,” Tommy pouted.“It’s going to be a good birthday,” Oliver squeezed Tommy’s sides.“It’s going to be the best birthday,” Tommy reached for Felicity’s hand.“Eat,” Felicity said as she made a plate for Bobby, “I don’t want either of you fainting from hunger.”Hildy’s head picked up and she ran towards the front door. “Your mom is here,” Oliver said drolly as he took Bobby’s plate from his wife.Felicity rubbed her belly, “There’s ten bucks in it for you if you move this along kid.”“My beautiful girl,” Donna said as she walked into the kitchen, “how are you?”“I’m in labor, mom,” Felicity responded as her mom hugged her close. “I told you I’d call when they were closer.”“I couldn’t wait.” Donna began to rock them side to side, “It’s so exciting. A new baby and on Tommy’s birthday.” Donna released Felicity and hugged her sons-in-law, “Such a happy day.”“Grandma, I’m eating drums,” Bobby held up a pancake with his fingers.“I can see that, sweetheart. It’s looks delicious.” Donna placed a kiss on her grandson’s head before accepting a bite of his pancake. “Yummy. It is delicious.”“Any coffee in this joint?” Quentin grumbled as he walked into the kitchen. “I wish you kids would move some place with a driveway and off street parking.”Felicity handed her step-father a mug of coffee and placed a kiss to his cheek, “We love that you still come and visit us anyway.”Quentin kissed her cheek, “Yeah, well I like you and the kiddo.” He smiled warmly, “Soon to be kiddos.”“Let’s eat,” Tommy said as he glanced at his watch.“How far apart are they?” Donna asked Felicity as she poured herself a cup of coffee.“Ten minutes,” Felicity answered“Plenty of time,” Donna squeezed Felicity’s hand. “I hope you take the epidural this time.”Felicity shivered, “Have you seen how big that needle is? Not going to happen.” As painful as childbirth was, it still wasn’t worse than her fear of needles. If Oliver could remove a bullet from himself without an anesthetic, she could give birth without an epidural.Donna rolled her eyes, but chose not to say anything further. Felicity appreciated her mother’s concern, but it was her body and she was comfortable with her decision to forgo an epidural. Her doctor was going to have nitrous oxide on hand if she needed something to take the edge off. It had worked well with Bobby’s delivery and she didn’t think there was any reason why it wouldn’t work well this time around.“Do you want to take a walk around the block with me?” Quentin asked. “That helped Dinah move things along.”Felicity smiled with relief. She could use a break from her mom’s enthusiasm, “Yeah, let me get my shoes. Come on, Hildy.” “It’s time,” Oliver said gently as he pushed the hair from her eyes. “They’re five minutes apart and lasting fifty-five seconds.”She looked around, “Where’s Tommy?”“He went to get the car,” Oliver helped her to her feet. “Bobby is watching a movie with your mom and Quentin.”Tommy was opening the front door when Oliver helped Felicity down the last step. He smiled nervously at his spouses, “Car is double parked.”Oliver led Felicity back through the kitchen to where Bobby was on the sofa watching television. She sat down on the coffee table and took her son’s hands. “Monkey, your dads and I are going to the hospital. Your baby brother or sister is ready to be born.”Bobby looked from Felicity’s face to her belly and then back to her face. He climbed from the sofa and rested his head against her belly, “I hope you’re a sister.”“I thought you wanted a brother,” Oliver ruffled his son’s hair.Bobby shook his head, “If it’s a sister, I won’t have to share my toys.”Tommy lifted Bobby into his arms, “Whether it is a sister or a brother, you’re going to need to share your toys.”Bobby sighed heavily, “Fine.” He pulled on Tommy’s shirt, “When are we having birthday cake?”Tommy laughed, “We’ll have some after the baby comes, okay?”Felicity pushed the curls from Bobby’s eyes, “I love you, monkey. Be good for grandma and grandpa.”“Okay,” Bobby kissed her. “Will you read me a story before bed tonight.”“Mommy’s probably going to be busy tonight,” Oliver kissed the top of his son’s head.Bobby’s eyes welled with tears and held his arms out to Felicity, “Don’t go.”Felicity took her son in her arms, “I’ll try real hard to read to you tonight, but we’ll have to do it on our tablets, okay?”Bobby nodded his head, “Okay.”Felicity squeezed him tight and pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek, “I love you. Give mommy a kiss.”Bobby kissed Felicity’s lips with a wet sloppy kiss, “Love you, mommy.”Quentin took Bobby from his mom, “Why don’t you show me your drums.”Donna hugged Felicity, “I love you, baby. I’ll see you both soon.” “It’s a girl,” Doctor Abrahms announced as she held Felicity’s daughter up for her to see.Tommy and Oliver both tightened their grips on her hands before releasing their hold. They cut the cord together as the doctor held their daughter. Felicity reached forward and the doctor leaned over her to place the baby to her naked breast. All her exhaustion slipped away as she felt the warmth of her daughter’s skin against hers. “Hello, our beautiful Rebecca. Welcome to the world,” Felicity said through her tears. She examined Rebecca’s tiny perfect hands and fingers before looking at her perfect feet. She looked up at her husbands who both had tears flowing freely down their faces, “We have a daughter.”Oliver leaned forward and kissed Felicity, “We do and she’s perfect.” Oliver touched Rebecca’s hand and she gripped his finger.Tommy’s hand touched Rebecca’s back before he lifted Felicity’s gown to cover both daughter and mother. He pressed his lips to Felicity, “She’s perfect, just like you.”“Happy birthday,” she said against his lips.“The happiest,” he nuzzled her nose. “Thank you.”Felicity and her husbands watched their daughter with awe until the nurse took her to weigh and measure. Tommy followed Rebecca and Oliver stayed behind with their wife. He brushed the hair from her eyes, “I love you.”“I love you,” she leaned into him.“How are you feeling?”“Tired. Sore. Happy.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, “So, very happy. A girl.” A giggle bubbled up from deep within her. Felicity loved being a mother of a son. She loved her husbands. She would have been happy to have another son, but she was beyond thrilled to have another woman entering their family.The sound of Tommy singing drew their attention. Tommy walked towards them as he sang, Happy Birthday, to their daughter. Watching the look of pure joy on Tommy and Oliver’s face as they looked on their daughter filled Felicity with a sense of euphoria and pride. She’d made them look like that. Their love had made it possible.When Tommy finished singing, Here Comes The Sun, Oliver held out his arms, “Tommy, stop hogging our daughter.”Tommy lifted the arm that held Rebecca so he could look her in the eyes, “Ollie, it’s my birthday and she’s my present and I’m not done hogging her.”Oliver smiled and wrapped his arms around Tommy. He rested his chin on Tommy’s shoulder so he could watch their daughter. “What are her stats?” he kissed Tommy’s cheek.“Seven pounds, eight ounces and twenty-one inches long,” Tommy said with pride. “Apgar, perfect score. An overachiever, just like mommy.”“I’m going to call Donna, give her the good news,” Oliver kissed his daughter. “I’ll be right back.” Felicity woke up to find Oliver standing in front of the window holding Rebecca. Tommy held his cell to his ear and from the tone of his voice she knew that he was speaking with Bobby. She put her glasses on and looked at the time, it was almost ten. “Why isn’t he in bed?” Felicity asked Tommy. Her husband gave her a look like she was nuts. She shifted in her bed and grimaced. Felicity grabbed her tablet, “Tell him to get his tablet and I’ll read to him.”Tommy put his cell to his chest, “Are you sure?”“Yes, otherwise he’ll never get to sleep,” she insisted. Bobby was just like Oliver. Once he got wound up, there was no getting him to fall asleep until whatever he was wound up about got resolved.Tommy got back on his phone and started to speak with Donna.Oliver returned to her side and she shifted so he could sit next to her. Felicity’s finger trailed down Rebecca’s cheek, “How is she?”“Remarkable,” Oliver said without looking up.Felicity removed Rebecca’s pink hat, “I can’t believe all of this blonde hair. I’m going to be able to style it. We’re going to be very fashionable, aren’t we, my sweet girl?”Tommy sat down on her other side, “They’re ready for you.”Felicity opened her tablet and Bobby’s face almost immediately popped into view, “Hi, monkey. Why are you still awake?”“Is that the baby?” Bobby asked excitedly as he pointed at Oliver.Oliver shifted Rebecca so Bobby could see his sister’s face.“Say hello to your sister, Rebecca,” Felicity told Bobby.“Hi, Rebecca. I’m Bobby,” the toddler said with a smile. “She’s small. Does she do anything?” he asked with concern.“Not yet,” Tommy smiled, “but soon.”“Have you picked a book?” Felicity asked.Bobby held up his selection, “This one.”Felicity opened her e-book app, “That’s a good choice, monkey.”Felicity shifted so both of her husbands could join her on the bed. Oliver made sure that Rebecca was visible to the camera, as Donna and Quentin had come into frame. Felicity wasn’t halfway through, Guess How Much I Love You, before Bobby’s eyes fell shut.“He’s asleep,” Donna whispered. “She’s so beautiful,” tears streamed down Donna’s face. “We’ll be there after breakfast. Did they say when you’re coming home.”“If I had to guess, around dinner time,” Felicity yawned.“Get some sleep. I love all of you,” Donna blew them kisses.Tommy took the tablet from Felicity, “Rebecca is awake. Do you want to try and nurse?”“Yes,” Felicity opened her gown and took Rebecca from Oliver. She removed the baby’s swaddling until she was only in her diaper. Felicity held Rebecca to her breast and guided her nipple to her daughter’s mouth. Rebecca’s hand landed on her mom’s breast and she mouthed at Felicity’s breast until she latched on. Her milk wouldn’t be in for a few days but she was producing colostrum. Felicity sighed with relief, “Yay. You’re such a smart girl.”Oliver draped the swaddling blanket over Rebecca’s back and all three parents settled in to watch their daughter nurse. As Felicity watched her daughter suckle, she knew, without a doubt, that she had the two most beautiful children that had ever existed.“This is my best birthday, ever,” Tommy spoke softly.Felicity lifted her eyes from their daughter to look at her husband, “Savor it babe, I don’t think I’ll be delivering baby number three on your birthday.”“Baby three?” Oliver stroked Rebecca’s head and her eyes opened. “Let’s get to know baby two before we start planning for three. What do you say, Becca?”“She likes the sound of your voice,” Felicity told Oliver. “Keep talking, I need her to stay awake while she’s nursing.”“What should we tell you?” Oliver spoke softly. “I can tell you that you have the most amazing mom and your dada is pretty great too. You have two big brothers, Bobby and William and they’re super excited to meet you.”“Did you call William?” Felicity asked guiltily. They’d promised to call him as soon as the baby arrived.“I called him while you were sleeping. Sam is going to bring him down this weekend,” Oliver took hold of Becca’s hand.“Good,” Felicity said.“William will keep Bobby occupied while everyone fusses over her,” Tommy said through a yawn.“What about the nursery?” she asked Tommy.“It was the third call I made,” Oliver said. “Everything will be ready by the time we get home tomorrow.”“What theme do you think your daddies picked for you?” Felicity kissed Becca’s hand, “It’s safe to say, I doubt it’s Doctor Who.”Oliver snorted, “It’s not Doctor Who or Star Wars.”Felicity stroked her daughter’s cheek and whispered, “Your daddies are incredible, but they lack an appreciation for science fiction.”
10414098
dragonfucking
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Hanzo Shimada, Genji Shimada, Spirit Dragons - Character, The dragons probably count as OCs", "Fandom": "Overwatch (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by dragonfucker", "chapters": "6/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-23T00:00:00", "words": "26,045", "Additional Tags": "Why isn't there a tag for hanzo/dragons, Dragonfucking, this is not beastiality because the dragons are intelligent beings capable of consent ok, it could arguably be xenophilia though, i still say xeno is aliens doing the anal probing tho, oh hey check it out the dragonfucking from the title finally happens, i have earned my e-rating", "Relationship": "Hanzo/Spirit Dragons", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "Other, Multi", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The Shimada clan commands the dragons. These spirits are the source of their power, their prestige; many legends surround the history of the clan and its iconic familiars.   Slightly lesser-known is what the dragons receive from the arrangement.   It is, after all, a mutually-beneficial arrangement. While outsiders may see the dragons as mere weapons or tools at the beck and call of the Shimada-gumi, those at the heart of the clan know the truth-- that the dragons demand payment for their services.   The Shimadas simply weren’t over-eager to make the sordid nature of this payment known.   The long and short of it is that the dragons are spirit creatures, but most of their kind don't have the power to physically manifest and interact with the world of the living. Not on their own, anyway. By receiving energy from a host they've become bonded to, they can have experiences through that host-- tastes, sights, sounds, pleasure, even pain.   One of the easiest possible ways for the host to provide that energy is through sex. When humans orgasm, they exude that power which the dragons crave, and the dragons can easily feed upon it.   Any Shimada who is likely to be approached by a dragon is educated on this arrangement during their late teens; dragons never approach their hosts until adulthood, so this gives the young Shimadas time to acclimatize themselves to the idea that if they want the power of the dragons, sexual intercourse would be required.   (Not that the dragons are forceful about this. It’s a completely voluntary agreement; if a Shimada refuses them, they simply leave. Most Shimadas who refuse simply keep this to themselves, not wanting to broadcast the fact that they passed up such power.)   Which brings us to the subject of one of the only two Shimadas anyone really cares about: Shimada Hanzo was nearing his twenty-fourth birthday, and he still had yet to receive his dragon.   There was never an exact day or time that a dragon was meant to approach their chosen Shimada; it took time for the dragon both to identify a Shimada they wanted to become bound to, and to determine if said Shimada was ready to be approached. His father, the leader of the clan, had told Hanzo that his own dragon hadn't come to him until his mid-twenties, because it had sensed apprehension in him.   Still, the clan elders were beginning to talk. Despite the… arguably-shameful nature of the clan’s contracts with their dragons, it was required that the head of the clan be bound to a dragon. The head of the clan had to be able to wield that weapon which would strike terror into the hearts of their enemies, especially given that the dragons had become more and more rare of late. Almost none of the clan elders possessed any dragons of their own.   Genji, despite being three years younger than Hanzo and continuing to lead a lifestyle of delinquency, had gotten his dragon just the year prior. It had been… astonishing, truly. The way their father had lit up with pride when Genji had demonstrated his dragon’s power in a sparring match…   The younger Shimada didn't often have a chance to impress their father like that. As the heir, all of Shimada-sama’s expectations fell upon Hanzo, who had always triumphed over his Genji in academics and combat alike. So Hanzo had tried, truly, not to begrudge Genji this one victory in their sibling rivalry.   Yet still, the clan elders talked.   He could feel their judgement when they gazed upon him; the harsh words they spoke were hardly hidden whispers. If no dragon would choose Hanzo to be bonded to him, then perhaps he was unfit to be the heir of the clan. Even his father had become distant. Though he continued to refute the elders when they questioned if he should not just go ahead and make Genji the heir instead, Hanzo could still feel the weight of his stare on his back, watching him. Waiting for him to prove his worth, prove the elders wrong.   But this wasn't a skill Hanzo could learn and master. In this, Hanzo was at the whims of a celestial creature he could not even perceive. It was up to the dragon, assuming there was one meant for him, to decide whether or not it found Hanzo worthy of being bound to. And that was the thing that made Hanzo feel more helpless than anything else.   He could fall short of everything he had been groomed and trained for since birth--disappoint everyone, especially his father--because he failed to impress a dragon.     “Have you had sex yet?”   The setting: one of the courtyards of Shimada castle, warm and beautiful in the late afternoon, empty of all save Hanzo and Genji as they took a peaceful rest after their sparring session that day.   The context behind the question: Hanzo had no fucking clue.   “... What? ” he asked in faint horror, staring at Genji in shock-- as if this was even remotely something he wished to discuss with his younger brother!   “I asked--” Genji plowed on, face red but expression determined, “--if you're still a virgin. Look, this is about the dragons, okay?”   Hanzo felt a cold, leaden weight drop into his gut. Oh. Amazing, how he'd discovered a topic he almost wanted to discuss even less. He looked away, letting silence be his answer, but Genji didn't take the hint.   “I've asked my dragon about it-- there’s literally no reason why a dragon would not want to choose you, brother,” he insisted. “But stuff like that does affect when they choose you. Midori came--”   “You named your dragon Green? ” Hanzo felt he was entitled to the interruption.   “Shut up,” Genji huffed, but still managed a self-deprecating grin. “As if you're any better at naming things. But Midori came so soon because she felt I wouldn't be at all put off by the idea of sex involving a dragon. Mainly because, you know--I was already out there trying out some pretty wild things.”   “Please refrain from telling me about your sex life, Genji, I do not want to know.”   Genji actually rolled his eyes at him. “See, this is what I'm talking about,” he said pointedly, jabbing a finger in Hanzo’s direction for added emphasis. “You act like a prude. And if you don't like talking about normal sex with regular people, why would you consider having sex with a dragon? Midori says the dragons don't usually approach clan members they think are just gonna reject their offer out of hand because of the sex thing.”   Bitter words pulled at the tip of his tongue-- a scathing retort about how he should start becoming as promiscuous as Genji, then, if it might draw the attention of a dragon to him-- but when he glanced at Genji, saw the actual faint worry in his younger brother’s eyes, he bit them back.   Was the stress he felt about the situation so obvious that even Genji, who had been shirking all things clan-related for years now, was trying to get involved to help him?   It was humiliating.   Hanzo cleared his throat before answering. “I will… try to bear that in mind,” he finally said, and Genji relaxed, looking relieved.   “Excellent,” he replied, his eyes taking on a sharp, conspiring light that had Hanzo instantly wary and on edge. “Because I have the perfect means for you to do that. Come clubbing with me tonight.”   “ What? ” Once again, Hanzo was shocked and faintly appalled.   “I'm not asking you to go to a strip joint or a BDSM club,” Genji retorted, exasperated. “Just a regular nightclub, where regular people go to meet and hang out. Nothing excessive. Put yourself out there, Anija, live a little! Show you aren't afraid!”   It was like Genji knew the exact words to say to make it impossible for Hanzo to find a dignified way to refuse him.   Show he wasn't afraid…   “... Alright.”     The nightclub was… not as bad as Hanzo had anticipated, if he were honest. He'd heard about some of the places his brother frequented, he felt his concerns had been completely legitimate… but it was nice, he supposed, that Genji had brought him someplace a bit more to his own tastes. Less obnoxious, more subdued, with a bar that actually stocked decent sake.   That was where Hanzo was now-- reclined against the bar, drinking slowly, dark eyes glittering as he watched the people on the dance floor moving to the beat. He was dressed down from his typical traditional clothing-- jeans, boots, a jacket.   “At least the jeans are tight,” Genji had said, forever despairing of getting Hanzo to do anything adventurous. “Are you even wearing the shirt I told you to wear? What’s the point of going to a club if you're not gonna show off your assets? ”   “Please,” Hanzo had replied, voice pained, “stop talking about my assets. ”   Genji had been content to let Hanzo hide out at the bar only because he thought some time and alcohol might help him relax and get more into the spirit of things. Hanzo preferred being on the sidelines though, watching. To be in the middle of all those bodies, surrounded by music and sweat--it seemed overwhelming to him.   He liked his seat. From here, he could appreciate the view just fine.   Which he did-- make no mistake. For all his stoicism and ‘resting bitch face’, as Genji called it, he did enjoy watching the people in the club. His favourites were those who’d adopted the punk aesthetic-- shaved hairstyles and piercings the likes of which he'd never dare get himself for fear of what the clan elders, or worse, their father might say.   No… Hanzo frowned, glancing down into his drink. He didn't dare. He was the dutiful son, the honourable heir. Genji was the one who dared, who flaunted clan traditions and dyed his hair ridiculous colours that clashed horribly with his training uniform.   And Genji was the one who’d gotten a dragon.   Could it be--?   “Well, hello there~”   Abruptly, Hanzo felt himself tense up at the salacious tone of the greeting, glancing with narrowed eyes at the man who’d slipped into the seat next to his. He was not the first to approach Hanzo that night, but once he'd made it clear he had no interest in company, the others had all left him in peace. This one, however, reeked of alcohol, and leaned unpleasantly into Hanzo’s space.   His glare sharpened dangerously is response, refusing to budge.   “Never seen you around here before,” the drunkard purred, breath noxious, making Hanzo wrinkle his nose. “I can show you a good time if you want~”   “Not interested,” he replied flatly, but the man only scoffed.   “C’mon, don't be stuck-up, Shimada-san,” he said, scorn in every word, before reaching up towards Hanzo’s face. “Just let me--”   He cut himself off with a yelp of pain as Hanzo grabbed his wrist, squeezing and twisting . Hanzo hardly noticed the stares they were now getting as the man struggled to keep from falling to the floor.   “If you know who I am,” he said, voice dripping with disgust, “then you should be grateful if all I do to you is break your wrist.”   The fear in the man’s eyes told him the message had gotten through. Hanzo released him, and he stumbled back hastily, throwing Hanzo another panicked look before fleeing. Mood soured, Hanzo finished his drink, got up, and left. Genji would no doubt find him when he returned home.     To Hanzo’s surprise, it didn't even take that long. He'd only made it halfway down the block when he heard Genji calling out to him, racing to catch up.   “Anija,” he started--and wasn't it rich that he actually sounded scolding -- “What was that!? I know that guy was being obnoxious, but if anyone was going to flirt with you they sure as hell wouldn't now!”   “Why,” Hanzo retorted, voice low and annoyed, “would anyone even think of being that forward with a member of the Shimada-gumi? The heir? Do not pretend they did not know--everyone knows who you are here, Genji, and you were more than open about introducing me to your friends as your brother.”   “He was drunk. And I wouldn't want to come here anyway if everyone was afraid of us because of the clan! I want to at least pretend like I can have a normal life--”   “You really think they see you as normal? With the amount of money you throw around buying drinks for your friends, and gifts for whatever latest girl you fancy? How much was the necklace you gave that girl you ran off to dance with?”   “Seriously!? I just wanted to bring you out here to have a good time, but you want to go after me for how I have fun with my friends!?”   “They're not friends if they're only with you because you're a rich Shimada they can exploit! ”   “How would you know!? You've never had any! ”   They both fell to silence, panting for air as the echoes of their argument faded into the dark, empty street. Anger was written into both their faces, but Hanzo was the one who looked away first, bitter gaze falling to the cobbled stones under their feet.   “I cannot do this,” he finally said-- angry at himself, angry at Genji, angry at everything.   “Do what? Loosen up?” Genji retorted mockingly, crossing his arms over his chest.   “I cannot-- I cannot do what you brought me here wanting me to do!” Hanzo finally snapped. “I cannot just-- sleep with some stranger I hardly know, like you!”   “You always have to make this about--”   “I cannot trust someone like that! ”   Genji faltered, the rest of his sentence dying on his lips as he stared at Hanzo, brow furrowing. “...Anija, what…?”   “You know what the elders taught us. What father taught us. Everyone can be a tool, a weapon-- and everyone will see us that way too. I cannot… share myself, be intimate with someone, knowing that-- that--”   “You're a romantic.” Genji actually sounds disbelieving as he says it. “You actually… want it to mean something, don't you? You want it to be someone you trust .”   Hanzo didn't answer, but the silence felt damning. When Genji next spoke, his words were almost hesitant.   “Hanzo… how were you going to say yes to a dragon?”     Hours later, Genji’s last words still rang in his head as Hanzo stared up at the dark ceiling of his room. Rest did not find him; his mind was too full of thoughts, his heart too full of disappointment. In the back of his mind, shadows whispered his doubts; what a dragon could find deterring about him, that he did not have the courage to live as he wanted to live like Genji, instead bowing under the desires of his family, of the clan, bending until some days he felt like he might break under the weight.   But strangely, above all of it, he was… confused.   How were you going to say yes to a dragon?   When Genji had asked it, for a long moment, he could only stand there in the street-- it seemed like such a strange question to ask. What did it possibly have to do with anything? In his silence, Genji had made his awkward excuses and gone back into the club, and Hanzo, still puzzling over it, had returned home without even paying attention to the steps his own feet took.   Why wouldn't he say yes to a dragon?   It wasn't until he lay in bed that it finally occurred to him-- did Genji think of the dragon as a stranger, too?   It was a bizarre thing to contemplate. Their father had told them the dragons were as unique and varied as humans, though their personalities would only ever be truly known to the Shimada they bonded themselves to. In that sense, Hanzo’s dragon-- if it was indeed out there-- was indeed a stranger. Hanzo had no idea what their personality might be like, though he couldn't imagine it would be something he hated; the dragons were supposed to be very good at finding hosts they matched well with, almost being counterparts to their chosen human.   But the stories they'd been raised on, the legends-- the dragon would be no mere bedwarmer, no one-night stand. They weren’t like people, with their own agendas, their own angles, seeking to use him or manipulate him. What the dragon wanted was clearly stated-- his energy, and the things he experienced as a mortal being. Politics, monetary gain, these meant nothing to a spirit.   Hanzo knew what the dragon wanted. And if he gave it, he would gain so much more in return. Not just a weapon or tool to be wielded against his enemies. An advisor, a confidant, a friend. His father had told them how he often consulted with his dragon on important matters when meditating. Genji had also let slip many a time how he confided in and joked freely with his Midori, and there were numerous occasions when Hanzo got the sense that some bewilderingly sudden bout of mirth Genji suffered was due to an inside joke shared between Genji and his dragon.   With a dragon, there was no doubt. So how could there be anything but trust? And to have something as vast, as powerful, as a dragon , to share such an intimate bond with--   In spite of himself, Hanzo shivered and flushed, squirming just the smallest bit under the sheets.   He had tried not to think overmuch on the sexual aspects of the relationship. For starters, despite being educated to prepare them for it, the exact mechanics on how sex with a spirit dragon worked had been left intentionally vague. Were they simply present, but invisible, silent voyeurs discreetly enjoying the show as their human pleasured himself, feeding politely unobtrusively?   Or did they participate actively? Manifesting physically, as they did in battle, allowing their human to feel them, rippling, coiling, powerful scales wrapping around as claws delicately danced along skin?   Could they kiss? Would they want to be kissed?   These were questions that Hanzo, without a doubt, had no desire to ask of his father or his brother. But they were questions he had all the same.   He bit his lip, body shifting evenr more restlessly under the covers as he fought to get comfortable. He glanced at the clock on his wall, frustrated by the increasingly godawful hour; he needed to sleep, he had duties to attend to come morning.   Yet a fire burned, low but steady in his belly, begging that he stoke it further. It couldn't hurt, at this point, to indulge-- if anything it might finally exhaust him so that he might sleep. Still, when Hanzo reached his hand down to palm himself, it was with his eyes closed, lip still caught firmly between his teeth.   He worked himself slowly, his breathing gradually growing shallow as he became fully erect; in his mind, it was not his own hand rubbing against him, but the smooth scales of a long, serpentine tail. He imagined they were blue-- his favourite colour. He imagined a warm, powerful body, wrapped, tangled around his own, and claws that tugged at his clothes until they gave way beneath inhuman strength. They danced along his skin, marred only by barely-there scars from training and easy fights, teasing but never, ever threatening, only promising such wonderful things to come.   When he came, it was with a barely-there gasp of pleasure, followed by a wistful sigh. He drifted easily into slumber after that, dreams dancing with coiling bodies and whispered purrs, promises of desire and trust. How could anyone say no to a dragon…? ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- He woke as the first rays of light began to peek through his windowblinds, as he always did. Waking covered in sweat, however, with a thrill of lust still pooling in his abdomen from the hazy half-remembered dreams still lingering in his mind, was not the norm. Hanzo bit back a groan as he sat up, face flushed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. How foolish… to lust after his dragon like this, even in his sleep. He hesitated to think that that was the sort of ‘readiness’ the dragons looked for in a Shimada. Better to push the dreams from his mind, and get ready for the day.  Hanzo did not see his younger brother again until nearly mid afternoon. He heard him before he saw him; Genji had never been able to completely silence his footsteps, not to his older brother’s trained ears. “Anija?” When Hanzo turned and saw him, Genji was basically as Hanzo had expected him to be. Tired looking, with well-hidden (but still discernable, if one knew what to look for) signs of a hangover. He was also, however, distinctly guilty-looking, which was not something Hanzo had been anticipating. It left him momentarily without words. “I wanted to apologize,” Genji began awkwardly. “I…  really wanted you to enjoy yourself last night.” “It is fine,” Hanzo said quickly. “Really,” he added at the doubtful look on his younger brother’s face, “It gave me much to think on. It may not have gone as you intended, but it was not completely bad. And, I… appreciate, that you were trying to help.” That seemed to finally get the younger Shimada to relax a bit--or perhaps ‘deflate’ was a better term, shoulders sagging as he ran his fingers through bright green hair. “That's good, at least. I’m going to go get some lunch now, I’ll see you--?” “Wait, Genji--” For a moment, both brothers paused, Genji puzzled and confused, Hanzo biting his lip as he struggled with his words. “Last night,” Hanzo finally began, glancing briefly down the hallway, the faintest traces of paranoia making him double-check to ensure no one would hear. “What you said… would you… would you truly not trust a dragon?” Genji blinked at that, stunned by the question. “I… that wasn't what I'd meant,” he started, but he was cut off before he could continue further. “Nevermind,” Hanzo said quickly, shaking his head as he turned and quickly walked away. “It was foolish of me to ask.”  It was not long after dinner that Genji caught Hanzo in his room. “You know, Anija,” he began, slipping quickly inside and shutting the door quietly behind him. “You were never the one known for asking foolish questions. What’s on your mind?” Hanzo released a frustrated sigh, putting away the documents he'd been reading. “Itis nothing of consequence. You need not have bothered checking on me; I know you probably have plans for the night.” Genji only waved off Hanzo’s exasperated tone. “Hey, I have a personally vested interest in making sure you get a dragon,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “If you don't get one, that might mean the elders will make me become the heir instead!” In spite of himself, Hanzo could not completely stifle the bark of laughter that escaped him. “Truly, a terrible fate,” he agreed, casting a crooked smirk Genji’s way, to which his brother only grinned. “Come on, Anija. Who else do you have to talk to about this? I know you probably don't want to go to Father about it.” The humourous mood fled quickly, the smirk sliding off Hanzo’s face to twist into an uncomfortable grimace instead. “...A dragon wouldn't be like a stranger in a club,” he finally said, “would it?” He hated himself for the doubt that coloured those last words, but ever since Genji had brought it up, he'd wondered if maybe he'd been wrong. “Well, I guess, that's mostly up to you, and how you see it, isn't it?” Genji replied. “I mean…I just figured. Maybe I was misunderstanding, but the way you spoke of it last night--you made it sound like you wanted something, you know, meaningful. Something romantic. That seems like a far cry from a spirit dragon. I mean,” and he started laughing, embarrassed and clearly made awkward by trying to discuss this with his brother, “it's not like you can cuddle with them and all, like you could with a person.” “You cannot?” Hanzo honestly didn't know which he wanted to kick himself for more--the fact that he let the words slip out at all, or the fact that he did so with such a crestfallen tone. Genji stared at him, shellshocked, and within seconds it had Hanzo turning a brilliant shade of crimson. For a moment, the younger Shimada could only work his jaw soundlessly as he stared at Hanzo. Then, perhaps most perplexing of all, Genji turned an almost matching shade of tomato-red. “Apparently,” he began airily, looking away from his brother resolutely, “You can. If that's. Something. You're interested in.” “...did Midori…?” “She spoke to me, yes,” Genji quickly answered, still not looking at Hanzo. “Ah.”  Hanzo had never before wanted to die more so than at that very moment. “For the record, the dragons aren't--they can't read your mind, you know that, right? Not when they aren't yet bound to you anyway. They can only guess if a Shimada’s ready for them, based on, like, what they see. Your dragon’s probably been watching you, but how is it to know what goes on in your head?” “I do not know how you would have me fix that,” Hanzo grumbled. “You could try just talking to it?” “To something I cannot see, or hear, or perceive in any way--talking to something that, for all I know, may not actually even be there to listen.” “It can't hurt! If it helps, you could always go to the shrine, try talking to the portrait of the dragons in there. Just look one of them in the eyes, and say, ‘Hey, asshole, I'm ready for you any day now!’” Hanzo couldn't help but snort. “Ah, yes, how very respectful. I am sure they would respond very well to that.” “Or you could say something nicer.” Genji finally grinned at him again. “More tactful. You're good at that, when you want to be. I'm sure you'd figure it out.” It was funny, but…despite the awkwardness of the subject matter, and the fact that he'd been discussing it with his younger brother of all people, Hanzo did feel better about it, when Genji finally left.   His dreams were fitful that night, filled with judgement and the cold, hard faces of elders cast in shadow until none could be told apart one from another. Anxiety roiled in his gut, the fear of being unworthy rising like bile in his throat--   Until a cool breeze was at his back, with a deep, rolling growl that rumbled and resonated through him like thunder, chasing the phantoms away. The closed-in walls of the Shimada castle, that comforting cage, fell away from him, and he found himself on a tall hill, surrounded by clouds.   Ridiculous. Why do such doubts plague you?   The clouds shifted and took form--great, encompassing coils that surrounded him, closing in around him slowly; they solidified, and he saw gleaming scales in shades of blue.   You are a hard one to read, Shimada Hanzo, but we begin to understand you better.   He stared into the face that hovered before him; a dragon, whose eyes stared into him, gleaming with a flicker of amusement that danced in the limitless depths. A sudden chuff came from behind him, hot breath puffing against the back of his neck, startling him, but he dared not turn; an irrational fear took hold of him, that if he broke eye contact, the dragon before him would vanish back into mist.   “Is this real?”   The chuckle that answered vibrated through him, as the coiling body of the dragon tightened until it was pressed against him; the sound penetrated his very bones, and he shuddered, flustered and overcome by sudden want as he felt the strength of that body flexing against his back, his hands reflexively going to brace against the smooth, beautiful scales, and even as he watched the dragon in front of him never moving, he felt another hot breath puff against his ear, followed by the warm, wet sensation of a tongue tracing the shell, making him gasp.   Oh yes, Hanzo. We are very real.   He woke up, once again covered in sweat, and for a long moment could only stare up at his ceiling in disbelief.Was this what people meant when they said they needed to get laid? ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Hanzo spent the following day in a distracted haze; having woken up in the middle of the night, he found himself unable to fall back asleep, tossing and turning in the darkness as his mind raced through the same endless loop of thoughts.   He knew the signs. He and Genji had both been taught from a young age to recognize their dragons when they came. That dream--it had been far too realistic, far too distinct, standing out in his mind with crystalline clarity.   But the dragon’s words echoed in his mind numbly, surreal.   We are very real.   He thought of the presence at his back--could it really not have been just an extension of the first dragon’s own coiling body, but a second spirit? One who had… teased at his ear that way, with breath and tongue?   It wasn't technically unheard of for a Shimada to be bound to two dragons. But the tale was a mere legend, from so long ago that the stories could not be confirmed as anything more than wild folklore.   And why would two dragons choose him, when no one else in the clan had been worthy of such an honour in so long?   (Was it normal for the dragons to be so… forward, when approaching their chosen? He was certain no one had ever described anything like that to him, yet at the same time, he wasn't sure they would. )   By the time morning came, he was exhausted and no closer to understanding what had happened. It left him in a sorry state; his only saving grace was that his father and the clan elders were too preoccupied to notice. There was to be a meeting with the head of another clan in a couple of days, and many arrangements needed to be made, both for his father’s trip to the meeting, and to ensure things in Hanamura were well in hand while he was away.   There was little doubt Hanzo could handle that, at least, and he was free to occupy himself with his own thoughts throughout most of the proceedings.   He almost wished he could speak to Genji on the subject, but his younger brother had made himself scarce since that morning, probably because the elders had specifically requested his presence--the younger Shimada knew only too well that meant being saddled with responsibilities he did not want. It was just as well--Hanzo knew he could not discuss the sexual nature of the dream with Genji without making them both want to die.   In short, he had no options but to figure it out for himself--and the only way to do that, was to wait and see if they came again that night.    Sleep did not come easily that night; Hanzo lay awake for what felt like hours, caught between watching the time crawl by in frustration and letting his eyes fall closed to try and make himself relax.   But eventually, it did indeed come.   Between one breath and the next, he slipped into slumber--and opened his eyes to that tall hill surrounded by dark clouds. He was seemingly alone this time, the clouds stirred only by a gentle breeze; searching around himself, he found only a slim, windswept tree behind him.   When he looked ahead once more, he found a teapot and three empty cups set neatly on the grass before him. For a long moment, he could only stare down at them; then, slowly, he sank to his knees, and after a moment’s hesitation, he began to pour the tea.   As the last of the three cups filled with tea, the clouds suddenly twisted, roiling as if he were suddenly caught in a storm. They began to take shape, thick coils of long, powerful bodies twisting and surrounding the hill, until they solidified once more.   He watched, awed, only half-conscious of putting the teapot back down. And this time, he became distinctly aware of two separate bodies, in slightly different shades of blue, twisting around one another as they settled upon the hilltop--so long and large that, even though they both looped around him at least twice each, there was still several feet of space between him and the nearest expanse of gleaming blue scales.   Directly in front of him, a dragon delicately settled upon its forelegs, serene as it lowered its snout to the cup; he thought it might be the same dragon from the previous night. It had the same sense of calm, of patience, about it. Hanzo caught a glimpse of a long tongue flicking out to taste of the tea.   “Can you taste it?” he asked, without even thinking.   We can.   He jolted at the sudden presence at his back, the huff of breath that tickled the back of his neck, and this time he did turn--and found himself face-to-face with a second spirit.   This one was the same that had teased him the night before--it was easy to believe, when it was repeating the same actions now, leaning close into his space with a coy air about it.   Its eyes were electric blue, gleaming with mirth and something else; Hanzo was helpless to look away from the intensity of that gaze.   Your dreams are made up at least in part by memories.   Memories of taste, of smell, of touch--we can experience these, here.   It was strange, but he thought he was beginning to ‘hear’ the difference in the voices. They both sounded like a soft, gentle rumbling, as if it were the sound of distant thunder, but the tones they invoked were different; one was even and steady, the other playfully amused.   Although there was no sense of direction to the voices for him to be certain, Hanzo still felt it wasn't difficult to guess which voice belonged to which dragon.   “Why are there two of you?”   Sound almost too deep to hear resonated in his chest, making him shiver. It took a second for him to realize that the dragons, or at least one of them, were laughing.   Straight to business, then.   But we’re hardly surprised.   The coy dragon withdrew as Hanzo’s brows knit in confusion, but it only moved to lie beside its companion, leaning down for its own taste of tea. He hesitated, then began, “Forgive me--I did not mean to offend--”   Nothing like that.   We like the way you are, Hanzo.   If we did not, we would not have chosen you.   That reassured him somewhat, and he relaxed slowly, settling back onto his knees properly as he watched the dragons before him.   We are a union.   As humans find love and wed, so too may spirits become bonded to one another.   You likely have not heard of such a thing before.   Unions such as ours rarely seek human bonds.   It’s too difficult.   “What is?” he asked, frowning in confusion at the dragons; once again, he felt that resonating chuckle.   Finding a human who can sustain us.   It’s not easy, maintaining a bond with two spirits at once~   As their meaning struck him, Hanzo found himself speechless; at once, he was overwhelmed by the thought of not one, but two dragons upon him, and--   The clouds surrounding them shifted, twisted, shuddering with the hint of images and shapes, and both dragons suddenly became sharply alert. To Hanzo’s horror, he could almost make out the shapes of what he had just imagined--a human form entangled in long, lithe bodies.   Then, abruptly, both dragons broke into what was unmistakably uproarious laughter.   You have the most intriguing dreams, Hanzo~ the coy dragon teased, lowering it’s head to watch him with hooded eyes as the clouds settled once more. Hanzo wanted to die.  We knew we had chosen well when we witnessed your dream from the other night, the serene dragon purred. Not many of your kin would be so willing.  And not many would be able to sate us both.   “You…” It was a struggle to find words--despite the fact that he was now presented with not one, but two dragons who apparently wished to be bound to him, this was still a deeply embarrassing conversation as a whole; and underneath his humiliation, there was a sting he did not care to think about. “That is why you approach me now? Because--Because I dreamed of-- being with you in that way?”   The dragons did not respond immediately, seeming to consider his question as they shared a look.   We have watched you for years, Hanzo.   You are intelligent, skilled. An ideal heir for the clan.   But you also possess a dry wit, and seem to never be satisfied with what you already accomplish.   We admire that. We believe that yours is a life worth being part of.   It was hard to truly take in the words they spoke; the heat in his face was no longer burning humiliation, but something like pride--mixed with warm titillation.   We waited, in part because we were not certain you would be willing to have us both.   We would like to remain together. We hoped for a sign.   But we also cannot forget that there are physical limitations to bear in mind as well.   You cannot be bound to us if you cannot sate us both.   He looked up at that, brow furrowing in confusion, and to his amazement, the dragons actually seemed sheepish, almost.   Your brother was not completely off the mark.   We were waiting for you to get laid.   Hanzo was abruptly mortified again. The fact that the calm dragon actually seemed to glare at its partner gave him little comfort.   We only wanted to know you had stamina, and hoped that if you had experience, it might make us… less intimidating.   But you don't seem very intimidated by this, Hanzo.   He was acutely aware of the fact that both dragons were now leveling those intense gazes at him. He swallowed hard, nervousness creeping into his stomach like moths.   “...It is more than I expected,” he finally said. “But I would not--”   Before you say anything else, please listen. The dragon’s voice was sharp now, serious, and it startled Hanzo into silence. We know of your situation, Hanzo. It is not the same as your brother’s.   The clan places pressure on you, to fulfill your duty as the heir.   You are not simply expected to have a dragon, because you are the son of the head of the clan.   You must have a dragon, as the heir.   We do not wish this to be the reason you accept us.   As you wish us to desire you for who you are, we wish you to be truly willing to have us both.   Not to simply accept us because you must.   Hanzo could feel the chill of fear settling into his veins at their words. If he wanted to accept, how could he prove it was not because he had to?   You may choose only one of us, if you wish.   For a long moment, silence reigned in the dreamscape of clouds. Hanzo could not quite believe what he had heard. After what they had told him before…   “But you do not wish to be separated.”   We do not.   But neither do we wish to cause you suffering.   Because we claimed you years ago, no other dragons will approach you now. If it is not one of us, you will have no dragon, and you will be deprived of your rightful place in the clan.   But if you accepted both of us when you did not truly wish to, it would be a burden upon you to satisfy us both.   One you would be forced to deal with for the rest of your life, lest you allow the bond to be broken.   Neither outcome is desirable. We've grown fond of you, Hanzo.   Being separated is not ideal--but it is only for your lifetime.   We are immortal, after all. Your life, sadly, will not be so long, and we would be reunited once again afterwards.   “But only one of you would get to taste the living world.”   When their chuckling rumbles echoed through him this time, Hanzo thought there was a rueful note to them.   It is kind of you to think so altruistically for us.   But many spirits never experience anything of the mortal world.   It does not harm either of us, not to do so.   Please, Hanzo. We ask you to think of what you want.   What Hanzo wanted… he thought of Genji, calling him a romantic. His dreams of a deep bond of trust, of certainty in an ally that was truer even than family. Of something almost like love, shared between those bound to each other’s very souls.   These two dragons already loved each other, from what he understood. He did not want to split them apart, even for what would only be a short time to them.  Rather, he wanted to share in what they already had.  “I want you both.”   Once again, the dragons shared an unreadable look.   May we ask why?   “...Ever since I was first taught of the dragons as a boy, I…” Hesitation caught his tongue, reluctant to let loose thoughts he'd scarcely shared with anyone, save briefly with Genji in the past few days. “The stories of you… that you would be a con-- would be constant companions, trusted even above family. I would never be alone, because the dragons are always with us. What I want, the closeness, the… You already have that, with each other, do you not?”   The dragons nodded slowly, their brilliant eyes gleaming at him.   “As you wish to share in my mortal life--I wish to share in what you both have. I want you both.”   The sound that rumbled through him this time was not a chuckle, but a purr. Dimly, he was aware of the dragons’ long bodies looped around the hilltop, shifting ever so slightly to close the distance around him.   A good answer.   We knew we liked you for a reason.   Then it is settled, Hanzo?   Will you be bound to both of us, and have us bound to you in turn?   “Yes.”   Excellent.   The soft, furred tip of a tail brushed against his side; he glanced down, raising his arms, and while he watched that tail began to coil around his waist, squeezing him. From its hue, he could guess it belonged to the coy dragon.   Make ready for us, Hanzo. We will watch and wait, and when you are prepared, we will return to your dreams once again.   When we do, the bonding will begin. It will be a long process--you must sate two dragons, where others of your clan needed only sate one.   But we will make sure it’s as enjoyable as possible for you.   The tail coiled around his waist tugged at him, and his face flushed with heat as he was pulled across the grass, closer to the rumbling dragons, until they loomed over him. The serene one lowered its head to nuzzle into Hanzo’s shoulder, reassuring him; the coy one mimicked the gesture on his other side, but teased his ear once again with its tongue. Their coiling bodies surrounded him, enveloped him, simultaneously comforting and overwhelming.   We look forward to meeting you again.   Until then~   The only thing Hanzo was certain of the next morning, when the memories of the dream and all it’s implications came crashing down upon him with the horrifying clarity of waking thought, was that he was in far over his head. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Most of the morning was spent once again preparing for his father’s departure. It made it difficult to try and plan for what he needed ready by tonight in-between everything else that needed to be taken care of, but it also meant less attention was being paid to him than normal; no one had any doubts that Hanzo would fulfill his duties excellently, after all.   There was one problem he didn't quite know how to solve, however. He struggled over it for most of the morning, wondering whether or not to seek help, but in the end, it was impatience that drove his decision.   It was perhaps unwise to be in such a hurry to-- to have the bond sealed, Hanzo quickly corrected his thoughts-- when prudence would have him wait until his father had returned, but Hanzo didn't want to put it off. He'd waited so many years for this already… and so had the dragons, if he remembered their words correctly.   Which was why he was sneaking into a small, rarely used room in the Shimada castle, carefully shutting the door behind him and dialing Genji’s number on his phone. His younger brother, who had yet to be seen around the castle since the preparations began (much to the elders’ annoyance), was probably his best bet to find what he needed without being noticed by the other members of the clan.   The first time Hanzo tried calling him, it went straight to voicemail. Cursing, and doubting that Genji would bother to check his message in any sort of timely fashion, the elder brother immediately hung up and dialed again.   It wasn't until the fourth attempt that Genji finally answered, exasperation evident in his voice. “ Hanzo, what--? ”   “Genji, I need your help.”   “ Don't be ridiculous, whatever’s going on I'm sure-- ”   “ I dreamed about my dragons, Genji! ”   The words were rushed; he tried to keep his tone serious, but he wasn't so sure he succeeded at keeping his overflowing, confusing emotions from colouring his speech. Embarrassment, excitement, and desperation all bled together in his stomach bundled up and twisted around one another until he couldn't tell where one began and another ended. On the other end of the line, Genji struggled to find his words.   “ That's-- Oh my-- I can't believe-- congratulations, brother! ” he finally managed to say, and Hanzo could gear the only-slightly-hysterical laughter and relief in his voice. “ I just--I’m really not sure there's any way I can, uh, help you, with what's to come. ”   “I need a place to stay tonight.”   “ You can't book yourself a hotel? ”   “I have never stayed at any here in Hanamura, and I do not want anyone else to notice.”   “ ...why not? ”   The question had him hesitating. It wasn't like this wasn't something the clan had long experience in dealing with, after all. Simply telling his father about the dream would be a vastly simpler course of action to take, and all the preparations would be made for him, no doubt.   But the idea of telling anyone else had his guts slithering into tangled knots of stress. If he had to define why, it was probably because he himself was still struggling to believe the dream had been real.   “I am… not ready to tell everyone, yet. I would rather wait until the bond is sealed, and I can prove I have my dragons.”   “ Uh... okay? I'm… pretty sure you're overreacting though, I mean if you're nervous…”   “Genji-- I have dragons. As in two of them. ”   Hanzo could feel his face burning like a stovetop as he hissed out the words. The silence that followed felt damning, and dragged on for so long, he almost wondered if Genji hadn't just put his phone down and left .   “... are you sure? ” The incredulous disbelief in Genji’s voice was mirrored by Hanzo’s own thoughts.   “If there are not two dragons, then I did not truly dream of my dragons at all. I swear to you, Genji, there were two of them!”   “ That’s-- I thought that was just a myth! ”   “Genji, please, will you help me or not!?”   “Okay, okay! I just-- I mean, there's love hotels here in Hanamura, I guess I could set you up there and probably nobody would pay attention to-- ”   “No! Genji, please , I do not want anyone overhearing me!”   “ Brother -- you act like this is something members of our clan haven't been going through for hundreds of years! ”   “Genji…!” Hanzo hated himself for how pleading the words sounded, but his frustration and desperation to keep his dignity intact drove him to shed his pride and beg. “Brother, please. I have no one else I trust with this. Help me.”   “ I… ” It was difficult to gauge Genji’s reaction from his voice alone, particularly when that voice faded into silence. “ Damn … you really mean that, don't you? Alright, alright, I’ll-- give me a minute to find something and I'll call you back. ”   Before Hanzo could protest, the call cut off, and he was left fruitlessly biting his lip and praying that Genji would come through for him in a way that didn't have him regretting having gone to his brother at all.    It was nearly two hours later when the buzzing in his pocket nearly had Hanzo leaping out of his skin. He abruptly excused himself from the discussion he was having with some lower-ranked members of the clan regarding the next couple of days; ensuring everyone knew their roles, he figured, meant less of a chance of it becoming a problem that he wasn't there.   He answered the call as soon as he was in the hallway, but seeing Genji’s name on the ID, he did not actually place it to his ear until he was in the relative safety of his room.   Genji had apparently taken offense to Hanzo not answering him as soon as the call picked up,  judging by the rant he appeared to be in the middle of. “-- all this trouble and you leave me hanging here --”   “Did you find a place for me?” Hanzo abruptly interrupted.   “ Yes, I did. You could try saying ‘thank you’, I hear that's a polite thing to do these days. ”   “Is it a love hotel?”   “ Why yes, I'm completely incompetent, and like an asshole I totally ignored your paranoid, anal-retentive need for extreme privacy. ” Hanzo actually felt a twinge of guilt at the sarcasm that dripped from Genji’s words, even as he already prepared to justify himself with the laundry list of his brother’s past irresponsible misdeeds, but Genji continued on before he could interrupt. “ No , it’s not a love hotel, I booked you a room at the Suiran. It’s high-class, which means they’ll take guest privacy very seriously, and the room I got you is one of the best. I’ve stayed there before, trust me, the rooms are soundproofed, and if you still have doubts, just play some loud music and no one outside will be able to hear a thing. ”   It was… possibly the best solution Hanzo could have hoped for. Genji had really come through.   “...Thank you, Genji,” he finally said, leaning back against the wall and allowing his shoulders to slump at last as the tension left him. “I appreciate this, truly. I am sorry that I doubted you.”   “ Eh… ” The genuine thanks had apparently appeased his bitter mood; his tone melted into something more nonchalant. “ What are brothers for? You've covered my ass before with the elders. Besides, this might not be the way I intended, but hey, at least I'm finally helping you get laid, right? ”   Hanzo could feel his eye twitch at the audible smirk in Genji’s voice. “I take it back. You are horrible.”   “ Too late! I already recorded your expression of heartfelt brotherly gratitude~ ” Hanzo covered his face with one hand, thumb pressing into his temple as he suppressed a groan at the laughter that danced over the line. “ They’ll be expecting you tonight, I booked you under the name Yamazaki Kento. ”   It took a second for him to place the name, but once he did, Hanzo’s dread only increased. “You are the worst brother, ever. ”   “ You are most welcome, Anija~ ”    All things considered, the actual act of slipping out of the castle to travel to a hotel he was staying in in secret was anti-climactic in how easily and smoothly it went. He felt both weirdly foolish and anxious; he had mastered the art of stealth, but using it against his own clan, even for something so innocuous, felt wrong. Still, the moment he was finally, safely, checked into his hotel room, he almost collapsed from relief.   He even wanted to kill Genji a little less. The little shit might’ve booked him under the name of their mother’s favourite famous actor, but at least Genji had gone and gotten the presidential suite for him. Hanzo took a moment to inspect the room, so very different from the Shimada castle due to it’s modern design. Huge windows seemed to make up most of the walls, offering spectacular views but agitating Hanzo’s paranoia; at least they could become clouded with the flip of a switch. The living room had a ridiculously large couch and television, and a beautiful gilded tea table. He could just make out a dining room adjacent to the living area, and through sliding glass doors, a terrace.   He didn't imagine he'd be spending much time enjoying the rest of the room’s amenities, but at least Genji had gotten him a nice place.   Hanzo dragged his suitcase to the bedroom; the sight of a massive king-sized bed had Hanzo feeling heat creeping back onto his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath; this was, ultimately, why he was here. He needed to mentally prepare himself.   The last thing he needed was to come across as a desperate, overeager fool to his own dragons.   There was little to unpack; he wasn't staying here long, after all, even though Genji had booked the room for two nights (“ Please come back presentable brother, I don't need to know anything about how you're going to spend the weekend. An extra night to recover and be your usual dignified, uptight self would be best. ”) The basic necessities and a change of clothing had sufficed; Genji had said he'd ensure the kitchen in the room was fully stocked with food so he wouldn't have to order anything when he got there, and a quick check proved that true. The bathroom was embarrassingly open, once again seemingly built out of windows; why would someone want to be so visible when they were bathing? The shower even appeared to open onto the terrace, it felt like he was begging to be assassinated.   Hanzo shook his head. Ultimately, the bedroom was all that mattered here. Still, he felt much more relaxed when he flipped the switch that instantly turned the windows surrounding the bed opaque. Luxury views were overrated.   Half an hour later saw him changed and placing a bowl of fruit and ice on the nightstand next to the bed, before finally climbing underneath the covers. It was hot with both the covers and his nightclothes, but he stubbornly persisted; the dragons in his dream had seemed to have the kind of personalities that were likely to comment should he seem overeager.   It might have been meant teasingly, but he'd rather not be teased tonight. Not… not for his first time.   It was a thought he'd tried not to think about too much-- it had been a deliberate choice, after all, to avoid answering the question Genji had asked him just a few days ago.  He was only too aware of the nerves inside him looking for any excuse to come out. This was going to be his first time, this union with his dragons-- dragons, plural.   (A small, petty part of him wondered what snide words the elders would have tomorrow, when he showed off dual magical tattoos the likes of which had been thought to exist only in legend. The larger part of him wanted to die because they could guess what he'd done to get them.)   In a way, he supposed it was… almost romantic, like Genji had said. He would not only feed the dragons the energy they desired, but he would give to them his very first intimate sexual experience with another. He wondered if it made a difference to them at all; virginity was such a nebulous and arbitrary concept. But looking at it that way made it sound a lot better than if one looked at it as Hanzo lacking any kind of experience or skill in such things.   It might not matter… after all, the spirit dragons did not experience pleasure the way mortal creatures did. They would feel his pleasure vicariously. That much, they had been taught-- the dragons would not get off, as Genji had once so crudely put it when he’d asked, but only focus on feeding off their chosen’s pleasure. He had to wonder if it was the same thing as being unable to climax, though.   It might not be part of the contract, strictly speaking, but Hanzo…   For all that he'd readily agreed while in the surreal dreamscape, he was having second thoughts about whether he truly wanted his first time having sex to be little more than another’s supper.   He hoped it wouldn't be like that. He hoped it would be… intimate. Shared.   With his thoughts so conflicted, hopes and doubts wrestling with one another, sleep once again was a long time coming.    This time, there was no hilltop.   He was in a room, unabashedly traditional with its rice paper walls and tatami floors, so much like his ancestral home, yet, different somehow. He lay blinking, draped across something like a vast, firm pillow, as a haze of smoke slowly twisted and eddied across his field of view. He guessed his seat must one one of Genji’s beanbag chairs, but he could not recall any of them having been so large, or comfortable . It made him want to relax completely-- to experience what it was like to become utterly languid, the way Genji did so often.   Then his seat rumbled underneath him, and shifted .   You do not often relax like this, do you?   Hanzo gasped, hands clutching for purchase as his would-be chair lurched -- it was scales he was lying upon, he realized, smooth and cool to his fingers like the stones from a river, before warming under his palms as if kissed by the sun. Somehow, they were softer and more yielding than he'd ever have thought, supple like leather. Claws grasped at his hips, the sharp tips only lightly brushing against his clothing, holding him in place as the dragon moved, and when he turned his head he saw the beast’s head moving to peer over his shoulder, it’s neck a smooth, graceful curve, draped in a silken, feather-like mane and a regal crown of branching horns.   Electric blue eyed watched him with something like pleased mirth; Hanzo’s face burned, and he braced himself for the teasing.   You are so devoted…. You would never take rest when you felt there was work to be done, would you? You never have that we've seen.   The words were soothing, serene. Not the coy dragon, then--he realized he'd mistaken its identity without it's paler partner there with which to compare the hue of its scales to.   “I cannot rest when I have not completed my duties,” he said, embarrassed by the scrutiny. His body shook with the rumble of its laughter.   We know. We admire that.   Why was only the serene dragon here? Hadn't they agreed that he would have them both?   “Where is the other? I thought you would both be here.”   He is here. But he agreed with me that we should take this slow--and he is not very good at taking things slow.   Slow… That would probably be best, given how little he knew of what they were doing. He was startled from the thought by the feel of the dragon’s grip on his hip bones shifting; it took a second for Hanzo to realize that it was slowly, gently rubbing circles into his body with the pads of its digits, a contented, bass-deep purr coming from it as its nose brushed his cheek, nuzzling his neck, his shoulder. He felt a tickle along the inside of his calf, and glancing down, could see the paint-brush-tuft of the dragon’s tail, curled to drag and tease along the skin exposed below the hem of his yukata; it trailed lower, tickling his instep until his leg twitched, breath hitching, then began to slowly slide back up, slipping underneath the robe, nudging it to fall open, making him shiver. He squirmed, heat spreading from his face to his chest and dripping into his gut to coil there with the first stirrings of want.   “H-How slow…?” he asked; was his voice really that husky, or was the dream just reflecting what he wanted? He was pretty sure he shouldn't want to sound like that, but certainty eluded him along with focus as that tail continued to be quite frustratingly distracting.   Hmmm… The dragon nuzzled him again, seemingly considering. Your brother called you a romantic. Was he right?   “I… do not understand.”   The dragon chuffed at him. How slow do you want this to be, Hanzo? he asked. We have only a limited understanding of things that are human, but we think this night is important to you for more than just the power you will gain from us. What do you want?   What did he want? It was a question he didn't know how to answer without easy choices laid out before him. It was a question rarely asked of him, so open-ended like this.   “I w-want to know you.”   Know me? The dragon quirked his head, bemused. That is… a euphemism, yes?   “No!” Words in the dream came as freely as thoughts, when he remembered to open his mouth to speak. Indignation and horror mingled, sparking protest, prodding him into continuing. “I want to know your name-- who you are. I want to have a name to call you when-- when--”   In the dream, he felt a strange sense of disconnection from all the emotions that normally made him so thoughtfully quiet-- the paranoia, the shame, the anxiety that all drove him to analyze every word before he spoke it; they whispered to him, but were muffled, like a breeze that rustled the branches just outside a window. But the words that wanted to come from him now fed those emotions, until they grew coiling through his chest and choked the sounds in his throat.  The dragon watched, drawing its head back to tilt it quizzically at Hanzo. Our names were not meant to be spoken by human tongues, it said, gentle despite it’s bafflement. You know this, Hanzo. It was taught to you, wasn't it?  Such a foolish request. “I know,” he murmured softly, looking away, his gaze turning to the safe simplistic designs on the rice paper walls. “I am sorry. I should not have asked.”   There was a long moment of silence, of stillness. The quiet lay thick over them, more dense than the smoke that sluggishly trailed through the air.   The meaning of my name… The dragon seemed from its tone to be struggling. Confused, Hanzo turned to look at him. It is hard to translate. Because we experience things differently from you, we have different concepts, but… my name is something like the taste of rain falling upon your skin.   The taste of rain falling upon his skin? He thought of the way rain might taste if you licked it from your hand, but that didn't seem right. Was it the feel of rain falling on you? Did spirit dragons experience such a thing by tasting it? It surely was a strange concept, but the images it evoked, of days Hanzo had spent in the gardens, interrupted by the first delicate kiss of water falling upon him, the droplets dancing over his fingers, sliding down his hair and glancing upon his tongue-- stolen moments before he was to rush inside, it would not be seemly for the clan heir to be caught playing in the rain like a common child-- the images lingered. When he closed his eyes to envision them, they danced upon the insides of his eyelids, and when he opened them, there they were-- a story spread across the rice paper walls, written in delicate brushstrokes, a picture painted with rich dark lines and pale impressions of colour that brought the memories to life.   Yes, the dragon murmured, shifting to curl its body around him, purring it's contented pleasure. You have the right idea. Not exactly the same, but close.   “May I call you Ame?” Hanzo asked, still watching the painted memories, as the dragon’s whiskers tickled his cheek.   Rain. It seemed to test it on its tongue, amused and apparently pleased by the feel of it. Simple and straightforward. I like it.   I get a name as well, don't I?   Startled, Hanzo had to crane his neck, looking behind him at the part of the room he hadn't even glanced at, the thought not occurring him to see the rest of the room. Behind them, there was a sliding door, nudged open just enough for the other dragon to lean its head inside. Bright eyes burned with some emotion he didn't immediately recognize; when he saw the way its-- his -- snout wrinkled, draconic lips somehow forming a pout, he wondered. Was the dragon jealous?  Impatient, Ame rumbled, shaking their head, exasperated yet amused. It's not yet time.  You may not be bonding with him, but you are bonding with him, Ame’s partner replied, and the sulk in his voice reminded Hanzo a bit of Genji. Don’t leave me out! He is mine as well!   Hanzo didn't want to leave the other out.   “Please,” he said, interrupting Ame before they could reply. “May I know your name?”   The coy dragon raised his head up, preening immediately at Hanzo’s attention. Oh, it’s very difficult to say in a way you'd understand, he said, pride seeping from his words as his long body slowly slid further inside the room. As they said-- your kind simply do not have the same concepts we do.   Movement in the corner of Hanzo’s eye distracted him; he turned just enough to meet Ame’s eyes, before the dragon very deliberately rolled them at their partner’s antics. Something seemed to dance in Hanzo’s belly like the splashing of koi, and he recognized it only just in time to swallow his laughter, biting his lip to hide a small smile as he ducked his head.   My name, the coy dragon continued, coiling his body around himself to take a seat, Is the sound of a cloud, as it coils from one shape to another, dancing on the wind.   This time, Hanzo thought of summer days out in Hanamura, of kites, of Genji, small and even more childish, pointing to the sky and saying, Look! A rabbit! He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of the wind teasing his hair, tickling his face, making the trees dance as it swept by--and he remembered the clouds, pale, delicate, and soft, shifting gently across the sky, ever changing.   “... May I call you Kumo?” Hanzo asked.   Hmmmm…. The coy dragon considered him, tilting his head back to look down on him where he lay draped over Ame’s belly, exaggeratedly judging the worthiness of the name. Behind him, images of clouds and kites were drawn by invisible brushes upon the rice paper walls, upon the sliding door.   It will do~ Kumo finally purred, before leaning forward and sinuously stepping closer, coiling himself around Ame to observe Hanzo from a different angle. And you, Shimada-san? You do not mind us calling you Hanzo?   “We are going to be bonded, are we not?” he answered, and he cursed himself-- he should not sound so shy before them. “Those who are close should call one another by their given names,” he continued, voice stronger. “I may not be able to speak your names, but please-- call me by mine.”  It is our pleasure, Ame murmured; Hanzo was starting to grow fond of the feel of their whiskers tickling his throat, the cool, smooth scales of their cheek brushing against his own, the fur of their mane, exactly as silken-soft as it appeared, feather-light against his ear. And soon, Kumo added, leaning in close on Hanzo’s other side to chuff playfully at him, it will be yours~  Kumo. It startled Hanzo, hearing Ame scold their partner like that, hearing the dragon adopt the names he'd given them so easily. He must be ready first.   He checked into a hotel that's booked for two days, is that not ready?   Only if he says it is.   Ame’s tone was firm, soothing and reassuring. The dragon really would not push unless Hanzo expressly gave permission, would they?   You're giving him too little credit. You treat him as though he's made of china-- but I think Hanzo knows what he wants. Don't you, Hanzo?   Kumo, by contrast, had such an airy, careless tone. Unfettered, and so confident in it. His voice was as teasing as the dragon itself, playful and light, just like the gaze he fixed upon Hanzo.   The cooling, soothing rain, and the light, uncatchable cloud. It was hard to imagine that these dragons, so gentle with him even when they teased, could possibly manifest as violently and fiercely as the ones he'd witnessed before-- his father’s, his brother’s.   But they way they were with each other… the way they were with him …   “Yes,” he agreed, face sake-warm. “I do. I want to be bonded to you both. I want to begin this tonight.”   Are you truly certain? Hanzo wondered if Ame doubted his resolve, but the dragon’s tone was more… amused, than anything else. Perhaps… faintly exasperated? But Hanzo could imagine why Ame would be exasperated with him . The bond isn't usually consummated this quickly after the contract has been accepted.   “I do not want to wait,” Hanzo said. He felt off-balance, flustered, and he couldn't tell if it was in spite of, or because of, Ame’s tone. “Have I not waited for you both long enough? As Kumo said-- I have a room, just for this. I made ready, as you asked.”  In the years we've watched you, never once did you anything but your duty, exactly as expected, Ame murmured thoughtfully. The only exception was when you gave in to your brother, or covered for him, and even that you would resist.  “I do not want to talk about Genji right now,” Hanzo scowled, and Kumo nearly roared with laughter.  I see Ame’s point, he joined in, nearly gloating. All that rigid, disciplined obedience, never failing to be everything your clan demands. And yet, today, you've shirked your duties, leaving them to others, and have run off.  “I--” That was not where Hanzo had anticipated things would go, and he shifted, nervous tension teasing his bones, only to be reminded of the grip Ame still had on him. “They are more than capable. I did not shirk, I made sure everything was taken care of.”   But not by your own hands, as you always have, Ame pointed out. Instead, you are here-- to be bonded with us. The very next night after you agreed to the contract. The dragon’s tone was infuriatingly amused and pleased. There was an American saying for this, he knew, but the words would not come to him; on the rice paper walls ahead of him, a loosely-drawn cat licked its paw delicately.   I was right, Kumo said, full of smug satisfaction. You do know exactly what you want, don't you, Hanzo? So much so that you’ll even place the clan’s orders a little lower on your priorities list to get it that much sooner~   His face burned , flustered. Why did they have to-- to call him out like this?   “I am beginning to think you are both horrible,” he said, scowling furiously, but even he could guess that his anger had little effect when he must have been blushing more red than the torii gates at a shrine.   Well, we can't have that, Ame said, eternally unruffled.   May we show you just how wonderful we can be, Hanzo? Kumo asked, with a docile tone that wouldn't have fooled him even when they had first met.   “ Yes! ” Hanzo huffed, finally reaching his arms out to grasp the soft fur that framed Kumo’s cheeky, toothily grinning face, and insistently dragging him in to press a demanding kiss to the dragon’s jaw.   The lighter dragon pressed closer, until Hanzo could feel his smooth, broad chest pressed against his own through the front of his yukata. The dragon did not kiss him back-- Hanzo hadn't expected him to, not with that mouth, those lips-- but pressed him between them both. Hanzo could feel the pleased, rumbling purrs resonating from Kumo’s chest, directly into his own, until he felt it in his very marrow, moaned with it. It went through him into Ame and Ame answered it in kind, until the maddeningly deep vibrations threatened to shake him apart. Kumo shifted further, lithe and insistent, claws grasping Hanzo’s shoulder and side, and then the dragon’s body was lining up perfectly against his own front, slotting between his thighs and pressing flush against him and those vibrations--! Hanzo could only throw back his head as a shocked cry was startled out of him, the sudden, powerful pleasure arcing along his nerves. His legs fell open wider, ankles dangling loose on either side of Ame’s form that he was still draped over. Shivering, Hanzo could only bite back a whimper, teeth stinging his own lip ‘til he tasted copper on his tongue, and the rumbling subsided.   You respond so intensely. The words were murmured in his ear, cool and gentle and softly wondering. What memory was that pleasure taken from?   Probably from when he pleasured himself with that toy.   Hanzo choked, torn between fury and humiliation in spite of the need that was beginning to ache with how badly he craved to be sated. “You-- watched even then ?!”   Of course not, we would not be so crude. It was getting hard to focus. Was Ame angry? Their tone was so short and clipped that time--   Oh. They were glaring at Kumo. Their partner even looked slightly abashed. We would leave for a while when it became apparent what you were going to do. When we returned, you were usually asleep. But we did see the toy.   Hanzo groaned in frustration, letting his head fall back to rest limply against Ame’s neck. “Bastard. You say such things on purpose.”   Only a little, Kumo admitted, leaning back in once more and shifting to rub luxuriously against Hanzo’s front once more, those smooth scales dragging over his groin until he had to bite his lip once more.   “You are-- terrible!” he panted weakly, tightening his grip on Kumo’s mane, fingers tangling deeper into that silk.  Shall I make it up to you? Kumo purred, utterly unrepentant as he nuzzled against Hanzo’s face cheekily; his scales felt so cool against his skin, it only made him even more aware of how hot his face still burned.  “If you-- do not-- I may just-- choose to keep only Ame!” he threatened. Was that really his voice though? It sounded so breathless, almost pleading. Kumo pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, that electric blue gaze seeming to spark and ignite with intensity.  Then I shall show my utmost sincerity and remorse~ The dragon’s tone was anything but remorseful. It was deep, rich, and full of decadent promise; he felt it more than he heard it, and it had him shivering all over again, toes curling where they still dangled, legs spread til his yukata struggled to keep him decent.  There was static dancing along his skin, lighting up every nerve ending. Was this intense emotion-bordering-sensation truly something that could be called anticipation? The word seemed to dull when he tried to apply it. What he felt seemed so much more.   Kumo moved, crawling down Hanzo’s body and dipping his head until the dragon’s snout brushed against his groin, nuzzled him. The thin material of his yukata did little to dampen the feel of him insistently rubbing against Hanzo’s erection, and every tiny gasp and moan that escaped him both shamed and titillated him, until he was nearly writhing atop Ame. His hands, still clutching to Kumo’s mane, pulled futilely, trying to direct the dragon, but he only growled playfully in response.   At the sound, one of Ame’s claws finally released Hanzo’s hip, and instead caught one of his wrists, prying it from Kumo’s mane and drawing helplessly upwards until his body was stretched bowstring tense over Ame’s belly, held captive that way; the other claw was more than capable of keeping his hips still all by itself. He learned that from the way that, no matter how he tried to move, to wriggle, to buck, he never got any more friction than what the dragons wanted him to have.   The electric need sizzling through him was driving him mad , and he keened, frustrated by the unfairness of it all. Some remorse! Yet, the strength they had over him, manipulating him so gently which such dangerous claws as they teased him-- all that power focused on him --   Kumo nosed open the yukata, opening his maw and letting a long, flexible tongue slide out and stroke Hanzo, teasing along and mapping out the shape of his erection, straining against his underwear. At first he only felt pressure, but then, more seeped through: heat, wetness , and something unfamiliar, the way that tongue wriggled, prehensile, around his length until he was twitching and jerking in Ame’s grasp, desperate little choked-off cries fighting to escape him. He had never felt anything like it, and oh, merciful heavens, he wanted more , needed it like his heaving lungs needed air.   Kumo drew his tongue over Hanzo’s length and off, flicking the tip of his trapped hardness in a way that had Hanzo jolting and nearly ready to beg. I can taste him, Ame~ the dragon said, and his voice was strangely hushed, in a tone Hanzo couldn't even begin to decipher in his current needy state. The only thing he could recognize was the guttural hunger in Kumo’s voice. He’s very close…  The grip holding his wrist captive tugged at him once more, and Hanzo felt those whiskers brushing his cheek once more. You're going to wake up, Hanzo, when you cum, the dragon purred low into his ear; Hanzo sobbed in response as wicked, wet heat dragged over his erection once more, his underwear soaked by saliva and his own dripping need, and then a matching tongue was at his ear, caressing the shell-- he moaned, head lolling to the side to give Ame more room to keep doing that, eyes falling closed, and the dragon chuckled. Hanzo-- He’s not paying attention when you do that, Kumo.  I can't help it, Ame! It’s so good--   I can taste him, as well, but he needs to hear this. Hanzo, focus. A nick of pain at his earlobe had him gasping, jolted from the daze of pleasure by white-hot need striking him; his cock throbbed , and then both dragons pulled away.   “No no no no please please, I need, Kumo please, you said!” Pride and shame were nothing more than words on the wind as he broke down and begged, struggling in Ame’s grasp. It felt like dying-- on the edge of something incredible , and then it was being pulled away, leaving him with nothing.   He liked that, Kumo said, stunned. And you said I was distracting him!   I did not know he would react that way! Ame chuffed against his ear, nuzzling him, soothing him with his cool, reassuring presence and soft, murmured words. Hanzo kept twisting in his grasp, but his struggling died slowly as his need slowly crept back from that precipice, the molten heat cooling just enough to regain some semblance of sense, until he was left hanging limp and defeated and panting for air in Ame’s unyielding grip.   “Cruel,” he whispered, voice ragged, eyes burning. “The worst dragons…”   Shhh. We need you to listen, Hanzo. Ame buried his snout in the crook of Hanzo’s neck, his gentle rumbling purr rolling through him keeping the static buzz from completely leaving his skin, an unbearable itch. We won't keep you like this long. We’re going to make you come.   Oh, are we ever going to make you come.   Hanzo could feel the dragon snort and huff against his throat. When you come, you are going to wake, and the bonding process will have begun.   “I know all this…” He hardly even cared how petulant he sounded. The maddening denial was on the verge of becoming physical pain .  We need to be sure, Ame insisted. When you wake, we will not yet be strong enough to manifest. But the process must continue. You could try to fall back asleep again, but that will take time and make things harder in the long run. The best way forward will be to simply pleasure yourself. After your second orgasm, we should be able to manifest to help from there.  Two orgasms? And that was only the beginning? He was vaguely aware that this was probably a problem. He was more earnestly aware that he was probably going to literally die if he didn't get some relief. He was never going to deride Genji’s nighttime pursuits for as long as he lived.   Remember, Hanzo-- if you let the process falter, and the bond fails, we will, all three of us, be hurt. You've been taught what happens when a bonds fails and is broken. You have come this far, please, do not waver.   “I understand,” he whimpered. “Ame, please .”   The dragon chuckled in his ear. I look forward to finally meeting you properly, on the physical plane.   The dragon at his crotch purred in deep delight. Itadakimasu~   Even in the powerful grip of his need, Hanzo still had the presence of mind to want to kick Kumo for that. The thought vanished as quickly as it came, lost in the wind as his underwear was being delicately tugged down, and that tongue was wrapping directly around his cock--    Hanzo woke up wailing.   Tangled in his sheets, soaked with sweat, trapped as pleasure wracked him and he came-- it was more intense than anything he'd ever experienced, the ghost impressions of claws and scales pressed against his skin still lingering as it dragged on and on --   He had no idea how long it lasted. He thought he might've blacked out. Awareness trickled back in, piece by piece. His harsh, ragged breaths. The material of his yukata, rubbing against his skin. The smell of sweet fruit. A soft snout nuzzling his neck--   No. That was-- simply a lingering afterimage, like phantom pains, except they made him want to moan and bury himself in a dragon’s non-existent body.   ...Point was, Ame wasn't really there, nuzzling him.   Not yet anyway.   The sticky sensation of his soiled underwear cooling to his skin was much more real. Grimacing, he finally struggled free of the sheets, enough to reach down and push his underwear down, his spent cock slipping free. He paused, staring down at his length, still panting for breath, as Ame’s words came back to echo in his ears.   The best way forward is for you to simply pleasure yourself.   He swallowed hard, as the important bits and pieces finally stood out from the surrealist setting of the dream and the overwhelming pleasure that had taken over it. Two orgasms-- and that was just to start. Logically speaking, two dragons would take twice the energy to sate that a single one would.   And if they stopped now, if the bonding failed-- according to the lessons he and Genji had received-- their very souls, both of the human and the dragon spirit, would be damaged, and could never form such a bond again.   Anxiety clawed at him, but he closed his eyes, and breathed deep-- slowly, he steadied out. It was already begun. He was committed now-- no going back.   This was what he'd wanted, after all. He would either succeed at bonding them, or he would fail. But he would not fail from giving up at the very start. He was committed now, it was time to follow through. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- In what would have been an otherwise silent room, the sounds he made seemed damningly loud. The soft click of a bottle being opened; the rustling of the sheets as he moved into a more comfortable position; the quiet, slick slide of his own hand over his soft cock; each quick little breath he took as he bit his lip, closing his eyes and remembering the dragons from the dream.   Cruel, he thought at them, without any kind of real venom. It wasn't their fault he had to do this part alone but for the… inspiration they had given him but moments before. Still, in the wake of his first orgasm, his hand on his cock made him shiver with sensitivity, his arousal slow to reawaken so soon. He focused on thinking of the way Ame had cradled him with their own body, of Kumo’s wicked, clever tongue, and struggled not to whimper.   A sting like static jumped across his skin and jolted him, making his eyes fly open wide and stare down at himself, frozen and stunned. When it did not happen again, Hanzo slowly began to move again, gradually resuming his previous pace.   Would it be different when they manifested here in the mortal world? With him wide awake instead of dreaming? Would they be different? No, he doubted that--the dragon spirits did not sleep as humans did, it would not make sense for them to enter such dreamstates that resulted from a slumbering mind. But would they treat him different, now that he was wide awake instead of in that state of dreaming? Would they tease less, be more serious?   … Somehow, he doubted it. Unbidden, the thought of their teasing, of the way they'd manipulated his body even while demanding his attention on their words, had a flush rising hot and quick to his face.   Again, static snapped across his skin, making the muscles of his belly spasm--but this time, his eyes were open to see the flicker of blue energy that accompanied it. Once again, his hand faltered.   They said they couldn't manifest yet… But this wasn't manifesting, was it--merely a wisp of contact. His breath had gone shallow, eyes dilated; he squeezed his cock, hard in his hand, and began to stroke it once more.   They want me , he reminded himself. Hanzo could feel even the tips of his ears burning at the thought. He knew part of it was self-serving; that was inescapable given the nature of the bond. They quite literally hungered for him, and yet, the way they'd spoken to him with such fondness in their voices, such care to ensure he had no regrets before they both attempted to bond him, and the way they'd tried to ensure he hadn't become overwhelmed…   It was gratifying, just how much it felt the way he'd hoped it would. He trusted them. If they did not truly like him, care for him, then they would not be working to shackle themselves to him for the rest of his natural life--dragons did not crave the pleasures of mortality that much that they would suffer a host they did not like. There were stories his clan told of what happened when one angered their own dragon beyond forgiveness.   No , Hanzo thought, closing his eyes against another flickering twitch of energy dancing across his skin, making him gasp without his hand faltering its pace this time. No, everything they had done this far, everything they had said to him--it made him trust them, like them, despite their teasing, despite Kumo’s appalling taste in humour.   If he was honest with himself, he didn't even hate the joke so much as he hated himself for finding it slightly amusing.   Those static flickers came gradually faster, making him squirm and twitch and jump with each silent crackle that raced over his skin. If Hanzo opened his eyes he could almost see the faint, otherworldly glow that was beginning to cast subtle shadows across the room, but he was blind to it, lost in the sensations and his own fantasy of what was yet to come.   When Hanzo came it was with a shuddering groan, arching his back as he squeezed his cock, painting white streaks across his abs and chest. It wasn't like the first orgasm--it was nearly gentle in comparison, as the building tension released and slowly left him languid and lax-limbed in it's wake.   He had only a couple of moments to appreciate the afterglow, when the phantom sensation of pinprick claws skimming up his thighs and something sliding over his left nipple had him shouting in shock, eyes flying open and body bucking with the sudden, teasingly light touches against his hypersensitive body.   Looking down, he finally saw them--or one of them, at least, coyly hovering over his body; surely it must have been Kumo. In the dream, he’d seen them as if they had physical form, solid and rich in detail with vibrant colours in both the blue of their scales and the gold of their manes--but now the dragon was made of light, faint and translucent and not quite fully there, seemingly formed from smoke, if smoke could glow.   He felt something brush his hair, and tossed his head back to stare above him; somehow, crammed between his head and the headboard, the other dragon’s body was beginning to take form, rolling into being like mist and stretching its length around him on either side of his body; his eyes followed it to the left, until he saw its legs and realized it was the wrong end. When he looked to the right, Ame’s incorporeal face was looking at him with clear amusement.   “Ame,” Hanzo whispered, and there was no disguising the blatant wonder and awe in his voice as he spoke the dragon’s name; what else could he feel? His dragons were here, right here , real, and soon to be solid.   Then Hanzo yelped, back arching as his face flushed crimson and turned to glare ineffectively at Kumo, who lapped at the nipple he’d just nipped with his teeth--so gently that there was no wound despite the sharp fangs of the dragon, but still stinging under the wet laving of his tongue.   Hey, I showed up first. You could at least be polite enough to address me first accordingly.   The voice was faint--barely a whisper. But he heard it there all the same. Hanzo’s eyes widened, forgetting the pleasant but embarrassing sting Kumo had left him with.   “I can hear you. It’s… We’re truly bonded.”   Yes, but also, no.   It’s begun, but not yet complete.   On the bright side, we can definitely help out now.   A tickling hint of feather-light fur brushed over the left side of his chest, Ame’s tail shifting to brush against him. Between his legs, Kumo settled in, nuzzling his muzzle against Hanzo’s belly. His eyes weren’t as bright, as vivid, in this state, but Hanzo still fancied he could see the playful light that shone there.   How do you want this, Hanzo?   Of course they’d ask him. On the one hand, he appreciated the consideration--on the other, having to decide how to continue on to his next orgasm for himself, having to voice it, made him flush deeper til even his ears were burning.   “I do not know,” he confessed, casting his eyes aside rather than meeting either of their gazes. “You know I lack experience…”   With a partner, perhaps, Ame replied, faintly amused. But we know you've explored your own body, at least.   Where do you like to be touched, Hanzo? Kumo purred, turning his head to rub his cheek against Hanzo’s belly; it was such a bizarre, almost-but-not-quite-there sensation, caressing him like a breath of air across his skin, without any real pressure or weight behind it, though Hanzo was more than a little distracted by the way the dragon smeared his own seed across his abdomen without any of it seeming to cling to the spirit’s face. Hanzo’s legs fell open wider of their own volition under the barely-there touches of the dragon’s claws, and he shuddered as one of Kumo’s long whiskers tickled his cock. Or should we learn for ourselves?   “I…” He swallowed hard, struggling against his inner conflict to find words. His whole life had been an extended lesson in repression, pushing aside his own wants and desires because they were unseemly and because the clan came first.   But here, there was only himself and his dragons, and the dragons would be beholden to none but him.   “I want you to fuck me,” he murmured finally meeting Kumo’s gaze through his embarrassment. The dragon’s eyes widened.   Oh-ho! That can certainly be arranged~ he rumbled delightedly in response, sliding up along Hanzo’s body to brush their cheeks together affectionately.   Not yet, though, Ame cut in, their tone one of mingled fondness and exasperation. We can't manifest strongly enough yet for that. We need more energy.   But that won't be very hard to get, Kumo added, clearly self-assured as he met Hanzo’s eyes and, of all things, winked at him. Hanzo’s blush intensified as he scoffed.   “I do not know how much more I can do in one night,” he said--and as soon as the words left his mouth, he sobered, frowning and looking away once more. “I have seen my father and brother summon their dragons. I know how you are meant to appear. You are both so far from that. How many times will it take?”   Hanzo would try no matter what, but… the last rumoured Shimada to have two dragons had been so long ago. He had to wonder at the kind of stamina it must have took to bond them both.   It's not exactly a science, Ame said softly, nuzzling into the crook of Hanzo’s neck with reassuring affection. It took almost all of the energy from your first orgasm just to establish the bond, more than what is usual because it is a bond between three, the two of us both connected to you and your energy divided between us.   And though the connection may have been established, it still needs to be strengthened, deepened, Kumo added, resting his chin on Hanzo’s chest as he rumbled quietly. The bond is fragile right now.   Manifesting uses energy as well, but the energy you create from orgasming is more than we use to be here, Ame explained. The more we can make you cum--and the stronger your orgasms are--the more energy we can take to shore up the bond, and build a reservoir with which to maintain it.   Then when you rest, you’ll be able to take a few hours without fear of the bond withering away, Kumo finished, leaning forward to bump his nose against Hanzo’s chin lightly.   The more you can give, Hanzo, the more you’ll be able to rest, Ame summarized. You have youth and vitality on your side, even if you lack experience.   Besides, Ame and I have more than enough experience between us to make up the difference~   It was… reassuring, to learn that from them. What his family had taught him about the bonding had definitely been lacking on the more detailed aspects of the sex involved. He imagined it was probably less embarrassing to learn it from his dragons than from another member of the clan--but only somewhat. “If you are so experienced, then why make me figure out how to continue?” he muttered, and was rewarded with a nip to his chin from Kumo, who chuffed at him before drawing back.   Cheeky, the dragon accused, his eyes seeming to gleam brighter. I did offer that we could simply explore for ourselves.   “Then that is what I'm asking for now, “ Hanzo said, trying not to let his flustered emotions keep his tongue tied. “I want you both to… to learn of me. I want to learn what you can do.”   He wished he could learn what pleasured them in turn--but he already knew the problem with that, so he let the wistful thought pass as he focused instead on the way Ame shifted closer, circling around them both, then on Kumo as he sat back with a pleased, nearly smug look to his draconic face.   We had better get started then~   The lack of hands was something Hanzo had always wondered about as a potential issue, but when a dragon had so much long body to use, it didn't seem to matter. Kumo shifted, the lines of his form where torso ended and limbs began blurring, and wound around and seemingly through Hanzo, or perhaps just through the bed. Those phantom touches soon kissed nearly every inch of him, teasing him and causing his twice-spent cock to finally stir with renewed interest. Hanzo swore, tossing his head back as he took his length in hand and gingerly stroked it.   “ Kumo, ” he whined, and the dragon’s soft chuckling reverberated in his mind. Sliding snakelike around him, the dragon seemed to fade for a moment, and the sensation of being surrounded, the impression of scales and soft fur against his skin, faded just a little, just enough to create a flicker of worry in Hanzo.   Then Kumo’s tongue laved over his ear, and the feel of it was stronger than the rest of his touches, enough that he could almost imagine the wetness of saliva as it traced the shell of his ear, drawing a gasp from Hanzo as he tipped his head aside, eagerly exposing himself for more.   It was as if Kumo was focusing all his power on making that wicked tongue of his manifest more strongly; the rest of him might be just little bit less corporeal for it, but with that tongue trailing down his neck, lapping at his collarbone, he felt it was a worthy sacrifice. His arousal was definitely responding, even as his cock was starting to get a little bit sore--   You should use more lube, Hanzo, Ame’s words penetrated the pleasured haze Hanzo had been falling into, and when he looked the other dragon’s way for a moment all he could feel was burning embarrassment at the way they were staring intensely and calculatingly straight at his dick.   He swore, and struggled upright; Kumo’s weightless form was no hinderance, but neither did Hanzo’s movements cause him a single moment’s pause in his ministrations, and when the dragon’s tongue wrapped, prehensile, around the nub of his right nipple, squeezing and even tugging just a little before it slipped from his grasp, Hanzo’s choked cry and jolt of pleasure nearly made him knock the bottle of lube to the floor.   “Kumo!” he hissed again, and even he wasn't sure if the name was meant as a curse or a plea, but the dragon hardly seemed to mind.   You've got it, he purred, seemingly by way of encouragement, and this time when Hanzo felt the careful edge of teeth on his nipple he was helpless against the full-body shudder of pleasure that gripped him. You like a little bit of pain mixed in, Kumo marvelled, moving his mouth aside to nip at the less sensitive side of Hanzo’s breast, giving him just enough of a breather to finally fumble for the lube and fall back onto the bed where he glared at the dragon properly. What? You wanted us to learn what you like~   “You,” Hanzo declared as he opened the bottle and poured the lube liberally into his hand, “Are a menace .”   I am not! Kumo declared with a huff--and promptly dove his head back down to latch onto Hanzo’s left nipple once more with his tongue, much as he had when he'd first manifested, drawing it just enough between his careful teeth to suckle ever so slightly. I am a gift ~   You can be both, Ame commented with amusement, settling back where he lay with his body circled around them both, seemingly quite content to enjoy the view now that he'd found the perfect vantage point--the foot of the bed, staring straight up between Hanzo’s spread legs with brightly gleaming eyes.   Just what Hanzo needed on top of Kumo’s teasing: performance anxiety.   “You're no better,” he said accusingly to Ame, his voice hitching as his slick hand finally returned to his, now aching, length and Kumo’s tongue began to descend lower, dipping into Hanzo’s navel. “You enable him!”   Only because you enjoy it, Ame said. The bond is just strong enough for us to sense that. Or would you prefer we listen exclusively to your words instead?   Despite everything-- the teasing, the entire ridiculous situation, the way Kumo’s tongue teased him, the way Hanzo was sprawled across the bed with his legs spread and back arched as he stroked himself towards climax--it was a question that Hanzo couldn't help wonder about. “Would you?” he asked, the words faltering just a bit, making him flush and look away.   Of course we would, Ame replied, cocking their head as Kumo withdrew his tongue to nose and nuzzle at Hanzo’s belly, and Hanzo grew further embarrassed that they thought he needed the comfort. Emotions are complicated. You can enjoy something and hate it at the same time. Even with all our experience, humans still surprise us.   “I do not hate it,” he said quickly, his free hand reaching to curl into the not-quite-there wisps of Kumo’s mane, trying to encourage him. “I will tell you if I want you to stop.”   Kumo rumbled with approval, and flicked his tongue out to tease just above where Hanzo’s thatch of pubic hair began. Good, he said, and when he opened his mouth Hanzo swore he could feel the dragon’s moist breath ghosting over his cock, warming the lube that coated and his hand, making him falter in his strokes. I like it when you show your willfulness.   He wasn't quite prepared for the sensation of Kumo’s ghostly tongue dragging across the tip of his cock, but the intense sensation made Hanzo swear and curl in on himself, hand gripping his own cock painfully tight and very nearly sending him over the edge with shock. So close again--biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he head fell back to the pillows, Hanzo picked up the pace even more, not noticing Kumo’s head dipping even further between his legs until suddenly that tongue was laving over his balls. It startled him with the jolt of pleasure that struck him, and Hanzo was pretty sure that alone would've made him come, if the way his balls immediately tightened was anything to go by, but Kumo immediately followed it up by pressing his tongue to Hanzo’s taint, not just stroking by prodding, applying as much pressure as his ghostly form could to that sensitive erogenous zone--   If Hanzo’s first wail upon waking up had been loud, it was nothing compared to the cry he made when he came this time, cock jerking and twitching in his grip as it released. It was incredible, the difference between what he felt now, and his orgasm when he'd only had his own hand for pleasure. Kumo didn't let up--if anything, he only grew more insistent, that tongue ruthlessly rubbing and slicking his perineum until Hanzo was writhing with the overstimulation. Hanzo let go of his thrice-spent length to grab frantically at the bedsheets for something to ground himself with, and reflexively tried to close his legs as the noises he made grew increasingly desperate and plaintive.   But he couldn't close them--his thighs pressed against a solid form between them, and when Hanzo finally mustered the willpower to forcefully open his eyes and look down, he could see Kumo, even brighter and more defined than before, looking straight back up at Hanzo with challenge in his eyes as he wrapped his claws around the man’s thighs and pulled them open wider so that, with his head pressed between Hanzo’s legs with his long sinuous neck bent almost double to bury his nose under his balls, he could push his tongue just that little bit harder into Hanzo’s taint, making him shout and buck with the almost unbearable pleasured pain.   He was solid. Kumo was solid between his legs. As the dragon finally relented, letting his licks taper off into gentle stroking, as if he were cleaning Hanzo off, all Hanzo could do as he fell limp and whimpering was feel the dragon, not just looming between his legs but coiled all around him; at some point during his orgasm, Kumo must have lifted him up, because Hanzo was no longer lying directly on the bed, but draped along the dragon’s belly. Kumo’s tail had twined around the arm he hadn't been masturbating with, tugging it gently but insistently aside; the long limb had weight to it now, draped over and wrapped around his arm, he could feel the pressure of it squeezing him as Kumo tugged with it.   But the more he focused on the feel of him there, the more he noticed what was still missing. He could not feel Kumo’s individual scales, smooth and beautiful, under his skin, like he had in the dream, and the sensation of Kumo’s mane brushing against him was still faint and indistinct.   So perceptive.   Still quivering in Kumo’s grip and panting for air, Hanzo glanced in Ame’s direction, watching the dragon crawl around them as Kumo nuzzled affectionately at Hanzo’s inner thigh. “What…?”   The more the bond is strengthened, the more and more clearly we can sense your thoughts and emotions, Kumo explained, watching Hanzo smugly as he licked teasingly at his thigh, making his leg twitch spasmodically with a reflex Hanzo couldn't even begin to try and contain.   You might not even need to speak aloud anymore for us to hear you, Ame added helpfully, their body brushing against Hanzo and Kumo’s sides as they reached the bedside counter and leaned over it--towards the bowl of fruit pieces, kept chilled on a bed of ice, that Hanzo had left there back before he'd first fallen asleep on the bed. They nudged at the bowl with their nose, pushing it across the dresser’s surface carefully, as Hanzo wondered why they didn't just simply pick up the bowl in their claws and carry it.   Even when we're fully manifested, picking things up carefully is hard, Kumo suddenly said, snorting with amusement. We don't perceive the world exactly like you, remember? It’s hard to sense how much force to use to move the bowl with knocking it over, or sending it flying across the room.   Actually picking it up would be much more difficult, Ame added, nudging the bowl to the very edge of the bedside table, as close to Hanzo as they could get it, before returning to repeat the process with one of the bottles of water that had been next to it. If you wanted us to, we could certainly try. But I'd rather not risk your food being sent to the floor when you need it so.   But then, how could they touch him so?   Because we can feel what you're feeling, Kumo explained, a single tooth pricking at Hanzo’s thigh to make him gasp. The bond makes it very easy to tell how much force to use to touch you, to move you, and lets us give you sensations you like. We aren't exactly bonded to the bowl.   Oh.   It was not a foolish question, Ame said raising their head to give Hanzo an affectionate look once the water bottle had resumed residence next to the bowl, in close reach of Hanzo. We're used to it, actually. Humans have always been fairly reticent when it comes to discussing how we're able to touch them so. Almost the opposite of how willing they are to describe how we kill their enemies.   He wondered if that was truly all humans, or if that was just the members of his clan.   That's actually a pretty good question, Kumo commented, amused and turning his head to look at Ame. We wouldn't know, would we? Our kind have always been sworn to the Shimada bloodline.   Save the speculation for later, Ame chuffed, exasperated yet indulgently fond. If we’re going to actually fuck you some time tonight, Hanzo, you should take a moment to eat and drink. It’ll help regain some of your strength.   Nodding, Hanzo sat up, and nearly slid sideways off Kumo’s belly ‘til he caught and braced himself with his free arm. Kumo did absolutely nothing to help him, despite still having his claws wrapped around Hanzo’s thighs, and his tail tangled around Hanzo’s other arm. The dragon practically radiated smug amusement as Hanzo shot him a dirty look from where he leaned sideways towards the meal.   What? It's in easy reach, I'm not stopping you.   “I need both hands to open the bottle,” he retorted, and nearly stumbled on the first couple of words when he finally heard just how hoarse his voice had become. Then he flushed as he realized just how much he'd cried out, and how loudly, while Kumo had been pleasuring him so relentlessly.   Really? Kumo asked, only growing more disgustingly self-satisfied. What kind of training did you receive then? The clan must be slacking these days~   He finally loosened his tail’s grip though, allowing Hanzo the use of both his arms. He definitely had no intention of letting Hanzo’s legs go, however, if the way Ame shook their head and huffed was anything to go by, which left him stuck awkwardly leaning with one arm having to brace him upright. Shaking his head so he could focus, Hanzo grasped the water bottle with the clumsy fingers of his left arm, putting the cap between his teeth so that he could twist it open. To his credit, he only spilled a little bit in his haste. The moment the cool liquid touched his lips, though, it suddenly struck him just how parched he was, and he swallowed it down greedily, closing his eyes as the water soothed his raw throat.   When Hanzo finally pulled his mouth away from the empty plastic to suck down much-needed air, rubbing his arm across his mouth to get rid of what spilled over, he was already feeling much better. Tossing the bottle to the trash bin, he next reached for the first piece of fruit--a perfectly ripe strawberry, so plump in his fingers that his mouth was watering almost before it even touched his lips. He closed his eyes as he bit into it, and had to force himself not to moan with pleasure as the flavour spilled over his tongue.   Beneath his still-captive lower body, Kumo’s form began to rumble. It took Hanzo a moment to identify the cause as a possessive growl, and when he glanced back at the dragon, he was watching Hanzo with fiercely focused attention, head once more lowered between the man’s thighs until his nose brushed Hanzo’s leg.   “What--?”   Nothing, Kumo said, the voice in his mind pointedly casual. By all means, continue to enjoy your food~   Hanzo was absolutely baffled; as the rumbling that pervaded the room grew louder, but Kumo’s body beneath him did not vibrate more intensely to match, he glanced at Ame, and caught the far-too-amused expression on the dragon’s visage.   He was starting to think it was a little unfair that they could feel his emotions and thoughts so keenly, when he could not feel theirs.   You only can't because you don't know how yet, Ame said, before nodding at the remaining piece of strawberry still in his fingers. You’ll learn to hear us better as you get used to the bond. Please, Hanzo, eat. Hanzo almost started to, but paused at the way Ame glanced at Kumo as they spoke the last word.   Kumo was still watching him with an intensity that made his face grow hot. Looking away, Hanzo pushed the rest of the strawberry into his mouth, chewing quickly and savouring the taste not too long as he quickly reached for the next piece.   As he ate the second, and then the third pieces of fruit (chunks of cantaloupe and honeydew respectively), he could feel Kumo shifting under and between his legs; quick, furtive glances revealed the dragon seeming to get into a more comfortable position. He felt more than saw when Kumo began to nuzzle his nose into his groin again; when the dragon’s soft muzzle brushed against Hanzo’s poor, hypersensitive dick, the man flinched and nearly choked on his bite of honeydew, quivering as too-intense shocks of sensation snapped through him. Kumo quickly moved lower, until his nose was once more buried beneath Hanzo’s balls; shakily reaching for a piece of watermelon, he imagined being able to feel the dragon’s breath huffing out against that so sensitive region of his body.   He didn't need to imagine anything when Kumo’s tongue slid into the crack of his ass and dragged along it, startling Hanzo so badly he almost choked, the watermelon piece slipping from his fingers to the hardwood floor below the bed.   What was Kumo doing!? Face burning with equal parts humiliation and titillation, Hanzo had barely opened his mouth to voice the thought aloud when it was answered.   I can't fuck you if I don't prepare you first, Kumo’s carefully casual voice declared; between Hanzo’s legs, the dragon’s eyes were glittering, seemingly having never once budged from watching Hanzo like a hawk. Go back to enjoying your fruit, I'll take care of getting you good and ready~   Kumo learned this act from some of our past hosts, Ame commented, finally taking pity on poor, overwhelmed Hanzo and giving a bit more explanation. We might not have physical bodies, but if you want to feel us penetrating you, Hanzo, you do still need to be prepared first--and we've found this to be an exceptionally pleasurable way of doing that, even if you’ll need to provide the lube at some point.   Right--because they couldn't easily pick up the bottle to do it themselves, Hanzo’s dumbstruck mind helpfully supplied. He had never been more grateful for having showered before bed in his entirely life , he was certain.   He really wished his dragons would stop laughing at him; he was pretty sure he could identify that particular rumble even in his sleep by now, and it made him want to die from embarrassment even as he squirmed, the incredible feel of that tongue once again teasingly laving at his ass, sliding slick and almost-moist over his twitching, puckered entrance.   Kumo was going to prepare him--with his tongue . That incredible, wicked, talented, flexible, practically prehensile tongue that was so much longer than any human tongue could naturally be… was going to be going up his ass.   The confusing and overwhelming whirlwind of lust, nervousness, embarrassment, and anticipation that he felt left him almost rather faint. The third time the dragon teased him, even going so far as to prod Hanzo’s entrance with the tip of that incredible tongue, he could feel Kumo chuckling beneath him.   You still need to finish eating, he said pointedly, plainly pleased with how Hanzo was reacting. Come on, Hanzo, focus~   Hanzo swore he was going to kick Kumo one of these days when the dragon punctuated the words by licking over his ass yet again, even slower and more deliberately than before. He couldn't quite get hard again yet, but he could almost feel the way his overtaxed length twitched with the valiant effort of trying.   “ Bastard, ” he hissed, somehow managing to reach out and grab another strawberry, shoving it into his mouth with perhaps a little more force than necessary.   Rude, Kumo retorted, eyes flashing with amused glee.   “The truth,” Hanzo snapped back, thighs quivering as Kumo licked him yet again, the sensation making his breath stutter and his eyes flicker shut.   You know what else is truth, Hanzo? the dragon purred, letting the tip of his tongue tickle Hanzo’s taint til he bucked with a strangled sound--not strictly pleasure, nor anything unpleasant, just overwhelmed by the teasing sensations inflicted upon his hypersensitive body. I can keep this up as long as I want. I can feel how much you like it--it’s wonderful, isn't it? How filthy it is? How good it feels? And this, without even penetrating you. Given enough time, you could get hard again from this. It might take a while--it might even take hours, but you could, couldn't you, and you know it.   Oh, heavens save him--the thought of being held captive like this, teased relentlessly for hours, as Kumo continued to coyly lick at him, pleasuring him without giving him nearly enough stimulation… Hanzo had never dreamed an idea like that could be so arousing. To be utterly at Kumo’s mercy, helplessly subjected to pleasure at the dragon’s whim, titillated at such a slow, steady, maddening pace, with no relief in sight--   He had no doubt that he could come from just this, he'd realized that even before Kumo had planted his dirty words in Hanzo’s brain. But--and he imagined this might be the detail that had spawned such thoughts--he knew he would likely only do so whenever the dragon wanted him to. With such gentle teasing, such easy, gradual pleasure, with a bond that let Kumo easily sense what Hanzo felt, it would be child’s play to simply stop whenever Hanzo got too close to the edge, and deny him release.   Even with all the times he'd fantasized about what it would be like when he finally got his dragons, Hanzo had never imagined such a scenario. To be utterly helpless at his dragon’s whims. It was thrilling, and just a little bit terrifying too--just what would Kumo do with such power over Hanzo? Just how long would the dragon make him suffer? Til he begged? Til he broke , falling apart, mindless with need?   Hanzo felt prickling, fearful nervousness crawl up his back, as thoughts wondering how his dragon could be the same as a stranger echoed in his mind.   That's enough, Kumo.   Kumo had stopped licking him, almost before Ame had spoken. Dimly, Hanzo was aware of a warm nose pressed against his cheek.   Breathe, Hanzo.   He gasped, coughed, sucked in sharp breaths. When had he stopped breathing…? Numbly, his hands both reached up, holding Ame’s face against his own, the cool presence grounding him.   … I’m sorry.   The words, ruefully apologetic and nearly meek, took a moment for Hanzo to place as belonging to Kumo. When he looked down between his legs once again, the dragon had flattened his head as low as he could against his own throat; his claws on Hanzo’s thighs were no longer gripping him, but stroking soothingly.   … had he reacted that badly? Without even realizing?   You were afraid , Ame said, the words soft and simple, as if that was all the explanation required.   Some enjoy risk, Kumo continued after a beat, But… it’s not easy to discern ‘good’ fear from ‘bad’ fear. As we said before--emotions are complicated.   We don't like to take risks with our host’s happiness. We’re hardly about to start with yours.   Even if I forgot to pay attention to the rest of what you were feeling because I was too busy pursuing a specific thought, Kumo added, and Hanzo finally put it together.   He'd been reminded very suddenly of just how little he actually knew his dragons yet. He had gotten an idea of what their personalities were like, had decided he liked them despite being fairly certain one or both would drive him mad before he was even middle-aged, but when presented with a fantasy--a thrilling, arousing fantasy--of letting his dragons have complete power over him… he'd realized he had no idea what they'd actually do with it. And that had caused him to feel the first chill of nervousness, the fear of the unknown he'd previously thought an alien concept that couldn't be applied to the dragons.   It wasn't that he feared they would hurt him, or even could. The dragons simply could not manifest if their host did not want it. He and Genji had both been taught on that subject; how to suppress the dragons, keep them at bay. It was their energy that fueled the dragons, after all, their energy that allowed them to manifest. (In turn, the host could not force a dragon to manifest if they did not want to; the contract might not be strictly equal, but one side did not hold all the cards.)   Hanzo… he yearned for his dragons in ways that he wasn't sure anyone else in the clan ever had. Certainly Genji didn't, he'd made that obvious when he'd unintentionally revealed to Hanzo that he'd never once even wondered if Midori was capable of doing something as simple and platonic as cuddling. He'd simply assumed it wasn't possible, and more importantly, had apparently been fine with that. Hanzo wanted more; he wanted all the closeness, the intimacy, the trust that he saw being possible with the bond between souls, with the sharing of energy that was as much spiritual as it was sexual.   He wanted his dragons to always be with him, to touch him even when it wasn't remotely necessary for the sake of the contract--sexually, even though their hunger could be sated if Hanzo slept with another human. Platonically, even if no one else understood why he'd ever want to curl up in the protective embrace of a dragon.   He knew with certainty--with faith-- that they'd never hurt him, never turn against him. Part of it was a rudimentary knowledge that they stood to be hurt as much themselves if they did; the rest was born of centuries, perhaps even thousands of years of history that had taught him that no Shimada had ever been betrayed by their own dragon, that it was the one bond he could trust above any other, even his own family.   But had anyone ever longed for their dragons the way he did? The sexual nature of the clan’s relationship with the spirit dragons was handled in strange, contradictory ways; on the one hand, spoken of as a simple fact of life, not to be made a big fuss out of, and yet on the other, never to be discussed in any kind of detail, never to be disclosed to outsiders of the clan, always to be dealt with quickly and discreetly--a necessary, but unseemly evil.   Perhaps he'd been in denial with how carefully he had sidestepped any thoughts of how the rest of his own clan would react if they knew the strange, deviant fascination he'd had with the dragons since his teen years.   But despite all his yearning and fantasies… he didn't actually know them. Despite what he believed, despite the faith and trust he easily placed in them, he didn't actually know his dragons yet, because in all honestly, he'd only just met them a couple of days before. He heard Genji’s voice again asking him how he could lay with a dragon when he wouldn't bed a stranger, and suddenly became all too aware of his own spent seed cooling on his skin and staining the bedsheets, a creeping sense of shame beginning to gnaw at him as the thought occurred to him--   What must his dragons think of him? If they could see his heart, his desires, feel what he wanted through the bond--after centuries of being bonded with Shimadas who had handled their contracts cleanly and effectively, fulfilling what was required and giving the dragons what they longed for and nothing more complicated than that… what must they think now, bound to a naive, romantic fool?   And all at once, he was utterly surrounded, smothered , by the presence of Ame and Kumo, both their bodies coiling around him as their thoughts flooded his mind, crashing upon him like a wave.   No no no no, Hanzo, don't, do not   You have nothing to be ashamed of Hanzo you're not   feel like that, if we've pushed you too far it’s   nearly as strange as you might think, you're not the first   entirely our own fault--   of your clan to feel--   “--I can't breathe! ” he choked out, face red, and he gasped as they loosened their coils, but did not release him from their strange and total embrace.   Sorry!   Ugh, this is a mess.   But not because of you!   Dazedly, he tried to puzzle apart which dragon was speaking, but as good as he’d thought he'd become at telling their mental voices apart, it was impossible to be certain when they were so hastily talking over one another and--   I didn't say that it was!?   Shut up! Hanzo, this isn't as strange as--   --don’t tell me to shut up!?! Hanzo, we don't think of you like--   --seriously, do you mind!?! He needs to know he's not some kind of pariah--   --he needs to know we care!   ...were his dragons actually bickering?   As soon as the thought entered his mind, while he lay virtually immobile where he was wrapped in the two dragons’ coils, watching them snarling and snapping furiously at each other--immediately, they both froze. Slowly, their anger left them; they seemed to visibly wilt, letting their heads droop until they were resting on either side of Hanzo’s, leaving him staring in shock at the ceiling.   Were these the ancient, wise spirits, the protective guardians and patrons of his clan?   Were these two beings who cared for one another such that they didn't want to be parted, even to experience the pleasures of the mortal world?   Why did the shame he felt no longer quite feel like his own?   … Probably because it's ours.   He blinked, then after a moment’s hesitation, slowly turned his head to stare at Ame, fairly certain they had been the one who'd answered.   “...you’re… ashamed?”   Well, yes. A feeling of rueful… self-deprecating humour resonated in him. Look--there are some things we should probably tell you.   Stuff that we probably should’ve told you back when you said in the dream that you wanted to know us, Kumo added, dry and a little bit bitter.   That--yes, Ame agreed, seemingly giving up on an initial instinct to protest. You… seemed eager to be distracted from actually talking to us, about us.   And we were pretty eager to oblige that.   Most Shimadas don't bother getting to know their dragons very… intimately. And that's not a bad thing; no one I know would choose a host they didn't like in the first place.   If we're being honest, it might even be considered a good thing. It’s easy to maintain an air of mystique when your human host has no idea you've ever made mistakes.   Like we basically did just now.   “You did not--”   Hanzo, you're not the first to want a deeper relationship with one of our kind, Ame interrupted him, smooth and serious. They turned to look him directly in the eyes, leaving no room for doubt. Not even the second, or third. It isn't common, it isn't considered normal in your clan--but your clan also has a habit of scrubbing away the little details they think aren't important enough, or reflect well enough on them, to be taught to the next generation. I can name some of the more recent ones, if you want; our kind have shared many stories about such romances with humans.   That… was a fair bit to swallow, despite how much sense it honestly made. He'd always known, as far back as he could remember, that the clan elders had a habit of conveniently ‘forgetting’ past events they did not like; his father had taught him that by occasionally dredging up those exact incidents to remind the elders who was the head of the clan. That the sordid details of how one or many ancestors had found romance with their own spirit dragons could be edited neatly out of his own clan’s history--well, that wasn't even all that difficult to believe.   The unbelievable part was that the dragons would talk so freely about it.   Do you mean amongst ourselves, or here with you? Hanzo turned his head the other way to find Kumo watching him with wry amusement. Of course we talk about it amongst ourselves, it--okay, you know how we mentioned earlier that stronger orgasns give off more energy? Hanzo could feel the beat rising slowly to his face, but he nodded anyway. And more energy means a stronger bond, etcetera, well, when there's a romantic connection--when the human and dragon are directly involved with one another, when they care about each other, it affects the energy they give off when they climax. It makes the bond even deeper than normal. Now, in terms of self-interest, this means dragons who get to have a true, romantic bond with a human get to experience far more through their bond than any others do.   That by itself is usually enough to garner some envy, Ame noted, with a sad little chuckle. But, to be honest--the simple idea of a romance like that is pretty enthralling for us, too. To meet someone, to be bound to them, soul-to-soul, and find love there… I've known many other dragons who've admitted they envied such a thing, that they wanted it too.   “But why?” Hanzo was honestly stumped, and the biggest reason seemed like a fairly obvious reason for a dragon not to fall in love with s human. “Ame, you--you are immortal. Our lives are fleeting compared to yours--we die so quickly, and when we do, the broken bond hurts you, doesn't it?”   It seemed to only heighten his foolishness, to raise such questions when he had yearned for such a relationship himself, but he hadn't realized before that such a relationship meant a deeper, more powerful bond. If it did, then surely breaking that bond--?   It hurts like hell, yeah, Kumo confirmed. Or at least, so we've heard. We've never had a bond that strong before. But we think it's worth it. In the old days when we were mortal, we found love amongst our own kind easily--after a couple of millennia though, being around the exact same snouts for centuries at a time makes things a little more difficult. Either you like each other, or you don't, but if you can't fall in love with any of the dragons you know, then tough luck, because there aren't going to be any new ones to meet.   Kumo said it flippantly, almost sarcastically, but it felt saddening to think about; Hanzo may not have been a particularly social person, yet even he would not want to live his entire life only ever knowing the same members of his clan he'd been born knowing.   Kumo and I are lucky to have each other, Ame said softly after a minute. It is as we told you from the beginning--we are a union. Married, I suppose. Even if sometimes we forget why when we disagree on something.   He almost missed the look the dragons shared between them--fond, sweet, and forgiving. It made his heart almost ache, confused by so many questions he wasn't certain how to voice.   Fortunately, with them he didn't necessarily need to.   Although we do have each other, Kumo said, we still--both of us--have wanted to experience that bond we've been told of by others. We've both shared bonds with your clan before as individuals to that end.   We tried to always find hosts around the same age, at the same time, Ame described, with a little rumble of laughter. Trying to time it so that when the time came, we'd both be released again around the same time. Didn't always work the way we intended, but we still tried.   You're the first we've approached together, Kumo said quietly, and the hushed, serious tone he took stunned Hanzo.   The first? Truly? But the legend…?   We are not the first to attempt it, Ame explained. Nor would we be the first to succeed, despite the difficulty. That's how we learned of how a double bond works--how to make sure it has the best chance of succeeding.   But you're the first one we've seen that we really thought we had a shot at making it work with.   “...What?” That--he didn't have a clue how to process that. Even though they had said as much before, to add to that the knowledge of everything else they had told him--the deeper bonds of a romantic partnership, how dragons would hope for amongst humans that which they could not find amongst their own kind--it was mind-boggling.   Like we told you, Hanzo, Ame said, almost sheepishly this time. We observed you for years. Always as respectfully as possible, of course, but--there were things we noticed. Things we hoped we could take as positive signs. You avoided relationships, but you didn't act as though you hated the very idea of them--rather, it always seemed as if you were waiting for something more . And any time the subject of us dragons came up--   Which isn't nearly often enough, Kumo interrupted with a chuff.   It came up more often with him than most of our previous hosts, Ame replied, exasperated.   Only because the elders this time around are a bunch of hypocritical--   As I was saying! And this time, their bickering drew a huff of laughter from Hanzo, as surprising to him as it was to the dragons, who relaxed at the sound of it. Whenever it came up… we could see your longing. You hid it well when others were around, but when you thought you were alone, your yearning… it was obvious.   We weren't the only ones who saw it. We had to chase off a couple of other dragons who were checking the market for a new host. Kumo seemed pleased with the face Hanzo made at his particular word choice, the shit. One of them accused us of teaming up to claim you just so we could better chase off the competition, but if he'd resonated with you like we had, he would have fought harder to stick around.   “ Resonated?”   When you've been sharing bonds as long as we have, Ame said fondly, you start to get a feel for which souls are most compatible with your own. That’s a large part of how things have always gone so smoothly with our partnerships with your clan; we’re just that good at knowing who we can get along best with.   It’s a bit like… the feeling of singing in-tune with another.   In harmony, Kumo.   Hey, we’re sworn to a clan of ninjas, not a clan of singers. Hanzo snorted in spite of himself. The point is, you can tell that you get a different feeling from this person than you do from others.   And we both got that feeling from you. That hasn't… happened for us, before.   Which was one more reason why we weren't willing to let anyone else have you. Even if you only chose one of us in the end, we still… we at least wanted the chance to ask you.   “You truly want… to have a romance with me, as I do you?” he asked; it was so hard to believe.   We want to try.   It may not work out that way, and that's okay. That you wanted us both in the first place was already more than we'd hoped for. And we do like you, Hanzo. We would be honoured to protect you, to be your friends.   And as spirits who've had centuries of picking out Shimadas to bond with, I'm going to go ahead and say that the fact that your attractiveness and the sexual openness we saw in your dream were both great--   Kumo.   What? If Hanzo could have untangled his limbs from them, he swore he'd have smacked Kumo for that falsely innocent response, but as it was all he could do was bury his burning face against Ame’s body. I'm just stating facts.   “You--” Hanzo groaned, shaking his head. “This is… not remotely how I expected tonight to end up.”   ...We are sorry for upsetting you, Ame replied ruefully. We had to address it. We could not continue while you were uncertain, while you felt ashamed of what you were doing.   We told you, we wanted you to want us, Kumo said, affectionately nudging Hanzo with his nose.   “I remember you both being much more eloquent in the dreams,” Hanzo grumbled. “Or at least Ame being more eloquent.” He swore he heard Ame snicker in response, while Kumo practically sulked .   Anyone can sound eloquent if they rehearse their lines enough times, Kumo huffed, and it took a second for Hanzo to grasp that.   “You… rehearsed? I do not--what?” He turned to stare at Ame in disbelief, startled to find them actually looking sheepish .   It’s not something unique to us! they immediately protested. All dragons have had centuries of practice to figure out how to approach their chosen hosts, and we have a reputation to live up to as heavenly beasts!   I didn't tell you we'd been waiting for you to get laid just to make you blush, Hanzo, Kumo added, and the noise of frustration Ame made was incredible. They always get so flustered when I improvise on a plan or a script, it's cute~   Hanzo was right, you are an absolute menace .   Despite everything that had been turned on its head that night-- despite the abruptly aborted sex, despite the revelations he was still struggling to digest, despite the fact that somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew they were going to have to get back on track and continue the process of sealing and completing the bond--despite all of it, Hanzo found himself… laughing.   It was all so absurd. It was frustrating. It was confusing, fascinating, and complicated as all hell. But the affection he was beginning to feel for them no longer felt like it belonged to a generic title of ‘his dragons’. He felt fondness for Ame and Kumo, who appalled and intrigued and delighted him in turn. The dragons shifted, loosening their coils to cradle him between them as he curled up in their embrace, still laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation he was in.   It had been a whirlwind from the very start, the moment he'd had the first dream of them, but now he truly felt that he wouldn't want it any other way.   As his laughter finally died down, and he lay relaxing between them, tracing Kumo’s barely discernible scales with his fingers, he finally said, “We still have to complete the bond.”   We do, Kumo agreed, fond and pleased.   We don't want to rush you back into it though if you're not ready, Ame said, brushing their nose to Hanzo’s brow--almost like a kiss. He considered that, reaching up to gently caress Ame’s body; he thought of their earlier teasing, and where things had been going before they'd been so thoroughly derailed, and felt his arousal beginning to stir once more.   At least one additional upside to all that discussion was that it’d given his refractory period plenty of time to recover.   “I am ready,” he said, perhaps a little shy, but no less certain for it. “It might not keep him quiet, but what Kumo had intended was a better use for his mouth, was it not?”   For a moment, both dragons went utterly still, staring at him; he had just a heartbeat to second-guess having had the thought, let alone voicing it aloud the moment he'd thought it.   I can't believe this, Kumo began, and he sounded so shocked, so offended, that when Ame burst into laughter, Hanzo could not help but join in. I came here to show you what a good time we could all have and-- honestly! I feel so attacked right now!   That’s a meme you picked up from your last host! Ame accused, all their teeth bared in a huge draconic grin, and Hanzo laughed even harder.   Well Hanzo’s about to enjoy something else I picked up from a previous host~   That was all the warning Hanzo got before he suddenly felt claws grasping his hips, lifting his lower body up from where he'd been resting atop Ame’s form, and then his laughter choked off into a startled cry of pleasure as he was reminded of exactly how wicked and talented Kumo’s tongue could be. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Deep within him, Kumo's tongue buried itself, stroking at his inner walls with a single-minded determination that had Hanzo falling to pieces and melting into a moaning puddle of sensation and want. It didn't take long at all to once more fall into that heady state of lust he'd been in before, his need swiftly growing desperately all-consuming.He felt something soft and cool against his cheek, and a tickle of static danced across his brow. He opened his eyes as he gasped once more for breath, and found Ame's eyes gazing fondly into his own. May I join in? they asked, and Hanzo couldn't nod fast enough, even as he reached up to bury his fingers in the barely-there mist of their fur to try and draw them closer, pressing his lips clumsily to Ame's jaw. Ame chuckled, and Hanzo thought he could feel the huff of breath ghosting over his brow; he knew he could feel the delicate drag of clawtips over his chest, teasing lightly over his nipples, and let his head fall back with another groan of pleasure. He felt his legs being bent up towards his body, his body curling in on itself as Kumo wrapped around him to position him as he liked, and then his knees were being pressed into his chest and Kumo was drawing his tongue back out before thrusting it in again, dragging the tip along his inner walls each time, until it dragged over Hanzo's prostate in a way that would have had him bucking if he could move. As it was, all he could do was cry out even more loudly, his cock leaking against his belly as he panted.He felt a muted sort of surprise that he could still feel Ame's claws teasing over his chest, but honestly, it made as much sense as anything else that they could reach through Hanzo's body as they liked to touch him where they wished.That really is nothing special, Hanzo, Ame purred, and then Hanzo could only wail as he felt yet another tongue wrapping hot and dexterous around his aching length, tugging at him, the tip teasing and licking around his balls. It was overwhelming, having not one but two mouth teasing him like this, and while Kumo's claws were kept occupied with holding him folded into this position where he was helpless to their attention, Ame's were freely tracing over his chest and back, making this ever more maddening.What would even be special to these two! Hanzo wondered, shuddering as his orgasm built within him.Oh, you are, certainly~ Kumo answered, smug as shit, and Hanzo actually did manage to twitch his leg enough to kick the bastard with his heel--not that it gained him anything more than a laugh for his trouble, his face still burning. What? I speak the truth! No other Shimada we've ever been bound to has been like you! You are dearly special to us~We may have experienced much from being bound to others before, Ame said, their tongue reaching just that little bit further to tickle over his perineum, But every host we've been bound to has been unique in how they experience things, including pleasure. The acts might be familiar to us, but your reactions, the sounds you make, the way you feel... everything that makes up the taste of your pleasure is new to us.Hanzo might have had something to say on that, or another question to ask, but he was rather preoccupied with the way Kumo choice that exact moment to draw back his tongue before suddenly twisting it back upon itself--doubling the thickness of what penetrated him and pressing the tip relentlessly into his prostate, tormenting that sweet spot until his climax rushed over him, leaving him breathless and mindless as his hands clawed at the sheets, the dragons, whatever he could reach.His fourth orgasm, and once again, he was milked right through it, the pleasure that wracked his body absolutely relentless until the feel of that tongue wrapped around his cock was agony and the one burrowed within his ass was going to make him die. His vision went black as he cried out, a noise somewhere between pleasure and plea. They let him down slowly, his body slowly allowed to uncurl as he gasped and twitched, toes curling as he shuddered, but when he at last came back to himself and opened his eyes, they were once again more solid, more real.He could make out the individual scales that covered their body, now, though as he stroked a hand lazily across Kumo's smug snout, the feel of them was still indistinct. Their manes, however, he could finally twine his fingers through--and he gave Kumo's a sharp tug for good measure."I don't know... if I can keep this up much longer," Hanzo managed to say, his voice embarrassingly hoarse once more. He'd already come far more than he ever had before, and so much more intensely. He felt something nudge his elbow, and glanced down to see Ame's tail pushing the still-half-full bowl of fruit within his reach yet again.Once more for tonight, Ame said, their voice warm, yet husky and hungry at the same time. Then we will be able to keep the bond stable long enough for you to get proper rest.Were they finally going to fuck him like he'd asked?Impatient much? Kumo's grin was wide and toothy. I think you've been stretched enough for us to manage. Who would you have inside you?On the one hand, Kumo was insufferably good at this. On the other, he was also insufferably smug. Hey, I've a right to be! "I think Ame deserves it more," Hanzo rasped, giving a grin of his own. "Surely you won't begrudge them that?"This time, it was Ame who radiated smugness, as Kumo rolled his eyes and chuffed at them both.Finish your food, Ame said, fond, and pleased, And I will be glad to give you what you desire. "For the record," Hanzo gasped, "Eating is no simple task... when the two of you must be so distracting!"They'd been considerate enough of his hyper-sensitive state to not overdo it, at least, yet still the two of them had both teased him as he'd finished the remains of his fruit, their tufted tails tracing over his skin like paintbrushes, tickling and tormenting in turns.In my defense, Kumo replied haughtily, I grew bored."You're going to be insufferable, aren't you," Hanzo panted. "I can already see it... meetings with the clan elders will be... utterly unbearable!" Implying they were ever bearable to begin with? Groaning, he buried his face in a pillow, only for Ame to chuckle and leave him shuddering as they twined their tail around the length of his flaccid cock.Once more, Hanzo, they said, as he writhed, pleasure bordering on pain crackling along his nerves. We'll need you to provide the lube.Why did spirits even need lube? he had to wonder, even as he obediently reached for the bottle. Surely a spirit would not cause friction?We don't, Kumo answered, deeply amused. Some even prefer the feel of us penetrating them without it. But the lube still makes it easier, particularly with a partner less... accustomed to us.It was bizarre to wonder how that worked.We honestly don't know, Ame said, and Hanzo could feel them rumbling with laughter beside him.A mystery to leave for another time, then, he decided, as he finished slicking up his fingers and put the bottle aside, reaching back to press them inside himself. Yet again, they continued their teasing paintbrush-tracing along his skin, leaving his body buzzing with need that simmered just under his skin, even though he still had yet to get hard. Closing his eyes to try and focus on preparing himself as needed did little to help, when it made the sensations the inflicted upon him that much more intense."How much do I need?" he groaned.So ready already? Kumo wondered, bemused. How much did you pleasure yourself when we were not watching?"Shut up," Hanzo muttered into the pillow, even as Kumo laughed.Better to use more this first time, Ame replied, their voice dancing in Hanzo's mind. We can experiment with what you like later.Later. It was funny, how hearing that left him marvelling that this was a thing that was actually happening. He pulled his fingers free and grabbed the bottle again, adding yet more slick to them before dropping the bottle carelessly to the floor and returning to the task at hand. Ame kept him at it under he had buried all four of his fingers as deep within himself as he could, before finally--I feel we should be offended you wish this to be over with so soon, Ame commented, nuzzling him with their snout. Lie on your belly. Prop your hips up with the pillows. I will take care of you, Hanzo."I do not wish this over with," Hanzo murmured, even as he followed the instructions, relieved to simply let Ame take the lead. "Only for you to touch me again. Properly," he added, before Kumo could make any comment referring to the maddening way they'd been teasing him all this time. The dragon had the gall to laugh at the way Hanzo had cut him off.It will be my pleasure, Ame said, and Hanzo could feel their body being draped over him, sighing as he felt their nose warm against his neck and cheek.When he felt their length pressing inside him, however, he realized suddenly that he'd yet to actually see either of their cocks.Really? Ame huffed, actually sounding exasperated as they paused, with what must be only the tip of their cock pressed inside. Hanzo can feel his face burning with embarrassment, but he just wanted to know what it looked like--Keep going, Kumo told Ame, If Hanzo wishes it, of course. I'm more than capable of satisfying his curiousity.Hanzo raised his head, but his eyes swiftly fluttered shut before Kumo had finished shifting his body around in front of him, as Ame's length continued to press deeper inside him, drawing a deep moan out of him. He panted, face still warm and flushed, before finally managing to get his eyes open, and staring at the glowing cock in front of him.It didn't look the way Ame's length felt inside of him--the one inside him felt solid, but smooth, rather featureless. But then, as he looked at Kumo's belly, he could see the distinct edges of his scales--yet Ame's belly against his back felt as smooth as their cock. Kumo's cock, seeming hard and erect before him, looked vaguely like Hanzo's own in the sense that it resembled any human cock--yet it had a curve to it that Hanzo was fairly certain no human cock possessed, and a ridge along it's underside that made him ache deep inside, wondering what that would feel like, were it to rub against his prostate.You'll be able to feel it properly once the bond is complete, Kumo said, voice dripping with satisfaction. Then we can fully manifest, and you'll be able to feel every detail of our bodies.It felt like that wouldn't be nearly soon enough. Even as Ame drew back and pressed into him once more with toe-curling steadiness, Hanzo stared, transfixed by Kumo's length. He reached forward with one shaking hand, and let his fingers trace over it, disappointed as he felt only smoothness and not the ridges his eyes promised him. Kumo's lack of reaction to his touch was almost even more disappointing, though the dragon actually looked embarrassed as the thought crossed Hanzo's mind.Would that I could feel your touch, he said, and though he purred with lust, there was still a note of sincerity that rang in Hanzo's mind. Still, tasting your pleasure is more than enough for us.He wished it didn't have to be--but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than Ame ground deep into him and Hanzo closed his eyes with a gasp.We shouldn't draw this out, Ame said, mournfully. Another time, we can. But right now--we need you to cum one more time, and then you can rest, Hanzo.At least until tomorrow, Kumo teased, but rolled over and crawled around Hanzo, nosing along his ribs as though trailing kisses down his body."Please," Hanzo gasped, and only saw from the corner of his eye as Kumo's body glowed and seemed to lose its solidness, so that it could coil around him through the bed and Ame without disturbing either, and then he could feel Kumo's breath over his cock once more, finally beginning to stir again. Then he could feel Kumo's mouth, his tongue, wrapping around his length and coaxing it to hardness, pleasure edging on pain shuddering through Hanzo and leaving him breathless as Ame began to steadily thrust into him just that little bit harder, that little bit faster, increasing his pace with a steadiness that stoked the lust within him to burn once more. It felt like an eternity, that he lay there, quivering and moaning as the dragons worked him to another peak of ecstasy.Yet all too soon, it crashed over him again. This one wasn't as intense, as all-consuming, as the previous orgasms the dragons had driven him to--still, as they milked him through it, pleasuring him until he was left mindlessly pleading for mercy, he found himself feeling more deeply sated than he'd ever imagined was possible.Five orgasms will do that to a man, Kumo commented, as he and Ame carefully rolled Hanzo over, curling at either side of him.They'll also exhaust him beyond imagining, Ame added, purring as they rubbed their cheek against Hanzo's. Rest now, Hanzo. We have enough energy to keep the bond maintained. Tomorrow, we'll finish the bonding. Dazedly, he wondered if he'd even be able to get it up again. After so many orgasms, he wasn't sure he'd be able to cum again for the next month.Oh, don't worry, Kumo said, voice bright with mirth as Hanzo slowly descended into slumber. We'll find a way to make it work~
10440789
May They Never Meet
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Multi", "Characters": "Angelus (BtVS), Darla (BtVS), Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by marginalia", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2004-01-12T00:00:00", "words": "100", "Additional Tags": "Community: open_on_sunday", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Angelus/Darla (BtVS), Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel: the Series, Master and Commander - All Media Types, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003), Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
She's a fine specimen of a woman, smiling at him in a way that seems most bold, flashing small white teeth behind deep red lips. Jack could take great pleasure in her, her soft flesh and sweet smells so very different from the angles and musk of life at sea. Sophie is so very far away.He returns her smile, full of promise. Stephen (almost forgotten) murmurs, "I should not, my dear sir. That Irish gentleman appears to be her escort, and they have something of the wild about them.""Thank you, Doctor," Jack says, finding rare ballast on land.
10423389
Will Graham in Drag
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller, Jimmy Price, Jack Crawford", "Fandom": "Hannibal (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by LikeABear", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-24T00:00:00", "words": "3,897", "Additional Tags": "Hannigram - Freeform, Drag Show, Will Graham in fishnets, Hannibal likes it, Will Graham hates it, but he also likes it, Hannibal blowjobs, everyone loves Will in drag, One Shot, PWP, Eyesex", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Will Graham hated everything about today. He had woken up and was out of coffee. The water in his shower took too long to heat, so he had washed briskly in the stark coldness, leaving his hair limp and curling about his face. He had not even been able to rouse the dogs from their lazy heap on his living room floor. It was cold and bitter and winter outside and he wanted to get up no more than they did. But they didn’t have to go to work. They didn’t catch serial killers for a living.  When he had walked into the FBI office, clutching a poorly brewed coffee from the gas station, he was unnerved by an onslaught of cheery smiles and shocked by the oddity of Zeller and Price milling around in party hats. Jack was in the midst of hanging a banner across the laboratory window and Will read it with a growing sense of consternation. Happy Birthday Alana! Good God.He had forgotten Alana’s birthday. There was a small mound of presents piled on a nearby table and Price was leering hopefully at a tray of cupcakes. One of which was topped with a solitary red candle.Oh, Christ. No.And when Alana had opened each gift (that was not Will’s) and thanked everyone (who was not Will) for their kindness, Will attempted to slink backwards into the hallway and out of sight.It was not that easy.“You’re coming tonight, right?” Katz asked, sliding between Will and the exit door. She held a small cup of orange juice in her hand and swirled it absentmindedly.“Tonight?” Will asked without being able to subdue his grimace.“We’re going for drinks,” Katz reminded him, eyeing him as though she knew he had not only forgotten, but had never logged it away in his brain as anything of importance in the first place.Another voice came from behind him. “You forgot.”Will shut his eyes, wishing he had just stayed in bed in the first place. Then he opened them and turned.“Alana,” he said, forcing a smile, “Happy Birthday.”She nodded. “You can just say you forgot, you know.”“I forgot.”She sighed, looking resigned, as though she knew he would all along. That made it worse. That he was expected to disappoint. “It’s all right.”“No, it’s not,” Katz said, throwing Will a fiery look. “You’re coming for drinks tonight.”“I -“ he started, beginning to pull one of his many excuses for social events out of thin air. He had a knack for that. It was a gift, really.“You owe me...a birthday present,” Alana cut in, smiling now, “and I know just what I want.”Katz snorted.Will had felt guilty, and ansty to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible, so he had agreed.“You really going?” Zeller had asked, cupcake in hand. A crumb fell onto the floor. He had a bit of icing on his lip.Will grimaced, his excuse so close to the tip of his tongue, but simply nodded. If only he had used it. If only he had stayed in bed.  Will could have taken the sum of all things awful about today and, still, they would not have added up to this moment. This horrible, humiliating moment.“Alana, this is not what I had in mind when you asked me for a present,” he grumbled and faced the mirror.It was him, of course. He wasn’t that insane. But it was also so not Will Graham. He was wearing a black corset, studded, as if the concept of a corset alone wasn’t bad enough, they had added the studs for flare , with tight black shorts (knickers, the queen had called them. Knickers.), a garter belt that clipped to thigh-high fishnet stockings, all topped off with a pair of leopard print pumps. His hair was its usual muss, and his beard scruff was all still intact, his glasses in place, but the lipstick and glittering blue eye-shadow were not Will Graham, and the heavy sweeps of bright pink blush on each cheekbone were not Will Graham either.“You look great!” she said from behind him and he looked back to her. Alana was also in drag. Her hair was done up in a tight, low ponytail at the nape of her neck, giving the appearance, from the front anyway, of a man’s short haircut. She wore a suit and tie and a fake mustache.“The shorts are tight.”“The knickers?” Alana looked down, checking them. She blinked once before quickly averting her eyes, choosing to fidget with her tie instead. She cleared her throat. “It’s not bad.”“Alana—““Come on, I’m dressed up, too,” she said and then looked down at her own ensemble. “Jacket on or off?”“It’s different and you know it,” he grumbled, checking back to himself in the mirror. The top of his chest shifted beneath the stiff corset, his nipples brushing the very top of it as they peeked from under the pleather and he shuddered and turned away.  “Why would you even want to do this?”“Off,” she agreed to herself, shrugging the jacket off and exposing the vest and white collared shirt underneath. When she faced him again, she shrugged sheepishly. “Always thought it would be fun. And I’m only turning thirty-five once. Figured if I was going to do something wildly out of character, now was the time.”“But why me?”Alana bent and picked up a pink, feathered boa from a nearby chaise. She smirked at him as she brought herself back to standing and held the boa out to him. “Because you forgot my birthday.”There was a knock on the door of the small dressing room they inhabited.“It’s time, honey!” a cheery voice came.Alana smiled again to Will and grabbed his hand.He closed his eyes, wincing. He hated everything about today.   The queen who had knocked on the door led them down the dark hallway behind the stage, telling them both how fabulous they looked and bemoaning the fact that Will had not opted for a wig to match the boa. Will clicked his heels behind Alana, feeling mortified and a little sick. Thank God the hall was empty. Not that it mattered, because soon he would be walking down a runway in full drag next to Alana.At least, that’s what he assumed they were doing. He supposed he should have verified the detail of what exactly he would be expected to accomplish on stage when she had initially forced him into this. Of course, at the time, he had been too hung up on the part where he had to dress like a woman.“So, you’re up first. Then me,” Alana was saying. They had come up to the DJ booth to the right of the stage. Will was still far enough from the stage to remain hidden from view by the black surrounding curtain. But Alana was closer and peeked around the thick veil of velvet at the crowd. “Oh, Dr. Lector’s here!” she added happily.“Wait- what?” Will stammered.The music, loud and incessant, was pumping-- thumping, even. Will could feel the actual walls moving in vibration with the bass.“I picked a song for you,” she continued, her voice sounding too low and too far away for Will to make out. Or, maybe it was him that was too far away. Too far out there to make logic out what she was telling him.He blinked.  Beams of pink, purple and green light were filtering in through the curtain, breaking the darkness of backstage. His ears thrummed from the bouncing beat of the song.“What?” he repeated, shouting now to be heard. He was feeling light-headed. He put a hand out to the partition to steady himself and almost tripped as he gripped what he had thought was solid wall but was, in fact, the swaying curtain.“Easy on those, heels, honey,” the drag queen laughed and Will looked up to her with wide, bewildered eyes. When had she gotten here?Alana placed a hand on his arm and he looked down to it, swallowing hard.“Are you okay?” she mouthed but no sound came. Will stared down at her hand, unable to feel the weight of it on his arm. He forced a deep breath. He was going numb. Then a new song started, jolting him as it blared from the sound speakers around them.OOOH, BABY, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT’S WORTH?“You’re up!” the queen called and yanked Will forward. He gave Alana one fleeting, panicked look before he was thrown out onto the stage at the front of the bar she had dragged him to on her birthday. The drag show bar.OOOH, HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH.Will stood there, blinded by the laser-like lights from the stage blasting at him from all angles and drenching his body in neon.THEY SAY IN HEAVEN, LOVE COMES FIRST.His eyes adjusted. Slowly, faces in the crowd were forming. In the second row he could make out his co-workers: Jack, putting his hand to his face and shaking his head, Zeller, with his phone out, snapping a picture, Price, spilling his drink on his shirt in startled surprise, Katz, mouth open in blank shock.And there, closest to the stage, was Dr. Hannibal Lector. He was in one of his signature three-piece plaid suits, tightly buttoned up, and looking like the epitome of posh and class. And he was studying Will on stage, standing there in a studded corset and thigh-high fishnets and Will wanted to die .WE’LL MAKE HEAVEN A PLACE ON EARTH!Katz stood, her hands cupping her mouth. “Dance, Will!” she called out, raising her eyebrows and moving her hands to indicate he should do something .Will steadied himself, his heart now pounding behind his ribcage, his breath light and quick. His eyes caught Dr. Lector’s and Dr. Lector leaned back into his chair, hands folded neatly in his lap as he looked up expectantly at Will.OOOH, HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH.Keyboard rifts blared and Will bit his lower lip, forcing himself to move.  He had to move. It was either move or faint. And, between the two options at the moment, attempting to dance to this song on stage in a drag bar in front of colleagues and strangers was the better choice.He put his hand to the feathered boa and lifted it from where it hung at his side. No idea what he was doing, he twirled it at his side feebly.Someone in the crowd laughed.Oh God.He cleared his throat a little and tapped his foot. Tap, tap, tap, tap. At this sudden participation with the song, the spotlight found him, blinding him once more. He twirled the boa again, putting a hand on his hip and hoping to God he didn’t look as ridiculous as he felt.“Yeah!!” someone cried from the crowd and Will let out a strangled laugh, somewhere between relief and alarm. He decided he shouldn’t just stand in one spot. So he walked. He clicked his way down to one side of the stage, twirling his boa next to him. When he reached the end, he turned back. He spotted Alana at the other end, still concealed from the audience by the curtain, smiling and clapping in delight.  She looked so pleased that Will gave a small smile, unable to help himself.All right, he could do this.He added a bit of a strut to his walk back to the center of the stage. Hand on his hip, he faced the crowd and flicked the boa over his left shoulder. They whooped encouragingly. The lights shifted and he could see his group from the FBI once more, all laughing and clapping and raising their glasses to him. Supportive. Cheering him on.Then there was Hannibal. Center amongst the boisterous crowd, sitting very still and very quiet. People were standing up around him, arms flailing as they danced along and applauded. Hannibal remained stoic. Hands still folded, face composed, Hannibal straightened up in his chair, his eyes following Will as he moved. Back and forth on the stage, those dark, brown eyes stayed trained solely on him.Will swallowed, looking down and away from Hannibal’s gaze. Unsure of what to do next, he bent at the waist, his hands sliding down the netting of his stockings, grazing the bumps of his knees and planes of his shins. When he looked back up, fingers touching the floor and legs braced apart, Hannibal’s eyes were on him.Watching. Waiting.Will felt heat run through him, his free hand starting to quiver. He tried to recuperate, tried not to react to the intensity of Hannibal’s stare. He brought his hand back up, over the knickers, over the pleather and each stud of his corset. He knew Hannibal was noticing, knew that Hannibal was acutely aware of every movement of his body. Will barely realized that his nipples were out and hard, even as his own fingers brushed lightly past them.He shut his eyes, shut his mouth from panting, and turned his head to the side, his hand resting on his own shoulder.The sound of the crowd fell away and Will’s lids flew open. He no longer felt like dozens of people were watching him. No, this was more intimate. He was on display, splayed and preening in the spotlight, with only Hannibal there. Lone. Quiet. And mercilessly, shamelessly, watching.Will turned around quickly. He was sweating now. He pulled the boa off of him and threw it to the ground. Another round of whoops, and “oh yeahs!” came from the crowd. He ran a hand into his hair, panting for breath, then another. The muscles in his back clenched. Christ. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe. The audience’s screams and blare of the music rushed back into him all at once, flooding his mind. A bead of sweat ran between the space of his shoulders. He felt Hannibal’s stare on the back of him, felt those eyes trailing down, following that droplet as it crept along his skin. Knowing that in this crowded room, Hannibal was fixated on him alone….The tightness in his knickers worsened.Will turned back, his hands still knotted in his hair. He brought them slowly down the back of his neck and rested them at his shoulders. His chest rose out of the corset as he took in a breath and closed his eyes, tilting his face up towards the spotlight. Fuck. This was worse. He could feel Hannibal, still. Feel the glare of his gaze as Will stood there: chest out, cock hard, and head leaned back into the cup of his hands.The last few beats of the song faded out and then the lights went dark around him. Thank God. Will clicked off the stage, his legs shaking. There were cheers.“Oh my God! Will!” Alana exclaimed as he strode past her. He didn’t even look at her. He had to get out of here. He had to get the hell out of these clothes.He made it halfway down the hall when he heard his voice.“That was quite a show.”Will kept his eyes from Hannibal, opting instead to stare at the floor.“I didn’t know you were coming.” Will’s voice was ragged, as though he had just run a mile.“But you saw me in the audience.” It was not a question.Will nodded. He didn’t know what else to do so he kept on nodding. His glasses slipped down his nose and he fixed them.Hannibal stepped closer. “How did it make you feel, Will?” Fuck. Will put a hand to cover his crotch. “Cross-dressing?” he asked.Hannibal smiled and took another step. “Sometimes we can only allow ourselves to truly be seen when we feel as though no one will notice.”Will choked out a laugh.“I’m pretty sure people noticed this.” He gestured to the corset.“Dressing up is an instrument of distraction, is it not?” Hannibal theorized softly with another step.“I’m not looking for a therapy session, Dr. Lector,” Will stammered, looking up and finding that Hannibal had moved in closer to him. He inhaled a sharp breath.He was within arms reach. Will could put out a hand and touch him. If he wanted to. He could reach out and grab that smartly tucked tie and pull him to him. He could muss up that perfectly combed hair, wipe that smirk off of his smug face… if he wanted to.The room left in his knickers was obsolete. He was hard. Harder than he had been on stage. His cock pressed against the tight pleather of women’s underwear and Hannibal was so fucking close and so fucking buttoned up, Will’s hands started to shake.He put one up to his face, covering it. What the fuck was happening to him? “What is it you’re looking for, Will?”Will shook his head. “I’m not— I just— stop.”“Stop what?”“Stop staring at me,” Will ground out.“Is that what you want?”Will’s cock twitched. He let his hand drop and there, again, were the brown eyes, so starkly alight amid the calm of Lector’s face. Staring ruthlessly at him. Reading him. Penetrating him. Cracking him open to peer inside and see. Everything. Every piece. Every thought. All of him. And Will could take no more.He shoved himself onto Lector, crashing into him with one hand around the back of Hannibal’s neck and the other fisting into that fucking tie. “That’s not what I want,” he managed to get out before he let his mouth open and clumsily found Hannibal’s, his teeth dragging across Hannibal’s lips until their mouths met. He could feel Lector’s surprise. Could feel the small lurch backwards as Will had thrust himself upon him. But then Hannibal was kissing back. There was tongue where there hadn’t been, moving forcefully into Will’s mouth and licking the back of Will’s teeth and Will groaned at the tease of it. He pushed Hannibal back further, down the remainder of the hallway, trying to find the dressing room door without having to take his mouth from him.Blissfully, Hannibal found the doorknob. His hand behind him, he gave it a forceful turn and in they went, tangled in each other, kissing wildly.Will shut the door behind him, breaking away to breathe. He looked up to the ceiling, panting harder now as Hannibal moved down to Will’s throat, trailing it with teeth and tongue. Fuck. “Shut the light,” Will breathed, inhaling deeply and staring up at the stark high hats above them.Hannibal bit his collarbone. “Absolutely not.”Will moaned and put his hands to Hannibal’s hair, pulling it out of its perfect state. “Do you like me like this, Dr. Lector?” he asked, “Do you like seeing me like this?”Hannibal licked the length of Will’s sternum and looked up, his lower lip caught on the skin of Will’s chest. There was lipstick on it. “I would like to see you in much less than this.”Will nodded anxiously, fisting his hands harder into Hannibal’s hair. He closed his own eyes and leaned down, pressing his mouth to Hannibal’s lips and kissing him there.“I had to watch you stare at me on that stage,” he mumbled into Hannibal’s mouth, “driving me crazy. Making me feel--”Hannibal kissed him harder, his tongue slipping past parted lips, tasting. Will groaned, shoving Hannibal at the chest. “I know what I want Dr. Lector,” he ground out, “I want to watch you now. I want to watch you make me come”Hannibal was already in motion. His hands ran up the back of the corset, unzipping it from Will’s torso so that the whole of his chest was exposed. Hannibal trailed down it, down the hollow of his chest and the grooves of Will’s stomach, down to the small, straining black knickers Will had hated so much and yanked them down.Will was freed. The length of his cock bounded from under the restraining fabric and he gasped, his breath coming faster. The knickers sat taut and stretched across his thighs, their tiny clips still suspending his stockings.“Wait,” he panted, pulling at the shoulders of Hannibal’s jacket.“I’ve waited long enough, Will,” Hannibal’s voice came. Will could feel Hannibal’s breath against his skin. He nodded and felt the warmth of Hannibal’s mouth close over him.“Ahh-” he gasped, losing his footing and pushing Hannibal back. Pushing him down so that Lector was backed into the edge of the chaise.. Then Will pushed firmly, intently against him so that Hannibal dropped into the cushions, lying on his back.Hannibal grabbed Will by the tight waistband of those tiny knickers and brought Will to his mouth, his lips brushing over him before taking him in once more.Will leaned himself into the chaise, into Hannibal. His knees parted, making room for Hannibal to hold him, for him to put a fishnetted knee to the cushion of the chair and straddle Hannibal’s face. He let Hannibal suck him. Let him taste and lick. He could feel the back teeth in Hannibal’s mouth along the side of his dick match the lengthy pull of Hannibal’s throat. The sensation of it taking over him. It was not just head. It was not just head from a man.  It was Hannibal. The feeling of Hannibal around him. The feeling of his dick down Hannibal’s throat. Wet and hot and—He gasped again, fingers clenching Hannibal’s hair, now thoroughly, rightfully, mussed.“Will,” Hannibal answered, his hand wrapping around the base of Will’s erection. His face flushed, he took Will in deeper. “Come.”Will’s hips jerked. “Yes,” he breathed, “Okay, yes.”Hands clenched around his hips, and Will let himself fuck Hannibal. Let himself thrust and pull into that perfectly prim mouth. Until, finally, he came. Short, incredible bursts, punctuated by his own staccato breath. He came into Hannibal’s mouth and then collapsed on top of him.They lay there breathing against one another and Hannibal wiped idly at the corner of his lips, making the gesture look strangely elegant. Then he put them to Will’s hair.“I see you, Will,” Hannibal said, a hand brushing up to Will’s face. “And you see me. When we think no one will notice, we see each other.”Will nodded against his chest. “Yes.” It was true. Fuck, was it true. “But…” he added.“What is it?” Hannibal asked.Will propped himself up on his elbow, surveying Hannibal beneath him. “I hope you know I’m never dressing up like this again.”Hannibal tilted his head, looking off to the side smugly. “We shall see.”Will frowned, but lowered his head back down to the soft rise and fall of Hannibal’s chest once more. He supposed Hannibal would end up being right about that, too. That there was much more of what they had done—corset or not—in their future. But for now, he only wanted to lie there and enjoy a moment of today that he most definitely did not hate, while no one else could notice.
10430595
Heartlines
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Alex Danvers, Maggie Sawyer, Jimmy Olsen, Lucy Lane (DCU)", "Fandom": "Supergirl (TV 2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by tinysweatervest", "chapters": "9/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-24T00:00:00", "words": "5,505", "Additional Tags": "Fluff, One Shot Collection, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, I'll add more characters and relationships as they come up, Angst, Smut", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, Maggie Sawyer & Jimmy Olsen, Maggie Sawyer & Lucy Lane", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It was 9 pm, Alex was tired, she’d been run rampant all day. She’d seen more x-rays and IV needles than she’d like to admit for just one days work. It was two hours past her check out time but the lobby was overcrowded with kids who needed stitches and adults with chronic nosebleeds. She had to take care of most of them until she was paged to room 211.“Room 211? What hallway is that on?” she mumbles, Lucy picks up on it and laughs. Alex spins around wondering how the Intern heard what she said and why she was pointing her in the right direction, that wasn’t like Lucy at all.“It’s on James’ hallway, he’s probably the one who paged you,” she smirks. Now she knows why Lucy was helping her, James is on that hallway, she’s hoping that Alex would take her down from observing from the front desk to go see her boyfriend.Biting the inside of her cheek and biting out an insincere thank you, she heads down the right hallway to go meet up with James. Leaning against 211′s door frame as the patient and James converse Alex takes note of the woman in the bed.She’s in NCPD uniform, she’s sitting up and engaged in conversation, she’s only using one hand for her movements though, she’s struggling not to use both it seems. Alex knocks on the door, not waiting for either of them to say to come in.“Dr. Danvers, nice of you to join us,” James nods at her, then returning his attention to the officer.“Us? Who’s this?” She asks, tilting her head at the patient.“Maggie Sawyer, NCPD Detective, Science division,” she extends her hand in greeting, keeping the other close to her. Alex arches an eyebrow at the act but it’s mostly at the hand she isn’t shaking rather than the handshake itself.“Alex Danvers, or Dr. Danvers, doesn’t matter. Want me to check out that hand of yours?” She asks with a grin. James is there to fetch supplies and to document what Alex does as a part of his course study. She reminds him to get his notes ready as Maggie outstretches her hand. Her hand is swollen and bruised, the index finger is crooked at an angle that seems to be out of an abstract painting. The middle and ring finger are taped together in a messy effort to try and keep them out of the way of her pinkie finger, which is too far over to the right for Alex’s liking. “It seems we’ve found one of the minnows from the lobby,” she says to James over her shoulder, he laughs and nods in agreement.“How long were you waiting out there?” he asks Maggie.“Not too long, I asked for Alex and didn’t have to cradle my hand for much longer after that,” she beams up at Alex, causing her to become confused. She didn’t know Maggie or doesn’t remember knowing her before a few moments ago. Maggie tilts her head, understanding the look on Alex’s face.“You don’t remember stitching up my eyebrow?”Oh. That Maggie Sawyer.Alex was in for a long night. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It’s not that Maggie wasn’t up for a car chase at three in the morning, it’s that she’s on a stakeout when it happens. The noise of the motorcycle flying by scares away her prime suspect. The suspect she’d chased across three county lines for two weeks on a drug smuggling charge. They were right in her sights, she could see them standing on the fire escape attempting to get away.It took Maggie too long to get out her badge so she huffed in defeat, making a mental note to write the rider a ticket, if she could catch them. She pulled her car out of the alley, flashing her high beams one last time to scare off anything else from the area. Checking both ways before she turns out, another blur speeds by.“Another one?” she yells as she turns on her lights and starts after them. They seem to have no intention of stopping. The driver gets cocky enough to turn around and look at Maggie instead of paying attention the road ahead. The driver veers off the road, into a pile of garbage and two trashcans. The skidding and clanging is an unpleasant echo in the early morning air. Maggie hopes they’re not hurt as she quickly unbuckles herself and runs over to assist them.“Hey, you okay there night owl?” she laughs, extending her hand. She retracts it when she realizes the driver can’t get up. They’re laying on their side, curled around a trash bag full of household scraps. Maggie steps in to take off their helmet, she’s surprised when they don’t resist her doing so.Short hair falls from the helmet, she didn’t expect the face attached to it. It was Alex, as in Alex Danvers, National City’s most evasive speedster. Alex was slowly coming to, her head stops spinning long enough to know she’s been caught. She scrambles among the garbage but the shooting pain in her side stops her from moving any more than a few centimeters.“Oh no, you’re coming with me Danvers, well I mean with me to the hospital then to the station so we can get you an attorney.”Alex waves Maggie off, her head and her side hurting too much for her to pay attention to the gloating cop beside her.“Just get me an ambulance,” she mumbles, slumping back onto the ground. Maggie grins as she gets out her phone, calling for an ambulance and a couple extra officers to track down the person Alex was riding behind.  “You know, this is my thirty fifth ticket of the month,” Maggie brags to James as he helps her get Alex’s bike out of the garbage pile.“We all know that Sawyer, you’re not one to let things like this go easily,” he eyes over to Alex.“What are you implying Olsen?” she glares, clicking her pen and putting it back in her pocket. James smirks, knowing he has her attention now.“For as long as you’ve been trying to catch her, and the information you know about her and her case, some people might say you have a crush on her.”“Shut your mouth before I write you up for disrespecting an officer.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Maggie was tired and wanted to go home. It had been a long first day and it didn’t help that she was now having to babysit someone’s misbehaved kid until they got here to talk with her. Jacob Danvers, a seventh grader with one hell of an attitude.She’d started her day expecting resistance, it was Algebra after all. What she didn’t expect was for several kids to start a fight in fourth period over something as silly as an eraser. It was middle school so she had prepared herself for fights, but not this early in the year and over something you could buy at Office Max for less than a dollar.When Maggie reprimanded Jacob, who had started the fight, he didn’t seem to be planning on playing nice. His jaw was clenched, arms crossed over his chest, eyes set in a glare at Maggie from across the room. He sat where Maggie had put him in the middle of class as an effort to separate him from the other two boys. No punches had been thrown thankfully but she was still wary that with Jacob’s unfriendliness he’d start something when there weren’t teachers to catch him.:”My mom says she’s downstairs in the office waiting for you, are you gonna go pick her up or?” Jacob asks from the back of the room, his position is slumped and his face set in a scowl. Maggie laughed at his face, telling him that it’d get stuck that way if he kept up at it. She calls down to the front office to let Lucy know that she and Jacob were coming downstairs to meet Ms. Danvers. “Where are you going? You’re just gonna leave me-”“Do you seriously think I’d leave a kid who almost got punched on his first day of seventh grade alone in my classroom? C’mon Jacob think it through,” she huffs as she waits for him to get out so she could lock up her things. He stands beside her as she gets her keys out of her bag, his hands are stuck in the pockets of his over sized hoodie. He’s a tall lanky boy, his hair’s trimmed short, his eyes are hazel and lack emotion most of the time. He’s trying to keep his pants up as they walk down the hallway, Maggie glances at him, wondering what to do.“Do you want my belt?” she offers. Jacob looks up in surprise, but clouds it over quickly with disgust. “He just wants to seem tough,” Maggie reassures herself. She sighs, re-buckling the belt she doesn’t need but wore just because it looked nice with her outfit. A whisper comes from Jacobs direction, a whisper that sounds unmistakably like “Yes.”“My mom’s not like other moms,” Jacob begins after fixing the belt to where it could hold up his pants. Maggie quirks an eyebrow, signaling for him to continue. “She’s like you.”“Jacob I know a lot of moms that are math teachers, it just doesn’t make for very good party talk-”“No,” he huffs, angry that Maggie cut him off. Maggie stops to listen as Jacob’s face falls. “She’s, she likes girls, just like you do.” Maggie thinks about what Jacob says for a moment, letting it stew over in her head as she makes connections she didn’t think she’d have to make as a teacher. Jacob’s mom was single, around Maggie’s age, and is a lesbian? Those descriptions are sounding awfully similar to the woman she took out to dinner the other night.“Mom!” Jacob yells, running towards her. Maggie prepares a smile as she shakes herself from her thoughts. Jacob’s still being hugged by his mom, she looks up to greet Maggie, her face looks a bit shocked until they realize their awkward situation.“Maggie?”“Alex?” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Emily was here, and so was Alex, Maggie was worried to say the least. She had seen Emily earlier in the day, and Alex had insisted she was being cool about it and invited Emily to an impromptu dinner with the couple. It’s not like Maggie had anything planned, but the fact she and her ex were going to be together in the same room as Alex, it brought a sense of nausea to her mouth.This was Emily, 5 years ago, messy ending breakup, almost a court case Emily. This was bad, she was here, she was here and there was nothing Maggie can do to run from it, except maybe run to Alex in concern. She’d have to tell her the whole story first.They’re both sitting in Maggie’s apartment, on the couch, Alex content in Maggie’s arms. Maggie wouldn’t trade anything in the world for this, but there’s a part of her nagging inside that maybe she would, maybe she could’ve had this with Emily. She pushes the thought away with a shiver, which Alex notices because it woke her from her nap.“You okay?” she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Maggie smile softly down at her girlfriend, reassuring her she’s fine. She’s anything but fine, she’s second guessing her feelings for Alex. Alex, this strong, amazing, wonderful woman in front of her; for what? For Emily? Some ex she hasn’t talked to in half a decade and was the reason she moved from Gotham? No, Maggie won’t do that to Alex, and the fact some part of her brain is even bringing the idea to the surface is concerning. You don’t want me, you just want your ex to see, ex to see Maggie does want Alex, more than anything. She wants Alex to be there for her highs and lows, the moments she comes home from work and she’s in a shit mood because she lost an officer, or the good moods because they helped put away and alien drug smuggling ring. She wants Alex there beside her when she wakes up at five am every day, morning breath and all.She does want to show Alex off to Emily, not as a status symbol or a way to get back at her, but to show her that she’s moved on and that she’s found someone and she hopes Emily can do the same. Emily won’t find someone like Alex, half of her nags at the other telling her that she was her Alex. Maggie’s still sitting on the couch with Alex on her lap as her internal thoughts create an inescapable avalanche in her head. She sighs, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Alex’s forehead, whispering she’s going to get something to drink. Alex gets off of her and follows her to the kitchen. She wasn’t counting on Alex to move, so Maggie can’t exactly get buzzed to distract herself from her thoughts.She sits across from Alex with a water bottle she grabbed off the counter and some painkillers she just got out of the cabinet. Alex arches an eyebrow at her girlfriend, she’s worried and curious what the need is for Maggie to take the medicine since she wasn’t complaining about any pain earlier. She knows Maggie, she knows she complains when she has a headache but not when she gets shot at work; it’s weird. She grabs Maggie’s hand with the pills in it, unfolding it to see the three Advils in her palm. Well there ain’t enough smoke in my eyes to hide the kinda games you’re trying to play. “Everything okay there detective?” Alex laughs nervously, her eyes failing to hide her anxiousness.“Yeah, just have a headache from the movie is all, can we turn it down?” Maggie asks, dodging her question.“Oh, sure. I’m sorry it was too loud, weird how I slept through it then,” Alex says over her shoulder as she clicks down the volume on the remote. Maggie meets her at the couch, placing her water on the table and patting her lap for Alex to place her head there. Alex smiles, wrapping her arms around Maggie tight and snuggling her head into Maggie’s side.An alert on Maggie’s phone goes off, causing both women to jump up in alarm. After realizing they’re both together, they’re both okay, Maggie relaxes into the couch. Alex grabs Maggie’s wrist lazily instead of looking at her own watch.“It’s quarter until six,” she mumbles, “when did Emily want to go to dinner?”Oh, that. Maggie had pushed that as far back in her mind as it would let her, trying to forget she had to face the music at some point in time. She shrugs, whispering to Alex that you could always push it off and stay here for the night.“C’mon, I really want to get to meet her, she seems nice.”“You’re just saying that to make me feel better about the whole ex back in town thing, Danvers,” Maggie laughs as her cheeks turn a shade of red. Alex backpedals, saying she just wants to know more about Maggie, about her time in Gotham.“You want to know more about Gotham? Or more about my ex and I in Gotham?”“Maybe a little bit of both.” Alex admits, squeezing Maggie’s hand. Girl you look kinda cute, called out “Well if we want to get to the place I think we both have in mind for tonight,” Maggie begins, helping Alex off the couch, “then we’d better get you dressed, pretty lady.”“Me?” Alex laughs, looking Maggie over, “What about you?”“What, I can’t go in my work clothes?”“Maggie, you wore those today, and even if Emily didn’t see you in them, I did. Besides you smell like popcorn and rainwater.”“Not exactly the scent I was going for there,” Maggie mutters, letting Alex take her hand and guide her to the closet. I guess I can play along, I guess I can play along.  It was dinner, Emily wasn’t here yet but Alex could already tell Maggie was a mess. She keeps shaking her leg, and in result the table, her hands are clammy and a bit too tightly wrapped around Alex’s. She doesn’t know why she’s worried until Emily walks in with a date of her own. Alex doesn’t look at Emily or her date for very long to know neither of them were expecting this, especially not Maggie. This was supposed to be a dinner between the three of them, not the three of them and someone Emily wanted to bring to one up her, Maggie’s girlfriend. She walks in, it all makes sense Maggie’s a mess and Alex doesn’t know how to calm her down in any way except to let Maggie kiss her, so she lets her. She looks at Maggie with a weak smile and puppy dog eyes, knowing she can’t resist one or the other. Her smile grows when Alex feels Maggie’s lips on hers, that her shoulders aren’t as tense as they were a few moments ago, that she’s relaxing. Suddenly you’re climbing over next to me, next to me, I ain’t no fool, you rascal you. Girl come here and kiss me. Dinner was a bit weird after that. Maggie had made some excuse to go to the bathroom after things began to get awkward, giving Alex a glance to come with her. She takes Maggie’s hand as both women walk there, Alex not expecting the urge to kiss her again before the two get there.“Do you think she saw?” Alex asks after they both step back in semi amusement. Maggie takes a look over to the table. Emily's date is disgruntled, he seems intent on leaving, Emily seems mad too but more sad than anything. I just want your ex to see ex to see, ex to see “Yeah, they saw what I see everyday,” Maggie replies. Alex blushes, putting her hand in Maggie’s again.“Yeah?”“Someone I’m going to love for the rest of my life.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Kara noticed her first while she was planting flowers with Alex. She’d asked her who the person across the street was, Alex wasn’t aware someone had moved in. Alex made a mental note to talk to her eventually, she had a garden to plant. Kara seemed hung up on it, due to her being the people person she is. Alex groaned, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she gets up to get her water bottle.“Hey neighbor!” the woman across the street waved.“Hey, want to come help us plant?” Kara yelled over to her. Alex cringed as this was supposed to be her and Kara’s time together. Alex had moved out to National City for work so she doesn’t get to see since Kara’s still in Metropolis with James. Sighing and dusting the dirt off of her overalls, she gets up to greet the newcomer along with her sister.As the neighbor came closer Alex recognized her. She’d helped her pick out indoor plants for her house. Maggie (she thinks that’s her name but she isn’t sure) was nice enough, an NCPD officer looking for miniature Cacti had been the highlight of her Thursday afternoon.“Hey, Alex right?” Maggie asked with a head tilt and outstretched hand.“Yeah,” Alex replied, hoping she was right with her name, “Maggie?”“Yep, Officer Maggie Sawyer, NCPD Science Division,” she smirked as she reached into her pocket to grab her badge, showing Alex and Kara with pride. Alex was impressed to say the least, a florist like herself could never be up to par with an authoritative figure like Maggie.“So, Kara begins, trying to break the awkward silence between all of them, “you moved in across the street right?”Alex almost facepalms at her sister’s question. Even with Kara being the sunshine personality she is, she knows nothing about socialization. Maggie flashes a smile at Alex, she knows too apparently.“Yeah, do both of you live here?” she asks, pointing to the pair then back to the house behind them. Alex laughs, the thought itself is innocent but the reality isn’t as so. Kara’s blushing, probably thinking Maggie thought they were a couple or something. Before the red on Kara’s cheeks becomes anymore noticeable Alex clarifies.“No No, just me, this is my sister Kara.” Kara nods before excusing herself to go clean up for dinner.“Sorry, she’s a bit funny with new people,” Alex mumbles, “Do you wanna join us for dinner or something, y’know as a welcome to the neighborhood kind of thing?”“Oh that’s so nice of you to offer, but I actually have plans tonight with my girlfriend.”“Girlfriend?” Alex says in surprise. Maggie’s face sours, hoping that she wouldn’t have a problem here in National City with her sexuality as she had in Gotham. “Oh yeah I mean, sorry I was just excited to hear that I wasn’t the only lesbian in the couldesac anymore,” Alex chuckles. Maggie raises her eyebrows and smiles before saying goodbye to her.Once Maggie was gone Alex checked herself for any dirt before running into the house.“Kara!” She called out. Kara poked her head out from the kitchen.“Yeah, is something wrong?” she asked with a mouth half full of food.“No, It’s, I mean kind of? Not that it’s bad though it’s just unexpected-”“Spit it out the pizza is burning.”“Maggie’s gay.”“That’s new.” Kara replied before heading back to the kitchen to take out the pizza. Alex sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and walking over to meet her. She slumped into the wooden chair, defeated that last summer seemed to be making an appearance again but in a different person.“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about Maggie already-”“But I am.”“Alex she just moved in, she- she has a girlfriend!”“When has that stopped me?” Alex mutters. Kara frowns, setting the pizza on the counter and sitting next to her sister.“You’re not the same person you were a year ago, okay?” Kara tries to reassure her. “You’ve changed, just like flowers bloom again so have you.”Kara was right, she’s always right. Alex gets up to get the pizza, hoping that this summer would be different. That this summer was the start of something new, other than being neighbors. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- An impending storm was going to hit National City, one with skies that look like fresh bruises and raindrops that sound like bullets. Maggie hated thunderstorms, she always has ever since she was a small child. That fear became more pronounced the farther away she went from home. Distance reminds her storms and how they move, storms and how she had to move quickly in the rain on a case, or when her parents kicked her out.She’d ran in the rain before a kindergartner, running into her fathers arms as he sit crouched under his umbrella. He’d pick her up and spin her around, Maggie snug against his chest with one arm and the other occupied with holding the umbrella. Maggie would laugh along with her father as he put her in her car seat. There’d always be a warm bowl of spaghetti-o’s waiting for her when she got home. That was then, this is now.A now where Maggie is cowering under the blankets on the couch, trying not to cry over memories as blue as the sky is before the storm. How she’d run from home until she got to her aunt’s house. Crying in her arms, she didn’t know the difference between the tears and the rain and Maggie didn’t want to know. She’d felt as if the rain falling outside were her tears rather than a part of the water cycle.Alex wasn’t here, she was stuck at the DEO working on the closing files on a case they had worked together earlier in the week. It was another alien drug ring that had somehow escaped NCPD’s radar, but luckily the DEO caught it before it blew up in both of their faces. Maggie smiles as she remembers the celebratory dinner her and the gang went out to that night, and how Alex treated her to dessert back at home.She slumps into the couch cushions, bringing the blanket up to her nose. Hearing the news play softly in the background as the rain pounds outside isn’t exactly helping her calm down. She just hopes Alex is home soon. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It was Friday night, both Maggie and Alex were home from work and currently cuddled together on the couch. Maggie inches closer to Alex, trying to get the television remote.Alex glances at her, arching an eyebrow.“Not a chance Sawyer, you made me watch American Ninja Warrior all night last week,” she laughs, holding the remote up over Maggie.With a grumble Maggie shifts beside alex, sitting up then climbing onto her lap.“Please?” She asks, tilting her head and giving Alex her best puppy dog eyes.“Nope, I still have a headache from you yelling because you couldn’t read the subtitles in time.”Maggie smirks and rolls her hips a bit, causing Alex to pause her next statement and furrow her eyebrows.“Maggie, that’s not going to work on me.”“Really?” She whispers, nipping at Alex’s earlobe, “because if I recall correctly you haven’t cum since two nights ago because you were too exhausted.”A shudder runs through Alex’s body, a moan escaping her mouth as she leans her forehead on Maggie’s shoulder. She still has one arm up in the air with the remote as if Maggie isn’t able to reach it.“Alex, if you give me the remote I’ll eat you out to the entirety of any soundtrack you want.”“Even Hamilton?”Maggie groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.“Yes even Hamilton.”The remote drops onto the couch beside them as Alex pulls Maggie into a bruising kiss. It’s hot and needy, it takes Maggie by surprise. She pulls away from Alex, eyes half open and a smile on her face.“We’re not going to watch TV are we?”“Nope.”Maggie sighs, taking the remote and crawling off of Alex, turning around to turn off the TV. Alex looks at her with heavy lidded eyes, the animalistic look in them would be more appealing if she wasn’t about to spend two and a half hours reliving junior year history class through rap. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It was simple, the two of them were destined to be enemies. Alex Danvers, twenty and a half, five foot six inches, short brown hair, biology major. Maggie Sawyer, twenty one, five foot three inches, long black hair, criminal justice major. Alex came stumbling into the social science lecture with wet hair and a half empty coffee cup, sputtering out apologies for being late and an excuse that she got lost. Maggie smirked, elbowing Lucy Lane to pay attention to her next few words.“This your first rodeo, princess?” Maggie shouted from the top of theater. Alex tracked down the direction the jab came from, eyes narrowing when Maggie waved at her smugly. Alex huffed, wet hair dripping onto the floor with loud plops. “Well? Is it?” Maggie poked at her again as she stood in the doorway. Alex took a deep breath, stepping into the auditorium.“No it’s not my first time dealing with arrogant pricks who think their good grades and charm can get them through college,” she snapped. Maggie set her jaw, glaring at Lucy when she laughed at Alex’s quip.“That’s enough, Danvers, go sit next to sawyer since you two seem to have gotten comfortable enough,” Professor Adams ordered, his eyes guiding Alex to the seat next to Maggie. Alex thanked him and made her way up to the top. As Alex sat down beside her, Maggie slumped further into her seat, pulling the drawstrings of her lacrosse hoodie tighter.“How do you guys even hear from up here?” Alex asked the two as she tried to listen to Adams and write at the same time. Maggie grumbled and Lucy leaned forward, outstretching her hand.“Lucy Lane, Criminal Justice Major, I saw you already met Maggie. To answer your question, we don’t, Maggie tapes the lectures and writes them down later. I can send last weeks to you on google drive if you-”“We are not sharing,” Maggie says as she pulls her hoodie down, letting her messy hair out of the cotton cage it was in earlier. Lucy frowns, whispering that she’ll link Alex later as Maggie puts in her earbuds and drowns out both of them. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Maggie didn’t understand, half of the anger billowing beneath her ribs wanted to find out. The other half wanted to march over to Alex and ask her what the fuck she thinks she’s doing. She’s doing her job for one, the other thing she’s doing is being too cozy with Supergirl. The adoration in Alex’s eyes used to be reserved for her and her only, but apparently it also is cast to superheros in stupidly tight uniforms.She chews on the inside of her cheek, only stopping when she notices the pain inside her mouth outweighs the pain in her heart. The taste of blood in her mouth is unpleasant, a reminder of when her and Alex were hiding in the storage facility while Supergirl took to beating up her captor. Supergirl, Supergirl, Supergirl. It was always “thank you Supergirl” and “isn’t she great?” She was great, great at stealing Alex’s attention.In her angry haze she doesn’t notice Alex coming over and kissing her until Alex is cupping her face, Alex’s features distraught. Maggie quirks an eyebrow and frowns, trying to pull away from her girlfriend’s touch. Alex’s face sours as she pulls Maggie back in place.“Maggie,” she huffs as she stares into angry brown irises, trying to be patient and not assume anything.“What?” she mumbles, her eyes downcast to her feet.“Is something bothering you?”“More like someone,” Maggie mutters in response. Alex’s phone rings before she can ask who, she flashes Maggie an I’m sorry glance as she mouths the words “it’s J’onn.” She nods, understanding the circumstances. Hopefully Alex would forget by the time they got off work and went back to Alex’s apartment. She didn’t. Maggie knew she didn’t because she held her hand in front of her chief, she doesn’t do that unless she thinks she needs to reassure Maggie. It usually works, but not today. That doesn’t stop Maggie from squeezing Alex’s hand in return, trying to convince Alex that she’s fine so she can continue to bottle what’s bothering her.The cheek kiss as they get in their separate cars, the smile she gives Alex as she checks in with her that they’re still on for pizza and beers tonight.“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Danvers.”The grin that lit up Alex’s face almost makes Maggie think that maybe she had forgotten, that she was so concentrated on the case and having something familiar to fall back on that she had forgotten about earlier. She didn’t.They were both on the couch, Maggie’s head in Alex’s lap as the white noise from the television buzzes in the background. Alex runs her fingers through her hair; Maggie eases into Alex’s fingers, sighing as tension is released.“I know something’s still bothering you,” she whispers, placing a kiss on her forehead. Maggie grumbles, tugging the blanket around herself. “If you don’t want to talk about it it’s fine. I do need to talk about the case though,” Alex pauses waiting for a cue that she can continue (Maggie usually doesn’t like talking about work on their nights in together, but tonight felt different.) Maggie looks up, meeting Alex’s eyes. Alex nods, continuing where she had left off.“The criminals got away, but Supergirl-”Maggie’s body tensed at the mention of the superhero. Alex’s fingers stopped moving, she bent down to meet Maggie’s gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re upset with-”“I am,” Maggie admits, feeling stupid that her feelings are out in the open, that she can’t swipe at the air to catch and re-bottle them. She bites her tongue so she doesn’t accuse Alex of something that Maggie was probably over examining. Alex slumps into the couch, realizing Maggie isn’t going to tell her tonight.Running her fingers through her own hair she sighs, getting off the couch and stretching. Maggie takes the hint and gets up as well, kissing Alex goodbye, telling her that she has some files to rearrange at the precinct early tomorrow morning. Alex knows that isn’t true, tries to brush off the sting her white lie leaves, and tries not to internalize Maggie’s issues with Kara.
10502373
Illusion
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In the late nightWhen my fears come outAnd the clouds hide the moonMy lonely soul gets awayIn a land of fantasyWhere nothing is realAnd everything imaginaryOnly people who have the faithKnow how to get thereThe others don’t have the keyTo access magnificent dreamsOur hearts there are pureAs white as the snowBut our minds are brokenIn a million of glass piecesOur wings were cutBy jealous peopleAnd they don’t seemTo grow backSo instead we clench our teethBall our fists and close our eyesReady to defend ourselvesIf you were to attackBut sadly, like I saidThis is all an illusionAnd we never win our warsNo matter how hard we fight
10543586
Anywhere out of the
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Les Misérables), Éponine Thénardier, Gavroche Thénardier, Les Amis de l'ABC, plus Montparnasse, Joly (Les Misérables), Bossuet Laigle, Musichetta (Les Misérables), Jean \"Jehan\" Prouvaire, Combeferre (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Feuilly (Les Misérables), Bahorel (Les Misérables), Marius Pontmercy, Cosette Fauchelevent, Azelma Thénardier", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by themistyeyeofthemountain", "chapters": "10/10", "completed": "2020-03-04", "published": "2017-04-04T00:00:00", "words": "32,175", "Additional Tags": "On-screen character death, Not R nor E, Grief/Mourning, Depression, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Families of Choice, Grantaire-centric, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, Angst, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I'm sorry Monsieur Hugo, Recreational Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, (never on screen), Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, Loosely based on Manchester by the Sea, Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Grantaire Angst, The love letter to Paris I never thought I'd write", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Enjolras/Grantaire, Grantaire & Éponine Thénardier, Les Amis de l'ABC Friendship, consider all your usual ABC ships a thing and sailing, okay i'm tagging them, Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Bahorel/Feuilly, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/M, M/M, Multi, F/F", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed  Now (February, 2017)  February has fallen on Paris like a worn grey cloak with holes where the sun shines through. The air is crisp, less so than usual, but then that's what climate change entails, and so much the better, Grantaire thinks at his old winter jacket and almost threadbare gloves. The light itself is interesting – when there is light, that is –, with hues and edges begging to be carved on canvas or etched in black charcoal. Grantaire tangles the pencil in his unwashed, almost solid black curls and fishes around for his phone; there is a message from Éponine, which he decides he will read later when a glance at the time makes him grimace. He closes his sketchbook and unfolds from the chair he is sitting in in the middle of the Jardin du Luxembourg. Oblique rays of sun caress the fountain, the white paths around it with trees and statues standing immobile against the background of the Senate and the icy blue of the sky. People walk all around him, Parisians hiding their tell-tale stroll in hurried steps and tourists looking around just as much as the natives do but with less discretion, the supposedly bored look of the blasé local absent from their faces. Grantaire huffs a laugh and nonchalantly walks to the eastern gates, headed towards the Seine. That's how you recognise tourists: they don't bother to fake indifference. The cynic and the snotty student in him master the Parisian detachment to an art; the artist still gapes at the pure lines of Notre-Dame. This city never ceases to enchant him, and he quite likes it that way.As long as Éponine doesn't know, it's all right.He walks down the Boulevard Saint-Michel with the slanting afternoon light in his back, barely spares a glance to the fountain at the Place before turning right and following the river, eyes fixed on the pavement, dancing between the cohorts of tourists. Notre-Dame slides closer on his left and then disappears behind him as he ducks into the Rue du Chat qui Pêche, notorious for its name and the infamous café Musain, the only place between the river and the Boulevard Saint-Germain where Parisians are more numerous than tourists. It might be due to Louison's unfriendly face when a newcomer pushes the door open, but the narrow street and the discrete entrance are not exactly eye-catching. Grantaire still doesn't understand how the café stays afloat with the number of customers it has, but Ep once told him Montparnasse had told her when drunk even he wasn't privy to the secrets of Louison's account books, and god knows how charming Montparnasse can be when he wants to.If the face he pulls at Grantaire when the latter steps in is anything to go by, today is not a day he wants to. Grantaire gives him his most blinding and sarcastic grin and a sloppy military salute as he weaves his way between the tables to the stairs and the first floor. The ABC has somehow managed to secure it for all its meetings, official or not (that is, for all the time). Witchcraft and dragon gold might be involved. A certain pair of persuasive blue eyes springs to Grantaire's mind as well but he shrugs it off and pushes the door open.Until not so long ago, he always used to be the first to the meetings, for the excellent reason he usually spent his days at the Musain, only trudging up the stairs a little before the others arrived and settling in his assigned corner with some alcohol and a cigarette, waiting for the others to trickle in.He no longer is the first, though: this year, he does go to classes and has been cutting down on his alcohol – and others – consumption. Courfeyrac is always the first triumvir to arrive, because Combeferre is being flayed in med school, and Enjolras is usually meeting other students to talk about coordination, protests and the like before relaying the information to their own ragtag group of starry-eyed idealists. Musichetta finishes her shift downstairs half an hour before, and she is often to be met upstairs, smoking at the open window until Joly comes in and starts ranting about colds, the flu, air pollution and lung cancer while brandishing his cane like some sort of germ-killing d'Artagnan. The rest of their group slowly comes in: Marius, Bahorel and Bossuet together from law school, Jehan from the Sorbonne, Cosette from the Rue Saint-Jacques, Feuilly from one of the ten jobs he has at the moment and then Combeferre and Enjolras who, despite widely diverging schedules, always manage to arrive together with a laptop open and an already advanced discussion on whatever fascinates them at the moment. Bar moths.Enjolras's love for Combeferre does not extend to moths.When she still used to live in Paris with him, Éponine had the most unpredictable schedule of them all. She would arrive first or last, sometimes not at all. No-one really knew where she was or what she did in these moments, not even Grantaire. He worried, but there wasn’t much he could do for her. Now that she’s not here any more, he still worries, but for different reasons.Today being a relatively good day for Grantaire, Enjolras's entrance does not feel like a stab in the lungs but more like a moderate punch in the gut. He doesn't even see him enter as he is roped in a discussion with Bossuet, Chetta and Cosette concerning the latest Star Wars and turning his back to the door. Still, his Enjolras-senses tingle when the blonde steps in, and he wishes for a minute Éponine were here to smirk at him. On the other side of the room, Enjolras and Feuilly start talking about the latter's night classes as Courfeyrac and Marius loudly argue about whose turn it was to do the dishes last night. Jehan steps in with a tray laden with coffee cups and a bite on her pale neck, both courtesy of the sulking barista boyfriend downstairs, and Bahorel and Combeferre start clapping, the first for the hickey and the second for the coffee. Groups are made and unmade as people wander about the room; from time to time, they all fall silent to listen to one of them – Courfeyrac disagreeing with Combeferre on the meaning of the latest unemployment rates, Enjolras gently but firmly shooting Marius down on the matter of the impending presidential elections, Joly and Cosette teaming to propose a campaign to raise awareness on the theme of air pollution. It is a perfectly normal evening in the back-room of the café Musain, only lacking the usual squabble between Grantaire and Enjolras – and as the blonde warms up to the theme of refugees, R sees the occasion approaching. Everything is normal, things are even good – Enjolras smiled at him fifteen minutes ago –, which is why Grantaire really should have expected something to go wrong. The sudden buzzing of his phone in the back pocket of his jeans startles him. All the people he regularly texts to are in this room, not to mention the few selected ones that call him. Éponine isn't, of course, but they talked on the phone less than a day ago.He is clear on the administrative side, has no bills due for the moment, has turned in all his projects...Unknown number flashes on his phone's screen as he gets it out, and he lets the call end without picking up. Two minutes later, the phone buzzes again. He sighs, mutters an apology and walks to an empty corner of the room. The conversations are loud enough to create some semblance of privacy in a room full of people.“Allô?” The world whites out. It's lucky he was standing next to a chair.   Then (nineteen months earlier)  “You're leaving Paris”, Grantaire blankly repeated. Éponine didn't bother to nod, still carefully watching him from across the table. The Musain was warm and quiet around them in this empty hour between lunch rush and end-of-classes time. She had taken a seat at his table after having shrugged her waitress's apron off. Grantaire closed his eyes for an instant and took a swig of his bottle without opening them nor using the glass he usually insisted on. When he opened them, she was still there, face unreadable as ever.Unreadable, perhaps, for anyone else than her adoptive brother.Grantaire swallowed.“When?”“In a month. I want Gav to get to know the place before school starts in September. You're coming too, I'm not moving all my shit on my own.”“I don't have a car.”“Someone will lend us theirs. Combeferre or Enjolras. They both have big enough trunks to fit our luggage.”“I can't drive.”“I can. I'm not asking you to drive us there, I want you to help us move out and move in. There's a difference.”Grantaire huffed and raised his bottle again, only to find he had emptied it. He huffed again and forcefully set it down on the table, blinking furiously. Éponine minutely shifted in her seat. When he looked up, her face showed sympathy, as well as an unshakeable determination.“I'm sorry, R,” she said, gentler. “I just can't stay in Paris. I can't raise Gav here, not with them around. I've got him and I'm not letting him go.”“And you think the safest place to raise your baby brother is this fucking island four hundred kilometres away?” Grantaire spit out. “Why didn't you tell me this before? We could've worked it out together! Fuck, Ep, you have friends here, you have me, we would've figured it out together. But no, you do your shit on your own, as usual, and you just decide to go back there without asking for anyone's opinion –”“This is no one's business but mine,” she said icily.“No, it's my business too. I'm your fucking brother, Éponine!”Éponine leaned across the table, all ice and iron, deadly determination in her eyes.“Grantaire. I just got custody of my twelve year-old brother. The only reason I got it is because social services still remembered my state when they got hold of me, so my blood affiliation with Gavroche was enough. And I am not raising him in Paris. End of discussion.”Grantaire swallowed. “But you just got this new job...” he tried lamely, more for the sake of not letting her have the last word. She shrugged.“That was six months ago, before I knew I was getting Gav. Louison will understand.”“You don’t know that. That woman isn’t human.”Éponine snorted in amusement.“Trust me, she’ll back me up on that one,” she said with enough force to shut him up. He stared at her for a while longer before raising his bottle, remembering it was empty and putting it down again.“I need you to do one more thing for me,” Éponine said, softly enough for him to look up, surprised. “I can’t leave you here knowing you’ll end up at the bottom of a bottle without me to fish you out of it.” Grantaire steeled himself. He knew what was coming. “I need you to cut down on you alcohol intake. I can’t raise my brother while knowing the other is drinking his way to an early grave.”Grantaire pursed his lips and looked away from her. He probably would have verbally torn anyone else to shreds. With Éponine, though…“I’ll try, Ép. I’ll do my best.”“Your best is enough.” “You’re not only leaving for Gav, are you.”Éponine’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and she shot him a furious glance. He deserved it, having picked a moment she couldn’t punch him or walk away to avoid the question. Gavroche was asleep on the back-seat of the car, the hits of the summer were lowly crackling from the radio. Je suis de ceux qui restent au bord, je sais qu'on devait rire encore, je suis de ceux, mais tu es de celles... A few minutes passed in silence. Il y a ceux et il y a celles qui restent plantées à Bruxelles. Exasperated, he jammed at the buttons until the static settled on another frequency. The same 50-hits list was being transmitted; the only thing that changed was the voice of the hosts and the annoying little gingle between every two songs.“Ép,” he prompted her.She shrugged.“You’re wrong.”“Still, say it aloud.”“Fuck you,” she suddenly spit out. “You know, you know I’m not leaving you because Pontmercy and Cosette are fucking. Fuck you.”Grantaire bit his lip and stared at the blur of the French countryside at the window. He maybe shouldn’t have pushed, but some words needed to be said aloud. Or at least that’s what his therapist had said in the first session he’d had with him three weeks prior. He definitely did not see Éponine drying something at the corner of her eye. She and him, they didn’t cry.   Now  Now, Grantaire is crying. Fat, ugly tears that roll down his cheeks, watering the hem of his hoodie. Face twisted into a horrible grimace, mouth like a painful red wound, eyes two puffy slits bloated with tears. Things a blur, indistinct and fogged over. All strength concentrated in the struggle not to burst into sobs in Enjolras’s car. Can’t breathe.Enjolras can’t really do anything. The car carries on.  First, silence. The air is punched out of him. He falls on the chair, breathless, clutching the phone to his ear. He can distantly hear the other person drone on, but it’s muffled, happening to someone else in another universe altogether.Then –A horrible sound fills the Musain’s back-room, like the whine of a wounded beast.People are around him, asking – what.The whine continues, deep-throated, animal, primary; a wail, the sound of all losses and griefs, the sound a heart makes when it is gutted out. He wants it to stop.People keep talking around him – a hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little. He closes his throat reflexively, and the sound stops. Apparently he was the one making it. The sound. What? What’s wrong? The phone is wrong, fucking phone, where is it – ah. Shit. Unknown number my arse. What do you mean what’s wrong. He can’t breathe. Words. He doesn’t know how to                               word any     more.                                                                                                                                Are you all right?                                                                  Joly attack?                                                                        Ah, panic.                                                                 No, not panic!                                                                                                               Grantaire!He is not fine.                     Panic.                       Oh my god. Oh m                                                                                                      y god. Please. Please no, no, nonono – what?I can’t. Need a ticket. What do you mean what for, I need to get there!A fucking ticket FOR THE TRAIN! Fuck, let GO of me, I need to GO! He shakes the hand off, get OFF, he needs to go, I need to -“GRANTAIRE!”Bahorel.“R, what happened?”Bossuet.Éponine.Éponine happened.Fuck.He can’t help it, the whine comes again, as ugly and knee-cutting as before. A wounded beast.“Grantaire!”Question. Answer question. It’s Enjolras’s question – oh god, nononono – can he even talk?“Accident.”“What?”“Éponine. She had an accident.”  “Come on, get in.”Grantaire takes a step back at the sight of the car next to Enjolras. Joly squeezes his shoulder and doesn’t budge from his side.“What?”“Get in,” Enjolras repeats. “You need to get there as soon as possible.”He doesn’t really understand. He says it. Uncharacteristically, Enjolras doesn’t roll his eyes.“The next train is at 7 in the morning tomorrow. If we leave now we can be there around 1am, midnight if traffic’s kind to us.”“You have class,” Grantaire points out, bewildered. Enjolras dismisses the objection with an airy movement of his hand.“This is far more important. Come on, hurry up,” he answers, walking around his red Clio and getting into the driver’s seat. Grantaire blinks a few times.“Come on, get in there, man. You know how he is, he won’t move before you’re inside,” Joly tells him. Grantaire turns to him, eyes wide. “It’s Enjolras, man. That’s who he is. Hurry, there’s no time to lose,” he adds, gently pushing him forward. Grantaire mechanically opens the passenger door and climbs in. Joly stands on the side-walk, with Bossuet and all the Amis gathered behind him. “Call us.”Grantaire nods. Joly shuts the door. Enjolras starts the car.He still doesn’t understand.  “We’re nearly there,” Enjolras says, his voice a stone in the pond of silence of the car. Lights flash by on both sides; a few directional signs: the sea is close. The island is close. And then –Grantaire doesn’t want to think of it.11:56 flashes blue on the dashboard.He’s called the hospital thrice already, each time they stopped for gas, food or a quick dash to the loo. Coma. A stationary state, they say.He’d better hurry, they say.Enjolras is a good driver. He drives fast but safe, as concentrated on the road in front of him as he is on anything else. Sometimes, Grantaire wonders how things don’t melt under his gaze – glare –, under all this single-minded, blazing focus. Sometimes he feels he does, and whoever’s upstairs knows Enjolras doesn’t ever waste much concentration on him.Sometimes, he wonders what would be left of him if Enjolras were to look at him like this, one day.Suddenly, the sea is here, in all its enormous mass of liquid night. The bridge to the island stretches in a graceful arch speckled with yellow and blue public lights.“Grantaire,” Enjolras softly says.Enjolras is like Éponine: he doesn’t do softness. He is all flaring words and cutting beauty, hard and sharp like a marble angel. Grantaire turns around a little and glances at him: he still has his eyes on the road, hands at ten and two, but something in his body language makes it clear that his attention is now divided between what is in front of him and Grantaire himself.“I… I know I’m not very good at all this, and that you’d prefer it were Joly or Jehan or, hell, even Montparnasse with you here, but…” He trails off. Grantaire doesn’t deny anything. He can’t play Icarus all the time, and being next to the sun requires some kind of energy and attention he doesn’t have. He does wish someone else were driving right now. “What I mean is that I know we’re not the best of friends, and that there’s little I can do for you. But whatever you need – whatever,” and here Enjolras glances at him, a quick blue dart to get his point home, “I’m here. For you. If you want.”Grantaire swallows, thrown off. This Enjolras is not the one he knows. He doesn’t know how to deal with this.“Okay. Thanks,” he finally says, gruff and hoarse. He adds: “I do. Want to, I mean. Thank you.”Enjolras nods and slows down as they get near the end of the bridge. The direction to the hospital is marked on the right. The blond turns the steering wheel and Grantaire is taken by the sudden need to draw these long, pale, delicate hands. Not the time, brain. His fingers itch for a pencil and the smooth feel of expensive paper.After a few minutes, the car slows down again as they enter the parking lot. Grantaire can already smell the hospital’s sanitised white light. He is shaking. The car stops.They’re here. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "It kills me sometimes, how people die."- Markus Zusak, The Book Thief Grantaire slowly pushes beep the room’s door, Enjolras’s presence behind him oddly reassuring. The first thing he sees is a hunched form near the bed. The bed is the second thing he sees. beepÉponine is the third, so pale she almost beep disappears between the sheets, so purple and bruised Grantaire feels physically sick at her sight – a sharp intake of air behind him lets him know it has a similar effect on Enjolras. In beep a corner of the room, Éponine and Gav’s neighbour, old and kind Monsieur Mabeuf, is softly snoring on an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair.                                                                    beep The slump, Gavroche, stirs at their entrance, raising his head and meeting his eye.“Hey, sparrow,” Grantaire half-whispers.beep Gavroche grimaces a watery smile; Grantaire opens his arms, and the kid – not so much of a child any more, fourteen, all lanky limbs and defiant eyes, although the latter have always been there – jumps from his stool beep into them, crushing him in a fierce and almost desperate hug. “Hey bud,” Grantaire softly repeats, hugging back and closing his eyes for a moment. He knows what he’ll have to do when he opens them again. beepLook at his sister.“Sorry it took me so long,” he says. Gavroche shrugs, disentangling himself from the embrace.“It’s okay. I didn’t think you’d be here before tomorrow morning anyway.”“I told the hospital to let you know I was coming.”                                                                                                                  beep“I know. I just didn’t understand you’d be here so soon. It’s okay,” Gavroche repeats. His voice has dropped since last time Grantaire saw him, and that was two months ago. Grantaire swallows, nods, and gets closer to the bed; the wounded animal stirs again, but he beep keeps a leash on it, if only for Gav’s sake.He almost doesn’t recognise Éponine. The damage on her face is less consequent than what he thought at first, but the white bandaging around her forehead and the bruises and scratches on the right side of her face are enough to turn her into a near-stranger. Most of all, Grantaire thinks, it’s the paleness under all the bruising, making her look almost white,which has never happened in her life.         beep “What exactly happened?”“Ice,” Gav answers, face twisted with hatred towards the world as a whole. “She was on her motorcycle, coming home from her job. Night had fallen, she took a curve, didn’t see the black ice, slipped and went straight into the trees.”“Shit."“Yeah.”There is nothing else to say.                                                                       beep He sits down on Gav’s vacated stool and takes Éponine’s cold, limp hand. Raising it to his forehead, he scrunches his eyes shut and lets out a trembling breath. Gav moves around the bed; somewhere behind him, Enjolras leans against a wall. Come on, Ép, don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.I’m sorry, the doctor they’d met in the hall outside her room had said. There’s nothing else we can do. She has to pull through on her own now. The woman with the brown eyes had laid a hand on his forearm. I hate saying this, sir, but don’t let yourself hope too much.                                                                                                             beep Don’t do this to me, Éponine.  Time passes, cold and sluggish. Grantaire realises he’s been shivering for a while when someone lays a warm jacket on his shoulders. He turns around without letting go of his sister’s hand. It’s Enjolras.Oh.“Take it back, you’re going get cold.”“No, I’m okay,” Enjolras answers. He looks almost as tired as Grantaire feels. “I’m always warm anyway. You need it more than I do. I’m going to go fetch some coffee, do you want anything?”“I… yeah, okay.” Grantaire looks at Gavroche, asleep, slumped on the bed, and at still-snoring Monsieur Mabeuf. “I’ll have a coffee too. Take a hot chocolate for Gav and a tea for Monsieur Mabeuf if you can, please. We’ll try to keep them warm until they wake up.”Enjolras nods and quietly slips out of the room. Grantaire stays alone in a room with three sleeping people and –– and a machine that hasn’t beeped in far too long.Grantaire’s heart lurches in his throat and he scrambles to take Éponine’s pulse.*At that moment, the door opens and two nurses barge in, waking Gavroche and Mabeuf up. They push Grantaire and Gavroche away from the bed. The next few minutes are a blur. More nurses rush in, all of them speaking in hurried tones, words Grantaire can’t understand. Gavroche huddles against him. Grantaire’s heart is beating so fast it’s going to break his ribcage. He feels like he is going to vomit.The machine still isn’t beeping.He panics.The nurses have started a cardiac massage – 30, 2, 30, 2, 30, 2 – defibrillator, buzz – 30, 2, 30, 2, 30, 2 – buzz – five, ten, twelve minutes –*“I’m sorry. We’ve lost her.”*“Grantaire, I’ve got your coff– oh.”* At first, it doesn’t sink in.He signs forms, dumbly nods, takes offered burial services’ phone numbers, pries Gavroche away from Époni- the bod- pries Gavroche away, clenches his jaw, doesn’t look back, receives Mabeuf’s condolences and offer of help with a nod, thanks the skies Enjolras knows not to say anything as he drives them to the house. Gavroche’s eyes are hollow as he stares into the driver’s headrest. Grantaire alternates between sneaking glances at the teen in the back-seat and loosing himself in the dark rush outside his window. 05:18 glows blue in the silence as the car swallows the road.No-one sleeps that night.Grantaire and Gavroche sit at the kitchen table, staring into their cups of cooling tea. Enjolras disappears into the house, seems to find his way to one of the guest bedrooms and put his things away. Grantaire can hear him make a few phone calls, softly speaking from somewhere in the dark insides of the house. He is grateful, in a distant, detached way, to know that Enjolras is efficiently taking care of relaying of the information to everyone in Paris. Grantaire isn’t sure he can say the words yet. Maybe not ever.At around half past six in the morning, when the ticking of the clock has been the only breathing thing in the kitchen for so long it has invaded their minds, Grantaire looks up as Gavroche stands from his chair.“I’ll just… I’ll be in my room.”Grantaire swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Tell me if you need anything, bud.”Gavroche nods and walks away into the unlit house. Grantaire finds himself alone – again – tics and tacs instead of beeps, a kitchen instead of a hospital room, and world paused, time stopped, a NO carved into the very fabric of things, like a free fall with no landing. Jehan, Joly, Bossuet and Courfeyrac arrive by train in the middle of the afternoon. Enjolras leaves in his car to fetch them at the train station, and Grantaire knows he has thirty minutes to pull himself together enough to be able to talk a little. He – they, really, he is not alone, Enjolras’s help is a godsend – have spent the morning calling funeral services and setting arrangements for the burial. Gavroche and him are to go and choose the marble for the gravestone tomorrow morning.Grantaire just wants to wake up.Instead, he makes his way down the corridor and knocks on Gavroche’s door. When no answer comes from within, Grantaire slowly opens and peers inside. The room is dark, the blinds shut, and smells of sweaty, restless young sleep. A form is huddled under the duvet on the bed. The kid is curled up sleeping in a foetal position Grantaire thought he’d given up ages ago. His heart aches at the sight. He wanted to tell Gavroche Courfeyrac is coming down – along with Montparnasse and Bahorel, they make the holy trinity of “favourite uncles”, only without the sappy family name; he’d be jealous if he didn’t think himself a brother. He reckons that is why Courfeyrac didn’t wait for Combeferre, who can only come down by tomorrow evening with the rest of the band. He is glad, in a muffled way. Sighing, he pads out of the room, closing the door with a soft, careful click, knowing better than to wake the bird.By the time the red car pulls in he’s managed to have a quick shower, shave and put on fresh clothes, which is decidedly more than he ever thought he’d manage. He steps out of the house and makes his way through the garden as the occupants of the car bolt out. Bossuet starts by running to him, tangles his feet in the air and almost makes an unwanted acquaintance with the grass, saved in extremis by Jehan’s strong arm. Joly huffs a white cloud of breath in the cold air and walks to him more slowly, his cane dully thudding on the half-frozen earth.“Hey there,” he says softly once he’s reached Grantaire. The latter stretches a wobbly smile but doesn’t let himself talk – suddenly, sobs are brimming under the surface, called in by Joly’s worried face, by Bossuet’s clumsiness and Jehan's quiet presence, by their being here, out of place, out of time, the unneeded proof that something has gone irreparably wrong. So he doesn’t talk, just smiles a wet grimace and nods. “Hug?” asks Joly.“No,” rasps Grantaire, shaking his head. Not now. Let him pretend his armour isn’t made of cracked glass and sodden paper. Joly nods, quickly squeezing his arm and then moving away. Grantaire turns back to the others, who are all watching him with distinct degrees of worry and sadness. “Hey,” he tries to grin. “Thanks for coming so fast. Come on in, it’s freezing.”They all know their way around the house. The thing doesn’t make sense, an old barn reconstructed and added to that’s ended up with enough rooms for all of them. Grantaire will never understand how Éponine can stand living here. The memories are one thing; the emptiness of an enormous shell housing two inhabitants is another.Not can. Could stand living here. Shut up. They all know their way around, but Grantaire seems to have forgotten his way around them. Enjolras’s presence hadn’t been too hard to bear; disconcerting at first, but all right, as though he’d sewn clouds around his brilliance to temperate is a little. They hadn’t talked much, hadn’t been silent either. But keeping to facts – the date, the numbers, the cost, the shape, the stone, the engravings, the place, the time –, not letting one drop of emotion seep into the conversation had kept it endurable. Unexpectedly, but also a little unsurprisingly, Enjolras’s distance with emotions and their strained relationship had also helped, almost giving the morning a tone of professionalism Grantaire wouldn’t mind now. Because now, with the four newcomers, the house stirs and breathes around him, and Grantaire is going to have to talk and hug and touch and listen.He relearns how it feels not to be able to do one single thing of these.He wants to wake up. Times passes in leaps and bounds, starts and a syncopated rhythm, like bubbles or hiccups with some hours in-between. The whole crew trickles down from Paris as excuses are found and schedules freed. The funeral is planned for Friday. Everyone is there by Thursday evening, even Cosette, and heaven knows the additional workload she’ll have after missing two days of class. But she seems to be like her brother, who’s just lost four days of class and looks like he couldn’t care less – when Grantaire knows Enjolras to be a sick overachiever. The Valjean siblings are strange people.Time passes, but Grantaire doesn’t see it. Between the planning for the funeral – some of which is taken care of by Combeferre, Chetta and Parnasse, an unlikely combination that works –, the worrying about Gavroche, the meetings with Gav’s teachers and headmistress and blank parentheses where Grantaire loses hours staring at a wall, Friday rushes on him like a thousand bulls, like that scene in The Lion King everyone hates, and he’s barely thought of Éponine.Because, inexplicably, Éponine is alive.She’s everywhere. She’s in their shared bathroom in the mornings. She’s in the hairs she didn’t take out of the brush – gross –, in the super expensive herbal shampoo Cosette had gotten her for Christmas; she’s in the kitchen before he pulls the door open, she’s in the footfalls on the carpet at 3am when neither of them can sleep, she’s in the messages on his phone, the one message he didn’t answer to at once because he was running late, the one message he wants to answer to, he needs to answer to, the one message she won’t reply to if he does.He’s barely thought of Éponine, except for all the times he realises she’s missing. But she could be elsewhere. She could be at work, she could be doing god knows what with Montparnasse, she could have gone to fetch Gav at school. Anywhere but dead.He isn’t in denial. He simply won’t compute his sister is gone, for real, gone as in never coming back –gone, as in today is her funeral.Gavroche has categorically refused to wear anything formal, and they have all imitated him. As usual, he’s wearing a weird combination of his own clothes with additions from Éponine’s and Grantaire’s. Montparnasse has lent or given him a silk neckerchief, which in itself is the proof something is not normal, because Montparnasse never lends his clothes to anyone, not even Jehan. In any case, the wind and the cold are strong enough for everyone to be bundled up in their coats and jackets, a colourful bunch of potatoes shivering in a graveyard. Distantly, Grantaire wonders what would have happened had the ground been too frozen to dig the grave. This kind of thing never happens on the Atlantic coast, but the thought is intrusive enough for him to close his eyes against the nausea.After regrouping at the funeral house, where they had all seen Ép’s face one last time, waxy and pale, nausea again, a thing and not a person – this is not Éponine, I’m telling you, everyone thinks and silently agrees – they had walked to the graveyard through the half-deserted streets. Grantaire is still surprised at the number of people who turned up. The Amis, of course, but also Ép’s co-workers and boss, some Gavroche’s friends and teachers, their neighbours, the grocer. People who knew and appreciated Éponine, who saw her every day, who unknowingly showed her she could be a functional and liked member of society. People who unwittingly helped her heal and grow, her dark skin and hint of an accent notwithstanding. He chuckles ruefully. Gavroche leans a little against him, Montparnasse on the sparrow’s other side, tall, lean and elegant, watching his best friend’s casket being lowered into the grave. Grantaire realises with a pang he’s barely spoken to Parnasse, despite knowing how much he cared cares (still does, always) for Ép.And then the coffin hits the ground, and Éponine has been buried.   Then (2009)  They stood in front of the grave a long time after everyone was gone. The May sky was bright and clear, blue and fluffed up with white clouds.“We’re like square orphans now,” Grantaire said out of nowhere. Éponine slightly turned around and stared at him with a hint of disbelief.“Do you even know what square means?”“Hey, I’ll let you know I took maths until three years ago. I’m not that stupid.”Éponine snorted and turned back to the freshly put stone slab.“Technically, I’m not. A square orphan, I mean.”“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t matter. Square orphans sounds cool.”Ép snorted again, a little more forcefully. Grantaire put his arm around her shoulders and pulled until she reluctantly got closer to him.“Hey, hey, don’t you start the waterworks, yeah? If you waterwork I’ll waterwork too, dude.”“That’s not even a work, R.”“Like you care.”“True.”Some time passed, a May-time, warm and full, with the added quality of a Friday morning. Grantaire felt this was going to seriously dampen his take on Fridays as a whole. He also told himself that if he kept having inappropriate thoughts at times like this he’d have to go see a therapist once he went back to Paris. Speaking of…“So you’re coming to Paris with me.”“Well, it’s not like my lone ass is going to stay here,” Éponine replied. Grantaire shrugged a little and took his arm back.“I still don’t get how you managed to stay here so long. I’d go mental.”“You already are,” she automatically shot back.“Not the point.”Éponine huffed and suddenly turned around, heading for the graveyard’s gate without looking back. Grantaire cursed under his breath, stooped, lay his hand on the cool stone one more time and ran after her.“R, I know you hate this place, but stop shoving your issues on me, will you,” she muttered with no real heat. Chastised enough, Grantaire bumped into her and only relaxed when she bumped back.That night, they both pretended they didn’t hear the other cry. Being square orphans had a price.Éponine moved in with him in August. Sometimes, Grantaire feels that that’s when everything started.  Then, but Later (sometime in 2011)  “So I got a job,” Éponine said one evening. Grantaire looked up from his sketchbook.“Where?”“A café. Bit far from here but it’s close to school.”“But does it leave you enough time to study?”“What do you think.”Grantaire stared at her, at her defensive tone and closed body language.“Okay, that’s great, Ép. Can I ask a question?”“What.”Éponine didn’t ask questions. She stated. What, a stone. Tell me. That’s why she scared people, or part of the reason. That’s why, Grantaire knew, people thought social services weren’t for her.(People, Grantaire knew, were idiots.)“Why now? You said you wanted to focus on your studies. We still have Javert's life insurance, and you've got state help, and we can sell the house – in case of an emergency,” he said before she could say anything. The argument about selling the house would be for another day, when Grantaire wasn’t still feeling echoes of his mid-afternoon coke high and an itching at the back of his skull, want for more, need now; when he had new arguments to sell that old, hated carcass. “I’m just asking, don’t get defensive,” he added preemptively.“I want to earn money on my own and know I have it. That’s all. Question answered.”“Fair enough,” Grantaire muttered, going back to his sketch – an assignment, faces seen through different types of glass bottles. The trick was to do it without any bottle at hand, which was a shame, because Grantaire could at least have contributed to that part. A last thought crossed his mind. “Ép!” he called.“What,” she answered from within her room.“What’s the name of the place again?” he half-yelled, head slumped back against the top of the armchair, staring at the ceiling. Éponine emerged from her room, leaning on the wall with a hand as she unlaced her battered Doc Martens with the other. She hesitated for an instant before answering.“It’s called the Corinthe.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.” ― E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly   Then (After, but also Before) (Namely: January, 2012)   The Corinthe’s entrance door was painted bright red.This is something Grantaire will always remember. Before stepping into the Corinthe for the first time, his life had been bottle-green and city-grey, with flashes of blue when he let himself think of the ocean under the summer sky. His blood, blooming under the cutting caress of a razor when Éponine was out, was red, of course; red like a drop of paint swallowed in a glass of water. The colour never stayed. All that was left behind were ugly pink criss-crossed scars that took weeks to fade and were a pain to hide from Ép.But from the moment Grantaire stepped into the Corinthe, his life was drenched in red. Actually, that’s an overstatement of Grantaire’s, the kind that springs in his mind at two in the morning when he stumbles through the streets, teeth chattering and alcohol blurring his vision. But the hot blonde standing tall and proud in the middle of a cleared space lit by warm yellow lights in the café is not a sight Grantaire will ever forget. It somehow took him five months to go to Éponine’s workplace. Granted, she didn’t particularly want him there, considering his track record; but he’d asked, cajoled, begged and promised until she had relented.“One time, R. And I’m controlling your alcohol consumption. If you make them fire me…”“I won’t, Ep, promise. Three glasses, no outrageous flirting, no swearing –”“… no ranting…”“No ranting either, promise. Just let me go, Ep.”“Fine. Fine, you can come next Thursday night. But remember!”“I know. Promise.”On Thursday, after he’d finished the one modelling class he still went to, he ended up pushing the red-painted door, his smirk already in place. Éponine raised her head from behind the bar, curtly nodded at him and kept tending as usual, abiding by her own rules. Grantaire winked in return, took a few steps towards the counter and promptly fell in love. There, another overstatement.More or less. He was tall, taller than Grantaire. Blond, the skin of a marble angel, a red hoodie with some loose threads dangling on the front from where he must have ripped the logo off; beautiful, the facial features of Michelangelo’s David, of Praxiteles’ Hermes. Most of all, a surprisingly deep voice, as if a porcelain flute had emitted the sound of a brazen battle-horn, a ringing voice that ensnared everyone’s eyes like a hook and kept them pinned on him. That is how Grantaire meets Enjolras. Grantaire almost stumbled on his own feet and caught himself up at the last moment, remnants of his classical dance training saving his dignity. This jostled him out of his star-struck contemplation and allowed him to take his surroundings in a little. The café was rather empty, even for a working day evening. Apart from an old man, clearly a patron who must have spilled enough alcohol on the counter for it to be almost kin to him, the people were young, probably mostly of age, none older than twenty-five. A quick glance and his trained eye allowed him to catch all the attenders’ expressions, all listening with varying degrees of attention to what the blonde was saying as the latter paced between the tables, singling out one person or the other as he developed his discourse. Beyond his beauty, beyond the startling clarity of his voice, his mastery of rhetoric, an art long fallen into disuse, was itself entrancing.Until Grantaire cleared his mind enough to listen to what the other was saying.“… call people to vote. I know – I know, Ferre, I’m quite aware that our primary focus is education, setting up school support systems in the banlieue, educating people on climate change and the rest, but this is important. Surveys show…”“… what they always show, Enj. They always are defeatist,” interrupted a round young man around Grantaire’s age – Ferre? – seated at a table on the edge of the cleared space.“Careful with surveys though,” called another man more in the back. “They often get it wrong, but the wrong kind of wrong.”“Exactly, thank you Feuilly,” the blonde started again. Ange. Grantaire sincerely hoped that was his true name and not an affectionate – amorous? – pet name. “We can’t know, Courf.” Not Ferre, then. “People around here aren’t going to vote, or will vote for the right and the left can’t afford that.”Grantaire snorted. “The left? What left?”He realised he’d said it aloud when the whole assistance turned to him, Ange the first.“What do you mean, what left? And who are you?”“Exactly what I said,” Grantaire smugly replied, slipping into his role as he would in well-worn pyjamas. “There is no left left, my friend.”Ange’s eyebrows shot up. “At all?”“No. People don’t want to change. It’s all too much trouble.”Grantaire almost physically felt Éponine tense behind her counter. Ange fully turned toward him. The seated man, Courf, looked at him with some interest, as well as most of the assistance.“So it’s useless to vote for it,” Ange coldly said. Grantaire shrugged.“Yeah.”“And what do you make of your right to vote? It’s a duty –”“Come on, man, don’t give me that 1848 crap,” Grantaire cut him, pleasantly registering the surprise that flashed on Ange’s features. He did know his dates, goddamit. “People don’t care about voting anymore. Politics are dead. What matters now are private interest, the economy and making sure you won’t get mugged by the next bearded middle-eastern man you sit with on the metro. People are scared, selfish and racist. What is voting worth in this case?”During his little speech, Grantaire had moved to an empty table and propped himself against it, leaving his bag on the ground, crossing his arms in a carefully relaxed pose. He saw Ange purse his lips and huff.“That’s ridiculous. You’re basically saying that living isn’t worthwhile because you’ll end up dead anyway."“The comparison is a little far-fetched but yeah.”“So you say people should abstain? In a show of protest against the lack of political offer?” asked a tall, Black man. “I’m Combeferre, by the way,” he added.“In a show of nothing, man. I mean, you can show whatever you feel like, I’m not telling anyone what they should be doing…”“Aren’t you,” muttered Ange.“Enj,” gently chided Combeferre.“… but I don’t see the interest in voting when it isn’t going to change anything at all.”“Maybe that’s because most people think exactly like you,” bites Ange. Grantaire chuckles.“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it’s because I know those who can change the world don’t need to vote to be listened to.” That is how Enjolras meets Grantaire. The discussion ended when Combeferre subtly manoeuvred the conversation towards other, calmer topics and the rest of the assembly took over, making Grantaire realise how much Ange and himself had been monopolising the conversation. At the end of the meeting, during which he had been rather silent, compared to his… remarkable entrance – which he was coming to terribly regret, couldn’t keep your mouth shut, you worthless piece of shit, you fucked it all up even before it began, [here’s food for intrusive thoughts] –, Combeferre and a few other members of what was turning out to be a cohesive, long-time crew – shame shame shame shame smile your way through it – came to him to introduce themselves and get to know him. Despite his crashing the meeting and probably making the worst first impression in history. What do you care what other people think, he could almost hear Éponine think at him from behind the counter. He didn’t know. He just cared, more than he should have.Combeferre was around Grantaire’s age, wore square-shaped glasses and his hair shorn short, a crisp white shirt neatly tucked into khakis, smart and pristine shoes; he had had a half-fond half-amused smile when watching Ange, from time to time a small shake of his head, as if counterarguments were already forming in his mind. He was calm and gentle, seemed patient and willing to give everyone a chance. Including Grantaire, apparently.With him came Courfeyrac, who had been seated at the table closest to the clearing. He was short where Combeferre was tall, round where the other was lean, had brown curls and freckled skin. He wore a green, slightly rumpled shirt and equally rumpled jeans. An impression of warmth exuded from him, like a smile dancing around his frame, the promise of kind arms and listening ears, or so Grantaire felt.There was Joly, wearing only blue, a grin, a cane and ten medical recommendations as soon as he’d shaken Grantaire’s hand, and Bossuet, completely bald, an old Rolling Stones t-shirt, real name is Jean Lesgle but we have someone in the group who likes Voltaire’s puns, a clap on the shoulder that turned out to be a last-second grip after he’d stumbled on thin air.Then came Jehan, not Jeanne, Jehan, like the medieval name, a tall redhead whose hair was braided with coloured ribbons, wearing a pink, light blue and white poncho onto which she had sewn pockets to carry her books without the need of a bag – mostly verse in old editions, it seemed – and whose bare unshaven legs ended in battered combat boots. The laces were in the colours of the trans flag, the lovely pastel colours clashing against the worn-down leather of the boots. She blushed furiously when introducing herself and then proceeded to rope Grantaire into an intense five-minute discussion on Marie Laurencin before Courfeyrac vied for his attention again.“So you believe voting is useless,” he chimed, more curious than accusatory, all dancing eyes and open smile, willing to listen to whatever bullshit Grantaire was going to feed him. The latter opened his mouth, ready for a rant where Plato, Neruda and Coluche would probably all end up fitting, before deciding he owed these people the truth, as disappointing as it may be. He chuckled.“I don’t believe in anything, dude. That’s all.”“Brilliant. A nihilist,” said a cold, hard voice behind Combeferre, who closed his eyes for half a second before turning and giving Grantaire sight of Ange.“Grantaire, I believe you and Enjolras have not been properly introduced. Grantaire, Enjolras – Enjolras, Grantaire.”“A pleasure, Apollo,” Grantaire joked, pulling an exaggerated bow with his beanie in hand. Before Enjolras could answer to the nickname he’d twitched at, Éponine appeared at Grantaire’s elbow.“Everyone, this is my brother, Grantaire. Sorry I couldn’t make the introductions before.”“We didn’t hear you at all tonight, Éponine,” piped Jehan.“I was on shift, Flower. Couldn’t really participate, even if you kind of privatised half the room. Unofficially.”“Wait,” Grantaire said, “you mean you’ve been attending these… meetings and you didn’t tell me?”“There’s a fuckton of things I don’t tell you, R. Get over it,” Éponine bit back a little too harshly. “Besides,” she continued in a kinder tone, reaching up to ruffle Grantaire’s hair, despite the beanie, “I knew you’d be trouble.”“Oh, not at all,” intervened Combeferre. “Grantaire’s intervention was really interesting. You provided quite a unique perspective here.”“We don’t get enough new blood as it is,” added Courfeyrac. “Any new point of view is valuable. You made us think a little!” he chuckled. Grantaire couldn’t help but smile back. And that is how Grantaire meets Les Amis. That’s not how he gets adopted by Les Amis, though.Despite the polite invitation Combeferre and Courfeyrac had extended, he could feel his presence was disruptive – he was too loud, too passive, too much of a disbeliever and a drug user to fit there, despite his seemingly endless historical and philosophical sources. In addition, he couldn’t stand the contempt that had taken place mid-way through their discussion in Enjolras’s eyes.He didn’t ask Éponine to go to her workplace again, and she didn’t offer.But all came to a stop a night in early April. Grantaire had used a little too much on the afternoon, had left their shared flat for his modelling class in a state of semi-consciousness, had been refused entrance as his professor deeming him unfit to attend class, and had then realised he had forgotten both his wallet and his keys at home, and that it was freezing. He had luckily taken his metro pass in his coat and resolved to go to the Corinthe and wait until the end of Ép’s shift. He didn’t realise it was Thursday until he arrived at the Corinthe and stumbled upon the almost complete group of Les Amis loitering in front of the café. Joly’s delighted grin greeted him as though he’d never left.“Grantaire! It’s great to have you here! Though you’ll freeze if you keep insisting on dressing up like this, have you seen the thermometer?”“Hey Joly,” Grantaire awkwardly greeted back. “What’s wrong?”“They don’t want us here anymore. Hello R. Is it all right if I call you that?,” said Bossuet. Grantaire returned the greeting. “Said we had to pay more to have access to the café.”“I… I didn’t know you paid anything at all. Why raise the fee now?”“It would seem we are disruptive,” bit a hard voice behind Grantaire. The latter started a little, turned around and found himself staring at Enjolras, who did not seem to recognise him.“Doesn’t anyone have a big enough flat for all of you to fit?” asked Grantaire.“This is not a meeting so we can chat about our weekends. We intend to draw students and workers to us,” replied Enjolras distractedly, his eyes following Combeferre who was animatedly talking on the phone. Grantaire nodded and was looking for an excuse to leave at once when –“Oh,” he murmured, his eyes going wide. Turning to Courfeyrac (and avoiding to look at Enjolras in the process, because he felt he needed sunglasses for this particular interaction): “Look, I might have a place where you all could go for your meetings. It’s on the other bank of the Seine. I’ll call and ask for you if you want.”“Mate, if you manage to get us a place like this one, we’ll all owe you more than we can count,” answered Courfeyrac, clapping him on the back. Grantaire nodded, biting his lip and stepped a little away to call the Musain.He had discovered this hole-in-the-wall not long after arriving in Paris, two years before. He had been in the street because of its name – La Rue du Chat qui Pêche, how brilliant was that – and since he had made it his mission to get to know every bar in Paris, he had stepped in. He had become a regular patron; before he had dropped out of most of his classes, he would work at a table there; the prices were obscenely low for a 5th arrondissement establishment, and after he had done a few repairs and painted a whole wall for free, Louison had deemed it acceptable he stay. How her number had ended up in his phone was still a mystery waiting to be solved.The conversation with Louison soon morphed into one between her and Combeferre, who commandeered Grantaire’s mobile phone. Having apparently reached a satisfying agreement, Combeferre hung up, gave Grantaire his phone back and turned to the still waiting group, which had grown in size with some faces unknown to Grantaire – presumably students from the nearby schools and universities.“All right everyone, listen up. The Corinthe’s owner doesn’t want us to use their room anymore, but with the help of Grantaire over here,” gesturing at the latter, who fought his discomfort with a wide grin and a hand wave, eliciting some laughter, “we’ve managed to secure a new place. Some of us will check it out before anything happens, so today’s meeting is cancelled. We’ll put the new address on our facebook page, you know the drill.”People scattered as the core group huddled around Combeferre, Enjolras and Courfeyrac.“The trouble is the place is a bit far from here,” said Combeferre.“Where is it precisely?” asked Enjolras, frowning already.“5th arrondissement, between the Boulevard Saint-Germain and the Seine,” answered Grantaire at once. “Near Saint-Michel.”Enjolras pursed his lips. “That’s going to be too far for a lot of the students here.”“That’s right, but on the other hand we’ll be able to recruit far more around there,” said Courfeyrac. “In any case, we need to go and see for ourselves,” he added. “But whatever comes out of it, thank you very much, Grantaire.”“Yes, thank you. It was good of you to do that,” said Enjolras, intensely staring at Grantaire, who nodded awkwardly, mumbled something about somewhere to be and hurriedly left, completely forgetting Éponine and the apartment’s keys in the process.He was, truly and beautifully, fucked. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “And how can the dead be truly dead when they still live in the souls of those who were left behind?”- Carson McCullers, The heart is a lonely hunter   Now (February, 2017)  Everyone leaves on Sunday, two days after the funeral. Joly and Jehan repeatedly offer Grantaire to stay a few more days with Gavroche and him, but he declines. Both of them have classes to attend and Grantaire isn’t sure he can keep his façade up much longer. He is immensely thankful for his friends’ support and love, but, while he knows they are grieving too, he can’t stand their looks of compassion, their carefulness, their light touches as though he were made of thin glass. Some leave by train, the last ones to go pile up in Enjolras’s red Clio. There are hugs, whispered promises, Call me if you need me, You know we’re all here for you, Hang on there buddy, I love you man, stay safe and keep us updated. As everyone climbs in and straps themselves, Grantaire grabs Enjolras’s sleeve – Enjolras, who seems to have purposefully lingered behind, the last one to get in the car. They haven’t talked much, a few words here and there, lost in the hiccuping pre-funeral days and the rushed post-funeral moment.“Enjolras, I…” Grantaire starts, stops, remains silent, stuck in the middle of the garden as a Sunday evening prematurely falls on them. Everything is cold and hushed like soiled damp cotton. Enjolras stays silent too, waits for Grantaire to find the words, patient and quiet like he seldom is. Grantaire grits his teeth and painstakingly gets the words out. “You just gave one week to drive me here, stay with me, help me organise everything and attend the funeral.” His voice breaks on the last word and he stops talking to stare at a point over Enjolras’s shoulder, fighting the tears welling up in his throat. Enjolras waits, and Grantaire is once again grateful that the other seems to know the value of silence. Once he feels he can speak without choking on his grief, he proceeds. “You didn’t have to do that. We’re not… You didn’t have to. But you did.”Enjolras opens his mouth to say something like I would have done it for anyone, or That’s what anyone would do, something Grantaire doesn’t want to hear, so he lifts his hand and silences him.“Don’t. I’m just… What you did, it was a good thing to do. You helped me. Thank you.”Night keeps falling, an early cloak of freezing darkness. The street-lights wake up and spill their orange glow in circular blotches on the pavement beyond the garden gate. Behind Grantaire, the house pours out a responding orange light through its windows, like squares of empty warmth cut out against the falling shadow. Enjolras nods, lifts his hand to put it on Grantaire’s shoulder, seems to think better of it, lets it fall down again. Grantaire’s eyes follow the movement, unwittingly drawn to these hands he still longs to etch on paper, despite everything else.“I’m glad I was of some help,” Enjolras answers, crisp and articulate as always, though the edges have softened a little. “Look, I know everyone has already said it to you, but if you need anything, call me. I can be here in four hours.”“Wouldn’t dream of making you miss another week of classes,” Grantaire jokes lamely, mostly for himself – dismiss the offer at once so he doesn’t let himself think about it. But Enjolras shakes his head.“I’m serious, Grantaire.”“You always are.”“And you, never.”“I am wild,” he answers, a smirk tugging up his mouth. Instead of the usual irritation, Enjolras rolls his eyes with something like almost-fondness before his usual focus returns.“Really, though. If you need anything, call me. I can miss classes. Believe me.”Enjolras is serious – of course, he always is, and why wouldn’t he be now? So Grantaire believes him, believes him when he says he is sincere, because Enjolras does not offer lightly, does not throw words around like Grantaire himself does.“Okay,” Grantaire murmurs, throat full again. “Okay. Thank you.”Enjolras smiles at him then turns and walks to the car. He gently gets Gavroche out of Montparnasse’s arms, hugs him fiercely and whispers something in his ear that makes Gavroche wanly smile, before sliding into the driver’s seat. Grantaire’s eyes meet Montparnasse’s, who is seated with Jehan and Courfeyrac on the back seat; he offers a small smile that isn’t returned, but Grantaire did not expect it to be and is all right with that. He still feels like he hasn’t reached out enough to Parnasse, but he’s trying.As the car leaves in a flutter of waving hands and Joly’s “Call, you jackass!”, he steers Gavroche back into the lit house, grumbling something about kids who have class on Mondays and dinner needing to be made. Gavroche quips about guys who think they can boss people around because they’ve just figured out how to boil water. The pasta they make taste like ash in their mouth and they hurry to swallow it all and escape the ticking of the kitchen clock, which has not stopped since Grantaire first set foot in this house twelve years ago.As the kid retreats to his room, Grantaire braves the freezing night air to smoke a cigarette, which, ironically enough, drowns the taste of ash the food had left in his mouth. If Éponine were here, she would pluck the smoke and take a few drags before giving it to him again, between her thumb and forefinger so he could directly take it in his mouth, a small attention that speaks volumes, like everything else with her. If she were here.If she were here, he wouldn’t need to be.He finishes the cigarette, crushes it under his foot and goes back in, leaving the butt in the frozen grass, where no-one can call him a tosser for not picking it up anymore.  “Ah, Monsieur Louis, and you must be Gavroche. Mademoiselle Thénardier – Éponine – spoke of you both at length,” says the notary, showing Grantaire and Gavroche the way to his study.Because, as it seems, Éponine was worried and careful enough to hire a notary and draw a full, very much legal will. She was twenty-five, a year younger than him. Bloody hell, Grantaire thinks, giving a fleeting thought to the pile of unwashed dishes that has been sitting in his Parisian apartment for two weeks now, unless Jehan has swung by from Montparnasse’s to grab something in the room that has been nominally hers for more than a year now. Way to adult, Ép.Shut up, he hears and ignores the telluric heartbreak that rattles through him. He politely nods to the man and takes a seat in front of the desk. From the window, he can see the main harbour, grey docks licked by a grey sea under a grey sky, with little blots of colour as the fishing boats come back surfing on the tide.Beside him, Gavroche shifts a little and sends him a discreet kick under the desk, which makes Grantaire start and realise the man has been prattling on the entire time and is now watching him, waiting for an answer. Grantaire throws a glance at Gavroche, who is lost in the contemplation of a hideous painting above the notary’s balding head, though his jaw is far too clenched for someone merely dissecting an ugly so-called piece of art.“So, M. Louis, what do you think of this?”Grantaire would feel like he’s gone back to his high school years, caught up in class not listening at all, except for the fact he is too weary to find that comparison appropriate. Because he’s an adult now, and because he really doesn’t give a fuck, he simply refocuses on the notary and blankly stares at him.“I beg your pardon?”“Gavroche’s custody, M. Louis. Éponine has you marked as her next-of-kin, and as the only option suited for Gavroche’s custody.”That’s when Grantaire forgets how to breathe. What.“You mean… permanently?” he garbles, throwing a quick glance at Gavroche, who is now playing with his Converse laces. Grantaire would think the kid couldn’t care less about the conversation except for how hard he is biting his lip. He suddenly wishes he’d left him in the waiting room. Stupid.“Until Gavroche turns eighteen, yes.”“But I… I barely have a steady income, I’m an art student, for god’s sake! I live in Paris in a dingy flat and –”“All the financial aspects of the question would be covered by the money Éponine got out of the trial against the Thénardiers, as well as financial help from social services.”“This doesn’t solve the problem of the location,” Grantaire blandly points out. This is surreal. He should have seen it coming, but it’s surreal. “Both my job and my studies are in Paris and they can’t be moved to here, not even temporarily. And Gavroche –”“Gavroche cannot go to Paris. Éponine explicitly stated it in her will. He is under no circumstances allowed to settle in Paris before he turns eighteen.”Grantaire remains silent for a moment, his mind churning. Then, turning to Gavroche:“What do you think of this?”The kid looks up, a little surprised. But hell, Grantaire is eleven years older than him, not his father. He can’t discuss this without including him.“I… I’m sorry, R, but I can’t leave here. This is my home,” he slowly answers, with a steadiness Grantaire was not expecting. “My whole life is here. Besides,” he takes a deep breath, one Grantaire recognises as the one needed to say the next sentence without bursting into tears, because he draws the same every single hour of the day. “Ép was right.” His voice doesn’t waver on Éponine’s name. “I can’t go to Paris with them still around. It isn’t safe.”Grantaire nods and stares blankly at the view of the port outside. The fishing boats are beginning to enter haven past the dike and the lone black-and-white lighthouse, green and red and yellow sliding in front of, on and under a stale wintry greyness. God, how he hates this place.That’s when the realisation strikes him, really strikes him with all its blunt unescapability: he is stuck here, on an island four hundred kilometres away from Paris, with a boy whom he doesn’t share a drop of blood with and a name written on a tombstone along with dates of birth and death that will make visitors pity “this poor girl, so young, can you imagine?”. He is stuck here, having barely notified his professors about his absence, with no job, no prospects and no way out.He is trapped.The notary’s clearing of throat calls him back to the office. He draws a deep breath, runs his hands on his thighs a few times and finally looks up at the balding man.“Why would she do this?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. But still, why, why would Éponine entrust her hard-won little brother’s safety to an alcohol-prone, self-harming, depressive Parisian art student in his mid-twenties?“Because she had no one else to trust,” the other simply answers, and Grantaire gets a glimpse of the hours Éponine must have spent here in this office, going over every single aspect of this document, and revealing her story, her brothers’ story, talking like she might never have done before, and he feels a sudden if distant wave of gratitude for this unassuming, weasel-like man who didn’t show his sister pity as much as attention.Grantaire closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing like Jehan – for meditation – and Bahorel – for capoeira – both taught him a few years ago. The room is quiet, three breathings and the whirr of the notary’s computer, the distant shriek of the port’s gulls despite the thick windowpanes.This cannot be. This cannot happen. In one document, Éponine has torpedoed Grantaire’s whole life, or what was left of it. He knows he still has a choice – if he insists, Gavroche can be taken by social services once again and placed in foster care. He can still say no, I really really can’t, I’m sorry, and hand over the kid to people who actually know what they’re doing.And lose him in the process.Gavroche is more than Grantaire’s adoptive sister’s younger brother. He is Grantaire’s own brother, his sparrow, part of his patchwork family. Éponine trusted him to take care of Gav. Gavroche himself trusts him to take care of him, trusts him enough to let him close, despite the awful childhood the kid has had and the trust issues he must have.He is trapped. How the fuck could you do this to me, Ép.   Then (March, 2015)  Grantaire was very busy rolling a joint right over his open sketchbook in a small park when his phone buzzed. He ignored it, finished the roll, flattened an extremity, set it in his mouth and fished for his lighter in the pocket of his coat. Inspiration had abandoned him an hour ago and he had gone out in search of it, despite the cold and quite hatefully Parisian March quality of the air these days. The lighter was not in his coat, nor in the hoodie’s pocket under it. He lost a minute blindly pawing for it before remembering he’d shoved it in his trousers’ pocket, alongside his phone –– which was buzzing rather insistently, too much to be ignored. Only one person would try again after having failed at contacting him once.“What’s up, dude,” he lazily asked while lighting – at last – the damn joint and taking a drag.“Shit,” said Éponine’s voice on the other end of the connection – too winded, too brittle for things to be all right. Grantaire straightened from his usual slouch at once, putting the joint away.“You all right? What’s wrong?”“My brother,” answered Éponine in a bland voice.“Yeah, that’s me. What did I do wrong?”“Not you, the other. The little one. Gavroche.”… shit, indeed.“What do you mean Gavroche? Do you have news?”“I… yeah.” A deep breath. “Where are you?”“Belleville.”“Be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t move. And finish your damn joint,” she curtly said before hanging up. He stared, dumbfounded, at his blank phone screen, before re-lighting the roll and taking a drag. Fifteen minutes later, Éponine was indeed there in her usual fake-leather jacket, battered Marteens and black jeans, a straight-up fuck you to winter temperatures. She also carried a bag, which was quite unusual of her – she had of course used one when going to class, but never when going elsewhere. Her tight jacket and trousers always seemed to spout hidden stuff, such as her wallet, keys, phone, lighter, smokes, and on one memorable occasion a five inches-long knife that had been taken from her at the entrance of the Louvre. It always amazed him, how remnants of her childhood still stuck to her despite everything else; how she knew to make herself invisible, or that having a bag was begging to be robbed, or what person to talk to in an entire crowd to get one precise contraband item. That Grantaire knew too, but only because he made it a point of honour to know everyone in Paris, or at least everyone worth knowing. His own special brand of half-neglected, half-abused childhood had stayed with him too, of course, in small things, quick reflexes, empty bravado, absolute hatred for any and all kinds of authority figures – except one, his mind whispered from time to time before he made it shut the hell up. Point in case being that Éponine’s bag was surprising. Unexpected. Worrying, almost.“What happened?” Grantaire called as she made her way to him and sat down on the bench.“What happened is that Azelma – my sister –”“I know who Azelma is, come on, Ép.”“Azelma,” she repeated with enough force to make him understand interruptions were most unwelcome, “sent me an email this morning, look,” she said as she opened the laptop she’d carried in her bag. “I have no idea how she got mine, but whatever. What happened is that the Thénardiers left the US for France three weeks ago, that she’s only just found my email, that they still have Gavroche, who is now twelve and has managed to contact Azelma for help.”“Wait, what?”“Read the goddam email, R. Look: Gavroche somehow managed to contact Azelma before they left the States to beg for help, but she got there too late and they were already gone. They’re back in France, most probably in Paris,presumably re-establishing connections – I’ll have to ask Parnasse about that, by the way,” and Grantaire really didn't want to know how could Montparnasse know about that, “with Gavroche in tow. Az is working out a visa to come to France but since her papers are on the shifty side because of them, it’s being a little difficult at the moment. So she is asking me to find them and start the procedure to get custody of Gavroche.”Grantaire stared at her for a moment, entirely speechless. Then stared at the laptop screen. Then back at her.“What. The fuck.” “Pontmercy. Bahorel, Bossuet,” Éponine greeted as Grantaire and her took a seat around the café table. Marius smiled at them, sweet and guileless, Bossuet threw a “my dudes” and Bahorel a “What’s up, boss. Not you, R.”“I know, arsehole,” Grantaire pleasantly shot back. Bahorel grinned at him and blew a kiss to Éponine, who rolled her eyes. The darker tinge of her cheeks was the only hint of the flustered state Marius’s presence put her in. This whole unrequited love business was a shame, Grantaire thought. Marius really was a nice chap to hang out with. Although it might not be Grantaire’s best interest to start talking about unrequited crushes turned into soul-deep wounds, or whatever.“So what’s the pressing matter requiring the assembly of the legendary Law School Trio?” boomed Bahorel. Bahorel did not speak like a normal person. He emitted sound at much too high a volume for any of it to be considered normal.“That’s us,” Marius threw in. “The LST. Which sounds like a venereal disease, though it’s really not.”“Thanks, Marius,” Bossuet said. Marius started blushing and apologising but Éponine cut short to his flustering. Family emergencies did seem to make the crush recede or momentarily shut up, Grantaire noted."Vos gueules, I’ve got a problem. I need help.”Now there was a sight that left them all speechless. Éponine asking for help. Bahorel sobered up at once and she started explaining the situation. Between Bahorel who had seemingly been in law school for the last seven years, Bossuet who had a prodigious memory and Marius who took his studies very seriously, they formed a good enough team. And getting custody of a willing child when the blood relation could be officially proved didn’t seem to be that complicated if the necessity of it was acknowledged by child services. The real problem was finding the Thénardiers.“I can get Montparnasse on it,” Éponine said. “They must have activated their old contacts again. He can find them in no time if he puts his mind to it.”Bossuet nodded and started detailing the procedure. Grantaire looked at Ép for a moment before focusing on the conversation. Her face was shuttered and terribly serious, a little like she had been a few weeks before when she had taken her final test to enter social services. He was starting to think this was her face to tackle things far, far bigger than her. They got Gavroche three months and a half later.Azelma never came to France.   Now  Gavroche is quiet.Gavroche is never quiet – he talks, whistles, laughs or sings, always in motion, always filling space with his jokes and jibes. He is the most resilient person Grantaire has ever met, always bouncing back, refusing silence, refusing fear. Refusing death.Hence the discomfort – the awkwardness – the worry – that seeps through Grantaire when the kid doesn’t talk for three hours after they get out of the notary’s office. Grantaire treats him to a warm crêpe on the port. Gavroche quietly thanks him and then eats his crêpe. In silence.“It’s not against you, you know,” Grantaire says to the potatoes he is peeling in the kitchen that evening. Gavroche keeps working on his maths problems at the kitchen table. Saying nothing.“Gav. It’s not against you. It’s not that I don’t want you.”“That’s what it sounded like to me,” Gavroche shoots. He still hasn’t lifted his eyes from his notebook, but he’s at least stopped jotting down numbers. Grantaire sighs, puts the knife and the half-peeled potato down and goes to take a seat in front of the kid.“Look,” he starts and waits until Gavroche is looking at him. “I get why Ép wanted me to be your guardian. I… I wouldn’t mind that. I’m twenty-six and barely responsible, but Gav, I’d adult like fuck for you, buddy.” Gavroche snorts and his nose crinkles a little in that adorable fashion that makes Grantaire want to ruffle his hair. “I just can’t leave Paris. I can’t live here. I just… I can’t.” The amused light disappears from Gavroche’s eyes as a candle that has been snuffed out.Grantaire suddenly hates himself for it. How selfish, how utterly selfish of him is it to cling to a city his little brother can’t go to, to only think of himself when someone so strong and yet so brittle needs him? For a moment, in a flash, he sees himself giving in, moving out of his studio, cancelling the workshops he gives at the Musée d'Orsay and the ones he attends to at the Beaux-Arts, finishing his philosophy degree by mail, quitting his job at the public library and moving down here. He could find a job and occasionally pepper things up with commissions from clients on the internet. He could –– he must.Right, there’s that. He doesn’t have a choice.“I will, though. It’s not like we have a choice,” he adds at last. Gavroche bites his lip and says nothing for a while.“You could… I mean. You could…” he stops, twirls his pen around his fingers like Grantaire had taught him the second day after they’d met. “You could give me to child services. That’s all right,” he lies. His effort almost makes Grantaire hurt. He’s a kid, for fuck’s sake. Stop treating him like an adult."I'd never do that, Gav. I’m not letting you go. Unless you want me to,” he adds, remembering what Javert had said to him all these years ago when he’d arrived in this house. Gavroche purses his lips in what looks freakishly like an Enjolras look and shakes his head. Grantaire smiles at him, suddenly feeling very tired. What a pair they make. “Then that’s it. I’ll find a way. I’m not leaving you, promise.”As his eyes distractedly sweep across the kitchen, he becomes aware that this is his home now, whether he wants it or not. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Surviving is the only war we can afford."- Margaret Atwood, "They are hostile nations"   Now  “What do you mean you’re not coming back?” Joly panics on the other end of the line. Grantaire sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, walking away from the restaurant he just managed to land a job in. He could take the bus to go back to the house – and thank the stars for public transportation, because he can't afford a driver's license, let alone a car, and the mere idea of getting on any two-wheeler makes him feel a slimy and horrifically cold kind of dread – , but he is far too worked up to sit still, and doesn’t want anyone listening in to his conversation with Joly. He feels like he has been on the verge of a panic attack ever since their appointment with the notary yesterday, but has been squashing it down with the imperious need of find a job take care of Gav send emails to my professors BE RESPONSIBLE.“Exactly what it means, Jollly,” he meekly answers. Joly sighs – a few seconds of expelled static in Grantaire’s ear – and Grantaire relents. “I told you. I got Gavroche’s custody. I’m staying here and taking care of him until he turns eighteen.”“R, that’s four years away.”“I know.”“You’ll be twenty-nine by the time you can move back to Paris.”“I know, Joly!” Grantaire snaps. He furiously stares at the side-walk, taking a deep breath to calm down. He is not used to feeling that much – anger, panic, fear; usually, the brightest colours in Grantaire’s world are his paintings, not his emotions. But he feels cheated on, trapped, and all the more guilty and selfish for it. He haltingly says so to Joly, who sighs again, out of concern this time.“Oh, hey, R. What you’re feeling is valid. Your life just kinda crumbled down in the last two weeks–”“Wow, thanks, man.”“… you know what I mean. Blast, I’m not good at this. Are you sure you don’t want me to get you Courf? He knows how to… emote.”“I know, and I love him, but he’s not you, Jo. If anything I’ll call him later,” Grantaire answers. Joly chuckles and Grantaire can almost see his grin.“Thanks. Anyway. Are you sure there’s no way out of this?”“I could always hand Gav to social services. But–”“You can’t.”“Yeah. I know social services aren’t always as bad to kids as they were to me, but I really can’t give him up as if I didn’t care. This kid has been through some shit, Jo. I want to give him stability and a home if I can help it. He’s got enough abandonment issues as it is.”“You won’t be able to give him much of anything if you hate your situation as much as I know you do.”There. This is why Grantaire has called Joly, even if Courfeyrac is, admittedly, the psychology student good at emotions. Because Joly is honest, sometimes painfully so, and that’s what Grantaire needs right now, not sugar-coated reassurances or sympathetic smiles.“You think I don’t know that? He was right there with me in the notary’s office. He saw me panicking when I was told I was appointed his legal guardian. He already half-thinks I don’t want him.”“… shit. Have you spoken to him?”“Yeah. But still. He’s just lost his sister, who was the only non-abusive parental figure he’s even known. I… I’m fucked up, Jo, I don’t know if I’m good for him.”“You’re not as fucked up as you think, R.”Grantaire barks an ugly laugh.“No, I’m serious, dude.” Joly sighs again. The line is briefly filled with the muffled sounds of someone squeezing their phone between their shoulder and their ear to have both hands free. “Look, I get it, I think. Like, shitty childhood, shitty teens, abuse, neglect and depression, and then you come to Paris and your adoptive dad dies and you lose all frame of reference except for Éponine who’s trying to hold it as she can, so you do drugs and you drop out and everything. I get it. But R, you’ve been going steady for more than two years. You’ve been attending classes, you managed to land that job at Orsay, you’re halfway through your philosophy degree because you’re really good at it… You’re not as fucked up as you think,” he repeats, and Grantaire can feel the disagreeable truth coming in. “I think – I’m no therapist, but I know you; I think you keep telling yourself you’re fucked up because it’s easier to define yourself by it than accepting your shortcomings as they are, human flaws and not outer signs of mental illness.”Grantaire stays silent. It is disagreeable. Terribly so.“Look, I’m not saying you’re not really still struggling with depression or remnants of your childhood, yeah? Like, who am I to tell you that. But if you think of it, you can act like an adult and do it all right, you’ve been doing just fine for the past few years, going sober and being responsible and, you know, even happy at times, if I’m not wrong.” A stretch of silence, some shuffling sounds. “What I want to tell you is that you need to stop pre-emptively justifying any mistakes you might make in the future by saying I’m fucked up. You can’t keep excusing yourself from your own life like that.”Scratch that, the first part was a mild inconvenience compared to this truth-bomb. Grantaire focuses on the little cloud of white air he breathes out and tries to ignore the urge to throw up. A minute passes in silence and Grantaire is grateful Joly does not try to jostle him out of it before he is ready.“I… wow, man. Wow,” he finally says, for lack of anything else.“I’d say I’m sorry, but…”“No, no, you’re not, that’s okay. You’re right. I just… you just punched me in the face with words. It hurts, dude.”“Sorry.”“It’s okay. Just… let me process this. Tell me about the crew or something. I’ve been missing a ton of stuff, I bet.”So Joly does tell Grantaire about everything that has happened in their little band, because even though Grantaire is in daily communication with most of them, very few can tell stories like Joly can. And because Joly is Grantaire’s best friend, he might mention Enjolras a bit more than the rest of the Amis. Neither comment on it. *  06:12 PM so i have a kid  Grantaire stares dumbly at the message he has just sent to Enjolras of all people, says “FUCK” very loudly and puts his phone face down on his bed before leaving the room altogether. He can’t explain the urge that possessed him to write to bloody Enjolras and even refuses to think about it.He tries to stop thinking about everything at once – Éponine, the ugly painting in the notary’s office, Enjolras, Joly’s words, how Gavroche must be sitting in the school bus right now and could have an accident at any moment, the pregnant smell of onions in the kitchen of the restaurant where he’s working, Éponine, his text to Enjolras, how he is trapped here, the kitchen’s clock’s loud ticking two rooms away – everything – and instead sits down to tackle the third book of Nietzsche’s Gay Science, so he can pretend he's actually working and not fighting off a panic attack like a bloody professional.He may once have gotten a luminous glimpse of something resembling truth through these pages, but presently they swim before his eyes. He sighs, closes the book, jabbing his index finger in it to mark the page, and emptily watches the darkness behind the windowpanes. It is half past six. Gavroche will soon be home, and then Grantaire will have to get up, start putting dinner together, see if the kid needs any help with his homework – he never does –, try to coax a laugh out of him to make sure the he will have laughed at least once today. And then clean up, think of tomorrow’s list of groceries and the beginning of his shift at the restaurant, refresh his e-mail for the umpteenth time in the hope of an art commission, stare at Nietzsche some more, smoke a fag and go to back to staring again, but in his bed and at the invisible ceiling this time.He belatedly realises he is hyperventilating, and has been for some time if the black dots dancing at the edge of his vision are anything to go by. His heart drums too strongly against his ribcage. He drops the book and starts breathing as slowly as he can through his nose, exhaling the air through his mouth, over and over until he stops feeling like his lungs are about to burst from the pressure. You can’t keep excusing yourself from your own life like that. “Shut up,” he grits, tiredly rubbing his eyes. Good heavens. Gavroche could have walked in on him at any moment. He really can’t afford that in front of him. He is the responsible adult here now. Éponine has you marked as her next-of-kin, and as the only option suited for Gavroche’s custody. He knows. It doesn’t make it any easier. The house emptily resonates around him, dark and huge and a cage.“Pull yourself together, man,” Grantaire mutters to himself as he gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. He needs to do something with his hands, and painting simply doesn’t work these days – he prays it will start again once he is commissioned something. That leaves croque-monsieurs to do, because Grantaire is still a student and eats like one, kid or no kid in the picture. *  06:12 PM so i have a kid   06:43 PM I’m aware.   06:45 PM I was told, I mean. Joly told me.   06:48 PM Are you all right?   09:01 PM yeah man i’m just peachy. i mean, i always dreamt of inheriting the care of my dead sister’s 14-yo brother and being stuck in bumfuck nowhere right in the middle of my twenties. just peachy   09:07 PM sorry, that was uncalled for   09:07 PM i’m just tired, i guess   09:08 PM and to answer your question, not really, no. things are pretty shitty right now   09:32 PM Don’t worry, it’s fine. I think you’re allowed to crack a little under the pressure. Do you want to talk about it?   09:34 PM it’s going to sound like a long rant of complaints   09:35 PM That’s not a no. I would say I’m quite used to them, right? And besides if anyone is allowed to rant and complain a lot it’s you.   09:36 PM … right  09:36 PM it’s just that   09:39 PM idk, i feel like my whole world is crumbling down rn. i mean, ép is dead – which, what the fuck, who gave her the fucking right to begin with?! – and gav is in a really bad place rn except he doesn’t show it bc that kid represses everything like a fucking pro, and i need and have to take care of him bc it’s not like i can leave him, i really can’t do that to either of us, i love him, he’s my brother ffs   09:41 PM like don’t get me wrong i love that kid to pieces and i want what’s best for him, i really don’t want him to have more of the shitty childhood he’s had so far, but idk if i can make it. joly said i could, he said that i was able to do it and like i trust him, right, but i feel like i’m drowning and idk how long i can stay here before exploding   09:43 PM and well i mean i’m self-aware enough to know i’m going to strongly resent this situation if a fairy godmother doesn’t suddenly make me love it through the power of magic and unicorns and you can’t take care of a kid when you’re feeling shitty about the circumstances that led you to take care of him in the first place   09:44 PM besides gav is really emotionally smart on top of being school-smart and he knows i don’t want to be here, so i bet he feels really bad about it and he really doesn’t need that   09:45 PM omg enjolras what if i fuck him up bc i wasn’t able to behave like a grown-up and take care of him like he deserves   09:46 PM what if i make things worse for him   09:49 PM …  09:51 PM sorry about the rant   09:51 PM i warned you though   09:53 PM … oh, Grantaire.  09:53 PM Don’t apologise, I’m sorry I didn’t answer at once. I didn’t really know what to say.   09:54 PM haha if only that could happen irl lol   09:55 PM It does. Your “rants” tend to leave me speechless for a while.   09:55 PM wow WHAT   09:56 PM A speechlessness born of indignation, of course.   09:56 PM yeah sure, whatever   09:58 PM I know it’s not worth much but I’m sorry.   09:59 PM yeah   10:01 PM You know we’re all here for you, right?   10:02 PM yeah i know but i mean   10:03 PM you guys are in paris and i’m here   10:03 PM you’ll all end up forgetting i even existed once haha   10:04 PM Of course not! What are you on about? Would you forget Combeferre if he had to move away?   10:05 PM enjolras   10:05 PM apollo   10:05 PM phíltatos   10:06 PM combeferre is combeferre. i’m me. i’m not combeferre   10:07 PM Of course you’re different persons, but I’m trying to make you understand we couldn’t forget you, just like we couldn’t forget Ferre even if we tried.   10:07 PM And stop calling me Apollo.   10:08 PM What does the last one mean?   10:09 PM that’s nice of you to say bud   10:10 PM figure it out my man   10:11 PM It’s not “nice” Grantaire, it’s true. Didn’t you tell me once that I didn’t “do nice”?   10:12 PM right   10:13 PM I’m serious, R.   10:13 PM Can I call you R?   10:14 PM yes enjolras you can call me R   10:15 PM and as we have already established you are always serious   10:17 PM I wasn’t aware you had such self-esteem issues.   10:20 PM wow what the FUCK, dude   10:22 PM I’ve been telling you time and time again that you are valued among the group and that I was ready to come whenever you needed me to, and yet you keep doubting it. I can only assume it is because your self-esteem leaves to be desired.   10:24 PM i really don’t need to have you psychoanalysing me rn tbh   10:26 PM I’m sorry if I offended you in any way.   10:40 PM Courfeyrac explained to me that I was rude and assuming. I’m sorry.   10:57 PM R?   11:48 PM For all it’s worth, I don’t think you’re going to be bad for Gavroche. If anything, you two are good for each other.   00:14 AM Good night, R. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Creo que no te quiero, que solamente quiero la imposibilidad tan obvia de quererte. Como el guante izquierdo enamorado de la mano derecha.”- Julio Cortázar   Then (October, 2014)  Courfeyrac entering the Musain’s back-room tended to be the equivalent of a golden ray of sun suddenly tearing clouds apart and hugging everything in its soft warmth. Today was no exception.“Hello everyone! Jehan, love, that dress just slays.”Jehan reddened and beamed back at their friend who stood at the entrance of the room, hands on his hips as if checking the troops’ good morale. Apparently satisfied with what he had seen, he stepped in and behind him appeared a lithe figure Grantaire did not know.“Darlings, this is Marius Pontmercy, my new flatmate and friend. Codename: cinnamon roll. Anyone who hurts him will suffer dire consequences involving their genitalia.”“How charming,” murmured Combeferre, nonetheless smiling at Marius and giving the signal for a chorus of “hello Marius!”.Marius blushed furiously and awkwardly waved at the assembled crowd before entering the room and stumbling over thin air. Courfeyrac caught him, managing to make everyone understand laughter would be most unwelcome. Combeferre stepped forward and engaged Marius in conversation so as to divert attention, and Grantaire watched as everyone slowly made their way to the newcomer to introduce themselves. The man – a boy, almost – was tall and gangly, and had one of those pretty, thin, almost ethereal white boys’ faces ideal for Instagram pictures or dressing up as Rimbaud. Thankfully, his wide and overeager smile, threadbare corduroy trousers and nervous laughter saved him from Grantaire’s critical categorising.Suddenly, a sharp crash drew everyone’s attention to the entrance of the room. There stood Éponine, her face as pale and motionless as it ever got, her eyes fixed on Marius with the intensity she usually reserved for her coffee on bad mornings or Grantaire when he fucked up on a whole new level (such as: going missing for a whole day because of substance abuse; getting so terribly, mind-numbingly, sickeningly drunk he then spent seven hours of misery curled in a ball in the bathroom, where it would be easier to clean his retching; spending more than his auto-fixated monthly allowance on alcohol; behaving so obnoxiously with the Amis Enjolras actually insulted him; generally being the depressive, alcoholic, loud-mouthed wreck he was these days). The crash had been her mug of coffee hitting the floor and spilling its contents where it had broken in four, thus probably revoking Ép’s hard-earned rights to Louison’s Special Mug Treatment.“Oh, how are the mighty fallen!” dramatically interjected Grantaire from the corner of the room he was seated at, shaking Éponine out of her paralysis. She blinked, looked down at her feet where the coffee had stained her boots and muttered a vigorous “Rah merde!” that echoed through the room and prompted Joly’s sudden laughter.“Right,” Courfeyrac said. “Marius, this is Éponine, badass extraordinaire. Don’t let this fool you, this is the first time I’ve seen her let something fall. Éponine, this is Marius, my new flatmate.”“We’ve met,” Éponine muttered, resolutely not looking at Marius and rather staring at an invisible but seemingly fascinating point that hovered somewhere over his right shoulder. Marius smiled sweetly and raked a hand through his hair, shuffling next to Courfeyrac as though not knowing what to do with his limbs.“We have. Hello, Miss Éponine.”Éponine nodded before looking again at the coffee-scented disaster at her feet. “Well, I’d better clean this up.”“Get Parnasse to do it for you,” said Jehan, prompting a mock-outraged noise from Enjolras (if Enjolras could do something as pedestrian as humour, Grantaire privately amended).“Right, so he can dye my laundry green. No, Flower. I’m not suicidal,” she deadpanned, raising an eyebrow when everyone started laughing as if not understanding why, which only made Jehan giggle harder.As Éponine disappeared down the stairs, the introductions continued. Marius apparently already knew some of the Amis: Bossuet and him had met at law school, though they hadn’t talked much then; and Combeferre treated him with a familiarity that told of a past awkward introduction between boyfriend and flatmate.“… so the only one missing is Cosette, Enjolras’s sister, she’s got too much work. She should be here next week though,” Courfeyrac ended the tour. Grantaire, true to form, did not get up to say hello. The thing was, Courfeyrac was right. Éponine did not drop things.Sure, sometimes, things slipped from her hands – a soapy dish she was supposed to rinse R what the fuck stop throwing the fucking dishes and actually hand them to me; a book jostled out of her hands in a metro wagon filled to the brim with Brooding Parisians; on one memorable occasion, a glass of orange juice she had spilled down herself after Grantaire had made a fool of himself to get a smile out of her, which, in hindsight, may have been one of his proudest moments. Éponine was human, and things slipped from her hands.But dropping them?So Grantaire kept an attentive eye on his sister once she had mopped the mess and heavily sat down next to him. He pretended to pretend not to be engrossed by everything Enjolras said or did or breathed next to Marius a few metres away, and Éponine pretended not to notice that Grantaire was only pretending to pretend, which was as far as sibling solidarity could go.Her face was closed off, more so than usual. Éponine did not by nature have expressive features, but she had slowly relearned to use the basic range of human expressions after Javert had taken her in – though the fact that Javert of all people had taught Éponine basic human expressions was enough of a hint about the emotional non-state she had been in at fourteen. At this instant, however, it seemed she had gone back ten years. Her dark hair fell in a protective curtain around her face, half-hiding it from the rest of the room. After a few minutes, she shook out of her immobility and took out her notes from class. Her final exams were in six months, and Grantaire had seldom seen anyone as focused as she was on getting the job they were training for. Or would not have, if it had not been for the gang of overachievers the back-room of the Musain was brimming with.The real meetings, the ones with students from all over Paris and planning for rallies and setting up protest campaigns against police violences, happened every week on Thursday nights. The rest of the time, the Amis – the core group, which Grantaire apparently belonged to, though he could not fathom how nor why – usually met at the Musain to get their work done, spend time together and get work done for the organisation because overachieving was part of their description on social media, or should have been. Grantaire did not understand how people with such brilliant and demanding studies – alternating between law school, med school, political studies and double-courses in literature and obscure languages – or equally demanding work schedules – Feuilly, mainly, who volunteered in an organisation that helped illegal immigrants and had to work part-time at a bar to set food on the table – could find time to run a club that had all the requisites for a future political party if they put their mind to it. This was a Wednesday evening, which meant preparing for the next day’s reunion but also chatting together and getting uni work done.“Hola. ¿Todo bien?” Feuilly asked Éponine, sliding on the chair next to her. Grantaire started doodling the room on his sketchbook to at least look like he wasn’t intruding on their conversation. Éponine looked up and gave a small smile to Feuilly.“Hola. Sí, todo bien. ¿Tú qué más?”“Trabajando,” Feuilly shrugged, “Tengo que contarte lo que me pasó con una señora libiana esta mañana…”Grantaire focused on his drawing and let their conversation fade into the background. “No but really, what kind of dude start waxing poetry about a blonde he saw in the park in a room full of strangers?” Grantaire laughed that night, rinsing the dishes and not thinking about the final project he was supposed to be thinking about. “I thought Enjolras was going to have an aneurysm.”Éponine grunted from somewhere behind him.“Oh, and, by the way, how do you know the guy? Because that was one hell of a reaction, Ép.”Another grunt. Grantaire ran the pan under the water one last time and turned around, drying his hands on his paint-splattered jeans. “Oi.”Éponine looked up from her notes and threw him a dark look. “Fuck off, R. I’m working.”“Answering my question really will take you less time and energy than it’s going to take listening to me until you give up, Ép. Easy cost-benefit analysis.”Éponine sighed and scrubbed her eyes. Grantaire poured himself a finger of cheap scotch while waiting for her to speak. “So?”“Used to bump into him in one of the places I went training. Guess he just lived there.”“Guess he doesn’t anymore. It’s strange, how Courfeyrac and Ferre don’t move in together. Chetta said it’s because Ferre and Enjolras are the most co-dependent people she’s ever met,” he said, ignoring the pang of longing-sadness-jealousy that writhed under his ribs.“And that’s your concern why exactly?”“How come you dropped your mug?” he deflected, swallowing the scotch and making a face at it – that shit was bad. He poured himself another finger nonetheless. Éponine pursed her lips and went back to her notes.“Funny how you’re staring at the page without reading it,” Grantaire said then, because he was a meddling little shit and never respected boundaries unless they were screamed at his face, which incidentally was how Éponine and him had learned to live together in the nine years they had known each other. Ép huffed and leaned back in her chair, meeting his eyes for the first time. The vulnerability in her face took Grantaire aback – he had been expecting snark, or a dismissal, or an easy truth, but not this, whatever this was going to end up being. She opened her mouth, closed it without a sound, huffed again, shrugged, looked at the darkness beyond the kitchen’s windowpane.That was her answer, and for Grantaire, it was enough.“Ép, do you have a crush on the guy?”She stiffened, did not say anything.“But how? I mean, how many times have you met him to like him that much? Like, what happened? How long has this been going on? What –”“Oh my god, Grantaire, I don’t KNOW!” Éponine exploded, throwing her hands up. She got up and started pacing the small space between the kitchen table and the flat’s entry. “I. Don’t. Know. I – we just met all the time, because apparently he was out of a job and his grand-father kicked him out or some shit? And, he was so nice to me, I don’t know,” she lamely stopped, staying still at the kitchen’s entrance, looking almost defeated. “Actually, I was working up the nerve to ask him on a date, because I haven’t been to his sector for ages but my instructor is sending me there tomorrow. Guess this spares me having to find he’s moved out.” She shrugged. “Tough luck, I guess.”Grantaire blinked, downed his scotch, then blinked again.“Well, fuck me. I wasn’t expecting that. Who’d’ve guessed you’d fall for the nicest, most harmless guy on Earth?”“Fuck you.”“Hey, it’s chill. I mean, welcome to the club, I can give you a tour, but it’s chill.”“I really hope you didn’t just compare me to your pathetic situation with Mister Goldilocks.”“Oi, you like Enjolras!”“Yeah, but not like you do. I’m still light-years away from your situation, R, thank god.”Grantaire gave her the middle finger and started pouring himself a third glass.“Okay, you’ve had enough,” she interjected, closing the distance between herself and the table in two steps.“Mind your own damn business, Éponine.”“I am. This is where I live, and drunks aren’t welcome. Give me the bottle.”Grantaire looked up defiantly, but sighed at her expression and handed her the bottle. Before he could take the glass and empty it, she reached out and swallowed the content, grimacing immediately after.“Fuck’s sake, I don’t know how you keep drinking this shit, it’s disgusting.”He shrugged. “It’s like everything. You get used to it.”Éponine raised an eyebrow and put the bottle away.“And, you know,” Grantaire added out of the blue, “he might never see that blonde again. You still have a chance.”“Fuck off.”   Now (March, 2017)  Grantaire pushes open the entrance door to find Gavroche already sitting in the kitchen, ostensibly doing his homework.“Sup, sparrow,” he greets, toeing off his old trainers and shuffling out of his coat before getting in and setting the grocery bag near Gavroche.“Sup, R.”The kid barely looks up from his maths.“How was your day?”Gavroche answers with a non-committal grunt and keeps scribbling weird maths stuff in his notebook – and thank whoever’s upstairs he doesn’t need help with that, because Grantaire would be fucked if he had to lend a hand in that particular field. He opens his mouth to try and get an actual answer but suddenly feels that would make him more of an annoying middle-aged parent than anything else; so he wisely shuts up and starts replenishing the fridge, one grocery at a time.“So, what do you want for dinner tonight? Pasta or pasta?” he asks after he is done. Gavroche answers without looking up.“We’ve eaten pasta three times this week already.”“Right. Um… pizza then? I can call for pizza.”Gavroche sighs at his equations. “Can we have, like, a healthy dinner? I don’t know, vegetables and shit?”Grantaire stares at the kid, speechless, feeling like he has been punched in the gut. Gavroche could not express any more clearly how bad Grantaire has been doing at this whole parenting stuff. If he weren’t twenty-six and in charge of a teenager, he would curl up in a corner with a bottle right the fuck now.Instead, he takes a small breath and tries to stretch his lips into a kind of smile.“Sure, bud. I’ll whip us up a ratatouille in no time. Rice suits you?”He takes Gavroche’s nod as the only answer he is going to get and starts looking for a ratatouille recipe on the internet.Dammit. He forgot to buy zucchini. *  08:35 PM hey   08:36 PM sorry about yesterday   08:37 PM i kinda overreacted 08:42 PM Yes, you did.   08:43 PM Not that it wasn’t normal!   08:43 PM I mean, I was rude and nosy, albeit truthful.   08:44 PM I mean, I was honest, which is no excuse.   08:44 PM MY POINT IS that I’m sorry I was rude and I hope you’re all right. 08:47 PM … you baffle me 08:48 PM What? Why? 08:50 PM only you could be so good at speaking and yet a disaster when it comes to normal human interactions 08:51 PM I know.   08:51 PM That’s what Courf and Ferre have been saying for the past, oh, six years?   08:52 PM I’m sorry though. 08:53 PM it’s okay dude, i mean, i overreacted too   08:54 PM call me sensitive 08:55 PM R, I think it’s rather normal for you to be sensitive right now. 08:57 PM uh yeah no bud let’s not do this whole psychoanalysis stuff again okay? 08:58 PM Of course, I’m sorry. 09:00 PM it’s okay dude   09:01 PM that was nice 09:02 PM What? 09:03 PM what you said about gav and i 09:04 PM Well, I mean. I don’t know either of you half as well as I should like, but that’s my opinion. 09:05 PM WOW   09:05 PM was that a LOTR quote?   09:06 PM can i scheenshot this for jehan? she’ll be so happy i promise 09:07 PM Yes, it was.   09:08 PM And please do. 09:10 PM okay enjolras let’s be serious here   09:10 PM … I thought you didn’t do serious. 09:11 PM depends on the person   09:12 PM ANYWAY   09:13 PM honestly. who do you love more. feuilly or jehan.   09:14 PM because i feel that’s where the real group dynamic lies 09:15 PM Grantaire. Would you ask Bossuet whether he prefers Star Wars or Star Trek? 09:16 PM … no.  09:16 PM (never again) 09:17 PM There you go. 09:18 PM oh   09:18 PM do courferre know? 09:20 PM That they’re only second favourites? They do.   09:21 PM isjkaoisalx 09:21 PM ? 09:23 PM hey love this is courf and yes, we know, and we try to cope, neither of us being a red-haired transgender poet or a moroccan superman  09:24 PM oh btw enj has something to tell you and you should pressure him a bit   09:24 PM i hope you’re all right, sweetie   09:24 PM dammitendeskasa   09:25 PM I got my phone back. 09:25 PM … right  09:26 PM so you’ve got something to tell me? 09:27 PM I…   09:28 PM Dammit, Courfeyrac.   09:29 PM Yes.   09:29 PM It’s about Cosette.   09:30 PM She doesn’t want to bother either of you so she hasn’t asked, but she’s been wanting to tell you something and I think it’s eating her up?   09:30 PM She’s going to hate me – and Courf – for bringing this up now.   09:31 PM I just think… you could use that talk too? 09:33 PM well honestly i don’t know what to say   09:34 PM i mean cosette and i aren’t that close   09:35 PM but tbh i don’t think i’d mind talking to her   09:36 PM why would it bother gav though? 09:37 PM She meant to come down. 09:38 PM … oh  09:39 PM isn’t she like, too busy? 09:40 PM I don’t know.   09:41 PM I don’t think telling you was a good idea. 09:42 PM look, it’s fine   09:43 PM i’ll just ring her up one of these days   09:44 PM don’t worry about it 09:45 PM All right. Just please don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with. 09:45 PM enjolras. i find life uncomfortable. 09:47 PM That… that was a joke, right? 09:47 PM yeah, a joke   09:48 PM look dude, i’m a not-so-high functioning depressive dude with addictive tendencies   09:49 PM this is my kind of humour 09:50 PM As long as it’s humour, I don’t mind.   09:51 PM But please tell someone if you’re doing badly.   09:51 PM You know you can talk to me. I won’t judge you. 09:52 PM strangely, i think you are right   09:53 PM but don’t worry   09:54 PM things are pretty awful right now but i’m not suicidal   09:54 PM and yes that is a positive thing 09:55 PM Of course it is! 10:00 PM okay so i just remembered   10:01 PM i’ve got something to do   10:02 PM and i’m going to have to focus on that thing   10:03 PM so bye 10:04 PM Good night R.   10:05 PM Good luck on your thing.   11:08 PM Hello everyone, this is a group message because my phone refuses to open whatsapp. I just sent you all the link to a series of articles and petitions you should read concerning the reception of migrants in France and the EU. We are starting to set arrangements with a few associations to help them and spread their message among the students. As you all know, the referent on these grounds is Feuilly, so any further questions should go to him! (See Ferre, I’m delegating now.) Good night, comrades!   *  Grantaire snorts at Enjolras’s last message before re-focusing on the screen of his laptop, where the little bar has been blinking in the empty mail-case for the last hour. He hasn’t found a title for his message, and the content is the hardest he has had to put into words in his life. He seldom has a problem with words – he opens his mouth and they flow out, not precise, organised, square and purposeful as Enjolras’s, but bubbling and shapeless, rambling and nonsensical, irritating. If he wants to say something, he says it – then again, not out of some sense of purpose, but Grantaire will admit, at least to himself and to his sister’s voice that is constantly snarking in his mind, that he cares more than he should about not caring at all.But then again, he has never had to tell someone their sister was dead.Éponine had been careful, oh-so careful, with absolutely everything in her life. The notary, for once. The life insurance, for another, which has left a pretty hefty sum to attend to Gavroche’s needs in the next year or so. Even her e-mail was programmed to send Grantaire all her passwords in case of an accident – she had not left anything to chance. She had had Gavroche for a little more than a year and a half, and she had made sure everything would be as fine as it could for him. It makes Grantaire’s heart break a little – he feels like he is constantly re-discovering his sister, a part of her he had not seen, or not recognised as such. Éponine taking care of Grantaire had always been what she did – just as much as he took care of her, or tried to; the two of them against the rest of the world, after Javert and before the Amis, and even then; it had always been Éponine-and-Grantaire, Grantaire-and-Éponine. But Éponine taking such care of another person, like a mother, was… not new, but unexpected. He should have seen it coming – seen her coming, the person she had wanted to become and had strived to be: social worker, sister, surrogate parent at twenty-three… It had happened right before Grantaire’s eyes, and he had not thought about it, not even once, even if his heart had known.Grantaire closes his eyes and forces air out of his nose. He feels like his chest is one enormous bruise. He is so proud, so immensely proud of his sister; he feels that he has never consciously loved and admired her just as much as he does now…… now that she is dead and buried and out of ear-shot.“Hey, R.”He looks up to see Gavroche standing in the door-frame between the living-room and the night quarters.“Hey bud. What’s up?”Gavroche shifts a little, but his hesitation does not come through his voice when he speaks again.“’M sorry for earlier this evening. I was a prick.”Grantaire feels a strong urge to get up and wrap his arms around the kid. But he doesn’t; he’ll wait until Gavroche comes to him. Instead, he smiles a little.“That’s fine, Gav. You were right. We hadn’t eaten vegetables in far too long. Keep calling me out like that and we might actually have a healthy lifestyle.”Gavroche chuckles and runs a hand in his hair, which is getting really long.“You’ll soon be able to braid that,” Grantaire points out. Gavroche grins – it’s fleeting and pale, but there.“Yeah, I know. Jehan and Bahorel showed me a ton of stuff to do with long hair, I can’t wait!”Grantaire snorts and then waves at the kid when he leaves for bed. Enjolras might be right, after all.With a weary sigh, Grantaire turns back to his computer. The cursor is still blinking like an accusation. He draws a deep breath and plunges in. *  Azelma, I’m sorry you have to hear from me in these circumstances. I would have written sooner but I only just got your address. Éponine died a month and three days ago in a motorcycle accident. She is buried in the main cemetery on O*** island, where she used to live with Gavroche. She wrote me down as the kid’s guardian and I accepted him as my charge. We are living in their house. I hope you are doing all right, wherever you might be. I am enclosing our address should you wish to drop by and visit Gavroche and Ép. Yours, Grantaire Louis. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “We live, as we dream – alone.”Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad  Now  Grantaire thinks in layers.There are layers to the world: to light, to darkness, to smell and shapes. Some you can peel off, or at least see through; others remain in place, hiding everything but the certainty more is being kept out of sight. There are layers to the world, and layers to how one perceives it, and even more to how one expresses this perception. Each canvas Grantaire paints, each picture he takes is a layer of this perception and carries layers itself. Needless to say there are layers to people as well. Ones that slowly fade as you grow closer, others that firmly remain in place – some you cannot take off if you want to remain your own person. Grantaire used to believe Éponine had few layers left where he was concerned – he was convinced that, fundamentally, he knew how she thought and felt, knew the hues of her emotions with enough certainty to paint them had these colours been invented.He is starting to realise he was quite wrong, and says so to Jehan, who huffs a laugh from the other side of the country.“What makes you say that?”“I… I don’t know. Everything she’s taken care of. I got a call from a contractor yesterday. She was going to renovate the house, divide it in two and sell the other half.”“Well, she had plans, R.”“Girl, I’ve been trying to make her sell that house for seven years. She was going to do all this without even telling me first!”“… I don’t think that’s even legal. You did own half of it.”“That’s my point! I feel like she’s been hiding a lot from me and now –”“– now you can’t even have an answer?”“Exactly,” Grantaire deflates, kicking a pebble on the pavement. His bus passes him by on the left, but he doesn’t care. Gavroche is at swimming practice and won’t be home for another two hours, and Grantaire needs to walk his onion smell away. He is also starting to get used to calling his best friends while coming home from his new job. “Anyway. It doesn’t matter much. I just wish I had some answers.” He sighs, looking up at the sky – still a clear blue, at least an hour before nightfall. Days are lengthening, the end of March is in sight – not there yet, but just a little longer and there might be leaves on the tips of the branches. Just a little longer. “I’m just left with her life on my hands, her plans, her kid –”“– your brother –”“… my brother, her too-big house –”“– your adoptive father’shouse –” Jehan interrupts again, firmly this time. Grantaire lets out a laugh.“You’re right. I know you’re right.” A pause, where he watches his breath, white plumes in the blue air. “What do I do about the contractor?”“Grantaire, do I fucking look like I know what to do with a contractor? I don’t even know how to drive!” exclaims Jehan, eliciting something like a laugh in the room she must be in. Maybe she’s at the Musain already. Or with Montparnasse.“I don’t either, that’s my whole point!” Grantaire exclaims back. Jehan snorts. “How’s Montparnasse?” he asks, changing the subject. Jehan doesn’t answer at once, but Grantaire barely has time to worry before she answers.“We broke up.”“What?”“It’s fine, R. We thought it was for the best.”“But why?”“Mostly because he’s been getting into some serious shit I really don’t agree with. We talked about it, he said he wasn’t going to compromise, and I thought that well, if you can’t compromise then what’s the point, you know?”Suddenly, she sounds smaller and less brilliant; like Autumn when all the leaves are gone but winter isn’t there yet. Just brown and cold.“I… I’m sorry, love. When did that happen?”“Two weeks ago.”“But why didn’t you tell me before?”“R, you’ve got your own stuff to deal with, come on.”“But Jehan, if you don’t tell me shit and I do, this can’t work. You’ve got to believe I’m here for you too,” he presses on, with something like urgency in his chest, and isn’t this a bit ridiculous, twenty-six and theorising friendship like a teenager, but this is important, because he suddenly feels Jehan slipping through his fingers with her Autumn-like, quiet heartbreak. “I need you, but I need you whole, with your problems and your ranting –”“– you’re the one who rants in this relationship, R.”“I’m the one who rants in any relationship, Flower,” he says, borrowing Éponine’s nickname for Jehan from when they were kind-of-together. “That’s not the point. We’re sharing, this isn’t a one-way street, okay?”“Okay, R. Okay. Sorry.”“Don’t apologise.”“Okay, sorry. Dammit, I’m sor– okay.”Grantaire laughs and Jehan laughs too, and maybe they’re going to be all right, Grantaire thinks.“But how are you doing?” he asks, a bit too soft.“Fine. The others are really nice. I’ve been crashing on Chetta’s sofa every other night. Bossuet watched the entire season one of Star Trek with me. Enjolras even said that if I wasn’t comfortable with the Musain he and Combeferre could look up another meeting place. I think he loves me.”“… honestly? I think he does,” Grantaire chuckles.“Or, well, I don’t know. What I do know is that he misses you.”“Enjolras? Miss me?” he laughs, a tad forcedly. “I don’t think so.”   Before (January, 2016)  The day Grantaire got out of his fifth biweekly therapy session, he found Enjolras standing ramrod straight in his scarlet coat, intently staring at a poster that advertised free psychological services for all students. He turned around at the sound of the door clicking shut behind Grantaire."I think we should make sure this information does reach everyone, and then draw a list of trans-friendly centres. Students don't know enough about this."Grantaire simply stared at him. The newest cuts on his left thigh started to itch. Enjolras seemed to feel his astonishment, because he completely angled his body towards him and lowered his shoulders. Self-conscious body language, like a circus tamer in front of a starved lion."Everyone else was busy, so I volunteered to come and get you. I should have sent you a message to warn you."Grantaire shook his head and made his way to the front door, beckoning Enjolras with a small tilt of the head. His usual post-therapy aphasia was straining under Enjolras's mute gravitational pull, but he still couldn't utter a word. The other followed him into the street and the cold, grey evening air. "You left this at the Musain yesterday," Enjolras said after a minute or two. Nietzsche's Birth of Tragedy, dog-eared and annotated. How fitting, Grantaire thought, silently taking the book without touching his hands. "What is it about?""Us," muttered Grantaire."Pardon?""Dionysus," he amended, more loudly. "Art. How order is merely the way Greeks had found to stand chaos.""I'm afraid I don't follow," said Enjolras as they took the avenue southwards, towards the Seine. Grantaire felt a spark of something and then started explaining, gaining volume and momentum until his hands drew invisible shapes in the air."... in short, you could say that art is what makes life liveable."Enjolras nodded and remained quiet for a while as they crossed the river, whose black skin danced under the public lights' orange glow; they shivered like brilliant blots of paint on dark water. The cathedral grew before them, illuminated stone against the night sky, solid and hieratic. "That’s a beautiful analysis," he said at last. Grantaire hummed through his chattering teeth. "Apollo and Dionysus. Not a pair an ignorant like me would have thought of," Enjolras admitted with a laugh. Grantaire's heart grew painfully small."Why's that?""Lack of perspective, or ignorance, I suppose. Sometimes you don't see things because you haven't learned to. Isn't that the basis of visual arts?""It is," Grantaire admitted with a hint of surprise. "Do you like Nietzsche? In general?""I do. But he's dangerous. He writes too well, convinces you too swiftly and seems too easily understandable. People don't look beneath the surface when they read him. He's tricky.” He threw a glance at Enjolras and saw, surprised, that Enjolras was watching him with a keen interest. “Haven't you read anything of his?”"No. I don't go beyond politics and morals in philosophy.""I can't say I'm surprised," laughed Grantaire as they left the island and crossed to the other bank. The Musain was two minutes away, and he decided to ask the question that had been insistently running around his head for half an hour. "Ap- Enjolras," he amended. "I know for a fact that both Prouvaire and Bahorel were free this evening." He watched Enjolras – would rather watch Enjolras than the pavement, relying on muscle memory not to stumble on the dislodged cobblestones and anchoring his eyes on Enjolras's tidelessness – and saw him shrug, something hesitant about him, as though marble could melt. "I walked us back to the Musain," remarked Enjolras instead of answering. Stating a fact; sharing the inevitable pull of these streets, where all their pieces slotted into place again, even with a closed café and an icy night. "It's all right. I'll just take the metro home from here.""That wasn't very smart of me.""No worries. I'm a consenting adult. You should say you subjected yourself to inane pseudo-philosophical chatter.""It was interesting," protested Enjolras, facing Grantaire at the entrance of the lightless street. He looked about to say something else but closed his mouth shut again. No tide, but waves; a lake, perhaps. Pushing and pulling, no moon in sight. Almost a gentle lapping, had a winter night allowed gentleness. "I'll walk you to the metro." This time, Grantaire was the one who had to bite something back; a dismissal, an ironical coda to Enjolras's efficient kindness. Enjolras was like fire, Grantaire often thought; he was scorching, and Grantaire stood near him as though with smoke in his eyes and in his throat, choking. Tiresome eggshells to walk on in a cutting night. When they said goodnight at the white-lit entrance of the metro, Grantaire felt that he had missed something. * A tear-gas grenade exploded a few metres ahead; someone screamed. Around Grantaire, people produced bottles out of their backpacks and sprayed their mouth-kerchiefs with water to breathe through; some hoods were shoved down on heads, a few swimming goggles were snapped on. Most of the young protesters were dressed in dark clothes, with the notable exception of one Enjolras, with his usual red hoodie despite the remaining cold. Grantaire swore under his breath. The man would get himself killed one day.The new labour law had been presented to the Assembly a month before, and hell had been raised just as soon by every syndicate, with informal political groups such as the ABC immediately relaying the alarm. Enjolras and Combeferre had spent hours on social media, breaking down the law’s terms with the help of their own home-made legal department and calling the people to arms – or rather the Parisian youth to the streets. As per usual, the ABC’s strong and loud presence on the student left-wing political scene had given the core group a mountain of organisational work to get through as weeks passed, since most of them (read: everyone except Bahorel, who took any and all opportunities to go against the cops) wanted to avoid the series of almost-illegal student morning demonstrations to turn violent.It was becoming clear that they had spectacularly failed on this aspect of things.The police had waited for the boulevard to become narrower and with fewer side-streets to charge the five hundred-ish students, who were heading for the spot where the official protest was supposed to start within the next hour or so. The ABC’s members were scattered in the mass, with a higher concentration at the front, where loose pseudo-anarchist teenagers were sure to try and break all the public property they could get their hands on, as well as goad the police into attacking them. “We don’t need them to fuck up again,” had emphasised Courfeyrac three days before. “The media keep bringing up images of young protesters damaging public buses and breaking into bank offices. As much as I don’t disagree with the latter, this is giving the movement bad publicity.” "Reformist!" had yelled Bahorel, before shrugging at the various Ta gueule, Baho that followed. In any case, they all knew it was the risk with unofficial demonstrations, but were willing to try nonetheless, and currently contemplated their latest failure through the rising fumes. Black police helmets glittered ahead in the pale sunlight; a yell further on the left – Feuilly’s voice. Grantaire elbowed his way forward and reached Enjolras.“Enjolras!” he shouted over the din. “You have to get out!”Enjolras turned around and blankly stared at Grantaire for a second before a wave of recognition crashed in his eyes like a light-bulb turned on.“We can’t! They got Feuilly and Bahorel! I don’t know where Cosette is either!” he yelled back. By one of these inexplicable movements that occur in crowds, an ebb-and-flow of pressed bodies, Grantaire and Enjolras suddenly found themselves in the middle of the throng of students, a little further away from the menacing wall of plastic shields and blind masks.“Cosette will be fine, she’s with Marius and Jehan! But you’ve already got a criminal record! You can’t risk another arrest!” Enjolras started shaking his head in denial and Grantaire dimly heard himself say something he thought he would have to be paid to ever utter: “Think of the cause and fucking get out of here, Enjolras!!!”Enjolras remained perfectly still for a moment, as a rock in the middle of a strong river. Suddenly, he shook himself and nodded briskly to Grantaire. He grabbed his wrist and started diagonally forcing his way through the mob, somehow opening a way between the bodies. “You’re right!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “We got extraction points and teams planned out anyway!”, Grantaire being part of none, since he seldom came to actual protests. But Bossuet’s bruised face from the prior demonstration (after he had decided to follow Joly, who had himself chosen to go with Musichetta, since she was just as vocal about everything as Enjolras) had kicked something deep in him; something like fear, and admiration, and even the tiniest bit of desire to feel the energy that must have run through the crowd. And there he was, in the middle of it, heart beating with exhilaration and another little something resembling worry that the man in red should be hurt. Though even if he were, he thought, no-one could see he was bleeding. He was always so red.Enjolras managed the impossible and got them out. The boulevard continued without any attending street on their side nor on the other. The police had effectively trapped them; they would not arrest everyone, but the student leaders and the anarchists were easily identifiable, and they would take as many of them as they could to the station. Grantaire muttered a string of obscenities when he saw that the wall of shields had gotten closer. His eyes stung more and more, and even his humid neckerchief had stopped being enough against the gases. Yet Enjolras looked as composed and unruffled as ever, his eyes barely blood-shot. “Come on,” he said, dragging Grantaire against the flow of people, as close to the buildings as possible. “I have the access code to one of these doors!”Five minutes and twenty-five metres later, they stumbled, breathless, into the hall of one of the buildings that lined the boulevard. Enjolras led Grantaire into a small courtyard paved with uneven cobblestones.“And now?”“Now we wait until it’s over. An hour or two, at the most.”“Don’t you want to be at Bastille when the official protest begins?” asked Grantaire, nonplussed.Enjolras sighed, took off his humid (red) neckerchief and sat on an upturned pail, wringing the unhappy piece of cloth between his restless hands.“I do. I have to.” His mouth become a thin, firm line. “I’ll start texting everyone to see if they’re all right. And then…” he shrugged and got his phone out. “One thing at a time.”Grantaire leaned against the opposite wall and watched him a little before the idea came to him. Getting his phone out as well, he asked: “What address is this again?”A few minutes later, as Enjolras was frantically texting Combeferre about Feuilly and Bahorel’s whereabouts, Grantaire let out a small sound of triumph that immediately got the blonde’s attention.“What happened?”“What happened, my dearest Apollo,” Grantaire started, ignoring Enjolras’s look of annoyance at the nickname, “is that Montparnasse may boast all he want, but I am the mafia lord here.”“Your point, Grantaire.”“My point is that I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows a dude our age, more or less, who lives in this very building, sixth floor.”“Oh, brilliant. Now we can uselessly wait somewhere warm at a stranger’s,” dryly snarked Enjolras.“Your lack of insight appals me.”“Your point, Grantaire,” snapped Enjolras. Grantaire threw him a shit-eating grin and resettled more comfortably against the wall. All in all, March skies and sore throats, exasperating Enjolras still was a pleasant activity.“It means that we can get changed with borrowed clothes. It means, oh Alcibiades, that you can get out of here unnoticed and be at Bastille on time.”Enjolras stared at him with surprise – perhaps even wonder, a little, or that was just Grantaire’s wishful thinking – before getting up and dusting off his erstwhile-black trousers. Once he seemed moderately satisfied with the state of his clothing, he looked back at Grantaire and nodded once.“Sixth floor it is, then.”   Now  March is almost melting into April when Grantaire finally gets Cosette’s call. They spend two hours talking to each other on the phone; at one point, Grantaire has to leave the house where Gavroche has invited a few friends and walk all the way to the sea as he receives the downpour of Cosette’s own grief and the story of her dead-born love. He would resent her, he would; carrying another’s pain when your own is already drowning you is enough to send anyone running to the hills. But as Cosette tells him of coming down to the island to spend her last two-week break with Éponine, as she tells him of the time she spent choosing that bloody bottle of shampoo because she knew Éponine would like it and she wanted her to smell that way; as she tells him how seeing Joly, Musichetta and Bossuet had filled her with the hope that they would eventually figure it out, Marius and Éponine and her, long distance and old aches and hard pasts be damned, Grantaire feels that he really, completely, absolutely missed who Éponine had become since she had left Paris.Honestly, he would like to die just a little.At one point, he realises Cosette has stopped talking and is just sobbing, somewhere in a little student room in Paris. The sand screeches under his feet. It is the end of winter; something has to give.“Why are you telling me all this?”Not give into your asshole tendencies, dammit, man, he thinks at himself as soon as he hears himself ask. Cosette draws a sharp inhale, but, when she answers, her voice is steady.“I hear what you’re not saying. You’re right, it’s selfish. I shouldn’t have called.” Grantaire hums non-committally. “But I. I think that you were closer to Éponine than any of us, and she was your sister, and I think that if someone has the right to end up with all her pieces and all her story it’s you. I thought that’s what I would have wanted for Enjolras. But maybe I was wrong.”The ocean crashes in Grantaire’s left ear, and Paris cars honk in his right one. No-one should be that clear-sighted, he thinks about the girl breathing their hurt in and out, in and out in the shell of his ear. Something starts shifting then, a slow glint of sunlight on steely water, Éponine’s face becoming neat again.“Thank you for trusting me with this,” he finally lets out, and Cosette sighs, hearing the admission that she did well, as wrong as it may have seemed at first. Maybe being Enjolras’s sister enables her to hear all the unsaid under the sharp glances and the small smiles. Or maybe her too-big heart catches every whiff of feeling floating around her. Neither of them continues; they do not say how off-kilter they are, how one sheet of black ice threw their future sideways.“I shouldn’t come down,” Cosette says at last, matter-of-factly.“Right. You shouldn’t.”They say goodbye and hang up as Grantaire makes his way back home. He is about to turn into their street when he feels a sudden impulse and keeps walking ten more minutes until he reaches the graveyard. Night is falling as he pushes the gate open.This is the first time he has come back.“Couldn’t you have told me?” is the first thing he says when he gets near the grave. He sighs and sits down on it. “Honestly Ép, if you were here I’d be pissed at you.” It may almost be April, but the nights are still cold and the ocean exhales a mean breeze. He shivers and draws his coat around him. Uncharacteristically, he feels he doesn’t have anything to say, as brimming with words as he may be. “I just didn’t know I had a sister-in-law. And a brother-in-law for that matter. An almost-one.” In the wind, the trees' bare twigs make a wooden flutter. “I just wish you’d told me,” he murmurs at last. If she were there, Éponine would huff and kick a few pebbles, bend down and pretend to clean up Javert’s slab. She would tell him to fuck off and mind his own damn business, and he would push and push and push until she yelled and dropped the truth like a bomb. Maybe not the most functional way to do things, but it had worked for years. He feels tears prickling his eyes, but stubbornly does not let them fall. “I just wish I’d known you were on your way to being happy.”He is getting up to leave when he sees it, and promptly facepalms at his utter lack of observancy. A brightly-coloured, visibly fresh flower bouquet right there under his nose, with a white heart-shaped beach pebble under it on the stone slab. The bouquet could be a neighbour's or a friend's; but the pebble only points to one person. Gavroche. So he has been visiting Éponine's grave all this time, keeping it nice and clean, buying flowers with his own pocket money. Grantaire's heart painfully squeezes in his chest as he stares at the whole thing before hurrying away. He has a boy to hug; he has a kid to finally be a big brother to. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “How odd, that I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.”- D.F. Wallace, The pale king  Now (April 2017)  The problem with the Fauchelevent siblings is that there are two of them. So when Cosette says she isn’t coming down and Grantaire agrees (because she is not going cross-country to sit on a tomb), there is still Enjolras who pulls up in front of the house on the dawn of April.If he is honest with himself, Grantaire may have hoped for it, but he had not seen it coming.He and Enjolras have talked a lot, texted a lot, called each other, been in contact like they had never been when both lived in Paris. It feels like a dam has broken; like absences have made everything sharper, like Enjolras has gotten good at helping others with life when its blows come down too hard. Or perhaps, Joly points out to him, they have been slowly getting there for some time now, one step at a time, with every minute spent talking and really listening to the other. Joly is full of shit, Grantaire thinks, but the adult voice in his head kind of agrees with him, so he doesn’t say anything.The point is that the red Clio rolls into the house’s front yard on a bright April Saturday morning, having announced its arrival exactly half an hour earlier. Enjolras isn’t alone in the car: Jehan, Musichetta and Bossuet are there too, the latter wearing a wide grin as he gets out and sees Grantaire’s lovely I-literally-just-woke-up face. Gavroche pushes his brother aside and leaps into Chetta’s arms. The kid was probably in the loop before Grantaire himself: he woke him up ten minutes before their friends arrived with a “Yo, R, check your phone and wash your teeth, your man is coming”. Doubts about his relation with Éponine would definitely be dispelled if there still were any: they’re both little shits (and so is Grantaire, but he just feels like plain shit at waking up right now).He has hastily put on a pair of paint-stained jeans and a shapeless hoodie, and hates himself for not thinking about deodorant when he sees Enjolras climbing out of the driver’s seat. He suddenly becomes acutely aware – at least more so than usual – of his yellow teeth and crooked nose, his asymmetrical eyes, his too-big eyebrows and the amorphous mop of black curls above them. His guts give a weird, anatomically impossible twist but he busies himself saying hi to the others. Or, really, more like What’s up, Jehan, haven’t you heard about giving a decent heads up, you fucker?, but his friends have been standing him for five years and know that historically accurate terms of endearment only come out of his mouth after he’s had half a litre of coffee, if not a drink or two. Jehan rolls her eyes at him.“Supriiiiiiseeee!” yells Musichetta, loudly and uselessly, and Grantaire can’t help himself. He snorts and breaks into a grin, because he may not always appreciate surprises, and he may have mastered French grumbling to an art like any self-respecting Parisian, but his very bones are glad to see them.And then there is Enjolras.“Hello, R,” he says, standing in front of him. And suddenly the whole universe reorganises itself around him. Copernicus was a fool for ever thinking the Earth turned around anything else than this man; all compasses must point to him, him the magnetic North: there is his face, his clarion-voice, and the world makes sense. Grantaire’s heart squeezes oddly, like it is maybe trying to die a little, a swallow who suddenly forgets how to fly.“Dearest Apollo, Hyperion himself could not deviate his course more than you did coming down from your northern capital to these humble, sea-salted regions,” he says, and immediately regrets it. Something like aggravation or disappointment flashes in Enjolras’s eyes. It is always so terribly easy to fall back into the same old ruts, wheels that skid and catch the already-traced track. Grantaire wants to curl up in a ball on the humid garden ground, but he turns around instead, blindly grabs one of the packs Jehan and Bossuet got out of the boot and beckons the newcomers inside, cursing himself for not being able to outgrow the shape he used to take Before. * “R!” Grantaire looks up to Gavroche, who has barged into the kitchen where he was peeling potatoes next to Enjolras, himself glued to the only radio of the house. “Chetta, Jehan, Bossuet and I are going to the cinema. Do you two want to come?”Authorisation had been a sore point between Gavroche and Grantaire. On the one hand, Grantaire felt slightly wrong at even hearing someone asking him for it, seeing he had barely done with Javert’s when the man was alive and that he chaffed at any form of authority. On the other hand, he was supposed to be raising Gavroche; the kid was under his protection and guardianship, and Grantaire had been discovering something like parental control in himself. On Gavroche’s side, years of neglect with the Thénardiers had not really given him the habit of asking for permission. With the added effect of his grief and the muted way he deals with it, he sometimes balked at the most unpredictable aspects of their new living situation. It had all escalated until a screaming match a few weeks ago, where Gavroche had yelled You’re not my dad, okay? You’re not even my real brother! You don’t get to boss me around!It had hurt.They talked afterwards, and came to an agreement of sorts, based on Grantaire’s explicit trust in Gavroche and the latter’s promise not to do anything stupid, and that took the form of Gavroche warning Grantaire where he went instead of outright asking for permission. It worked, for the moment.Enjolras looks up too and smiles at Gavroche, a kind, warm smile Grantaire would never admit he is a little jealous of. “Nah, not me. You know I can’t really stand cinemas, auditoriums and the like.”“Yeah, not when you’re on the public’s side, anyway,” snarks Jehan, who has come in with the others. Enjolras huffs but doesn’t answer, which is as good as an admission.“Well, R can’t leave Enjolras alone now, can he?” pips Bossuet, ostentatiously concentrated on his rebellious shoe-lace so as to avoid Grantaire’s murderous look.“That’s right though,” adds Musichetta. “R, you should show Enj around a bit, he’s only ever been here for short periods. Why don’t you two go take a walk while we’re out?”“I’m peeling potatoes, Chetta. Po-ta-toes?” Grantaire tries in his best Sam Gamgee imitation, with mitigated success. Enjolras darts a glance at him, which Grantaire catches because he is himself constantly aware of the blond. “You know, for our dinner tonight?”Musichetta waves a hand in his direction as she pulls on her boots. “The potatoes won’t run away, honey. You two can go for a walk, and we’ll all do it together when we’re back. It’ll be much faster and a true, heart-warming, team-bonding moment,” she ends with a dramatic sigh. Bossuet snorts.“Actually, I’ve never seen the sea here,” quips Enjolras. Grantaire sighs, puts down his peeling knife and his potato and gets up to wash his hands.“Okay, you win. I can’t let you leave this island without having seen the sea.”“Bundle up, though,” interjects Jehan. “It’s supposed to be April but it’s cold outside.”Grantaire nods and leaves the kitchen to grab his coat and his camera as Enjolras sing-songs welcome to climate chaaaange behind him. They walk in silence down the white path, inching closer to the sea. The sky is a rare blue above them, having momentarily dispelled its greyness with a fresh wind come from the Atlantic. The sun’s slanting course slowly draws westward, and would soon blind them were it not for its lack of real lustre. Grantaire plods on through the scratchy smell of the tamarisk trees, acutely aware of Enjolras’s presence beside him. Spring is always a little late on the island, but that only means the winter light still washes everything in its tin-like glow. He makes them stop thrice for pictures, and Enjolras’s quietness and attention at his own movements only spurs him into taking better shots. This could work, a small voice says in the back of his mind as they walk up the dune and the ocean appears before them.“Do you like it here?” asks Enjolras after a few minutes of silence. Grantaire, a little surprised, glances at him before going back to watching the steely rolls of water and foam crash on the coarse sand. He thinks before answering; not his usual bullshit, but the truth, simple, plain and a little ugly. This island makes masks fall. Unless it is the weight of the dead.“I don’t.”“Really?” Enjolras looks taken aback, and Grantaire says so. “Well, I guess I thought you found all this very…” he hesitates, “beautiful,” he finishes lamely.Grantaire snorts and sits on the sand, followed by Enjolras. How odd, he thinks, that he should be the one leading and Enjolras the one grasping for plain and simple words. But he thinks he is starting to understand that maybe, maybe Enjolras doesn’t always go first; maybe he doesn’t always know where to cut with razor-sharp sentences. Maybe he struggles, too.“I reckon it is,” he says. “The sea, the marshes and the old sun-washed stones… if you like Polanski colours.”“It does remind one of The Ghost Writer,” Enjolras admits.“Ha! You too? Éponine always used to say I was ridiculous when I said that!” Grantaire triumphs, and his breath doesn’t even hitch on Éponine’s name. He keeps talking before pain can hit him. Like Peter Pan, losing his shadow; unlike him, flying from it, faster than it and leaving it far, far behind. “I guess it can be beautiful. Even in summer – the colours are completely different then.”“But…?” Enjolras prompts him.“You know how when you do something listening to one song on repeat you end up associating that song with what you were doing?” Enjolras nods. “Well, it’s kinda the same, except for memories.”“You have bad memories tied to this place? I thought this is where Éponine and you met.”Grantaire nods, swallows and leaps. It’s too late for second thoughts. “Yeah. That’s the best thing about this whole place. But see, I came here when I was fifteen – I’d been jumping from one foster home to another for years, I was unstable and what people call a lost cause. And then this grumpy man – Javert, apparently your father used to know him –” Enjolras hums in assent, a smile playing on his lips, and Grantaire feels like there is far more to it than he knows, as he feels the now-familiar pinch of I could have met him so much earlier – followed by an it would have gone even worse. “Well, Javert took me in when no-one else would, because no family wants a fifteen year-old fuck-up. But the thing with Javert is that he’d been a police inspector before retiring early when he was wounded, and he’d seen cases like mine, and cases far worse, and he knew that if I was left in the system I’d end up a delinquent like he’d arrested hundreds. He’d actually gotten Éponine a year before – he had what he’d always wanted, a daughter to raise, he didn’t have to take me in, but he did all the same.”“Because that was the right thing to do,” Enjolras murmurs.“Yeah. That’s what he always did. The right thing. Even when it wasn’t the good one.”They remain silent for a minute before Grantaire starts talking again.“Okay, back on track. So here I come, fifteen and fucked-up. Javert – he was a good man, really, and I owe him a lot, but he wasn’t ready for my shit – and I wasn’t ready for his either. I think we came too late in each other’s lives.”“That’s a pity.”“Yeah. It is. Éponine loved him a lot. I guess I did too, but I only realised that after he died. I never got to tell him.”“He must have known,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire looks at him. Enjolras is watching him and Grantaire realises with a start that this is it – this is what having Enjolras’s undivided attention and focus are like.He doesn’t melt.Instead, he softly huffs and smiles at Enjolras before his gaze goes back to the sea. He feels… not good, not really, but all right. Relaxed. Like he would feel with Joly, Bossuet or Jehan, or any of the Amis, though with an added edge to it. Like he would feel with a friend. Because that’s what they have become – or are becoming, right now, in this precise instant, seated on cold sand on an Atlantic beach at the end of winter, or the start of spring, facing west where the sun will soon start sinking. He smiles in his scarf, feeling, really feeling something for the first time in months, like a drop of undiluted something in a sea of grief. Not much, but just enough to remind him that there is a shore beyond.Enjolras’s elbow digs in his ribs, or rather grazes them since they are both swaddled up in their coats.“Keep going.”“Right. So I met Éponine too – she didn’t take any of my shit, was pretty much as banged up as I was, or used to be because Javert had helped her a lot already. They were good for each other. She already was this no-nonsense kind of girl, you know, with an enormous heart underneath.”“Yeah, that would be her,” Enjolras assents.“We became really close at once. But things with Javert were difficult. We both made mistakes. Since I’d come to a safe place – and that’s something I can say about him, Javert I mean, he always made it very clear the next time I left would be on my own terms. ‘There is no throwing you out of here’, he used to say, blunt like that. ‘This is your home and you stay here as long as you feel like it,’ he would say. So the pressure dropped a little in my mind, and, well. Turns out I had depression.”“How long did it last?”“The worst of it, five months. And then on and off since, but never that long, or that hard. I just…” His breath hitches. “I thought I was going to die. I thought this is it, this is where it ends, I was fifteen and I’d just found a sister, and a dad, and I thought, I can’t survive this. It’s been more than ten years and I’m still afraid it’s gonna come back like that first time. Sometimes it does, but it’s never lasted more than a month, and it still scares me shitless when I get better, afterwards.” He lets out a small, acidic laugh. “Ép used to look after me in these moments – just reminded me that if I killed myself she’d make me regret it. I never thought she’d be the one to die first. It was always supposed to be me.”Silence.“It was always supposed to be me,” he brokenly repeats.And suddenly, unexpectedly, he is sobbing, uncontrollable, big and heaving sobs that make his whole body shake.“She, she was the strong one,” he continues despite the tears, his mouth full of saliva. “She was the, the fighter, she knew how to keep going, she saved me from becoming a homeless drunk. Me, I don’t, I can’t, I’m broken already, I was never supposed to outlive her and now she’s left me on my own, and I’ve got to keep fighting because there’s Gavroche to take care of now and I can’t leave him alone, I can’t, I –”“Hey, come on, Grantaire, R, come on,” Enjolras tries, rubbing a hand over Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire buries his face in his knees and keeps sobbing, violent, nerve-wracking sobs that leave him gasping for air.This is the first time he cries. It is like Éponine has died all over again, her death carved in the very marrow of the world, inescapable, unending, just like the crashing waves before them. Éponine dies, dies and keeps dying, in every breath he takes, in every word he utters, in every noise in the house at night, in every memory that resurfaces, in every single minute of life lived despite her, as though the evidence of her death needed to be constantly and forever rewritten on the face of all things.So the sun sinks, the waves crash, Enjolras waits and Grantaire cries. * On Thursday 20, 2017, at half past four in the afternoon, someone knocks on a green-painted door.The kitchen is filled with the smell of the cake Bossuet just put in the oven, and the six of them are sitting around the table, drinking herbal tea and playing tarot (Gavroche is smoking them all, closely followed by Jehan). Musichetta, who still has vivid memories of Iran, has always said kitchens were made to be the heart of a house, and they all agree. She is the one sitting closest to the front door; after a questioning glance at Grantaire, who answers with a shrug, she gets up and opens it. Éponine is standing on the other side of it. Gavroche is the one who breaks the spell when his chair clatters to the ground and he cries a name that has Grantaire getting up as well. After a month of radio silence, a month during which Grantaire waited with bated breath for an answer, a sign of life, anything, Azelma Thénardier is here, an almost-exact replica of her sister. They could be twins if Grantaire didn’t know better.Musichetta regains her voice first and tells her to come in over Gavroche’s head, buried in his sister’s neck. Azelma smiles, murmurs something in Spanish to Gavroche, who steps back, and walks in, hauling a big travel bag behind her. She sets it on the ground, dusts up her hands on her trousers and looks at the assembled party.“Good evening,” she starts. Her voice is less deep, less gravely than Éponine’s, and that helps Grantaire to re-focus. He realises Enjolras has put a hand on his elbow, but neither moves it. “I’m Azelma, Gavroche and Éponine’s sister.”“Yeah, we’d gathered,” grumbles Bossuet.“Which one of you is Grantaire?”“That’s me,” Grantaire answers, stepping up and extending a hand. Azelma shakes it, sure and controlled if it weren’t for the faint, invisible tremors that run through her. Her other hand, Grantaire notices, is still clasped in Gavroche’s. “I didn’t know you were coming.”Azelma purses her lips. “I… I know. I should have answered your email long ago, but I couldn’t. My apologies.”Grantaire nods and lets it be, for the moment. He introduces the other four and after a few minutes Musichetta and Gavroche (who has been studiously avoiding Grantaire) lead Azelma to her guest room while Jehan warms water for another tea. Grantaire heavily sits back in his chair and stares at the table-cloth’s geometrical patterns. He took out the mechanical clock a few weeks ago, but its phantom ticking still resonates in the kitchen over the hum of the electrical kettle.“R. Are you all right?” asks Bossuet. Enjolras scoots his chair closer. Grantaire rakes a hand through his hair and shrugs.“I don’t know? I sent her an email more than a month ago to let her know about Éponine, but she never answered? And now she turns up unannounced, and it looks like Gavroche wasn’t that surprised, and honestly I’m a bit pissed. And shaken.”“She looks so much…” Enjolras doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. They have all seen a ghost. Grantaire blindly reaches for his mug and swallows some lukewarm tea to give himself a countenance. When he looks up, he finds Jehan’s, Bossuet’s and Enjolras’s concerned eyes on him, and at the same time he feels an incoming text message’s buzz in his pocket. Joly and Courfeyrac and/or Combeferre, and even maybe Cosette, must probably already know, and the others will soon as well. His treacherous brain decides it is an excellent time to point out how beautiful and at home Enjolras looks in the kitchen’s warm, golden light, but he valiantly ignores it and stretches his mouth into something that resembles a smile.“Don’t worry, guys. It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”“We’ll figure it out with you,” Enjolras and Jehan say at the same time while Bossuet nods. Grantaire’s smile suddenly becomes a more natural one. He can hear Musichetta, Gavroche and Azelma making their way back into the kitchen, and irrational dread slowly creeping up on him, but he is not alone. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints.”                            - Elizabeth Barret Browning, “Sonnet 43”  Now (April, 2017)  The door is closed. You need to talk to Gavroche, Musichetta had said, and the others had agreed. Grantaire agrees too; it’s just that he doesn’t exactly know how. He somehow feels more estranged from his little brother than he ever has, and it is weighing like a sickness on his chest.So here he is, ready to talk to Gavroche, raising his hand to know on the kid’s door – and he should not be that scared of something supposedly so simple.He knocks.“Come in!”He enters. Gavroche is on his bed, playing to what looks like Civilization VI on his laptop.“Civ VI? Really?” asks Grantaire, perching cross-legged at the end of the bed. Gavroche cocks an eyebrow – and that is something he must have caught from Montparnasse.“What about it?”“The artwork sucks.”“Like Civ V’s any better,” Gavroche retorts, sending an archery unit towards his forces massed at the border with Austria.“It’s far prettier,” says Grantaire. “And you only have to download the free extension for it to become a thousand times more interesting.”“We’ve had this conversation, like, seven times already and I don’t agree with you, not now and not ever.”Grantaire has a partial view of Gavroche’s screen from where he is seated. “You should swap that cavalry and that archery units,” he points out. “Or the first is going to be useless and the second is going to be dead.”“I do know how to lay siege to a city, you know,” Gavroche says, but moves his units all the same.“I’m not seeing any catapults, so actually I don’t think you do,” Grantaire shoots back.“I like siege elephants more,” Gavroche grumbles. He saves the game and pushes his laptop aside, turning to Grantaire. “What’s up?”Grantaire clears his throat and wipes his hands on his trousers. He’d rather keep talking about computer strategy games, but hey, time to adult.“I think we should probably talk.”“Talking’s all we do,” Gavroche says, and Grantaire feels his guts twist a little.“I mean, really talk. I don’t know what’s on your mind. I don’t mean that you should tell me everything, but I’d like to know how you’re doing.”“How d’you think I’m doing?!” Gavroche lashes out, like all his emotions are just under his skin, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. “My sister’s dead, my other sister appeared right out of the fucking blue, you’re stuck with me and you don’t wanna be here because the guy you’re in love with lives on the other side of the fucking country –”Grantaire yelps. “What?!”“Oh, come on. We all know what’s going on with you and Enjolras. You practically have stars in your eyes each time you see him, it’s disgusting, and he’s hardly better.”“What??!!”Grantaire is completely dumbfounded and has completely lost control of the situation, and –– he realises Gavroche has very effectively derailed the discussion. That boy’s self-protective abilities would be a wonder to witness if they weren’t so heartbreaking.“That is not the point, stop trying to change the subject. We’re not talking about me here. So please just… just talk to me, bud.”That is when Gavroche crumbles. His eyes well up with tears that start rolling, fat and aching, down his cheeks, and his chin starts trembling like he is containing sobs. Grantaire’s heart cracks in a million little pieces. He moves up the bed and takes Gavroche in his arms, and the kid goes willingly, burying his face in Grantaire’s hoodie as big, awful sobs rack through his body. Grantaire holds him very close and sways gently, murmuring nonsense in his soft hair, his vision blurred by his own tears.He has been very wrong, he understands, wrong in so many aspects. Wrong in thinking Gavroche would come to him, wrong in waiting for the kid to make the first step, wrong in taking his isolation and his distance as a chosen coping mechanism instead for what it was, a silent cry for help. Wrong in letting his own doubts show.“I told you, I’m not going anywhere,” he says once Gavroche has calmed a little. “Of course I do wish none of this had happened. But we’re here now, you and I, and I want to be with you. I want to stay here and figure things out, the two of us, okay? We’ll figure it out, I promise. I’ll even cook vegetables.” Gavroche lets out a strangled laugh. “Whatever my feelings about Paris and my friends –”“And Enjolras,” Gavroche mumbles. Grantaire flicks his shoulder and the boy giggles against his chest.“Whatever my feelings, I don’t care. I’m staying here, and I’m glad I have you with me.”Gavroche stays silent for a little while. “Okay,” he says eventually, in a small voice.“Okay?”“Yeah, okay,” Gavroche repeats before pulling out and scrubbing his puffy face.“Good. Now that that’s settled, care to tell me why you didn’t warn me about Azelma’s coming?”Gavroche freezes and throws him a wide look. Grantaire sets his jaw and tries to look stern. Given his own track record with authority figures, he privately finds it rather ironic; but he must somehow pull it off, since Gavroche looks properly abashed.“She wrote me asking for our direction. I thought she’d written to you as well.”“No you didn’t, or you would have mentioned it,” Grantaire points out. He doesn’t particularly want to make Gavroche uncomfortable by outright calling out his lies, but he would like to break him out of the habit he has of lying and keeping things to himself. A little voice that suspiciously sounds like Javert’s tells him the best way to do it is to make the kid feel safe and loved, and he knows that, he has been in Gavroche’s place – but right now, he needs answers. Gavroche squirms.“Okay, okay, that’s true. I just. I just didn’t know how you’d take it. What if you said no? I didn’t want to risk that.”Grantaire has seldom felt more like an awful person than he does now.“You thought I wouldn’t let you see your sister? Who do you think I am, the Gestapo?”“I don’t know, R. I’ve never exactly lived with you before, you know. I couldn’t risk it.”Grantaire sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. It is getting long, like Gavroche’s. The old neighbours must have a field day every time they see them. He clears his throat again. “Okay, look. I’m not angry at you for not telling me, I can see you had your reasons. I wish you’d trusted me, but I get that you didn’t. I just hope you can trust me more in the future.”Gavroche bites his lip. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I know I can trust you. I just – it’s hard, sometimes.”Grantaire nods. “That’s okay. You can take your time. Now let me grab my laptop, I’m gonna kick your ass on multiplayer mode.”“As if,” Gavroche answers with a grin. “Watch yourself, old man.”Grantaire snorts and gets up. As he is leaving the room, Gavroche calls him and he turns around.“What about Azelma?” Gavroche asks. Grantaire chews on his lip a little before answering.“Well, I don’t know. How about we wait until the others have gone back to Paris to sit down and talk it out, the three of us?”Gavroche nods, looking relieved; Grantaire shoots him what he means as a reassuring smile and leaves to fetch his own computer.   Then (October, 2015)  “I think we need to change our priorities. And probably our name,” started Cosette. A sudden silence fell in the room, that then erupted into a chaos of indignant exclamations. Surprised, Grantaire looked up from his sketching pad and put his pencil down. This was going to be interesting. He saw Enjolras angrily opening his mouth and shutting it again under Combeferre’s gentle hand on his shoulder.“Let her speak!” cried Marius, effectively shocking everyone into silence. Grantaire let out an amused snort and settled more comfortably in his chair, ignoring the spark of genuine interest he was starting to feel. Cosette shot her boyfriend a grateful look and stood erect next to the window, hands behind her back – her position absolutely dissimilar to what Enjolras’ would have been; but then they had had different childhoods, and she was her own person.“I may have gone a tad too fast. And I didn’t mean it about the name, it’s a good pun,” she started again. Bahorel guffawed from where he was sprawled on the green monstrosity of a sofa they had snuck into the back room a few months prior. “It’s just that we’ve been splitting our actions into so many fields and I think we’re not being as effective as we could be. And I think we should reconsider our priorities.”“Is this about that collapsology book you’ve been reading?” asked Marius.“Yeah. And before any of you starts mocking me, let me explain what it means and why I’m sticking my hand into this hornets’ nest.”The room was completely silent now. All of them were not there: Enjolras, Combeferre, Cosette, Marius, Bahorel, Jehan and Joly had been able to attend the meeting, but the rest of the group had been too busy to come; Éponine had left Paris four months before, but her absence was still keenly felt in such moments. It was getting more and more common: as they were all caught up in the rush of adult life, paying the bills sometimes took precedence over political action. They were in their twenties and already becoming bourgeois, Grantaire told himself, and was surprised at the bitterness that rushed through him at the thought. Gone were the golden years when most of the group was still in high school and they missed entire weeks of class to attend general assemblies and organise illegal protests.Cosette started explaining. The crisis was more than a political or an economic one, she said. Their society was structurally doomed by a convergence of critical factors that could simply not be stopped. Capitalism was actually taking its dying breaths. “This is not about a glorious revolution,” she stressed, looking at her brother, who pursed his lips. “At least I don’t believe it is. It’s about the fact that even if we miraculously righted it all, there would still be climate change to contend with. And it’s too late to stop things. Every social, economic and political structure we know is going to collapse, and I think it’s time we started taking that into account so we can adapt our actions to it.”“What kind of adaptation?” Enjolras asked.“I don’t know,” Cosette answered helplessly. “We just have to know that the rules are about to radically change. I’m going to attend a sustainable agriculture class this summer. Bahorel has been teaching some of you guys self-defence. The first things to be put in danger when a crisis happens are justice and equality, and I just want all of us to start thinking about what things we want to protect at all cost.”“So you aren’t offering anything,” Enjolras said with that special spite siblings reserve for each other for riling up purposes. Cosette shot him an annoyed look but remained calm.“No, but I just wanted to put this on the table.”“We can’t just lay politics aside because of something that’s maybe going to happen in a few years,” Bahorel objected.“Forgetting the political aspect of social life is the central point of neo-liberalism,” added Enjolras.“I’m not forgetting politics! We can play on both short and long term!”The discussion continued for a long time, but Grantaire did not catch himself drifting off. He did not start one of his infamous rants either, but rather listened to the others, feeling a sense of dread starting to pool in his sternum. Cosette’s words had had an effect on him, and he could not pretend otherwise. For the first time in forever, he felt an urgency within him that reminded him of the spark in Enjolras’ eyes.    Now  “Remember that time when Cosette managed to turn you all into ecological activists?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras is walking beside him. They have forgone the white path and have chosen to walk through a wood of holm oaks criss-crossed with sandy paths and shadowed with evergreen leaves that are as many heralds of spring. The air is mild and charged with the damp saltiness of the ocean. The spring break is drawing to an end, they are all leaving tomorrow, and Grantaire Does Not Want To Think About It – any of it.Enjolras huffs a laugh. “Yeah. That was interesting.”“I didn’t expect you to agree with her that fast,” Grantaire confesses.“Why not? Once she broke it down and we talked about it, and I made my research, I could see she was right. Why wouldn’t I have agreed?”“I don’t know. I thought you were too entrenched in your political reading of things. Like some kind of twentieth-century communist militant who only heard the holy gospel of international revolution, да, товарищ –”“I’m offended. Also since when do you know Russian?” Enjolras says.“– or an illuminated nineteenth-century republican ready to lay down his life for a blue-white-and-red Mother Patria,” Grantaire finishes, chortling a bit at Enjolras’ outraged expression. His locks catch the sunbeams that filter through the oaks’ foliage and take the colour and visual texture of molten gold, and Grantaire has to quench the urge to run his hands through them – or even simply pause and stare at Enjolras until his own heart feels like a Klimt painting. Sometimes Grantaire is struck anew by how beauty and art and purpose seem to coalesce in Enjolras, as if he were the metonymy of life itself. But that is an old, familiar sensation. It has recently taken a new colouring, like a beginner artist’s drawings when they finally learn how to shadow; Grantaire can see the hues in Enjolras now.“I’m not a fanatic,” Enjolras says. “But I am very centred on France, it’s the only country I’ve ever known. That’s why people like Musichetta, or Feuilly and Combeferre, or Éponine are so precious,” and Grantaire refuses to let himself ache with the use of the present tense and his sister’s name in the same sentence. He will not, he will not bend to the rules of language where you use the past when someone is dead. “They make me see the limits of the system we’re in. They remind me there’s a system to deconstruct.” Grantaire hums, non-committal. “And so do you, in your own way,” adds Enjolras.Grantaire’s head whips up and he stares at Enjolras. They have both stopped walking at the same time. He realises his heart is beating wildly, far too wildly for such an innocent addendum. But measure is for machines, or people whose life has been written beforehand. There is measure and expectations and proportionality, and films that tell you your heart should stutter when someone says I love you; and then there is Enjolras, and his Enjolras-speak that Grantaire has finally been learning, and the quiet way he is so very human, always, and Grantaire wonders at the fact he ever thought the man in front of him was a marble or a statue. There is blood and anger, but laughter too, hues and shadows and sometimes even pimples because being in your twenties does not mean you are entirely rid of acne. You help me deconstruct ideological systems, Enjolras says; You help me be a better version of myself, Grantaire hears, and he is not imagining it, not with how Enjolras’ eyes shine like a mountain summer sky in the dappled forest light.“It’s always a pleasure, my dear,” Grantaire says with a cocksure smile, his hands shoved in his pockets because they are shaking so much. Mon cher. Such a hackneyed, overused phrase, a letter-opener, like a trodden-on doormat. But Grantaire thinks of Verlaine and his chère âme when writing to Rimbaud. Love re-signifies things, blows their coat of dust away and pulls words inside out.But Enjolras’ face does a weird thing where it twists a bit, as if there was a non-politically-engaged feeling he can’t let come through; he resumes his walking and Grantaire feels like someone punched him in the stomach. He hurries up after him.“Apollo. Enjolras. Phíltatos. Wait.”Enjolras turns around, eyes blazing; it could be anger, but there is something else in there too, and Grantaire reminds himself that the word fear does exist in Enjolras-speak.“I looked that up, you know.”“What?”“Phíltatos. I looked it up. I felt foolish when I asked and you didn’t tell me, so I looked it up.”Now Grantaire feels a sudden rush of cold.“Most beloved,” Enjolras continues. “That’s what you’ve been calling me this whole time. Most beloved.”“Yeah,” Grantaire says with a dry throat. His hands are still shaking, but it’s a different, fight-or-flight kind of shaking now. He takes a few steps until he is back at arm’s length from Enjolras.“You’ve never called any of the others like that. Not that I heard.”“No.”“Why not?”“Because I don’t mean it,” Grantaire says truthfully. Enjolras’ face twists again, like he is in pain, and he flinches away. “I mean, it's yours, not theirs,” he hurriedly adds.Enjolras exhales a small breath of air, like something has given in within him. He is shaking too, Grantaire suddenly realises, and mentally kicks himself for not understanding sooner how scared Enjolras is feeling, how much of a leap of faith he has just made. The rational part of his brain is screaming at him: how he is making things up, how he is being delusional thinking that Enjolras could care about him enough to be scared of it. But Grantaire has been seeing a therapist, has been getting better, and he can recognise the moments when he really must not listen to himself.And, most of all, he is tired of watching life saunter by and not give a damn about him.So he jumps.“At first you blinded me,” he starts, a total non-sequitur; but this has been a long time coming. The other purses his lips, and Grantaire can now see how much his own mindless adoration and idealisation have been bothering Enjolras. “At first I was a blind man and you were the sun – and no-one loves the sun like the blind man. But, you know, I’m not exactly blind anymore.”“Where are you going with this?” Enjolras interrupts him, a familiar impatience coming back.“What I mean is that, for the longest time, you were the only thing I believed in. You were my religion and my faith, you were my North Pole, and I know it isn’t true, I had Éponine and the rest of the Amis that whole time, but I convinced myself that’s how things were.”“You keep using the past tense.”“I still want to draw your hands,” Grantaire says, incomprehensibly, but there is a point he is trying to make and he still is not entirely sure what it is. “And you still make me believe, because you have that effect on everyone. And when I hear your voice for the first time in the day I still feel like the sun just woke up in my ear. But I’m no longer surprised when you laugh. Do you understand, Apollo? The fact that you laugh doesn’t surprise me any more.”“Please do not call me Apollo,” Enjolras says, pleading like maybe Grantaire has never seen him plead.“You’re right. And I’m sorry I ever called you a statue. But you see, I fantasized myself a Pygmalion that would one day wake you up –”“R –”“– but you didn’t need waking up. If anything, I did.”“Grantaire,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire shuts up, “I don’t know what you’re saying.” He looks slightly desperate.Grantaire grabs Enjolras’ arm. His heart is beating wildly, he has no idea what he is doing, he has no words and too many words at the same time, but he feels strangely calm. Somehow the world is very real, and the heat of the sun on the back of his neck. This simple feeling , someone said once. He has trouble doing simple, but he can try.“What I’m saying,” he starts, and he means I love you, of course, but it falls too short, “is that I want to walk with you always. And I don’t want to say goodbye to you. Not until there is no choice left. And even then.”There is light, April light, falling down on them, and whole oceans could fit in Enjolras’ eyes.“There are some things I cannot compromise on,” Enjolras finally says, because he is still made of clarion-calls and ideals. “And some things that must always come first.” Grantaire nods, because he knows, and he would not have it – have him – otherwise. “But,” Enjolras continues in a quieter voice, “though none of us can entirely believe in a rosy future any more, I would like you to be in it, whatever it may be.”Grantaire’s heart stills, and in this untethered sea of grief of his he feels something settle deep in his bones, something solid and bright – like a first day of spring.And then they kiss, and he loses his words.  *  “I’m going to miss them,” Gavroche says, watching the red Clio drive out of their little front garden and disappear at the turn of the street. Grantaire drapes an arm over his shoulders and pulls him close. Me too, he doesn’t say, lips still tingling with that first kiss full of light and that last kiss full of longing – they have not said goodbye, because there is a thin stripe of rope between a principle and the harshness of reality, and not saying things sometimes falls into that middle ground.Jehan has brought him most of his remaining stuff, and they have both agreed that she needs to find a new flatmate. He is not going back to Paris anytime soon. He misses her streets and her river, her butter-coloured stones and innumerable cafés; he misses his friends and his love; but he is not going back.Not yet.“We should have that talk with Azelma,” Gavroche says, wise again beyond his years.“Yeah. Let’s go back in.”When they get back inside the kitchen, Azelma is at the table, cradling a mug of black coffee. She doesn’t seem surprised when they both sit down. Grantaire pours himself another mug of coffee, clears his throat.“We need to talk,” he says.  Azelma stays.   It is strange, and it is painful, and if Grantaire is entirely honest – and he is, by phone, on Facetime, or by Skype, because though his friends are in Paris one of them at least calls him every day, and he texts or calls Enjolras all the time –, there are days when he can’t look Azelma in the eye. And there are days when he hates the decision he has made, because it may have been the right decision, but it still doesn't feel like the good one, at least until he sees Gavroche back from school and he is bowled over by the love he has for the kid.But Azelma is nice. She is careful, a bit too cautious, has a distinctive pitch that Grantaire recognises as his own when he was younger, as Gavroche’s and Éponine’s – as that of someone who grew up having to deal with far more than they should have. But she is nice. She finds a job at the florist’s. She is surprisingly good at maths, something that might come useful if Gavroche ever needs help with it, which doesn’t really look like it’s going to happen soon.It is strange, and Grantaire knows that more conventional people would probably never accept such a living arrangement – he is living with his siblings’ sister whom he does not know, after all.But somehow, joltingly, uncomfortably, even painfully, it works. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- X. Epilogue“We insist, it seems, on living.”- Virginia Woolf, The Waves  A few years later (Soon)   The train’s slowing screech is still dying in the warm air when they get down, laden with their luggage. The train station is an image of Paris in summer: hot, dirty, loud and full of people, absolutely hateful to any foreign tourist with their head full of accordion notes curling around the Eiffel Tower.Grantaire loves it.Gavroche groans as he shoulders his heavy travel bag, and groans again when Azelma mocks his pain. He has shot up these last months, and he is now fairly taller than Grantaire, but still marked with the telltale gangliness of youth. He throws a look around: on the platforms nearby, harried crowds, worried parents with small children, are waiting for trains that will take them away from the capital. Fewer trains are coming in each day, Gavroche and him had heard on the radio few days prior to their own travel. They have probably managed to catch one of the last. Paris will soon be closed off. Anything to keep the city from breaking into something new – revolution, some whisper, hopeful. For the first time in almost two centuries, it doesn’t sound like a farce.These last few months, something had changed in his friend’s voices and faces when they called. Even the most controlled media couldn’t hide it: something was on its way to truly snap in Paris and everywhere else. Even Grantaire’s less politicised co-workers talked about it all the time: the storms, the floods, the food shortages, the government’s new taxes and bumbling explanations, the increasing amount of bodies that came up floating in the rivers in the days that followed the protests. Discontent had been growing for years and was finally exploding.And now it’s happening everywhere, but Paris is, as is her wont, a bubble of hope, violence and electricity of her own. Something is sizzling in the air, something that was bound to break and is breaking now in these first thrumming days of June. Grantaire too can feel it, feel the excitement and expectation that have been feeding a new fire in Gavroche’s eyes and Enjolras’s voice.“C’mon, old man,” says Gavroche, who gave up on any pretence of respect for Grantaire several years ago. “The crowd is waiting.”And their friends are indeed waiting for them in the grand station hall, out in the open now when several of them have had to spend some time undercover so as not to be taken away by the police – Enjolras had suddenly found a new calling in bar-tending not far from Gavroche’s school, and those months had felt like a honeymoon. But today they wait for their friends in public, and their mere presence is a testament to how the balance of power has been upturned in the capital.Even though he has been forewarned, Grantaire is disagreeably surprised by the guns Enjolras, Feuilly, Cosette and Bahorel are ostensibly bearing, but he doesn’t let the shock show and even briefly forgets about it when he throws himself in Enjolras’s arms.“I missed you,” he whispers in a sea of golden curls. It has been months – a lifetime.“I missed you too,” Enjolras whispers back, holding Grantaire close, small and sincere like he only is with him. In a minute, Grantaire will look up and say hello to all his friends; he will ask for explanations, will silently but clearly let Enjolras know how the thing he carries is making his own skin crawl. He will walk the streets of Paris, in a city bristling with barricades it hasn’t seen in more than a lifetime. He will let Gavroche go, knowing the boy’s heart has been following the steady beat of the uprising for months now. He will watch his friends’ faces and march along with them, because he made his choice years ago, when he took in a boy who has made him more of a person than he had ever been. And sometimes, in the moments when they religiously wait for news of the levy en masse in the whole country, or in the quiet, too-warm nights, when he lies near Enjolras, he will see his sister’s face, hear her sharp-edged, gently mocking tones. His heart will lurch, painfully, tightly, with the ache of an irrecoverable loss.And all throughout, though he knows their end may be bloody, he will know he has made the right choice.   “Les morts ont raison, et les vivants n’ont pas tort.”- Victor Hugo, Les Misérables
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Lay Down Your Burdens
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Nesta Archeron, Cassian (ACoTaR)", "Fandom": "A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by highfaelucien", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-31T00:00:00", "words": "10,270", "Additional Tags": "ACOWAR, PAAAAAAAIN, Hurt/Comfort, like....hurt/hurt/hurt/hurt/hurt/hurt/hurt/hurt/tiny bit of comfort to break up the monotony, that's what we're looking at here, Cassian loses his wings, if that ain't your jam you should skedaddle now, Deep Talks happen between them", "Relationship": "Nesta Archeron/Cassian", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Lay Down Your Burdens Nesta can’t sleep.There’s nothing new or strange in that, not really. Even before…This, she always struggled with it, with letting go of herself enough to surrender to the dreams-that vulnerable oblivion- that waited for her on the other side of closed eyelids and lowered guards. Feyre and Elain would have drifted off beside her, their slow, deep breathing filling the room around her while she lay awake, poker straight and stiff beside them, staring at the ceiling, unable to switch off or silence the roaring of the thought sand emotions running through her head that always seemed to become the loudest when they should have at last gone quiet.After….After the Cauldron, after Hybern, after everything changed and she was given this so called gift of immortality that she had never asked for, never wanted, and can’t even bring herself to comprehend…After that every slight noise had became a deafening alarm bell in her ears, warning her of danger, making every muscle in her body seize as panic gripped her over and over and over again. The sheets, though they were silk and smoother than cream, still felt rough as the bark on the wooden logs she’d once split for firewood outside their hovel. Her senses have been tearing her apart piece by piece by piece since she emerged from that Cauldron. This new body has been destroying her mind, her only sanctuary, and no-one noticed. It was only a matter of time before she snapped.Tonight, though…Tonight is different. She’s unsettled, uncomfortable, her new body prickling and reacting to things that she can’t see, can’t even sense or understand like every other night but…But there’s something else, something she’s never felt before. A pull in her chest, as though someone has tied a string to one of her ribs and is tugging on it, gently but insistently, coaxing her toward...something.  Turning over she clamps her pillow over her head, curling in on herself, trying to ignore the sensation but it becomes ever more insistent. Pulling, pulling, pulling, on and on and on, relentless, never-ending, an internal torture. She closes her eyes, breathing slowly, deeply, refusing to be beaten by this, refusing to let her own body drive her to madness. A few minutes later however, hot, barely able to breathe, she throws the pillow from herself in disgust and climbs from the bed.She shivers slightly as she steps out of her room. Her night gown, though long, is also thin, but she welcomes the chill. It seems to calm her, clears her mind, helps her think more clearly…That pressure inside her chest is only building, however. She had thought her heightened senses were reacting to something in her room, making her uncomfortable, she had thought leaving it would make it stop but somehow it only makes it worse.Shrugging Nesta sets off purposefully down the corridor. She has no idea where she’s going. She and Elain had moved into the House of Wind a few days ago – she had wanted them to be closer to the action, not shut up in that terrible little cabin that was filled with so many reminders of her sister and that wouldn’t allow her to properly unleash her rage. When she had screamed her fury there had been no-one there to hear her but Elain. When she had smashed plates and mirrors and whatever else she had come into contact with the cabin had only placidly repaired the damage, made it as though it had never been, as though her anger was not real, was not right. It had infuriated her. And they’d had no idea what was going on, Rhysand had wanted to dump them there, keep them alive but out of the way and she wouldn’t stand for that. She wanted to know what was happening to Feyre, what they were doing to get her back, what she could do to help.After a long, loud, furious outburst directed at Mor when she came to check up on them Rhys had allowed them to come here to stay in the centre of Velaris so they would know what was going on. He had offered them a tour of the house when they’d arrived but both had declined. As such Nesta has no idea where her feet are taking her, and since she’s paying so little attention to where she’s going she has no idea if she’ll be able to find her way back. She finds that she doesn’t care all that much. She doesn’t seem to care about much of anything these days.  She finds a set of stairs and climbs them, struggling a little as she always does, her body dealing too easily with the physical challenge, tripping her.  She ascends into another corridor – another wing of the House and pads soundlessly over the halls. She hadn’t thought to put anything on her shoes and the stones beneath her bare feet are freezing but she ignores that too.The tight thumping in her chest is still getting worse, louder, more insistent. But no matter what direction she goes in it continues, pulsing and throbbing as though there’s something trapped inside her, beneath her skin. She resists the frantic temptation to tear open her nightgown and check…But she can’t stop herself from running her hands over herself. She can’t feel anything, no bumps or odd swellings or strange marks anywhere. All there is is her heart, pumping rhythmically beneath her ribs.Even with her heightened senses however she can’t find the source of the throbbing in her chest, that thing that is starting to feel like a second heartbeat pulsing within her. She doesn’t understand and she wants it to stop, would do anything to make it stop but she doesn’t know what it is or how to do that.She braces herself in one of the windows, hands planted firmly against the solid stone beneath her, using it to support herself. There’s no glass in them and she gulps down the cool night air, her body shaking, going suddenly hot and cold all over in alarming flushes. She fears that she might be sick and there’s pain, such pain burning in her shoulders but she doesn’t understand why.Just as she’s about to scream, sure she’s going to collapse to the ground and die any second, it all stops. The soft beat of that thing inside her chest remains but the sickness, the terrible agony are both gone. She straightens. Sweat clings to her skin, plastering her hair to her forehead and her thin nightdress to her body but she ignores it. There’s no-one here to see her- a good thing, since she’s still shaking. She wraps her arms around herself, trying to regain her composure; and makes herself keep walking. That seems important, to keep moving, keep going, not to stop or else it will find her again, catch her again. She hurries her steps a little along the corridor.Her body seems to know where to go even though she’s not giving it instructions. She takes a left and marches purposefully down another corridor, a right which takes her into a narrow hall meant for the servants. Another left, and then again in quick succession, opens a door in the wall that was all but invisible – she’s sure she’s never seen it before, has never gone through it or even heard about it yet she found it. She doesn’t question that strangeness, she just climbs the narrow spiral staircase that she finds behind it, ascending up, up, up, into a tower room well removed from the rest of the house.When she finally stops she’s breathing hard. Even with her new, powerful fae body the journey up here has taken something out of her. She feels calmer, better now, as though she’s somehow arrived, is where she’s meant to be. But the beat in her chest is now pounding like a hammer against an anvil, erasing the sound and feel of her own heartbeat in her ears. All that she is, all that she’s aware of is that string of something. Except it doesn’t feel very much like a string now. It’s a tether, a chain, with links as large as her fist, anchoring her to something, or someone and-A soft, low moan of pain interrupts her frantic thoughts. Nesta freezes in place, staring around her. She doesn’t know where she is, what she might have walked in to. The room is dark, quiet. There’s a huge bed – built, she’s learned, to accommodate great, Illyrian wings and thought he sheets are messy, indicating someone has been here recently, the bed itself is currently empty. She checks the wash room in the corner, the cosy study, the small library full of scrolls that look like maps and reports, all neatly stacked and labelled in a firm, bold hand- both are empty.  Someone groans again, and she hears a smash from nearby – the balcony. Nesta tenses, body seizing up in anticipation, instincts born of this fae blood burning in her veins. “Hello?” she calls uncertainly, taking a hesitant step towards the balcony though every fibre of her being rebels against the action.She should leave, she should direct someone else up here, or just go, every one of the mortal instincts she still holds in her heart are telling her to run, to flee, to hide, to forget that she ever came her…But something deeper, something stronger, urges her forwards. She doesn’t fight it.Nesta tentatively edges outside, her hands still gripping the walls, ready to push off them, to turn and head for the narrow spiral stairs as fast as she can if anything tries to hurt her. The wind snatches at her hair, throwing it up around her face as she edges out into its stinging bite. Her eyes light on the near prone figure before her almost at once and she recoils, her heart seizing painfully tight in her chest.Cassian…By the forgotten gods…His wings, those great, beautiful black wings…The wings she had watched shredded before her eyes in the throne room of Hybern. The things that she knew were his pride and joy, the wings that carried him into the sky where he truly knew happiness and peace. Gone. Gone. Behind him where once there was freedom now there is only empty space. The darkness of the night pools in places she should not have been able to see it over his shoulders.Nesta stands frozen, transfixed, staring at him in horror, trying to comprehend his loss. Logic manages to swamp her emotion at last, tamping it down, making it possible to focus on the practical now the staggering implications of his loss at another time. Something is wrong with him, badly wrong, from the way he’s shaking, the pain glazing his hazel eyes. She should go to him, she should help him, she should do something but…But she doesn’t know what. She can’t see a wound, can’t see any trace of blood. The bandages around the stumps on his back are clean and look fresh but he’s trembling with agony. She doesn’t understand, she doesn’t-He convulses again and for a moment she’s not standing on a balcony at the top of the House of Wind. She’s in Hybern again. She’s watching him lurch blindly towards her, groaning her name, trying to get to her as his wings spatter blood over the stone floor beneath him. She remembers the cracked sound of his voice. It reaches her. Even amidst the chaos, the crying, the screams around her. She remembers his voice. She remembers the way he said her name. She remembers the way he’d screamed. She remembers, she remembers.She wrenches herself back into the present with difficulty and when he gives another soft cry of pain. She doesn’t have time for this. She has to do something. She turns in the doorway, back into the dark, quiet room behind her.She can’t help him, can’t heal him, can’t comfort him, can’t do anything for him. She’s a cold creature, made for bitterness and hate and anger. She does not know how to soothe someone in their grief, help them struggle through a loss she can’t begin to comprehend, pain she can’t even find a source for. She should find someone- Mor or Azriel or Rhys- anyone who can help take care of him.She doesn’t think he even knows that she’s there, blinded by pain and grief as he is, it’s better if she slips away, brings him someone who might actually do something for him.Nesta’s taken a single step back inside when two things happen at once – blinding pain bursts suddenly through her body, beginning at her chest, at the point where that chain is connected to her, but radiating out to her shoulder blades, making her arch in sudden fright, gripping the wall for support, her body shaking violently both from the intensity of the sensation but also the shock of it.As the sudden wave of pain ebbs she hears Cassian’s voice call to her, hoarse and raw from his screaming but distinct and sharp, piercing straight to her soul, “Please…Don’t leave me.”She stares down at him, a protest rising in her throat- the terrified assertion that she can’t help him, she can’t. She doesn’t know what’s wrong, she doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t know how to comfort him. She should go, she should find someone who does, someone who can take care of him. But the words won’t come. They stick in her throat and she only stands there, staring at him as he shakes, doubling over, his fists pounding into the rough stone, anchoring himself, giving himself something else to feel.  Pain throbs in her shoulder blades again and this time she’s looking right at him when it happens and she can see the place where his wings would have joined his back and it’s there, there that the agony burns.His pain. She’s feeling his pain.She doesn’t understand why but her brain doesn’t give her long enough to process the thought. One moment she’s standing there, feeling, realising this without understanding but then...Then she’s moving, moving towards him before she’s quite given her body permission to do so because she can’t just stand there, she can’t, she has to go to him, she has to try, she has to do something.Crouching down beside him she places a hand tentatively on his shoulder. He doesn’t throw her off or push her away and she takes that as a good sign but how…How can she help him? How can she do anything at all? She has never been good at this, has never known what to do, what to say to make things better. Elain seemed to find it so easy, she always seemed to know, a few gentle words, some soft smiles and the person she was comforting was nodding and hugging her and thanking her. Nesta had marvelled at it. She had felt like another breed of being entirely in those moments, locked out from that secret world of intuitive, instinctive kindness and comfort. She didn’t like words. They never seemed to leave her mouth right, never seemed to be what was needed, only ever seemed to make these kind of things worse.  Terror rises in her throat because they’re alone, they’re completely alone and he’s in agony and she’s lost and broken with no idea how to help herself never mind the shattered Illyrian on his knees before her. But she squeezes his shoulder gently, murmurs his name. She half expects him to snarl at her, to push her away, for his condition to deteriorate just by her mere, noxious presence but he stills, just a little, in response to her touch.“Cassian what-“ she stops, thinking of the words before she says them. How can she ask him what’s wrong? She knows what’s wrong- his wings have been amputated and it’s killing him but…But up close she still can’t see any signs of physical irritation. Still, she swallows down that question and tries tentatively with another, “What can I do?” she asks softly, trying to keep her voice low and soothing though she can feel the desperate strain in her words. “Is there a tonic I can get you in your room?” she asks, jerking her head back towards the tower, “A salve? Some herbs? Anything?”  He shakes his head, the motion slow and jerky as if even that causes him pain. “It’s not…It’s…” he swallows hard, “It’s not a physical pain,” he explains softly, his breathing ragged, every word seeming to cost him a great effort. “Sometimes…When a warrior loses a hand, a limb, in battle they….They can feel it later, it’s as though the limb is there, the injury fresh and I…I…” he reaches behind himself, groping in the empty air over his shoulders as though seeking something that’s invisible, something only he knows is there. Tears prick his eyes, roll silently down his cheeks as he whispers hoarsely, “I can feel them.”Nesta stares down at him, horror twisting in her gut, a lump forming in her throat. She has no idea what to say to him, is afraid of saying anything at all in case it’s the wrong thing. And she can’t just squeeze his shoulder again but she has to do something, something- A wave of utter hopelessness wells up inside her, crashing over her, whispering words in her head that have haunted her since she was a child worthless, helpless, selfish, burden, burden, burden, burden, burden. It threatens to overcome her, nearly causes her to crumple to the floor right alongside him and sob with him but she can’t, she has to be strong for him she has to do something. Do something, do something, do something, anything, help him, help him, help him. But she doesn’t know how.  She never does.He shudders violently again, his back arching in pain and he slams a fist thoughtlessly into the wall beside him, just needing a counter to the awful burning agony that’s tearing through his back, the ghosts of his wings. “No, stop, stop!” Nesta cries sharply, her voice piercing the still night air like a whip when she sees his knuckles split, blood leaking from them.Without thinking she reaches out and grabs his hand in hers pulling it against her chest and holding it there, holding him. He stares up at her his eyes full of pain and fear and grief and she would do anything to make it stop, to return his wings to him, to stop him looking at her like that. She tentatively shuffles a little closer, since her touch seems to be doing him some good, and he starts in surprise at the same time as a dull, hot throb of pain licks along her spine. Ignoring it, she focuses on him but he’s staring at her with something like awe in his eyes, his breathing easing up a little.“What are you doing?” he rasps to her, staring with her with a combination of shock and wonder.“I-“ Nesta begins, frowning a little, unable to help herself, “I’m just holding your hand.”He swallows, “It’s helping,” he whispers softly.His eyes never leave hers, boring into her as though he can see straight through her soul. She’s never felt so vulnerable as she has when he looks at her. But she’s never felt so safe, either.It’s another one of the agonizing contradictions she finds in being with him. She’d felt irritated with his presence whenever he’d visited the house with letters or instructions…But as soon as he’d left she’d wished he was there again. She had been terrified by what his touch had inspired in her, terrified of what he might be able to do to her body if she let him…But unable to stop thinking about it, craving it, his lips on her neck, his strong, hard body pressing hers into the wall, a kiss pressed to her lips, lower. She’d wanted to hate him, wanted to fear him and had found herself unable to do either of those things with ease…which in turn had made her hate and fear him for the effect that he had on her. He had wanted to help her but she hadn’t known how to let him….And now she wants to help him…But she doesn’t know how.“Don’t,” she gasps, shaking her head and lowering her eyes, unable to keep looking at him. She doesn’t want this from him, she doesn’t want that compassion. She doesn’t want him to be able to read her like he holds her heart in his hands and can see the words printed upon it, telling him what she wants, what she needs. She doesn’t want him to think of her right now, of her insecurities, her pains when he’s suffering like this. She doesn’t want him to try and make her feel better when that’s what she should be doing for him. “I’m not doing anything,” she mumbles flatly.   “You must be doing something,” Cassian insists and now that she looks at him he does look a little better. Some of the colour has stolen back into his cheeks, his eyes look clearer and his shaking isn’t as bad. Instinctively, she tightens her grip on his hand.  “I’m not, I’m just…I’m just holding your hand,” she says, trying not to snap at him or let her frustration show when he’s in this condition.Then a panicked thought steals through her- what if it’s magic? What if she’s using magic on him? What if she’s doing it without even knowing that she is what if- Her frantic thoughts are interrupted by a dull pulse of pain and she rolls her shoulders in irritation, trying to throw off the cramping muscle, wondering if perhaps she’d lain on it awkwardly earlier that night while she’d been sleeping or-  Cassian’s sharp intake of breath makes her look up. His eyes are wide as he stares at her, his mouth open slightly in shock. Then he says, voice hoarse and strained, “You can feel it, can’t you?”  “What?” she demands and this time it does come out in a snap as another, stronger, throb pulses through her body.“The pain,” he breathes, staring at her as though he can’t believe that she’s real, that this is happening but Nesta only feels lost, even more in the dark about everything. The more he seems to understand the more confused she is in turn. “My pain,” he clarifies to her, rolling his shoulders in the same motion she had just made, “My…My wings.”She stares at him, about to protest, to tell him that’s ridiculous, impossible, but then she feels them…She feels what he feels. Not just the pain but the heaviness, the weight of them at her back, the spread of them, the kiss of the wind filling them, that sudden desperate, burning hunger, no need, to let them flare wide and high, to let them carry her back into the waiting sky where she belongs, where her blood sings to be where-With a startled cry she drops his hand and scrambles backwards. She doesn’t know what just happened, what she just felt, how it happened, why but she had felt it- had felt not only his pain but his loss, his grief, his instincts roaring in her own blood. The moment she drops his hand Cassian groans again and lurches forwards, pain dragging him under again. Nesta moves towards him again, grabbing his hand with both of her own, unable to bear seeing him suffer like that.After a few long, horrible moments his ragged breathing eases once more and his tightly locked muscles relax somewhat, still trembling but no longer seizing up with the strength of his discomfort.“We’re…Sharing it,” she whispers softly, words caught between awe and sheer terror because she has no idea why this is happening, why her touch should have made it happen if it’s magic or instinct or some deeper, stranger, older power that can’t be explained or known. “I’m sharing your pain.”At that he lets out a rough snarl and jerks his hand out of her reach. Immediately the full weight of his pain assaults him and she watches what it does to him, how it threatens to break him, how he trembles. With an irritable growl she reaches forwards and makes contact with him again, “Don’t be so stupid,” she snaps at him, threading their fingers together to make it harder for him to pull away from her.“You shouldn’t have to endure this,” he pants stubbornly, but seems too weak to wrestle her off of him just yet, which she uses to her advantage.“Neither should you,” she shoots back irritably. Her voice drops, goes quieter, lower, when she adds, “You shouldn’t be punished for doing what you did. You shouldn’t be put through this for…For saving him.” Cassian’s eyes meet hers and there’s such a strange, overwhelming pulse of emotion in them that she looks away again, not sure she can bare it. She settles herself more comfortably on the ground, leaning against the rough stone of the balcony wall, feeling suddenly foolish sitting feet from him but clinging determinedly to his hand.“Nesta, you don’t need to-“ he begins again, shifting in place, trying to break the connection between them but she glowers dangerously at him.“I know I don’t need to,” she huffs impatiently, “But you don’t need to go through this alone, you can let other people help you sometimes.” She cuts herself off, clamping her lips tightly together and looking away from him. He could have said the same thing to her, she had shut herself away, had refused Rhys’s attempts to explain, Azriel’s quiet offers of food, or extra blankets or to introduce them to some of the staff to make them feel at home, Mor’s once frequent and now sparing visits to check on her and Elain, to reach out, to help.Another thought strikes her and she turns to Cassian, studying him, trying to determine if she might be right. Her instincts on people are usually uncertain at best but she’d felt so sure, had felt understanding burst between them like a lightning strike shimmering along that strange tether that pulses gently in her chest sometimes. The source of which she’s realised...is him.Slowly, tentatively, watching him all the while for his reaction, she says, “That’s why you’re up here, isn’t it?” she says softly, gesturing around at the isolated tower around them. The tops of it which she can see where she’s perched on the balcony are crumbling and she suspects these rooms – remote and cut off from the rest of the place as they are – haven’t been properly used or lived in for years. “You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, you didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for you or want to help you…you just….Wanted to go through it alone, didn’t you?”He doesn’t answer her, only shifts his body in a way she’s noticed him do before as he tucks his wings in tighter against himself when he feels threatened or agitated. A tight pull of pain and emotion tugs at her chest in sympathy for him…Five hundred years, five hundred years with those wings and now…Now…“You shouldn’t,” she says, a touch of anger colouring her words and she looks up at him, forcing him to turn and look at her as well. A flush of heat enters her cheeks at his stare but she presses on in determination, “You shouldn’t push them away, you shouldn’t hide from them. They’re your friends, your family, they love you, they want to help you, they’re all going out of their minds and you’re sitting up here alone, in agony, not letting them near you, it’s-“A shadow darkens his face and he pulls his hand away from hers, clenching it tightly into a fist and bearing the shock of pain that descends on him as a result – though she can still feel a thread of it, even without touching him now. “Don’t tell me how I should deal with this,” he growls, his voice low and more rough and primal than she’s ever heard it before. “Don’t tell me how I should feel about this, how I should handle it when you have no idea what I’m going through, no idea what I’ve lost, how this feels-“ his voice cracks and he turns away from her, struggling not to crumble again as pain washes through him and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to break.“I’m not telling you how to feel,” she snaps harshly, “I’m telling you how others feel, what you’re doing to them, how you’re hurting them, I-“ She breaks off, as he droops and she knows that he knows, that she isn’t saying anything he hasn’t heard before. He knows how they feel, of course he does. She closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall, cursing herself. This isn’t getting them anywhere.Tentatively, she slips her hand back into his, squeezing it until he looks at her, looks down at their joined hands, his large and rough, hers gentle and small, connecting them once more, trying to soothe him. Each time she touches him that thread inside her burns brighter, thickening and strengthening, as though every time she touches him, trusts him with that contact, with the willingness to share in his burdens and his pains, she forges something between them. Another link in an unbreakable chain that will bind her to him, stop him leaving her, keep him grounded.  A shiver runs through her as a cold breeze lifts and Cassian blinks, apparently shocked at his own thoughtlessness. “You’re freezing,” he mutters, drawing her closer, an arm around her shoulders. He makes an odd motion, rolling his shoulder and she feels the explosion of pain in his tender nerve endings in response to the motion. She feels too what he intended to do, wrap one of his wings around her and pull her close, keep her warm. Instead he’s left panting with the effort, the mistake, his face buried in his hand, the other still held in hers, connecting him to her even as he withdraws.Nesta makes an executive decision and moves in closer, pressing in against his side and sighing faintly in relief as the warmth of his body brushes against her frozen skin. Roused by the movement he puts an arm gently around her, drawing her in close. His breathing is still a little rough and when she cautiously rests her head on his chest she can hear his heart pounding beneath his shirt. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, doesn’t know why this feels so right but…From the moment he first touched her neck, made her feel as though fire was dancing along her bones in time to his will and whims she’s been craving this, having him against her, around her, touching her this way again. And it feels good, it feels as though this is where he belongs – at her side, his arm around her…It feels as though this is where she belongs too.  As though she could, some day, make her home in the steady, solid, shelter of his embrace.She looks up at him and swallows tightly and knows then that she can’t…Can’t lose this. Whatever this is, whatever they have, whatever they might have, she can’t lose it. Because now that they’re connected this way she can feel more than his pain, more than the ghost of his wings that hovers behind him, haunting him, taunting him…She can feel his emotions as well, his grief, his hopelessness, his wish that he might fly again, one last time, even if this time feels more like falling...She recoils from it, from that and grips almost convulsively onto that bond between them. The sudden urgent desperation of the instinct must cause her to send something of herself down it towards him because he blinks at her in surprise.Before he can remark on it, she speaks again.  “You don’t have to do this alone, Cassian,” She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, hoping this might emphasise her words. It feels so small. So hollow, so hopeless. As if she can change anything. As if holding his hand, murmuring a few words can actually help him.She waits for the defeat, for another surge of despair to wash over her through him. She waits for him to raise his eyes and look into hers and for her to realise how hopeless he is, how she hasn’t done anything at all, how she never could.He doesn’t look up at her, right away though. He just stares at their interlocked fingers for another long moment before he slowly, tentatively, squeezes back.Then he lifts his eyes and looks at her, rich, fire-hardened hazel meeting unyielding blue ice gilded steel, “Neither do you,” he says softly, his voice low and quiet. She shifts uncomfortably, turning away from him but he reaches out, takes her chin in his other hand and tilts her head back round until she’s facing him again, “Nesta-“ he begins but she twists, draws away for a second time, unable to bear it, the intensity of his gaze, the vulnerability that blazes through her, as though she’s bare before him and he’s staring into her very soul.He doesn’t try and coax her back to face him again.“It’s not the same,” she says, shaking her head. Cassian stays uncharacteristically quiet, letting the silence stretch, giving her time, letting her fill it. “You have people here, people who will help you, who would do anything for you-““So do you,” Cassian says. The firmness, the surety in his tone startles her so much that she glances up instinctively and meets his eyes again.“If you mean Elain-“ she begins.“No,” he says quietly, interrupting her, “Not only Elain,” his eyes are blazing and for the first time since she stumbled out onto this balcony and saw him convulsing in pain, grief tearing through him, torturing the very soul of him, she finds that familiar fire in his eyes again, sparked when he looked at her. “I have no doubt that she would do anything to help you, Nesta but...I meant what I said to you before.”Her mouth goes dry. She remembers it too. She remembers that scene in her house, thinks she’ll remember it no matter how long she lives with these new immortal bones.  The silence, the way the room, the world, had seemed to empty until there was no-one left but them. Him looking at her swearing to fight, to kill, to die for what was important to her in a way that no-one else ever had before. She remembers the hand on her cheek, the contact, so intimate, so vulnerable, somehow more so than when he’d kissed her neck on his previous visit. It should have exposed her, should have weakened her, highlighted all her vulnerabilities in that moment, how raw and desperate she’d been. Yet it hadn’t. She had felt nothing but strength from that touch. She had felt...Safe.She swallows tightly. She doesn’t know what else to say, what else to do, how she should respond, but Cassian continues, sparing her the necessity. “I failed you once before,” his eyes flicker towards her ears, the way they taper into points with the weight of all of her pain held in that gaze. She usually keeps them hidden, covers them with her hair but in all the confusion of tonight…Somehow his gaze doesn’t make her want to cover them again.”I won’t do so again.”His voice jolts her back to herself and she meets his eyes again, strong, so strong for all they’ve witnessed. She glances away again, unable to bear it. Looking into his eyes feels so...Overwhelming; as though if she looks for too long, especially when they’re full of such emotion, she’ll drown in them.“You never failed me,” she murmurs softly to their joined hands. She doesn’t look at him, she can’t, but she says the words. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened, it…It wasn’t your fault.” She feels him tense beside her, feels his hand clench in hers but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at her.The bond between them pulses, suddenly strong and sharp in her chest, radiating through her. “You will get through this,” she tells him quietly and this time she makes herself look up, makes herself meet his startled eyes. “If I have to drag you screaming and writhing through hell itself…I will make sure that you get through this.” He stares at her and she wonders if he knows, knows what those words mean to her, what that pledge, that promise means to her, what she will do to uphold it. A part of her wonders why she promised him that at all…But the rest of her doesn’t care because deep in her bones she knows…She can’t do this without him.Cassian seems overcome for a moment but then rallies himself, looks down at her, “And you,” he breathes softly, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ears, “You will get through this as well. I swear it.”Nesta looks at him, wondering at the oaths they’ve just exchanged. She gives him a terse nod of her head, accepting it, accepting his promise, his…help. He’s close…So close. She can see the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. His eyes still a little fogged and dull with pain but with a spark daring to glitter in their depths. Leaning forwards she presses her forehead against his, not sure what prompts the motion but…Something in her tells her that it’s right.Softly, for only her to hear, he murmurs a soft string of words in a rough yet oddly melodious tongue. It falls on her ears like melted ore, thick and hot and strong and she feels something shiver deep in her core in response.“What was that?” she asks him softly. They’re still tucked so closely together that her breath stirs his hair.  He gazes at the wall opposite them, all rough black stone, but she knows that he isn’t really seeing it, that his mind is elsewhere, drifting over treacherous black peaks capped with rings of snow that look like glowing halos in the early morning light. She can smell the sweet grasses and rough stones of the mountains that smell like a home she’s never known but longs in her heart to see again.“It’s an old tradition,” he says quietly, his eyes still a little distant. “An oath sealed between Illyrian warriors before they enter a battle field. It’s a pledge for partners, to fight together, to kill and die for one another, to do whatever it takes to ensure the other survives the fight ahead.” Nesta swallows tightly as she realises what he’s sharing her, what they’re entering in together. She stays quiet and he clears his throat, “The words are ancient and difficult to translate into this tongue but…” He closes his eyes, sways slightly to music on he can here and chants quietly under his breath, “My sword for yours, my honour for yours, my body for yours, my blood for yours. Your life is mine; and mine is yours – for now until death cleaves us apart.”He coughs, bringing them both back to reality then says, a hint of humour twinkling in his eyes, “It’s supposed to be sealed with blood but under the circumstances…” he gestures towards their clasped hands, the current states they’re in, him exhausted, looking half-way to death and her sitting with her nightgown plastered to her skin, dark smudges blotting the pale skin under her eyes from her lack of sleep.“No,” she agrees primly, “You’re not getting blood all over my favourite nightdress.”That coaxes a soft smile out of him but then his eyes are sinking down to her lips before flickering back up to her eyes, catching the hitch in her breathing, the way her mouth parts with a soft intake of breath. “Although…” he murmurs softly, his fingers ghosting tenderly through her brassy hair, the tips faintly caressing her cheek as he strokes downwards. “We should still seal it somehow.”Without conscious thought her body arches a little closer to him and her eyes seem trapped in his, feeling as though if she looks away she’ll break some kind of spell that’s descended over them, wrapping around them. The pain that was throbbing faintly in her back diminishes until it’s little more than a whisper and then fades entirely as everything seems to fade around them. His pain vanishes as well and she watches his body seem to cave in on itself, his muscles relaxing, the tension releasing, like a taut bow string cut in half.“Yes,” she whispers onto his lips when they’re a hair’s breadth from hers, waiting, kindling that tension again in a heartbeat as he seeks her permission, her acceptance of what they’re doing, what they’re promising, what they’re sealing here in this quiet moment at the top of the crumbling tower of the House of Wind with nothing watching them but a handful of stars spread in the velvety sky above them.  “We should.”His lips meet hers and she feels her own muscles release, feels the tension that she hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying all these years leave her, flooding out into the waiting darkness around them. Like his touches in her home in the mortal realm a thousand years ago, before she was Made and he was broken, he is exquisitely gentle with her. He barely brushes her mouth with hers to begin with, testing, hesitating, savouring.He withdraws after barely a brush and she bites back a whine of disappointment, not opening her eyes. The hand he has on her cheek shifts, his fingers slide gently beneath her chin, tilting her face up towards him. She offers him no resistance and with a faint thrill in her chest she feels him move in again. This time the press of his lips to hers is a little harder, a little surer and she’s more ready for it. She allows it, welcome it, tips her head up a little higher, trying to communicate that she likes this, that she wants more from him. He gives it to her, letting this one linger, only a few seconds and not enough but more, more.  The next time she nudges in closer and catches his face with her hand, drawing him back down before he can pull away or ask a question. This time she leads them a little more, letting herself explore the shape of him, the feel of him, the heat, the softness. Her lips move tentatively against his and he feels him respond, guiding them a little more, showing her what to do.This time when they draw back the pause is a little longer until she says, her voice oddly rough and hoarse, “I don’t feel like that could have sealed anything at all.” he arches an eyebrow at her and she eases forwards, still wary of the state he’s in, not wanting to jar or hurt him. She lowers herself down into his lap and slides a hand through his hair. She’s breathing so hard and so fast, her heart pounding in her chest as though she’s run a mile when in reality all she’s done is slide forward a few inches until she’s resting in his lap, cradled against his body, so much larger than hers. “If you’re going to kiss me, Cassian,” she says, her eyes fixed on his, “Kiss me properly.”  A rough smile tugs at his lips and he captures her face in his hand and pulls her up to him. This time their lips crash together the way his sword might strike another’s on a battlefield; the way her heart slams against her ribs as it pounds so hard she’s sure it might shatter. He gentles the kiss a moment later but keeps his mouth moving, coaxing hers to open for him. She allows it, letting out a soft whimper into him, feeling his broad, calloused hand press gently at the small of her back, holding her closer. The other slides into her hair, his fingers digging in deep, shaping her movements. She lets him lead them, lets him press his tongue gently into her mouth, soft and warm, tasting like a odd blend of some kind of citrus herb and whisky. She likes it, likes him, likes this.“Is this proper enough for you, sweetheart?” he asks with a soft smirk when they pause a moment, both panting for breath.Unwilling to waste the time or energy thinking of something suitably witty to needle him back she only says, “Yes, commander,” before she kisses him again, making him groan.When at last he draws away he presses his brow to hers, his eyes closed, his hand finding hers and holding it against his chest. She doesn’t know if it was a deliberate move on his part but she can feel his heart thumping beneath his loose black shirt. She shifts her fingers slightly, sliding in at the loose neck, unlaced and open down to his sternum. Parting the folds of fabric she slides her hand gently underneath until it presses against his skin, directly over his heart. The rhythmic thump of it beneath her small, delicate fingers is more reassuring, more comforting, than she’ll ever be able to put into words.Meeting Cassian’s eyes again she takes a breath and slowly, haltingly, repeats the words of the Illyrian pledge he had translated for her, to him. There’s such wonder, such devotion in his eyes when she finishes that she can barely stand it. Arching up again she kisses him deeply again, sealing this part of their pact as well. She’s not going to let him slip away, not going to let him succumb to the black despair she can feel pooling in his soul. He’s hers now – he swore it to her- and she’s not letting him go that easily. If she has to survive this, fight this, find a way to live in this body, live as a monster, as something she loathes with every fibre of her being, then he can damn well fight this too. They can fight it together. She can learn how to be made and he can learn how to be broken. Somehow.When they’ve gone quiet for a long while, their hands still clasped together, still sharing the occasional pulses of pain Cassian feels in his phantom wings, and she has her head resting neatly against his chest, he breaks the silence. “How did you find me?” he asks quietly.She raises herself slowly, her hair falling down over one shoulder as she frowns at the question. “I don’t…I don’t know,” she murmurs, not quite meeting his eyes as she speaks. He slides his fingers under her chin and tilts her face up so she meets his eyes again. “I couldn’t sleep,” she says, shifting uncertainly, “I got out of bed and I…Walked until I found this tower, found you.” He raises an eyebrow and she bites her lip, wondering what he’ll say, what he’ll think if she tells him the full truth but then-“You can feel it too, can’t you?” She looks up at him, her throat tight with fear, barely daring to breathe. “This…Connection,” he adds carefully. She’s sure he was going to say something else, something more, but she accepts his choice of word without comment, only nodding.  Slowly she lifts their clasped hands and coaxes his to splay, allowing her to press it palm first against her chest, in the centre, where she can feel that string, that chain, tugging her. “It’s here,” she murmurs quietly, her voice faint and strangled sounding, “The…Connection,” she says, echoing his word, his hesitation, “I can feel it here.”His fingers clench, pulsing like a contracting heart over the place she had guided him too. Without taking his hand away he looks up at her, his eyes heavy and dark, suddenly showing his years, the centuries of pain that he’s bourn upon his heart.“You know what it is,” he murmurs quietly. It’s not a question but she nods, the tight lump of terror tight around her throat and heart preventing her from saying more.He nods too, mirroring her motion. Then he slides his other hand into her and coaxes her forwards until her forehead is pressed against his again and she closes her eyes, nestling into him. “You don’t have to choose,” he whispers hoarsely and her heart seizes, understanding exactly what he means. ‘You don’t have to choose now’ but more than that…’You don’t have to choose me.’ “Not until you’re ready…If you’re ready,” he amends quietly.Nesta lets herself sink into the calm, the precious silence he leaves in the wake of those words for only a moment, indulging in the simple act of not acting, of not choosing, not facing this, just being. Then she withdraws getting slowly, clumsily to her feet, her nightgown dropping down again, covering her. Cassian looks as though she’s torn the heart right out of him with her bare hands in the process of standing but she doesn’t move away from him.“We should get some sleep,” she says, her voice a fraction harder than before, more business-like, more determined, not wanting to think or talk about anything else that’s passed between them, not now…Now all she wants to do is give in to the exhausted, draining pull of her weary limbs.Cassian nods but doesn’t move until she reaches down and takes his hand, coaxing him to his feet. He obeys her, his movements slow and stiff, overly careful, as though he’s afraid of setting off the pain in his back again, but he allows her to lead him without a word back into the tower room.Once they’ve been enveloped by the warm darkness of the bedroom she turns to him, “Can you walk a little further?” she asks him.“Yes,” he says and she judges him too bemused by the oddness of this question to lie to her or put on some ridiculous show of bravado.“Good,” is all she says before she moves towards the door but this time he resists, letting their arms go taut, not moving while she does.“Why?” he asks, his eyes flickering towards the bed in the corner.She shakes her head, “I don’t want to stay here,” she says firmly. The whole room is haunted, haunted by his ghosts, his demons, his agonised screams. She can’t stand the thought of him shut up in here, alone, no-one to hear him howling with the pain of losing his wings. She doesn’t want to remain in this place a second longer than she has to and she doesn’t want him here either, so isolated and abandoned.He seems to sense at least something of her feelings in her through their new…connection…Or perhaps he can just see it in her eyes that way he’s always seemed able to, stripping past her layers of ice and armour until she’s bare before him, standing before him in nothing but skin and secrets. The thought no longer terrifies her…She finds an odd sort of comfort in the idea that someone….that someone might see her, might see all of her, all of her flaws, all of her small bitter hatreds and all of her twisted strangeness that no-one could ever properly account for…but still look at her the way Cassian is looking at her now.He gives her a small nod and she takes his hand and leads him back down the cramped spiral staircase. They move slowly on account of Cassian’s still weak and aching body and she leads them through the deserted hallways excepting the few times Cass nudges her to take a different turn than she was planning, guiding her on a swifter route back to her rooms.  Only once they’re safely inside does she drop his hand, he fails to completely conceal his wince of pain but she knows that she’s still sharing almost an equal portion of what he’s enduring. She can barely feel it anymore and she realises, as Cassian looks slowly around the room, taking in the Spartan, impersonal room that she has refused to imprint herself on, refused to accept as hers, that her agitation is gone. This room, whenever she’s stepped into it, has felt more like a torture cell than a bedroom. Every noise seems tailored to making her lose her mind, drilling into her skull over and over and over again refusing to loosen its grip on her, refusing to let her relax, drawing her focus over and over…Now they’re gone. There is only Cassian’s laboured breathing. She closes her eyes, clings tightly onto the corner of the four poster bed as relief pulses through her and tears sting beneath her lids.“Nesta-“ Cassian begins, placing a gentle hand on his arm but she shakes her head, rolling and then squaring her shoulders before turning back to him.“Come on then,” she urges, gesturing towards the bed.Cassian reaches down and half pulls his shirt over his head before he stops, comically frozen in the middle of the action as he looks at her uncertainly. Huffing in mild irritation she gestures for him to continue, “Take it off,” she mutters, her voice flat and tired. She wants him comfortable, not shifting restlessly beside her all damned night.She allows herself a moment to admire the hard lines of his abdomen and those beautiful, intricate Illyrian tattoos that snake over his arms and shoulders like the eloquent patterns of ink that had flowed from the calligraphy pens she had so loved to use when she had been younger. But her eyes catch too on the stark white bandages wrapped around his chest, at the conspicuous absence of his wings behind his back where they ought to be.Forcing her expression to remain neutral she jerks her head irritably for him to join her at the bed but he pauses, politely, gesturing for her in turn, “After you sweetheart.”Too exhausted to argue or snipe back she slid in under the sheets and feels a familiar dread coil in her stomach. Every night, every night since Hybern she’s had nightmares, has drowned again in the Cauldron’s depths only this time she never escapes, it never tips on its side and spills her on the floor as a monster, it won’t let her go. It shoves its frozen, choking black fingers down her throat and tears her apart from the inside out over and over and over again, refusing to let her go, whispering that she belongs to it now. Either that or she sees Elain, sees it happen over again, sees her thrown in there. She still doesn’t know what’s worse, the times when she rises and lifts her head and looks at her with a fae face, the pointed ears, the unearthly poise…Or the times when she doesn’t rise at all.  The sudden pressure behind her as Cassian crawls in carefully behind her, grunting with pain as he lowers himself down onto his side distracts her from her morbid musings. He murmurs a goodnight and she murmurs one back without looking at him. The shaking starts a few minutes later and she clenches her hands into fists, choking back a sob because she can’t stand this, can’t-“Nesta?” Cassian’s concerned voice sounds behind her and she takes a deep breath, swallowing her pride and letting that steel will and the iron walls that surround her melt away for him.“I need you to hold me,” she chokes out to him, bunching the sheets between her fists, “Please,” she gets out.He moves immediately, dragging his stiff, aching body towards her, wrapping an arm around her slender form and drawing her in against him. They fit as though they were made to, she thinks as he tucks her in close to him, keeping one arm around her, pressing her in close, softly stroking her hair, murmuring gently to her until she finds that same sense of calm safety that she always seems to lose herself in whenever she’s alone with him.She falls asleep in his arms after only a half an hour or so of racing hearts and shallow breaths and jagged thoughts. She still wakes later, screaming, choking on the Cauldron’s filthy, death filled waters but when she does he is there. His arms tighten around her and he pulls her in close, stroking her, telling her that he’s here, he’s here with her, she’s safe now, safe, with him, with him. She presses her face against his chest, letting herself sob openly, not having the will or the strength or the need to hide her anguish from him. They’ve both shown the other the deep fissures that run through their souls – she knows his pain, has felt it, shared it, carried it- it’s only right that he should know and feel and share hers as well.He rubs her back and strokes her hair and continues to murmur to her as she slowly calms down. She asks him to talk to her, to just talk and after a long time he murmurs to her again in Illyrian. He tells her the next morning that they were fairytales, old myths and stories told to children, the few things he remembered his mother, and then Rhys’ mother, murmuring to him when he was a child and couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t understood any of what he’d said to her but the rough, melodic words had been oddly soothing in their own way…and the emotions that they stirred in Cassian, the warmth, the happiness, the feelings of intense safety and warmth, of being in a place that he was loved and cared for and happy, had infected her as well through their strange connection, and with his fingers murmuring through her hair, she had drifted off again – something she’d never been able to do on her own.When he woke a few hours before dawn screaming and clawing at his back she had pulled his hands away and held him as tightly as she could, as tight as he would let her. She had taken his hand in hers again and squeezed it, sharing the agony that was tearing through him, helping him to bare it, gritting her teeth and shouting his name over and over until he met her eyes at last and hoarsely whispered, “Sweetheart,” with the last pulse of breath left over from his howling agony.   She had nodded to him, softly stroked his cheek and tried to soothe him as best she could as pain wracked him again. She refused to let the tears gathering in her own eyes fall, but tenderly wiped his away with the ball of her thumb whenever they escaped his control. They ended that bout of pain and prayers for an end clinging to one another in a tight ball, her arms wrapped tight around him and his around her – keeping each other together.Over and over and over again she whispered the words of the pledge he had told her on the balcony to him. He couldn’t leave her, he had to fight with her, he couldn’t let her do this alone, he wouldn’t. He shook his head and promised her that he wouldn’t when she asked to hear it, when she asked him to tell her again and again and again that he wouldn’t leave her, that he wouldn’t give up, that he would fight, that he would survive, that he would learn to live again…As long as she promised him that too. She always did.Together they fell back down onto the mattress, curled around each other so tightly it was as though they had forged themselves into one being through their shared pain and endurance. They drifted back into dreams, still murmuring cracked, half-finished promises to one another. But they would fight this. They would fight against what had been done to them, and against what the world demanded they do now. They would fight with every bit of warrior’s fire and bitter steel they had left in them. They would fight and it was not in Nesta Archeron’s nature to lose…Not when she had something to fight for, not when she was no longer fighting alone….Not when she had her mate beside her. Not when he was shattered and lost and scared…But still surviving and perhaps, with her arms around him, as his were around her, dreaming of, some day, living again.****
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Cuts and Scratches
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "America (Hetalia), England (Hetalia)", "Fandom": "Hetalia: Axis Powers", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by gallifreyanlibertea", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-10T00:00:00", "words": "4,111", "Additional Tags": "Tsunotalia", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "USUK, America/England (Hetalia)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Arthur was hot.Alfred decided this as Arthur pulled away from their kiss to nibble at his lower lip, tongue dragging along Alfred’s as their breathy moans mingled in the dim bedroom.They’d been at it for what seemed like hours.He’d met the guy through a friend. Sure, back then, in that sweater vest and slacks pairing, he didn’t seem so frisky. Just a run of the mill, slightly cute guy.“I like your accent.” Was the first thing Alfred had said to him. He wasn’t lying. His voice had something of a soothing lilt, reminiscent of a documentary narrator.“I like yours too.” Was Arthur’s reply, “I’ve always had a thing for Southern accents.”A flirty dinner had turned to decisions made under the slight influence of wine and Arthur had taken Alfred home, throwing him onto his bed to climb on Alfred’s lap predatorily. It was funny seeing as Alfred was, in fact, the predator in their relationship, what with his horns and Arthur’s… antlers. But he let that slide, throwing his head back as Arthur rolled his hips down against him.Clack.“Aw, fuck.”Arthur clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle a snort, watching as Alfred turned his head this way and that in fruitless attempts to untangle the curve of his horn from where it had locked into the grill of Arthur’s bed.“You could help me, yanno.” He grumbled as he felt Arthur’s body shake from silent laughter.Hands fisted the fabric of his shirt and the weight on Alfred’s lap was gone. Arthur balanced on his knees, hovering over to card his hands through Alfred’s hair and give the base of his horns a gentle tug. Alfred heard a rattle and he was finally free. Pink-faced, he turned to bury his face and plant open-mouthed kisses onto Arthur’s neck to avoid the poking fun that he hoped wouldn’t follow.Arthur was kind to him that day.Slender fingers tilted Alfred’s chin up and their lips met again. Arthur’s arms moved to rope around Alfred’s neck, bringing him closer, deeper into their heated kiss as Arthur’s coral, flushed lips parted to make way for a tongue.Fuck… Alfred was getting red now. It had been a long time since he went this far- those lips were so honey sweet on his, and every kiss burned him, pooling pleasure into his abdomen as Arthur’s touch lit his body aflame. He let his fingers creep under the fabric of Arthur’s shirt, tugging at it until Arthur’s torso was free to taste, and then Arthur stopped.“Well, I can’t be the only one undressing, now can I?”Alfred’s blank expression turned almost bashful as Arthur tugged at his shirt, bringing it over Alfred’s head. He wanted it, he really did, but- it felt too soon. They’d been dating for a month almost, and he knew Arthur had been aching for it for a while now. A month was a long time, and if Alfred had left Arthur hanging for so long, he might think there was something wrong with him. Alfred couldn’t have that- He couldn’t bear sleeping without expecting a “good night” text, or seeing green eyes light up when Alfred surprised him with little trinkets at work…He wanted it, yes. Alfred just wasn’t sure if it was right.“Al, I think it’s stuck,” Arthur grunted, tugging impatiently at the fabric of Alfred’s shirt.Rip.Oh dear.He could feel tattered fabric pooling around his horns, and an audible gasp tore through the air on Arthur’s part. Alfred’s vision consisted of the suffocating blue fabric of his shirt, and he rolled his shoulders, which despite only having been strained for seconds already began to ache as they laid limp and trapped in the arm holes.“… Arthur, hurry up-”“I’m trying!”Another ferocious tug and Alfred lurched forward, wincing as another noise resulted as the tip of his horn bore yet another hole.He was completely, and utterly stuck.And instead of helping him, like Arthur claimed he was doing, Alfred knew he was laughing. He could feel Arthur’s body shake against him, little gasps of air he’d suck in only when he was laughing so hard it was inaudible.He tried to imagine what Arthur looked like right now. A bare-chested, red-faced, absolute idiot.“Don’t just laugh at me, do something!” Alfred pressed. He heard Arthur take deep calming breaths before leaning to lie against Alfred’s trapped, squirming body with a humored sigh.“Hurry!”Alfred chewed his inner cheek in anticipation as Arthur seemed to lie perfectly still on his lap.Then he felt it.Hands moved over his abs, fingers lazily tracing each defined muscle as Arthur’s hot breath fanned through the fabric onto Alfred’s cheek.“Arthur, this isn’t the time to be fondling my-” Lips parted in a gasp as a warm kiss was placed in the middle of his chest, cool fingers running a slow circle around his areolas before coming to pinch them. Alfred yelped, squirming as a tongue flattened and teased his nipple, the antlers atop the rogue’s head brushing over Alfred’s chin through the fabric of his shirt.He bit back a moan, “Fu- Arthur, wh-”“I think we can have some fun like this, don’t you?”That was the first time Alfred thanked his horns for inconveniencing him.“Alfred!”Alfred woke with a snort, a string of incomprehensible noises dribbling from his lips as his eyes blinked rapidly, squinting to focus on the blur before him.There was a light on.With a slight groan, he rolled over to the nightstand, flinching as his horns clacked uselessly against the grill of the headboard. His glasses were retrieved, and he pushed them clumsily atop his nose to find the bed empty beside him.“Alfred get over here!”The accented voice screeching for him drew a sigh out of his lips. It had to be something petty. Arthur tended not to be scared by the scary things and terrified by the things that could easily be fixed.It was way too late and he could feel his eyes drooping, but Arthur wasn’t going to let Alfred sleep peacefully until whatever had startled him was taken care of. That fact was made evident by the many similar nights they’d shared ever since Alfred moved in.“Yeah, babe?” He could see the light in the bathroom through the open bedroom door. Arthur was probably fawning over his appearance again- He’d gone there to clean himself up after their… romp in the sheets, and Alfred had expected Arthur back in minutes. The whole ordeal had tired him out, and there was nothing better than to nod off with his boyfriend pulled to his chest.Another shriek tore Alfred off his bed and sent him scrambling towards the bathroom, “I’m comin’, I’m comin’!”`“Look at them. Don’t you see it!?” Arthur said, hands fondling the length of his antlers. His green eyes were wide with alarm as he turned to Alfred, pointing at his head, “Look!”Alfred couldn’t see a thing, “I- uh, I don’t see nothin’ wrong.”  Arthur turned pink, letting his hands fall to his sides, “They’ve turned yellow, Alfred.”Oh.Now he could see it.The usually sparkling antlers had yellowed a bit- which was perfectly normal, but of course, Arthur would be reduced to tears about it. Appearance meant everything to him. Looking prim and proper, making the best impression… apparently, that wasn’t possible with healthily yellowed antlers.“I’m getting them whitened first thing tomorrow, that’s final.” Arthur declared, facing the mirror with hands on his hips.“Ugh, Artie, you don’t have to do that, you can barely see it!” Alfred complained, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Leave it to Arthur to pick the most expensive option. Antler-whitening had become something of a routine on Arthur’s part and Alfred didn’t want the habit to stick. “You can’t even see ‘em, babe, they’re tiny.”Oops.Arthur’s eyes were already swimming with hurt. That was the last thing you’d tell someone like him. Everyone wanted large horns, but not everyone was blessed with them like Alfred was. The blue-eyed man had tall, curved, desirable structures that were gracefully white to the tip. He took good care in maintaining them, and they often earned him looks when he walked hand-in-hand with Arthur down the street. They were majestic, to say the least, and Arthur, like every other person, was equally intimidated by them.So to sum it up: dick move.“Wait, no, that’s not what I-”Arthur slammed the door shut in his face and Alfred could hear the lock click. Shit.“Arthur- open the door.”There was no response.“Baby-”“Go away.”Alfred sighed, forcing the growl building up his throat back down to his chest. The last thing Alfred needed was to get aggressive. Arthur had a thing for drama, and as soon as Alfred made one wrong move, a solid kick would land him right on the streets, no mercy.(They’d be mercy later, but knowing Arthur, he’d be too stubborn to invite Alfred back in.)A frustrated sigh. Alfred was fully awake now, eyes blinking wide as he eyed the locked bathroom door, “I’m going back to sleep then, do what you want.”It was too early for this, he decided. The sun wasn’t up, and he shouldn’t have been either, but there he was, up early because his boyfriend had called for him. Alfred bit back the boiling exasperation welling up inside him, telling himself anything he said would make it worse. He learned to be quiet when Arthur got like this. Wait for him to cool down and come back outside, then Alfred would take him into his arms and kiss those tiny horns on each little peak. That would always do the trick-But a pathetic whimper from the other side of the door with a mumbled “fine”, broke the last thread of patience he had inside him.“Stop fuckin’ guilt trippin’ me, we’re not three years old.”The door swung open at that to reveal a red-faced Arthur, “Well, I’m sorry I’m such a bother, just go back to sleep.”Alfred found himself clenching his jaw, “You’re making this a big deal, babe, just come back to bed with me.”A stubborn cross of his arms, “No.”“You’ll have to anyways,” Alfred muttered dismissively, words taking on a growl as his lip curled to bare his teeth. “It’s kinda the only bed in the house.”Knowing Arthur, it probably wasn’t the best thing to say in response. Green eyes narrowed with fiery defiance and the bathroom light was snapped off, door slamming shut with a force that rattled the floor as Arthur stormed into their living room. Alfred followed behind with a groan, watching defeatedly as the silhouette of his boyfriend swung over to plop onto the couch, snuggling into the cushions in a feeble attempt to escape the chilly air.“Fine, stay that way.”He wouldn’t accept a blanket even if Alfred got on his knees to offer it.Perhaps that was why Alfred stormed into their bedroom, letting his own door slam shut with a force that rivaled Arthur’s. Despite the fact that they’d been together for what seemed like ages, Alfred still found himself wanting to smother Arthur on several occasions.This was one of them.The bed felt colder without his lover beside him, but that was a given. Alfred bit back a noise- he had no idea what it might’ve sounded like if he’d let it tumble from his lips, but he decided he was better off not knowing. Instead, he buried his face into the pillow beneath him, horns clacking against the bedposts as he shuffled around to dig under the covers, curling up to preserve any warmth left in him.His arm ached to shoot out to his side, to bring the warm body that slept beside him close, but he flinched, clutching it back to his chest and wondering if Arthur was doing the same.There were no words when he found himself awake again only a few hours later. The sun had begun to shine a pale, orange light through the window and Alfred huffed an exhale, swinging his feet over the side of the bed to pad to the bathroom, brushing his teeth lamely as his ears sought out any noise he could hear from Arthur’s part.No soft snoring- maybe shuffling, clanking, Arthur was awake.Then he was beside him as Alfred stepped out into the living room, gripping a steaming cup of coffee too dark for Alfred’s taste that morning.It was a peace offering, Alfred decided. He accepted it, and with a sip, he smiled- an action Arthur returned sheepishly before prying Alfred’s arms apart to cling to his chest.The tip of his antler scraped across his cheek sharp enough to leave a dull throb in its wake, but Alfred found that he didn’t mind it this time.“Mm babe, move over, you’re poking me.”Alfred shifted against the couch he was presently laying on, the weight on his chest nuzzling further into his neck. They’d been lying there for a while now in silence, Arthur’s ear pressed against Alfred’s chest, listening intently to the calm, methodical beat of his heart…His boyfriend really liked doing that.It made him feel more integrated, Arthur would say. Sometimes all Alfred would see of him for hours would be that mop of wild blond hair framing the face that would be buried in the fabric of Alfred’s shirt. He was like a personal area for Arthur to sprawl himself over, and usually, he wouldn’t mind, save for the fact that sometimes Arthur forgot about his little predicament.The pair of rather sharp antlers on the top of his head.“O- ow!” Alfred hissed as the appendage pierced the skin on his neck, “Baby, one day you’ll cut right through my jugular-”Arthur’s head whipped up at that, “Hm? Ah! I’m sorry, love!”“Ow!”The tip of the antler had scraped up to his chin, not enough to draw rivers of blood so Alfred blotted the trickles away with his sleeve.Arthur clamped his hands over his mouth to stifle a gasp, “Alfred! Are you alright-”“Yeah, I’m fine,” Alfred assured in response, wincing a bit as Arthur’s finger traced over the freshly made mark. It was quite the norm these days so he was used to it, and he tried to tell Arthur just that but he’d already went skittering into the bathroom to fetch the well-worn first aid kit.This wasn’t Alfred’s first scrape.The area near his neck was peppered with old, fading scars from those pointy little beasties. Every man with antlers wanted them to stand tall and intricate, and though his little boyfriend’s adornments were rather, er- fun-sized, Arthur still managed to be proud of them. He was too vain to file them down.So Alfred simply smiled to himself as Arthur flocked to him with a tube of antiseptic cream- their third that month, that too half-finished.“Artie, it’s fine, I swear-” Alfred tried to reason but his boyfriend would have none of it. Lips pulled into a pout, Arthur unscrewed the lid and smeared the paste on his fingertips, pressing a light kiss onto the now dry wound before rubbing circles into it with the stinging cream.Ignoring Alfred’s pained hisses, Arthur continued massaging the skin, “Quit being a baby, Alfred, sit still-”As soon as the cut was covered, Alfred irritatedly flicked the tube out of Arthur’s hand, crossing his arms with mock anger.A patronizing quirk in Arthur’s lip followed, “I’m sorry, love, you know how I feel about hurting you.”“Yeah…” Alfred let his response trail off, roping his arms around his lover’s waist and tilting his head up invitingly, allowing himself to be silenced by Arthur’s lips on his.Arthur had perked up at the word ‘plugs’, to which Alfred rolled his eyes and displayed the packet in his hand with a flourish.“They’re wax plugs. For your antlers, you perv.”Arthur scoffed, sitting up in bed with eyes sporting their signature glare. If it weren’t for Alfred’s large shirt draped over Arthur’s shoulders, and the notoriously cute bedhead, Alfred would’ve been intimidated.“And they’re so important you got up early in the morning to go fetch some?”Alfred hadn’t expected Arthur to be awake when he got back. Of course, he mourned the loss of a perfectly good couple of minutes to watch Arthur sleep. Glossy lips parted for soft snores…But the wellbeing of his chest mattered a bit more, it seemed.It’s not like he didn’t like the scars. They were like Arthur’s way of unknowingly marking his territory- faded scrapes and scratches from those sharp little antlers whenever he nuzzled lovingly into Alfred’s embrace. It couldn’t possibly have been healthy for him, and on the other hand, the feel of antiseptic cream on his skin annoyed him to no end.Which lead to this. A pair of wax plugs to keep Alfred safe from the tips of those ferocious beasts. He’d seen it advertised somewhere, and it seemed pretty alright to his tortured self, so he’d bought it on the basis that Arthur would actually agree to wear them.They did look a little… weird.“I’m never putting those on.” Arthur sniffed, crossing his arms, “Look at them, Alfred, they look ridiculous, I’d feel like a domesticated beast.”Alfred sighed, “Babe, if you’re gonna keep sharpening them-”“It’s my wish what I do with them!”“- then please try an’ put these on for me?”Puppy dog eyes were normally fool-proof, but Arthur seemed particularly stubborn that morning. Lip pushed out in a pout of his own, Arthur sharply averted his eyes.“I’m not putting on those degrading wax stoppers.”Alfred stared down at the packet with a frown playing on his lips. Sure, they were a little silly, but if Arthur knew the mental preparation Alfred underwent before agreeing to cuddle him. Oh, the fear of those deadly antlers. If he knew, perhaps he would consider it.Alfred bit back a smile, setting the packet down against the nightstand before climbing onto the bed ominously, rolling his shoulders back like a predator sizing up prey, “Come on, not even for me?”Arthur tensed, scooting back with a suspicious look in his eyes, “Alfred, no…”Yes. A lunge, a tackle, and Arthur was pinned to the bed with a menacing Alfred hovering over him, straddling his waist leaving him practically immobile.“Alfred, don’t.”He did.Fingers crept under the hem of Arthur’s shirt and tugged up to reveal a creamy expanse of unmarked skin. Arthur threw his head back and let loose a choked sob-Before dissolving into laughter as Alfred’s fingers began their furious assault on his skin.Arthur hated being tickled.Alfred, however, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch his lover writhe beneath him with eyes dampened with pure bouts of laughter. Just watching him brought a few to his own lips as well and Arthur’s hands flew to tear Alfred away, “Get off me, you oaf!”A kiss to Arthur’s neck had him melting into Alfred’s arms, and Alfred took the opportunity to just hold him, peppering his face with light kisses and nuzzles until Arthur gave in with a groan and looped his arms around Alfred’s shoulders.“I hate you.”Taking this as defeat, Alfred reached over the squirming body beneath him to tear away at the packet, wrestling a handful of wax plugs free to sink into the treacherously sharp antlers.He pulled away to survey his work. A mildly annoyed Arthur, with green eyes watery from the bouts of laughter Alfred had coaxed out of him earlier.And more importantly, antlers made stab-proof.“Are you satisfied?” Arthur quipped, to which his boyfriend drawled his response with a wink.“Not yet.”He was rewarded with a smack. Alfred chuckled and Arthur sank back into the mattress with a tired sigh, curling onto his side and letting his eyes flutter back shut. It was rather early in the morning, and Alfred wasn’t complaining either- he watched as Arthur tugged expectantly at his arm, beckoning him closer to lay his soft blonde hair into his lap.Fingers languidly brushing and tangling into the mop, he found himself smiling as Arthur drifted away with a content sigh, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones.And Alfred’s thumb rubbed lightly at the closest spike in the antler that nuzzled into him.A small, forgiving smile played on Arthur’s lips before they parted for a soft breath. Alfred mirrored the smile, leaning back and thanking the gods for the wax plugs that let Alfred fall asleep as well, knowing he’d wake up the next day and not bleed out in his sleep from a possible antler buried deep into his gut.Arthur clenched his fists, and Alfred watched as his knuckles went white.“Arthur, you okay?”“I hate them.” Came the fiery response. Alfred glanced to where Arthur’s glare led, a group of girls fanning themselves and giggling demurely in his direction. Different shades of perfect hair framed their heart-shaped faces and their horns stood curvy and polished atop their heads, glinting in the sun.His cheeks glowed red, “Aww, Arthur, they’re just appreciatin’ me.”“A little too much,” Arthur said, a ferocious bite to his tone. Alfred glanced down to find Arthur glaring holes into the ground, a light frown playing on his lips. Cheeks were flushed red for reasons unknown to Alfred- was it the sun beating down on them? The burning sand under their bare feet…  or perhaps that Arthur was raging jealous to the point of his blood rushing to his cheeks?The hand that was previously clenched to his side reached out for Alfred’s and Alfred bit back a smile. Arthur was never one for public displays of affection, but when it came to others giving Alfred a second glance, like they always did, Arthur went all out.“Take off your shirt.”Alfred’s eyebrows shot up, “Uh, Arthur, let’s just get farther down near the water first-”Arthur shot him a glare and Alfred pulled his shirt over his head, the fabric being promptly snatched away from his hands as Arthur shoved it into their beach bag.The girls began to murmur amongst themselves now, and it seemed to have the opposite effect to what Arthur had hoped for. They began to enjoy the view presented to them. A muscular, tanned torso, albeit scarred with faded cuts from Arthur’s overenthusiastic moments.Arthur fumed at that, body shifting to almost block Alfred from their line of sight. It was cute enough to smirk at.“There, happy? Now let’s go get some sunscreen on you, you’ll burn to crisp.”Arthur crossed his arms over his bare, flushed chest. Alfred had decided that a beach-date was well overdue for them, and there they were. Alfred soaking up a tan, and Arthur freckling like no tomorrow. He’d gotten his antlers bleached before their trip, naturally, his reason being that he couldn’t possibly stand next to someone like Alfred, he was too inadequate! Alfred would’ve loved to prove him wrong and kiss every beautiful freckle on his body, but that would result in a hit and an embarrassed Arthur crawling to hide himself underneath a towel.  Well, he didn’t seem to be too embarrassed now.Arthur had his hands on his hips, and from where Alfred stood, he could see the red tan lines fading on his skin.“Artie, let’s go.”“Put your arm around me.”Alfred paused, eyebrow shooting up as Arthur repeated his request after a bit of silence, voice softer.“Go on, do it then.”Another pause, then a smile. Alfred brought his hand up to cup the side of Arthur’s face, craning down to capture those pouting lips before he was promptly shoved away, an annoyed Arthur glaring up at him.“If you’re going to kiss me, use the hand with the ring on it.”Alfred chuckled, diving back in with his engagement ring glinting towards their audience as he caressed Arthur’s face. With a satisfying smack, he pulled away to grope the back of Arthur’s shorts for extra measure, “I think that told them, babe.”In the end, he got smacked, but he was victorious nevertheless. Alfred watched as Arthur took the hand that was offered to him, and he led his jealous husband down to the beach, where he’d risk another smack by tossing him into the frothing water.
10535154
you can be king again
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Jace Wayland", "Fandom": "Shadowhunters (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by wolfsbanex", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-03T00:00:00", "words": "672", "Additional Tags": "after s02e10, s02e10, by the light of dawn, Date Night, Inspired by a Tumblr Prompt, Fluff, Angst, Hurt, a bit of comfort, Hurt Alec, Hurt Magnus, a lot of emotions, talking about feelings, Love Confessions, There is love, and some other disgusting emotions, enjoy", "Relationship": "Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It was a very cozy evening in the Bane household. Magnus was sitting on his couch, his fingers running through Alecs hair who had his head on Magnus’ lap, his eyes closed and a soft smile on his lips. Magnus was sure that the shadowhunter was asleep, when a blonde boy bursted into the room. Alecs eyes shot open. „Oh, sorry.“ Jace mumbled when he saw his parabatais annoyed face. „What did i tell you about entering a room?“ Magnus growled and shut his book with a loud snap. „Knock?“ Jace asked and nervously scratched his head. „Yeah“, said Magnus unimpressed and rolled his eyes.Alec and Magnus were spending all of their free time together after the disaster in the institute two weeks ago. The new found happiness on his parabatais face was a good look, Jace decided and smirked at the pair. After he activated the soul sword, Jace was more than relieved when he saw Alec and Magnus. Magnus, alive and breathing. He killed a lot of innocent downworlders that night, and if he had killed his prabatais love, he would have been devastated. „Magnus hey, are you free on Friday? like, around 8 pm?“ the warlock frowned and looked up. It was unusual that they spend some evenings together, especially since Jace lived with him. „Yes?“ „What about you?“ Jace asked and looked at Alec. „Yes, i am.“ he shrugged and sat up slightly, still leaning against his boyfriend. „Great! because i’m not. You two go on without me. Enjoy your date!“ Jace announced and sprinted out off the room. „Did he just-…“ Magnus whispered and laughed shortly after that.„What do you say darling? we haven’t been out for a long time, you in for a date?“ Alec smiled. „I like the idea.“ Magnus nodded and settled back into the pillows, Alec clinging to his side like a koala. „Good.“ the warlock mumbled into Alecs hair and closed his eyes, his hands traveling up and down his shadowhunters back. Alec hummed softly.It was friday. Alec and Magnus sat down at a table from Hunters Moon. Maia saw them a smile appeared on her face. She walked over to them and sat down their favorite drinks with a wink. „Date night?“ Alec nodded and blushed. Magnus laughed at his boyfriends red face and Maia went back to the bar where a werewolf demanded a new beer with a loud voice.Alec was playing with Magnus’ fingers. The warlock just leaned into his side and enjoyed the warmth of his boyfriend. „We should leave for a few weeks.“ Alec said. Magnus sat up and frowned. „What do you mean?“ „We should pack our things and leave to spain or italy.“ Magnus smiled. He really liked the thought of a vacation. „What happened to: we are at war, Magnus.“ the warlock imitated Alec. The shadowhunter laughed and punched his shoulder. „Just, god, that day when i thought you were dead, i-…“ Alec shuffled closer and leaned his head against Magnus’ shoulder. „I searched the entire insititute. Every single room. I even turned around every dead body i found, desperately begging for them not to be you. The thought of you being dead, i couldn’t bear it. Especially after what i last said to you.“A tear ran over Alecs right cheek. Magnus swallowed and pressed himself closer. „You would have died without knowing how much i love you.“ Alec whispered. Magnus closed his eyes. „I love you too, Alec. Never doubt how much i love you.“ „I won’t.“ Magnus wanted to say some comforting words, but he found none. He could have said: „i would have died happily because i got to spend time with you“ but that wasn’t true. He wasn’t happy that day. After Alec had dragged his sister out off Raphaels’ house. He, indeed, would have died thinking Alec hated him.„We will be okay. I promise.“ was all Magnus said. And from the small smile on Alecs face, he knew it was enough. For now.
10552658
A Deserved Rest
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Male Mahariel, Male Surana, Male Warden (Dragon Age), Tamlen, Merrill (Dragon Age), Sloth Demon(s) (Dragon Age)", "Fandom": "Dragon Age: Origins", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Aly_H", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-06T00:00:00", "words": "1,007", "Additional Tags": "Fade Dreams, During Broken Circle, Mahariel dreams of his Clan", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Male Mahariel/Morrigan, (mentioned) - Relationship, Male Mahariel & Male Surana", "Series": "Two Wardens and a Lady", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Why do you fight? You deserve more…you deserve a rest. The world will go on without you.  “Lethallin!” Tamlen was prodding his side, “C’mon, wake up.”His mind felt cloudy as he groaned and pulled one of the furs back over his head, determined to sleep through his clan mate’s prodding.“The Keeper won’t be happy if you sleep all day again,” Tamlen was telling him.Slowly he pulled the fur back down to level a scowl at him, “Which means you’re waking me up early to go collect herbs to try to impress Merrill again, aren’t you? Don’t you remember what happened last time you did…”He trailed off, he knew something bad had happened last time Tamlen tried to impress the First, whom he was sweet on, but what was it..? There was were shemlen and a cave and…The cave was empty, the humans lied…A voice reassured him in his mind, casting the doubts away.The mirror and the Darkspawn were all a bad dream, he’d never left his Clan. They were safe, and Tamlen was alive. That made him a little sad – he’d dreamt of a beautiful black haired woman but he couldn’t quite remember her name now.He was only half listening to Tamlen as he rifled through his packs to find a decently clean shirt, pausing before he pulled it on, there were scars along his ribs he didn’t recognize. Marks from arrows that had to be removed but…he couldn’t recall ever being shot – except for that time he’d been trying to show Merrill how to use a bow and she’d shot him in the foot, anyway.How did one forget being shot? It is in the past, it is not important…. That’s right, he’d obviously survived, it wasn’t important.“So, what dangerous potion ingredient has Merrill mentioned needing today? Or are you still determined to try and catch a baby rabbit for her? Or was it nug? No, that wasn’t Merrill.”Who liked nugs enough to squeal over them when we saw them around Honnleath? Wait…where’s Honnleath, why do I think I’ve ever even been? It’s a shem town. You dreamt it. He would’ve let the reassurance of the second place wash the confusion away except a face caught his attention. A face he knew but it didn’t belong here.Falcon Surana was patiently weathering Merrill’s excited babbling. What was the Warden Mage doing here? His blue eyes flashed to Fen and a look of relief passed across his face before he gave Merrill a slightly bitter smile and headed his direction – that was odd, he knew that the two mages would get along. Horribly excited over some obscure aspect of casting, so why wasn’t he wearing his usual over-friendly smile that everyone but Templars and Chantry priests got?“There you are,” he said, brushing the braided section of his hair back behind his ear. He hesitated, before muttering to himself – “Well, Morrigan will kill me if I don’t fetch you out as well.”He turned his gaze on the other elf, a calculating gaze.“You’ve come to join the Clan?” he asked uncertainly, as to Falcon’s intent here.“Fen, do you remember how you left your clan?”“I wouldn’t. The Clan is my home, and my family – I’d never abandon them, Falcon.”“…you’re going to be more difficult than Al, aren’t you?” the mage frowned, tilting his head to the side.“Falcon – lethallin – maybe you should see the Keeper? The way you’re talking, you aren’t well.”Something about that statement made the mage’s eyebrows jump, before he massaged his temple. “How did we meet Fen?”“What, you came to the clan from the city, like Pol. You needed somewhere safe to hide from the Templars and the Clan could always use another mage.”A flicker of annoyance crossed the younger elf’s face: “When did we meet, the two of us? Do you remember being introduced?”It took a long moment, and a hand pressed to his temple as working through that fog hurt. “Duncan introduced us, at Ostagar. I’d….I’d been away from my clan for six months then, with the Wardens. Alistair and I were going to guide you and Daveth and Jory through the Joining. You clipped me with a fire spell in the Wilds.”“Lethallin,” Tamlen said insistently. “That was just a dream, the Keeper said your fever made you imagine it. Remember, the Clan is what is real.”“Are you not feeling well, Mahariel?” Merrill chirped, “Do you want me to make you something?”“I…” he hesitated, looking at the clan, and then back to the mage. He knew which one he wanted to believe but…Falcon felt far more real than anything here. “What’s happening?”“It’s the Fade,” he said gently. “This is a construction to make it so you want to stay, or believe you have to. Not really clear on the rules there. Fade magic isn’t my strong suit.”Merrill’s face had darkened, as had Tamlen’s and the other two hunters he could see.“You will not take him from us,” Merrill hissed – the voice clearly not her own.Still he couldn’t go for his bow – he knew that they weren’t really his clan but he couldn’t bring himself to attack them either, not even as a blast of magical energy leapt from Merrill’s hands. Not that Falcon seemed to need the help, he dispensed the demons impersonating his clan with magic, defending both himself and the rogue as he did so.“…it was all a dream then,” he whispered as the bodies broke into light and the world began to take a different hue, becoming less real with his realization.“It was a good one,” Falcon admitted wryly, “I was worried I’d have to go find Morrigan to drag you out. Thing is she’s even less adept at navigating the Fade then I am. Aaannnd you’re glowing – Andraste’s hairy ass, not again!”With that Falcon and the dream-remnant faded from view, a sensation seemingly dragging him backwards.
10585269
Thank You
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Star Butterfly, Marco Diaz, Janna Ordonia", "Fandom": "Star vs. the Forces of Evil", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Fisur_Girl", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-10T00:00:00", "words": "1,787", "Additional Tags": "One Shot, Cute, forehead kiss, Nightmare", "Relationship": "Star Butterfly & Marco Diaz", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It hadn’t occurred to Marco that Star could have nightmares. Of course, everyone had nightmares, but it was difficult to place his bubbly, sweet roommate in a horrifying dreamscape of her own creation. It wasn’t something he had thought of, until he heard cries coming from her room one night. Her cries were a mix of sobbing and screams, and they had woke Marco from his own dreams of Jackie. Despite his grogginess, he sprinted to Star’s room and burst open the door. Inside, the entire room was illuminated in a color changing glow (gray, to ivory, to lilac, to pink, to red, to purple, to a dark yellow, and back to gray again), almost all of the furniture and the knick knacks that Star loved to surround herself with spun around the room the way things flew around a tornado, and her bed leaped up and down with elevating heights each time, crashing into the ground with each jump. In the bed was a tear streaked Star with her wanted held defensively in both hands. “Star, what’s wrong?” Marco shouted, though his voice was still sleep clouded. He could not be heard above the racket that came with the storm inside of her room, and the lights kept on flashing. Gray. Ivory. Lilac. Assessing the situation, the only choice Marco had was to get closer. With a deep breath, he took a running start into a jump (simultaneously thanking God for his brief dabbling in track before he tripped on a hurdle and was frightened of the sport ever since). Once he landed on the bed he exhaled with relief, but the relief was only momentarily. Star shrieked. Pink. Red. And the bed stopped jumping, and was now hovering several feet above the floor and was spinning at an alarming rate. Marco was suddenly reminded of the time that he threw up on the teacup ride from his father spinning it too fast. Marco crawled to the bed slowly, having to grip tightly onto it to avoid being flung off and to keep his midnight snack of nachos down. When he reached the head of the bed, he gently patted Star on her arm, but still had to shout over the noise. “Star! It’s just a dream! Wake up!” For a moment everything stopped. The bed and everything else remained suspended in the air, but as Star’s bleary and red eyes began to flutter open, the items began to fall to the ground one by one with varying degrees of crashing, the loudest one being the bed as it shook the entire house and Marco to his very core. (Frankly, it was crazy that Marco’s parents hadn’t come to check what all the racket was). Star took a second to come to her senses and she glanced around her room quickly and anxiously. When her eyes landed on the face face of her best friend she was finally able to recognize reality. A sob that seemed to come from deep inside the soul of the girl came forward as she launched herself at Marco, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shirt sloppily. Tears and snot poured onto his shirt, but he did not care as he put his arms around her and began to rock gently. “It was just a dream, Star. Just a dream, not real. You don’t need to cry.” Marco said in a quiet and soothing voice. After several minutes, Star’s heaving turned to soft crying, and finally depleted into just whimpering. They sat there all the while, just holding each other and rocking back and forth. After a couple more minutes Star pulled away from Marco and messily rubbed her face on her arms. She was breathing heavily, but otherwise seemed fine. Marco found himself feeling cold, like someone had stolen his comfort, and missing having her in his arms, but immediately hated himself for that. It was cruel to take pleasure in another person’s moment of weakness, even if that person was Star, and even if that weakness showed itself rarely. If anything, that made him all the more cruel. He shook his head to clear his mind. Star sat across from him, her knees pressed up against her chest and her face buried within the fabric of her nightgown. Her blonde hair fell around her the way a canvas fell on a tent before it was placed right. It was rare that the princess looked so disheveled. “What happened?” Star looked up at Marco in one swift motion, her hair smoothly falling from her face and down her back. IT was also rare that the princess looked so serious. Despite the snot, tear streaks, and redness in her face, Star was somehow a silent storm. Electricity flitted off of her, shocking Marco. “Everything.” She took in a shaky breath. “I lost everything.” She wouldn’t make eye contact with Marco and instead chose to look at a place directly above his head. He gave a reassuring smile. “No you didn’t.” He motioned around the room, “everything is safe. You’re safe. Nothing is gone.” He paused. In the time that he had been speaking, Star’s eyes had drifted from Marco (or that spot previously mentioned) to the door to her secrets closet. He sighed and rubbed her arm gently. “I’ll get you a glass of water, then you can go to bed.” As Marco started to slide off of the bed, he felt a hand wrap around the hem of his shirt. When he turned back to Star, he saw that her eyes were beginning to water again. “Please Marco, please. Don’t leave me.” Her lips quivered, but her voice remained steady. Moments like this reminded Marco that one day, Star would be queen. Despite her emotions she was holding herself together, and despite his intense desire to go back to sleep, she was able to convince him to do her bidding. For a moment they just stared at each other. Then, Marco nodded. He crawled back and leaned against the headboard, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “I won’t ever leave you.” The next morning Marco awoke confused as to where he was, but he was soon reminded by the weight of a person next to him. Star was leaning against him, snoring peacefully. His hand was tangled in her hair from brushing it to sooth her, and his hand was still connected to hers. Even in sleep she had a tight grip. It had taken hours to calm her down completely, so long in fact that Marco didn’t remember either of them falling asleep. There was something peaceful about watching Star sleep. She was a sun that had set, almost ready to brighten the world once again. For Marco it sometimes felt he was just living to sleep as he was so much more dangerous and exciting in his dreams, but for Star sleep was simply recharging because her lust for life was too great. Marco watched as Star slowly opened her eyes. She smiled softly when she saw him. “You stayed.” There was a smile in her voice. “Of course Id di, I said I would.” He found himself smiling too, even though he was dead tired. “Marco, you are the best friend a girl could ask for, you know that?” Star leaned her head against his shoulder and looked up at him with bright eyes. Then Marco did something he didn't know he wanted to do. It definitely was not a conscious decision. It was like the blind clock maker had placed this moment in his future and then decided that it was daylight saving time and had to spring ahead. Marco gently pressed his lips against her smooth forehead. Almost immediately they both flushed. It seemed to take a moment for both of them to realize what had happened on a conscious level as they both remained in that exact position for far longer than it was appropriate to brush it off like nothing had happened. Star gasped and leaped back, almost falling off the bed if Marco had not grabbed her arm to steady her. Clouded by the redness and the shock it was impossible to tell what feeling she felt truly. Oh my god! Why did you do that?! Stupid! Stupid! Marco shouted internally. “What was that?!” Star shrieked. At least in comparison to last night she was back to normal. Though Marco was intrigued by the silent storm he was unaware that Star could be, he liked his best friend the way she was, loud and obnoxious. Marco began talking before his mind could stop him, before his mind decided to tell her that he had kissed her because instinct took over. His heart decided to come up with a lie that would save their relationship (that Marco had also convinced himself that this would be the end of their friendship. Marco often felt he had few skills besides jumping to conclusions). “I-uh-I was just...just… saying thank you! Yeah! Uh-uh… Didn’t you know? I thought you would have known this by now.. Ha ha- K-kissing foreheads is a nonverbal way to say thank you on Earth.” Star stared at him for a while, but as she did the red color drained from it. “Really? Oh! That makes sense! Guess I should pay more attention!” She giggled. She sat up straight and began to push the blankets off of her, but stopped halfway through. She pushed herself closer to him with one elbow and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you for your help!” Star jumped off out of the bed and ran to get ready for school, and Marco was happy her back was turned otherwise she would have seen him blush deeply, and would have sensed his heart flutter. ***-*That day at school Janna noticed that Star was acting very strangely. Even though she had dark circles under her eyes she walked with a bounce in her step. Janna watched from far away, as she often people watched, and Star continued to be strange(r than normal). She kissed Starfan 13 on the forehead when she handed her a note and repeated the act when Ferguson tells her that her shoe is untied. She even does it to the lunch lady for giver her a plate of mystery meat!Janna had always liked the weird things in life, but this was too much for her. She eventually had to pull Star aside.“What’s up?” Star asked merrily. “What’s up with me? What’s up with you?” Janna countered. “Why are you kissing everyone?”Star cocked her head to one side, “I was just saying thank you!”
10538058
The Promise
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Ramsay Bolton, Petyr Baelish", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Saltrova", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-03T00:00:00", "words": "1,263", "Additional Tags": "Family, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Short One Shot, One Shot, Angst, Past Rape/Non-con, The North remembers, House Stark", "Relationship": "Jon Snow/Sansa Stark", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
She abruptly awoke, breathing hard, her nightgown drenched in cold sweat. It had seemed so real. Ramsay. He had appeared in her dreams. A nightmare. A dark shadow looming over her. Suffocating her. She had felt the chill of vice like fingers wrapped around her neck, robbing her of breath, squeezing her life out of her. Fear had paralyzed her and rendered her useless. Sansa had thought it was all over until she had awoken. Now she realized that she was in her bedchamber at Winterfell. Far away from Ramsay who was dead. Turned into dog food by his own hounds. The panic eased away as her mind cleared, and her heart rate slowly returned to normal. Her room was dimly lit by a lone candle near her bed. Sansa sat up, pulling one of the fur coverings and using it to wrap around her body for extra warmth to add to the one the heated water pumping through Winterfell's walls provided. She stood up and silently left her chamber. Slipping down the hall to Jon.Jon. A thousand years ago they hadn't been that close. Jon the bastard brother that her lady mother had looked down upon, and so Sansa had too. A thousand years ago when she believed in gallant knights, pretty songs, and happy endings. When Winterfell felt like a prison that kept her away from the fairytale life that awaited her in Kingslanding. Or so she had thought. That day when she left Winterfell with Arya and father, sitting like a proper lady, joy filling her chest at the thought of the life that awaited her in the capital; she had thought that her song was beginning, she remembered. But really it was ending.A hostage. That was what she had been. For years and years while her family died. Father, and then Robb and Mother. Once she had thought Arya, Bran and Rickon to be dead too, but Theon had revealed to her during one of those dark, agony filled days when the Boltons ruled Winterfell; Theon had told her that the boys were alive. And then shortly after her escape, Lady Brienne had told her about running into Arya. Sansa's joy had been indescribable. She had never gotten along with Arya. She recalled when she had shouted at Arya that she wished that she had been killed rather than Lady. Called her stupid and ugly like Hodor. But oh how Sansa wished to see her sister again. She would hug her and ask for her pardon. She longed to see all of her siblings again. She hadn't been able to reunite with Rickon before Ramsay killed him. Sorrow filled her heart once more. Baby Rickon. Little and fierce. And innocent. So innocent. Gone like Father, Mother, and Robb.Lost in her memories, Sansa traveled through the lonely hall until she reached Jon's chamber. She tapped lightly. One. Two. Three knocks. Then stood wrapped tightly in her furs until the door slightly opened. "It's me, Jon," she whispered as soon as his face appeared. Concern immediately etched across his features. "What is it this time?" he inquired, opening the door wider so that she could enter. "Nightmares and ghosts," Sansa replied wearily. Jon sighed. "I know. They haunt me too." Sansa slipped into Jon's bed, snuggling into the furs. The bed dipped as he climbed in next to her, used to the nightmares that sent her seeking out his chamber night after night for the past two weeks since they had reclaimed Winterfell. "I miss them." Sansa's voice was forlorn. Jon wrapped an arm around her. "You mustn't think like that. The sadness will weigh you down. Focus on the happy times. Focus on Bran and Arya being alive. We'll find them. The four of us will make new memories together. We'll make Father, Robb, and your mother proud."Sansa sniffled. She was silent for a while before speaking again. "We can't be happy until Littlefinger is dead." "Sansa," Jon reasoned. "Lord Baelish is not trust worthy, but that's not a good reason to kill a man." "Jon," Sansa said, turning to face him. "He's evil. He killed Joffrey. He killed Ser Dontos who helped me plan an escape, he killed Aunt Lysa. He even killed Marillion, Aunt Lysa's singer. Littlefinger is a killer. He just hides it well. But he cannot be trusted." "No one is dumb enough to trust Baelish," was Jon's reply. Sansa sat up. She knew that Jon did not fully grasp just how dangerous Littlefinger was. "Jon, listen to me," she commanded, with growing urgency. "When I was in Kingslanding, after Joffrey broke our betrothal, I was planning with the Tyrells to marry Willas, an older brother of Queen Margaery. I was supposed to marry Willas and move to Highgarden but Littlefinger found out. I know he did. He told Lord Tywin and I was forced to marry Tyrion."Then one day I found a note on my bed. It was from Ser Dontos the King's fool. He had an idea to help me escape. We planned it together Ser Dontos and I. Under the godswood where we would meet..." Sansa blushed. "I – I thought that he was my Florian but he was Littlefinger's puppet all along. He planned everything and then he killed Ser Dontos after he helped me escape. Littlefinger promised that he would take me to Winterfell. But it was a lie. “He took me to the Fingers where he married Aunt Lysa before we went to the Eyrie. After Aunt Lysa died it was safe for a while. I helped take care of SweetRobin and kept the household running, but then Littlefinger said he had received a marriage proposal for me. One that would help return Winterfell to the Starks." Sansa hugged herself tightly as her eyes grew haunted and her voice hollow. "If I knew he meant Ramsay I would have ran," she whispered.Jon sighed and hugged her tightly and Sansa closed her eyes and breathed in his comforting scent. After a while she relaxed and snuggled under the furs again, only to shoot back up a few seconds later. "He killed Jon Arryn," she announced abruptly. "What?" Jon demanded, warily. Sansa stumbled out of the bed and started pacing about in an agitated manner. "I couldn't remember before. I must have blocked it out because it was too much to process at the time, but Littlefinger instructed Aunt Lysa to poison Jon Arryn. He's the reason that King Robert needed a new Hand of the King and came to disturb us at Winterfell." Sansa's skin had turned a sickly pale while Jon's face went blank as he tried to process the new information."Aunt Lysa also said that Littlefinger told her to write to Mother telling her that it was the Lannisters who killed Jon Arryn. She said all of this right before he pushed her. But I couldn't remember. The memory of her falling and screaming to her death was too horrible so my mind blocked everything out." "Are you saying that Littlefinger is the reason our entire family was nearly wiped out?" Jon shot up, a feral look on his face as he strode over to her and came to a halt a mere three inches from where she stood. Sansa nodded as tears streamed down her face. "We have to kill him." Jon was motionless for a heartbeat, his face filled with agony, and then a coldness as icy as the winter chill washed over his features. "We will," was his frigid promise.
10524270
Game Booth Prize
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Undertale (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Anonymous", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "3,867", "Additional Tags": "My First AO3 Post, reader is somewhat tsundere, and drunk lol, One Shot, that develop on itself, so don't expect regular update, expect terrible puns tho, will add tags later on", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Sans (Undertale)", "Relationships": "Sans (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale) & Reader", "Series": null, "Collections": "Undertale", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“Hey, let’s try this next!” Your friend came approaching with a faint panting. With a tired smile, she said, “Alright, alright, but let’s cool down a bit first, okay? Man, I’m just glad you don’t even drink in a regular basis.” Chugging the can of beer you still had in hand, you gave her a pouting look. “What is that, you don’t like me unwind a bit? And you say I’m too uptight!” “I know, I said it,” she replied again with a slight chuckle. “And I’m so happy to see you hyped up now. Just give me a sec to catch my breath, okay?” Having said that, your friend then erected herself, and started to look around. The carnival ground was crowded, as what could be expected when there were such attraction in the town. You had decided to come as well, though it was based on a whim of your friend at first. You would rather snuggle up in your blanket in autumn nights like this, and maybe watch Netflix while drinking something warm. But your friend was just really persistent at wanting to go to the carnival, that she started to annoy you as your room mate. In the end, knowing that you wouldn’t have a chance to have a calm night either way, you agreed to go with a grieving face. Well, it was a grieving face until that nice friend of yours treated you some cans of beer — a consolation prize, so she called it. “So… which booth was it, again?” your friend finally asked, after she regained her breath. You enthusiastically pointing at one booth at the corner that didn’t seem to be so crowded. Or more precisely, seemed to attract almost no customer. There was nothing wrong with the booth itself — it was a game of ball-throwing with prizes, it seems. But, it wouldn’t be a big question once one recognises what the booth keeper was. It was a figure of a rather short heightened guy, clothed in a comfortable-looking blue hoodie jacket. However, once you direct your sight to the face, you would realise that it was nothing but a skull. No, it wasn’t a mask, it was a real skull. A white, round skull, with a pair of eye sockets and a grinning, bare teeth. You too, was grinning as you saw your friend gaping to see your pick. “Um, you really want to go there?” she spoke to you, sounded a bit nervous. “In case you’re too drunk to realise, that’s… seemed like the booth is run by a… skeleton. You know…” and her voice trailing off. But no, you were not too drunk yet to overlook that fact. You knew that standing by the booth, was a skeleton, and that he was one of those monsters. Not so long ago, your sleepy little town was shocked by the arrival of a group of monsters. They said they didn’t mean any harm and had came with good intention to live alongside with humanity in peace. Apparently, they had been trapped underground, and had just achieved their freedom. Such a story that no one would have believed if only there wasn’t a human child with them, that miraculously managed to talk things out between the humans and the monsters. Thus, you counted that it had been around six or seven months, that the monsters had started to blend into your civilisation. Emphasis on “started”, though.There surely still a large gap between the two group exist — it would take longer for the society to be normal again to the way it was. But at least for now, the humans had been able to manage living with the monsters without much conflict — if not great awkwardness. Usually, you wouldn’t be the kind to walk up and greet a monster either, but tonight was different. You couldn’t deny that you actually had curiosity for these new neighbours of yours, and alcohol would be your partner in crime to dig their dirt tonight. Or anything that could be dug out about them — you weren’t like those that were radically sceptic among the town people. You were more like on the grey area where one would avoid any inconvenience of outer drama as best as possible.“I know, but it isn’t like we gonna pick a bone with the guy, right?” you said to your friend, still grinning. “We’re just coming to play some game. Who knows, he might be actually pretty friendly. Look at that big grin he has!” Your friend just gave you a look of disbelief to hear your words. But in the end, she replied with a sigh, “I thought I ever heard you say, that in our era, those with biggest grin are the most suspicious. But well, let’s go. I guess it’s just the price for me taking you out tonight. Might as well get to know our new town fellows better.”Thus, the two of you paced toward the game booth. That wasn’t so hard, as the crowd got thinner the closer you got to the booth. Beside that, the closer you two got, you also noticed the booth keeper seemed to be dozing off while watching the booth — most likely got bored while waiting for a customer. He just stood there, hands in pocket, and somehow had his hollow pair of eye sockets closed, meanwhile his shoulder moved slowly up and down in the slow rhythm of sleep. “‘Ey there, bud!” you greeted him, “You got a game?”The skeleton opened one eye (socket, which apparently wasn’t so hollow, as you saw a white light glowing in there like a pupil), and spoke to you with a bass, laid back voice, “Oh hey there, pal. Sure, I got game here. You got three chances to win some prize,” here, he gestured lazily to the merchandises on the rack, at the rear of the booth, “for 1000G — I mean, 50 bucks.”“That’s friggin’ expensive!” you almost choked at your beer to hear the price.The skeleton shrugged and said with that perma-grin of his, “Well, that’s the normal price anyway. Since tonight is special — just one dollar.”“That’s better.” Then, turned to your friend, you asked her, “Anything you want? I’ll get it for you.”Your friend jolted slightly, seemed like she was nervous to actually face to face with a monster for the first time. She scanned the far rack briefly, then pointed to a cat plush dolls, “There! That one seems so fluffy!”Muttered an “awright”, you reached the pocket of your jacket for some money, and found a five dollar. You turned all in, for fifteen balls to use to fall that plush doll. It took some time and efforts — more over being a bit tipsy you were. You ended buying even more balls, but with some determination, that big cotton kitty finally felled down and soon was in the embrace of your friend, who was a passionate cat lover.You felt a little satisfaction of your foolish action — wasting around fifteen bucks in one carnival booth game. But seeing your friend squealing in gratitude sincerely just made you smile.A low chuckle could be heard, and you turn to look at the grinning skeleton. “You’re also a determined one, eh kiddo? So I guess humans aren’t all that bad after all.”It was rather surprising to hear someone speak of you like that, over something trivial like this. Not many ever told you such thing and suddenly, here you heard it from a monster.“Welp, here ya go,” the skeleton spoke again before you could think of any way to reply. He gave you another three balls, saying, “Bonus for you. just aim for what you want.” You blinked at the three balls at your hands, muttered a thank, then slowly scanned the prize racks. Mostly were dolls and child toys, nothing you really wanted or needed — though for some reason there was also a bottle of ketchup there, something you might need when you got the urge to fry some fries. But you could be sure that you had one or two bottles at home for now… For a long while, your hand hovered on the air, eyeing at each and every prizes on the rack, until you reached the end of the rack, and… your eye landed on that lazily grinning skeleton. And, you grinned along. This time, it was the skeleton’s turn to blink in confusion, but soon a bluish hue adorned his cheeks as your intention started to dawn upon him. He hadn’t had the chance to inquire you, as you had thrown the first ball with a quite abrupt move. Unexpectedly, avoiding your ball seemed to be something quite effortless for the skeleton. You almost couldn’t belief your eyes, certainly didn’t expected that appearance of a douche bag hid such a nimble muscle. Err, bones.The skeleton, though still had that blue hues around his cheeks — which you assumed to be his way to blush by now — grinned a tilted grin. You could hear challenge in his voice as he said, “Well, aren’t you ambitious, kiddo? Not that I don’t like it, but I’m tellin’ you, it ain’t gonna be easy.”It felt contagious — his challenge and his grin. Soon enough, you found yourself showing off a challenging grin as well, and started a ball-throwing game of a whole new level. To aim for the toys and dolls on the far off rack was one thing — you need only to calculate the distance and control your power as much as needed — plus a good vision and a little right flick of hand would help. But to hit that skeleton was a real challenge. You would have to anticipate his movement — which was like nothing you had ever expected of a living skeleton. He seemed to be able to read your movement, and he had such a nice, trained reflex. To top it off, he even had that constant grin on his skull-face, and never bother to take out his hands of his pocket, as if you were really nothing of a threat to him.However, this was a game like you never knew before. Before you knew it, you were gasping for air, sweating from the sport, hadn’t found even the slightest chance of hitting him, but found yourself putting out a fifty buck out of your wallet nonetheless — reloading your ammo. All the while, your friend watched in pure awe. And perhaps, not just her, but the by-passers had started to form a small crowd around the booth as well. Who wouldn’t have given this booth at least a questioning glance to this uncommon scene? A human, tried to “win” this ball-throwing game and the prize aimed was nothing else than the booth keeper itself! On top of that, a monster! However, it couldn’t be denied that whoever could see how both participant — yes, both you and the skeleton — seemed to be enjoying this game. I’m gonna need strategy, you thought at some point as you started to feel your arm getting sore. Your arm just wasn’t quick and powerful enough to beat the skeleton by normal physical mean. You’d have to turn to strategic play if you were to win this… Abruptly, you catch a glimpse of the bottle of ketchup that was on rack. You couldn’t have guessed why it would be there, but a little voice at the back of your head told you that this ketchup actually mean something… Following your gut, you then got ready to give a full-out blow. The skeleton, seeing that you were gathering your last strength, commented, “Heh, kiddo, if you think sheer strength—“He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realised your intention. You could feel a satisfied grin bloomed on your face, as the skeleton’s glance followed your aiming eyes… “Wait, that’s—!”Too late. You had thrown the ball, feeling like a baseball player in the Koshien Stadion. The skeleton’s grin for once dropped, allowed you a brief glance of what seemed like mild panic on his skull face, before you saw a flash of blue. Then, there was… a lag in your mind.“Ouch.”You blinked to hear the skeleton muttered a low groan of pain, in expense of saving the bottle of ketchup. However, you weren’t blinked out of disbelief in your victory — you were confused, knowing that something was rather awry. There was distance of where the skeleton was and the ketchup bottle — you knew that he could move so fast, but just now, you couldn’t even see him moved…A sound of applause and cheers erupted, made you taken by another surprise. Turned around, you were startled to see the small crowd you had managed to collect — you were completely oblivious of them, too absorbed by the game to notice their presence. And all of a sudden you felt your cheek heated up. You never liked being in the centre of attention.“Welp. That was a nice game.” You jolted once again, as you felt a hand touched your shoulder — it was a skeletal hand, but somehow the pressure you felt wasn’t much different of that made of flesh. You turned and faced the grinning skeleton. The grin seemed to be softer this time, just like the one you saw not so long ago as he gave you the bonus balls. He spoke again, “I’m sorry, but the ketchup is still mine,” and he lifted the bottle of ketchup that was now in his hand, “but the good news is… you win your first intended prize. Congrats.”It took you a second before you could register his words completely in your mind. And then, you could feel heat crawling up your cheek. Suddenly sober, your mind tried to come up with something to say — but your friend beat it.“Aww, congratulation! You finally got yourself a guy!” she exclaimed enthusiastically, rubbed the big cat plush’s snout on your face.Your voice was muffled through the soft fur, as you tried to deny, but then you heard another voice spoke near by your ear, “The name Sans, by the way.” Yelped, you jumped back giving a surprised glare to the skeleton, who had sneaked out from behind the booth counter. (Or was he really sneaked?) He had that tilted grin on his face, while his glowing white pupils eyeing you with amusement from its eye sockets. You heard him letting out a low chuckle before saying, “You’re kinda cute for a human. Guess it wouldn’t be so bad to be taken home as prize by someone like you.” And he winked.What surprising was, not how that skull had managed to wink — but how the gesture seemed… so suiting the skeleton — Sans, was it? — that for a millisecond you thought your heart skip a beat. Which just messing more with your head, as you felt your cheek grew even hotter and you started to hear the whistling and congratulations coming from the crowd.You could only think of how, when you thought you could start to enjoy the carnival, this kind of mess befall you. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Um, excuse me? I’m looking for… woah.”Woah. A round white skull standing before you, wearing the very same blue hoodie you remembered from — how long had it been? — that night in carnival. The white light in his hollow eye-sockets seemed to shrink just slightly, made for a surprised expression upon the unexpected reunion of you two. And you could be sure a surprised expression could be found on your face as well — with your jaw dropping and a dumb stare on your face, that is. Gone was the smile you had prepared for the sake of social politeness. And surely, the chance to escape that situation had never even existed, given the pile of books you had in arms at the moment.Why would you want to escape? Well, reminiscing one of your drunken session wasn’t one of your hobby…“Hey, fancy meeting you here,” the living skeleton spoke up after the first second of startle. “You still remember me, kiddo? You came to my booth in the carnival…”“Uh, yeah,” you finally found your voice. Then, forcing a smile which came out awkwardly, you went on, “You’re… Sans, right? Heheh, yeah, it’s really… something, to see you here.”Sans the skeleton chuckled. Seemed like he could sense your nervousness (who couldn’t?) though he said nothing about it. Instead, he said, “Heh, I’ve been wanting to see you again since then. If only I knew you’ve been hiding in the library, I would’ve booked a date to come here earlier.”You blinked to hear the words, all the “speech” you had prepared in head vanished. Did he just… made a pun? “Pfft!”“Eyy, I’m glad you’re the kind of person who could roll with the puns. We should exchange addresses and write letters sometimes — so we could be pun-pals, yeah?”This time, a laughter escaped your mouth. It rung in the relatively quiet room for about a second before you held it back — before anyone could tell you to quiet down. You got to admit that you had an… uh, unique sense of humour, and it was such a great coincidence that this monster could “click” so easily with it; laughing was one good way to melt away your tension.Sans surely seemed satisfied of himself as well. The lights that were his eye-pupils seemed to dance merrily, and the perma-grin on his skull widened just slightly. “So,” he spoke again then, looking at the pile of books in your possession, “You seem busy. Are you reading all of that, or…?”“Nah, I’m a part-timer here,” you pointed at and ID-card attached at your shirt then (as much as you could with hands full of books) and went on, “I’m supposed to return this books to their place. But yeah, I often read too. Need to read a lot to study, especially if you’re studying my field… Um, what are you doing here, by the way?” you hoped that you didn’t sound rude or hasty as you asked. “If you’re looking for a book, I might be able to help you, but if you wanna talk about that, uh… that night’s prize, then you shouldn’t worry about it, really. What I did back then was just for fun, after all…”At this point, you could feel the slightest of warmth creeping up your cheeks. You remembered how you pulled your friend’s hand after that game, dragging her to escape the crowd and the carnival ground — because apparently, your little stunt had drawn not just people’s curiosity, but also made them willing to try the game booth run by the monster; busied him and giving you a chance to escape. It was a good game, really — great, even — but you were the kind of person who liked to keep a low profile.“Aw, come on, kiddo,” Sans replied. “I was about to close down my booth when you came. It was thanks to you I could keep the ball rolling for the night. Plus, you surely have a lot on the ball. Really helped me feed my wallet.”You snickered again at his puns. The damage that game did on your wallet was something indeed (and it was because of your own recklessness too, actually) but somehow he made it sound like that was worth it. And that was what you told him. “You shouldn’t repay me, really. The game itself worth it. I had a lot of fun that night.”“Really, kiddo? You won’t even take it if I offer you a date as the prize? You’ve won me in the game, after all, and if I remember correctly, you’re not having a guy at the moment.” He winked as he spoke those last words — amazed you at how that skull could make such facial expression.With another warmth on your cheeks, you replied, “Ahaha, thank you, but no, thank you. I’m not into dating, believe it or not. Got to focus on my study after all.”Sans let out a thoughtful hum for a moment, before he asked again, “What are you studying, kiddo? If it’s about things like quantum physics or astronomy, I can help you. Then we can have a study-date.” And he chuckled a little. “That’s why I came here, actually. I was about to ask you whether there’s a section here for such books.”You blinked to hear those words. Did this skeleton just said he knew quantum physics and astronomy? Looking at how he dressed up lazily, only in hoodie and black short — and pair of pink slippers too, you just noticed — no one would ever expected him to be that kind of smart-ass even if he were a human.“The natural science section is at the rear,” you replied with a nod from your head, “And… thank you for the offer — quantum physics and astronomy are cool, but it’s just not my forte. I’m actually studying history, and…” You voice found an abrupt fall as an idea popped into your head. Inwardly, you thought about what a fool you were for never thinking about this. Picking up a new tone, you started again, “Say, you said you’re willing to help me study… right? It’s not about physics, but I need a help with something else, and… I’m sure you’ll do just fine for it.”The expression on Sans’ skull face shifted (and it was still such an intriguing thing to observe for you), as if he was raising a brow inquisitively. “Sure,” he shrugged, “If you say so. I won’t mind a study date about something not related with physics too.”“Um, no it’s not a date,” you replied, “It’s more like… I need your help with a research. It’ll be like an interview, I guess. Or just chatting time, sharing stories…”“Oh? But I thought that’s what people do in date,” Sans grin turned into mischievous smirk. “So you want the real date, after all?”You tried to soothe down the tingling feeling in your ears as you heard the word “date”. Then, as if more to yourself, “Nnnope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. There’s completely no romantic interest, okay? It’s purely for academic reason. Just… Gosh, it just that…” You gulped and dared yourself to go on, “Actually, I’ve been interested in the history of your kind. I’ve been hearing rumours about how you were… trapped underground, and… I’ve been looking around for information about it. After all, I’m a historian — well, I mean, a historian-to-be, since I’m still a student, but — I’ve never heard history telling about monster-kind, so… It’s completely for interest of knowledge, okay? No another reason…”“Snrk.”The sound stopped you, made you realised that you had just started rambling. You looked at Sans, whose grin was… gleeful. “Eh, sorry, kiddo,” Sans spoke up upon noticing your stare, his grin didn’t falter even a bit. “It just that… you’re… uniquely cute for a human.”Damned bag of bones. He should be responsible and treat you an ice to cool down the heat on your cheeks.
10547762
Refocusing in Confusion
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Tumblr - Fandom", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Samayo_Kaze", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-05T00:00:00", "words": "868", "Additional Tags": "Ficlets, writing prompts, Sugestions welcome", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
I’m working on my writing and want to do a bunch of little things in a short time, but am having trouble picking just one thing to work on at a time. I need your guy’s help. You can just send me a prompt, or you could send me info on a character you want me to use, or a setting, or anything really. I’m open to new suggestions too. I’m writing these to help me be able to focus more on my stories that I’ve gotten stuck on and get the creative juices concentrated again. Writing prompts: The purple sands radiated heat from the two looming suns. “It’s so . . . white.” “It’s snow.” “I grew up in the desert, I don’t know what weather is, let alone snow.” Five times the Force watched her favorite child suffer and one time he was happy instead. “zero fucks given. next please.” “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” “I think we need to talk.” “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” “You’re the only one I trust to do this.” “Just once.” “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”  “Please don’t do this.” “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!” “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.” “Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay I’ll never leave you again.” “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” “I will never apologize for saving your life, even if it costs me my own.” “I never thought you’d hurt me but I was wrong. You hurt me the most.” “Truth be told, I’m not sure any of them are actually dead.” “Ugh, it tastes like sludge,” she recoiled from her mug.“Yes, but it’s caffeinated sludge,” he raised his mug before taking a sip. “You know how you always thought I was brave?”“Yeah?”“Well I’m about to prove you wrong.” “If we get arrested, it’s your fault.” “Did I ever tell you about the time I started a cult?” “Do you trust me?”“No.”“Smart man.” “That was either fireworks or 39 more bodies can be added to this list.” She pulled the knife from her chest and smiled, “Was that supposed to hurt?” “I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to you semi-automatic rifle.” “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t have wing yesterday, right?” Invent a new season and its affects “What’s up with your dad?”“He’s just tired of people trying to kill him. Mainly you.” The High Queen slid through the hidden passage to meet with her imprisoned love. “What makes you think your life is worth more than mine?”“What makes you think your life is worth anything at all?” “I didn’t do it! Oh wait, that? Yeah, I did do that.” “Hold on, you died.”“Yeah, well, it didn’t stick.” “I hope you like the stars I stole for you.” Brothers to the last fight.Brothers to the last enemy.Brothers to the last hour.Brothers to the last BulletBrothers to the last breath.Brothers to the last Hope. “I have felt sadness. I have felt pain. Yes, I have even felt death.” “How’s the meeting?”“I want to stab everyone.”“Don’t get blood on your dress. We have dinner reservations at 7.”“Love you for enabling me.”“’Love you too.” So I realized, ‘Oh, I’ve been shot.’   “Yes, but last week a dragon almost set my hair on fire, so it’s your turn to negotiate.” “Once we were heroes, but everything has changed since then.” “You survived what you thought would kill you. Now straiten your crown and move forward like the Queen you are.” “Oh, I’m a monster? Perhaps you should speak to me more softly, then. Monsters are dangerous after all, and just now Kings are dying like flies.” “Why are you so eager to die?”“BECAUSE IT’S THE ONLY WAY I CAN GET HOME!” You are home alone watching TV. The character on the show calls a number on his phone. Your phone rings. “. . . . Hello?” “What now?”“I don’t know. I thought the jump would kill us.” Write the saddest scene you can think of between a boy and a girl, except that this is the first time they’ve ever met.” “On a scale of one to Australia, how dangerous are we talking?” “I’ll kill you.”“Darling, I’m already dead.” “Why is there a dragon in my fridge?”“Why not?” “Just remember, if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.” “You have no shoes, he’s covered in mud, and I just stole some apples. We’ve officially become hobos.” Your antagonist has one weak spot that he could never overcome. Your protagonist knows what it is, but won’t act on it. Why? “Don’t bleed on my floor.”  Rules: Scenes have to be between 500 and 2000 words and include at least 2 prompts. Single prompts can be anywhere between three sentences to 300 words. Every five times grouping has to be between 300 and 500 words. I may post more prompt in the future if anyone wants more.
10512744
Smasher Smashey in
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Super Smash Brothers", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by SpiritofGuilt", "chapters": "13/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-01T00:00:00", "words": "22,307", "Additional Tags": "I'm too lazy to do tags", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Original Characters", "Relationships": null, "Series": "Smasher & Smashey", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Smashey: Hello everyone! I'm reading fanfics today because why not!Smasher: Hello guys, It's TheHyruleSmasher and today I thought I'd do something that's completely different. Today... me and this bloke is going to read the rather infamous... "Supper Smash Bros: Mishon from God" alongside with my clone. Yes there was some problems in the back, and I ended up with this guy.Smashey: Of course because because your dumbass was doing stupid shit!Smasher: It was not! *sighs* So here I am. In front of a computer. fixing to read this fanfic... because why not. So lets begin.Hi my name is Sara (not Palin unfortanetly)Smasher: Who's Palin?and im a 13 yearold girl who loves America and God and the Constantution so i librul soshalist who likes barrack obama than LEAVE NAO and go back too getting wefare for noting and trying to turn every1 into gay athistsSmashey: Wh-wh-what? A gay athists? how in the...also I lik video games like supper smash bras and otters even thou im a grilSmasher: A appliance that cooks burger and plays SSB. I might need one of those.Smashey: Me too!(my mom sad id turn a les if I play video game but I put pics of jaykob from twilit and juston beber in my room so idont).Smasher: Actually, there are gamers out there who are females and aren't les.Smashey: And apparently this Sara is a Justin Beaver and Twilight fangirl so... This is going to suck.CHAP 1: MISSON FORM GODBoth: *gets bleach* Let's do this.I was in my seance classSmashey: Oh god not the Seance! Please no!one dat when my librul teacher mr jonson was talkin about evilusion."an tat is why humins came form monkees and their is no god" he saidI razed my han.d"yes Sara" he said."if humin came from monkees why r their still monks"Smasher: Because we need them to converts enemy units over to our side.Smashey: Is that a Age of Empire Joke?Smasher: Yes.my teacher had no anser for that so he give me a ditention and an f on my test. "hahaha!" he sad "you Christens wil be defeet on day! athests alreedy rule dis cuntry becuz of obama car and son all Christens will goto deaf panells!"Smasher: What day?just then the door toteh science room opened and God walked in. he was waring a rob and had a bread like he allways does."mr jonson ur gong too HELL!""no cuz u arnt reel" mr jonson said.Smashey: Now he really is going to hell!"lol ur a moran" God said and he stroked mr jonson with lighting and mr jonson ded.Smashey: So in other words, mr jonson ded by having a burnt penis.Smasher: God would never do that!"yay!" said all the Christens in the class."boo!" said the Heatrans so God stroked all them to."ok now I nead too talk too Sara God said. "so everbuddy else leave."Smasher: I wonder who Sara God said is.Smashey: Maybe a new character that might appear later."ok" my classmates left the room."Sara Osborne ive bean watching u for sum time," he sad, "this world isnt the only on I mad.""for real" I ask."yea do u no about video games."Smasher: Back in the bible age, VIDEO GAMES DIDN'T EXIST. Then again, what the author writes is what the author writes..."yea I play them with my bro and Lauren" (my bro is my brother and Lauren is my BFF forever and shes a PCC (Pretty Consertative Christen) like me to)"well they are real because when u play the nother unevirse I made""cool God" I hi fived God."ok but theres treble. Satan found out about this and now hes in Nentendo World. Only u can stop him b4 he dose evil stuff their."Smasher: *facepalms* Stupid writing is stupid plot device..."oh no.""right this is the hardest thing u ever done even harder than ur math test last month. God thing i'm God and I can give u cool powers and stuff."Smasher: How's fighting the sheer monster that's against Christianity harder than a Algebra test?So God gave me some power and I fell to sleep. When I woke up I was outside of the Smosh Manshon!Smashey: SO TO RECAP... God gives Sara powers, she thens falls into a coma, and then she's right in front of Ian and Daniel's mansion. ALL WRITTEN IN A FANFIC BASED ON SSB!Smasher: I'm shocked no one actually pointed out Smosh in the sentence. Anyway, next chapter, starting with the notes.First of all whats a troll?Smashey: Somebody who pretty much hates pokemon but his name has Gligar in it? I men I think I fot sum in a game b4 but there not in my story so why did you mention them in the revew. And whats a mary sue? Smashey: Nancy Drew's sister?And my mom and dad sad that I need to spred the truth of God's word on the intranet and speak out aganst the soshalists destroying America. Also I didnt updaty yesterday becuz my family thought that their woud be the raptor.Smasher: They must be having a... *puts shades on and shows Dino Crisis case* Dino Crisis.Smashey: YEEEEEEAAAAHHHH!!! Lauren said their woudnt and she was rite so I gess that provs who smart she is.CHAP 2: SARA MEATS CHARECTERSSmasher: We're still not done yet?Smashey: Well there's exactly 35 chapters so... yeah we're not done yet.Smasher: *facepalms and starts to whine*the smash mantian was a really big hose with like a gatrillion romosSmashey: I've always wanted a house with gatrillion romos! an was alota stories tall I was inteminated by who big it was. Suddenly someon came. It was like a robot except a person was in it."hai their pretty gurl" the robot person said."u think im pretty" I saod."yea ur the hotist gurl ive ever sean."I thought it was Mister Chef from HalloSmasher: I almost imagine Master Chief having his own cooking show. but it wasnt but I didnt no that so I cloded my eyes an mad out with robot person but when I open them its not Mastre Cheef but SAMAS ERIN!"hahahhaha I triked u in too thikning I was a dud but im a girl" samas said."why do u do these! I liek guys nit girls ima Christen!" I shooted.Smasher: How the hell do you shoot a sentence out of a gun."BECAUSE IMA LESBAN!" Samas said "anf im a antithesis so I want u 2 goto hell for bein gay like me."than Samas tred too rap meSmasher: I'll give her 5$ if she plays Snoop Dogg. she took of my shirt (I had my bra under so I wasnt tipless) adn my shirt which had pantees under it so I still wasnt nakid.Smashey: At least she had common sense to wear a bikini.Smasher: No shit."no help!" I screemed. Lucklily Link and Math and Icke wear nearbye so they git hoarses and ran up and came b4 iy was to late."stop been a gay librul Samas" Icke said."yea wereman and your a women so lissen to us" Link said.Smashey: Oh my god, she actually spelt Link's name right! YOU DA MAN!"but im a lesban so im a femanast and im not gonna lissen to u" Samas said. She taked of my shoes next. They were fancy hi-hells from goosepy zanaty that cast my mom $2000.Smashey: Jesus Christ 2k Gills?! butthan Marth grabed Samas with his hercule arms and through her in teh moot off the manshan."r u ok" he asked. He kissed my hand romanticly."yea sorry I mad u do that""its ok Samas is a librul so she hadit cumin" March said. I looked into his eyes. He was like if the looks of Jaykob and Juston Beeber were combined with the genus of Sean Hanety and Ross Limbog. Expect he had blue hare. Smasher: ...My hare was long and bland and really petty."u hat libruls to" I asked."yea me and Link and Icke r all borne-agen Christens" Marth said."cool can I meat everyone els" I sad."ok" so I climed on Marth's hoarse and rod too the manshan and went in side. In the manshan I met other Christens like Peach and Zelda and Ton Link and Pit and Nas and Luckas and Kerby and King Deedee and the Maryo bros (Mary and Lugia) Smasher: I'm not sure the legendary Pokemon Lugia and fit in Luigi's outfit.and Sonec and Sold Snape, who was Marth's father (I dont think he was Marths father ibn the gam but wouldnt it be cool if he was)Smasher: No, it would not because 1. Metal Gear Solid and Fire Emblem are two different franchises and 2. IT WOULDN'T MAKE SENSE. and Clod Strafe and the real Master Chef (those 2 werent in smash bros for some resin but there in this).Smasher: Cloud would considering SSB4 had him in it. But their were also libruls like Bowser and Ganandorf and Waro and Donky Khan and Diddy and Metal Nite and Picachoo and Pacman Tranner and the other Pacmans and Wolf and Fux Mcledo and Falcon and Captan Falco (who was Samas boyfrend b4 they both turd gay from a govermint vaksine). I new I had my work cut out for me.Smasher: There... we're done now.Smashey: 2 down, 33 more to go...Smasher: FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUU- ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Stop atecking my storey! God will juge u when u dye and if u insult Christens tehn he will send u too Hell!Smasher: I don't think it works like that.And thanks 2 the people who said nice things. I no u will goto Haven. Also I no that Samas is a lesbain becuas when I firts playted I only saw her in amour soi thought she was a hot guy but then I usde her finale smash and fond out she was a gurl.Smashey: HA! HA!I had to star at my pics off justan beber and jayncob 4 even longer then I usuely do wen Lauren comes over 2 kep me strait.CHAP 3: HE FINALLE SMASHthe next day I was in my first mach of my carer. It was Me and Zelda fitting Bowzer and Falcor.Smashey: *sarcastically* This should be really damn interesting. We were the rad tem becuase were consercativsSmasher: Huh... so consercativs were rad in the first place? and they wear the blu tem becuas they wer libruls. I was waerinmg a pretty red dress that everone expect the libruls complamented me on.Smasher: Elaborate what dress you have on. Boozer keeped breathing firs at us an Falco shat lazors form his gum. Zelda turne dinto Shrek and throw needs at Boozer and hit hem wiht a chan.Smashey: SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME THE WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME OVER! Son bowsar was defet. Ten Falcor git a smash bell and sumoed a gina tank call a lendmaster and shat Zelda so she flyed of and loosed. I thout I was domed butthen I herd Gods vois."Sara! Remamber the powerz I give u at scool." I used on of the powers that God gav me and I insanely had my finale smash. I actived it and it cussed me to turn into an angle. I used my holly powers to stroke down the lendmaster and defete Falco."this gams winer: rad tema" the narater said. Smashey: Cue Final Fantasy VII's Victory song!Smasher: DADADADA DADA DADADAAA!!!When I laft the fit Mart hwas waiting for me."OMG! that was amazon! I nerver seen someone us a finale smash withotu a smash ball b4!" he said."Its because of the powers God gave me.""Cool. Now me and my dad are fitting Samas and Wario."Greet! Ill wach" I said.So tghe next fit began and Marth and Snake are the red team and Samas and Warop were ther blue team. Samas saw I was washing so she tred to deduce me with her lucius lips and huge beastsSmasher: How do you deduce somebody with a large-ass monster from Dark Souls? but I was strate so it didnt work and Mark hit her with his sord while she was distrected and his dad threw gonads at her. She got blowed up and lots a stack."Samas! Get ur had in the game! Present brock obana wode want us to kill all Christens," Waryo said."Rite" Samas said. She ataked Marth and Snake.Smashey: Since when did *looks both way* Brock Obama told Samas and Waryo what to do?Son everybuddy only had on stack left. Wart rain tords Snack and het him with a motosicle. He flowed off and explode."Father! NO!" Matt said.Smashey: MATT?! Where's Pat, Woolie and Liam tough?!Smasher: It's Marth, you dumbass. He ran at Waryo with is sore."Ate hem!" Samasa sad."I cant im a librul vogon now so ican only eat vegetas." Waryo said. So Waryo was lose. It was a on-and-on fit betwine Samas and Marth."give it up Samas u no libruls cant won.""never! BY THE POWAR OF LORD SANTA I SHALL BANESH U TOO SUBSPAS WORLD!"Smasher: Watch out, we got a badass over here!then a porthole openend an sucked. Math into subspas. The fite was over. The libruls had won."wat did u do 2 my sun!" Snake said wen the match was over and marth didnt come back."Ill never tell!" Samas said. She blowed me a kiss (witch I dogged) and waked away.I was worred when Marth didnt come back. He still wasnt back for the tee party relay so I went with Clod Strafe insted.Smasher: I'd went with Dirge Valentine.Smashey: I'd went with Tifa. When I went to sleeped at nite I preyed for marth. Then I lacked the widows and doors so Samas couldnt rap me wile I sleeped.That nite I had horble nitmars that Math was farced too have gay sax with Satin and Bark Obameh. It was the scurrest thin ever!Mary CHRISmes Eev everbuddy!Both: um... *checks the date* Moving on.CHAP 4: THE SERCH 4 MATRHthe next day all off the Christens in the Manshon were locking for maerth. He was still not back from were Samas put him.Smasher: Where DID she put him?I preyed and preyed that we woud found him but he was nowere near the manshon. I new I had to confont Samas about were Marth wasSmasher: You heard her said that she thrown Marth in Subspace! but I new she woud try 2 rap me agen if I came along so I bringed Clod and Sonec and Maryo with me. Samas wasin bad with 4 womens and they were kissing and dong it to each otter.Smashey: Now Samas is having sex with otters? What was she smoking during this fanfiction?"discussing!" Maryo vomated."stop it Samas!" Sonec said."girls sholdnt do that 2 otter girls!" Clod said.Smasher: There's this thing called fanfictions."Sara! U must jonus and be gay!" Samas and the otter lesbamns said."No! Im ten trillian percant strait!" I shatted.Smasher: How can you spell words out of shit?Smashey: NANOMACHINES SON!"ok then well gagrap u into been gay!" Samas and the other lesbans got outta bad.Smashey: So... they're gonna fight in the nude? Clod pulled out his gina sore and smucked a lesban with it. She flyed out the widow. Then Maryo shat furballs at anotter lesban and she burst into fame. They Sonce rolled into a bill to defete another one and I used my unbettable marital arts on the other one. Samas was bye herself."tellus were Marth is!" I smacked her."No!" Samas said. I started stroking her with lighting from my fingers like in Stair Was becuz one of the powers God gave me was tobe a yeti with the forc.Smasher: A yeti as a Jedi... Jesus Christ Star Wars must've ended far more earlier than I expected.Smashey: So a yeti fought Luke rather than Vader?Smasher: I guess so."Stop Sara ur 2 powerful if u keep atecking Samas shell die and than well never fond math!" Sonec said. I new he had a pint so I stapped using lighting on Samas. We had 2 find someone eels who could find Marth. I preyed that God wood show me were Mart was."Sara! Mark is in Subspas!" I herd God say.Smasher: So it took you a few filler paragraphs to finally figured that out? *gets up and opens bleach* I'll be chugging this down if you need me. *leaves*"Thanks God!" I sad back."Were is Marth" Maryo said."Hes in Subspas!" I said."Oh no how did u no!" Samas sad.Smashey: NANOMACHINES SON! Clod hit her with his sord to knack her unconshus. "Not Subspas that place is terryfine!" Clod said."But we havto Marth is in treble!" I said."Well ned more people Snoop will want 2 cum too save his sonSmashey: Oh, first it was Snake that was Marth's dad, and now it's Snoop Dogg? and Lonk and Ick are Marth's beast pals. Zolta an Pech shuld came to and also Kerby and my bro Luweegee and Pete cuz hes an angle" Maro said. So we get everbuddy adn goto Subspas to fine Marth.In Subspas were insanely atecked by Subspas stuff but we beet them. Then we find Master Han and Crazy Hanes."Whatter u dong her" Mister Hans said."Weve cum 2 find Marth" I said.Smashey: Well duh!"No Sara u will dye!" Crazy Ham said. He tred to pinch me but I puled out my dads shitgun (its one of my specal movs no that im a smasher) and shat him until he ded. Than I did the sam to Master Hemp.Smashey: First of all, if a piece of crazy ham had pinched Sara, then it'd be clear that I'm currently high right now. second of all, I want a gun that can fire shit after shit."Well dun but Marth is still mine" Tatu leder of Subspas came."ILL KILL U!" I said. I tred too shat him but he took my gum away b4 I cold."Ha! U shuld no im a librul so I allways take teh gins away!" He said. I was rite I shuld have nown that. I tred my lighting buthe bloked it. Tehn I tred all my otter atecks."who r u dong this" I aked "my powers cum form GOD!""yes wile mine come from Satin.""Bit Santana is weeker then God!""Yes but im alos the antichris!""how r u relly" I said.Smashey: What a boring DBZ-esque conversation.So Taboo roped of his musk and reveled that he was a bleck guy. But he was wering a soot not gane close so I new he culd only be presadent brock obama!Smashey: I knew he quit working with Ash for the sake of this, I knew it!Smasher: *walks back in* How's it going?Smashey: Turns out Brock retire from Pokémon to fight Sara.Smasher: ...I'm gonna get some more bleach. *leaves* ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- STOP WRATING BAD THANGS ABOUT MY STOREY! If yall dont ill tell Lauren to beet u up.Smashey: *throws shirt off* Come at me bro!She rans crass country and plays batskeetball so shes in reel god shap (but she doesnt try to look manely or anythang becuz shes not a lesban and nether am I. We were makeup an nic close and put alota tim in r hare). Alos my bro is a senor lintbecker on the hi school fatball teem so he cold beet yall up even easer.Smashey: I'll take anyone on! No items, Fox only, Final Destination, now BRING IT ON YA MARY SUE!Marry CHRISmass (NOY HAPY HOLEDAY) to the good people who wote good revews! (Im up erly becuz im so excite. I no ill get godo stuff this yer)CHAO 5: SARA VERSAILLES OBABAI stud infrant of Ibama, reddy too fite. He keeped taking about how he was the greetest evul 2 evar live and how he wood give my sole to Satin.Smashey: He's not e- oh I'm sorry, evul...I new I coldnt bet him in my curant stat, so I activated my finale smash."impassible! Noone can use there finale smash without a smash bell!" Brak Osama said. Now iwas moor powarfel then him and I quackly wan."Ha! Your alredy to late!" he laffed evully and flyed away "i hided Marth somewere in the Grate Mase tho.""im to late what dos that men" I said.Smashey: The fanfictions over! The end! Fin!"idont no lets fine math" Kink said.Smashey: I... wouldn't want to find math in the kinkiest way possible...So we all went in2 the Miz to find Marth. We seerch all over and fote bats aganst bad people their. But Mark was nowere to be fond. We war about to give up wen we herd the sowd of a musial cumin form one of the dores we werent in yet. We open the door and saw that Marth was insid with Captan Futon and a buncha otter gay guys. He was dress lik a dreg quin. He saw us and skiped over."ew, dad. Those are last moths shos" he sed to Snack. Snak was wering last months shoos but Marth shuldnt no that. He also taked with a hi-patched vois witha lasp insted of his normel depp manely vois. Captan Fakkon skiped up to."thisis me bofrend captan facon"Smashey: That's a lot of Captain Falcons, I'll give you that.Mark sad. then I relized wat happen. Marth was turn gay!"NO NOT MY SUN!" Snarf said."now wer gonna rap u an make yall gay to silly" Captan Vulcan said. Tehnb Mark an Captan Favan and all the otter gays in The Room skiped at us.Smashey: I feel bad for the otters. What did they do to deserve all of this sin and punishment?I new they culdnt make me gay becuz only getting repad by lesbans turns gurls gay but it was still scury.Snale got ot his rockette luncher an shat rockettes at the gays and blowed a buncha them up but their wer to maney. Clod used a lamer brake to get rad of more gays. Zelda shat furballs and used the dimand sheld thin b4 turning into Shaq and using kun fu and ninja stuff.Smashey: I'm not gonna say it... I'm NOT gonna say it... I'm not go- screw this! * jumps on table and starts dancing like bat-shit crazy* COME ON AND SLAM! AND WELCOME TO THE JAM! COME ON AND SLAM! IF YOU WANNA JAM! Link throwed his bonerang and Ikr used his sord to held back the gays. Maryo and Loogey jamped on the gays heds to kill them. Peech throwed turdaps and Kerby hit them with his hummer. Sonec used supper sped ball on them and sence Pete is an angle he sant gays diretlay to hell usin the powar of God. Despit all these their war to many gays in The Room so we had too retret. Everbuddy ran out the dor expect Soldi Snak"cum on Snaek!" I shatted.Smashey: It's either the semen or the shit Sara. You can't pick both!"no yall leve ill hild tem of they alredy got my sun I hav noting to liv 4" Snack fired rockettes into the gays like a maidman wile ever1 elese ran out of the grate max. Soon more gays and lesbans and otter libruls started poring out of the other doors. We wer trap."ono" I said. I thout I wold be rapped into a lesban and then id hav too kiss girls and stop wering makeup and start wering flanel and id only shop at homs deepo insted of gud storks. Butthan mister han and crazie hen flyed out of the sky."hirry! Well crary u2 safe!" Masterham said.Smashey: A ham that's a master... Nice. I new that God sent them to save us from the gay librusl. They take us back 2 teh Manshan. I was gong to find Samas and beet her up 4 sending Marth to Subspas were he turd gay but she wasnt in the manshan she was shoping at helms deep becuz shes a lesban.Since Math was gay no I went on a dat with Link insted. We eat at chickfila (Ha! Take that gays!) and then saw a movie.Smashey: So you ate at Chick Fila, then went home for Crunchyroll and Chill. *lights cigarette* Boy, do y'all have a story to tell to y'all's kids!Smasher: I'm back!Smashey: Ready to read chapter 7?Smasher: What happened on chapter 6?Smashey: Marth becomes gay and Sara and Link does their first time.Smasher: *sits down* Good, because I got a shit load of bleach ready to drink.I fond out that Laurens sister in collage voted 4 sum guy named garry jonson (wonder if hes relative 2 mr jonson)Smasher: aaand right off the bat, Gary Oak has legally changed his last name and is running for president!insted of matt ramnoy in the erection. Smasher: *tring to not laugh*That mad me relly upsat but Lauren sed it was ok becuz romni still won soth caroline (were I live) and I gess shes rite. Lauren looked relly pretty in her new crismas close and she said idid to and im gled I got to sped the nite at her hous. Also yall need to stop saiyan bad thans about my storey, libruls! Also im not a slot ima CHRISTEN!!!Smashey: Well Link had banged you after Chrunchyroll and Chill so yes, you're a part Weeaboo - no offense to Anime fans - Part Slut, Part Mary Sue!thew next day all the conserbatovs wer sad that March and Snak were gay libruls now (Snak evan chaned his nam frum Soiled Smock to Solendra Snaef). Mastre Hanes saw this and so he skeduled a hug consort 4 us.Smasher: All because of a bun of whiny conserbatovs? He called lots of relly great people like Bard Palsy and Tobe Ketrh and Care Underwode and Honk Willems Junor and Tod Nougat and Justyn Bebur and On Directon and a buncha other people. And beast of all he got TALER SWIFT to cum. Tailer Swuft is my favorit musec person and I relly lick her alot BUT NOT IN THAT WAY BECUZ IM NOT A LESBAN just as a frend.Smasher: Well you lick her vagina because you're her friend?Smashey: Probably to heal her pussy after Master Hanes shoved his fingers up h-Smasher: *punches Smashey* Shut up... I was gong to were my best red dress for the consart. I had my hare dun up nice and put on some reed lipstake an sum eyeliner and eye shadoo. And I put on my best hi hells.I walked through the manshan but than I saw Samas but Lin was their to protract me so she didnt rap me. She walked the otter way but drapped a notbook.Smashey: *gets up* Is she playing Blue's Clues? I piced it up and red the cover. It sad “SECRETE PLANE 2 MAEK TAILAR SWOFT MY LESBAN LUVER.” That fightened me alot becuz Tailer Swift is my favaret muzican and if she was turned into a lesban than shed rite sons with secrete backwerds massages that turn people gay (my parents said that hevy medal muzic alreddy does sumthing like this to turn people into Stanists).Smasher: NO! NO! NO! STOP THE FANFIC!Smashey: Uh Oh...Smasher: Listen her Lauren! You may have became the most drugged sunuva bitch we have ever seen! Heavy Metal is a type of music! NOT A TURN-PEOPLE-INTO-STANISTS B.S! Smashey: I think you mean Black Metal Lauren. *raises eyebrows and smiles*Smasher: Thank you. Anyhow, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! *brings out Pulse Rifle* YOU WANNA PLAY ROUGH?! OK! SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!Smashey: *hands beer* crack it open.Smasher:* sits down and drinks* It's not bleach... but it'll work.I red the plane and new I had to stop it. So I caled Tayler Swift becuz I have her privates numner.“Hi Sara” she said “im lookin ford to seen u et my consort.”“SAMAS IS GUNA RAERP U AND TURN U INTO A LESBAN!!!!” I scrammed into the fone.Smasher: Wo-Smashey: I got this. Woah-ho-ho, Sara! Be careful there!“Uno!” she said, “i ned more budygards!”Smasher: I didn't knew we were playing Uno over budygards!Smashey: We should fight for some budygards one day!So she hanged up so that she cold hir some budygords. Later I went to the consort with Lnik and lessened to the muzak. I saw that Tailar Swift had mor buddygurds now including Radley from Samas Game.She was the hedlane of the consort so she was on last. She was in the maddle of signing “Luv Storey” (mine and Laurens favorit of her sons. We lissen 2 it 2tegeter al the tim. I no ill find a guy to lissen 2 it with sumday).“Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone.I keep waiting for you but you never come.Is this in my head? I don't know what to think.He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said...” Tailer Swift sang.Suddanly Samas stod up.“IM GUNNA RAP U TAYLAR SWAFT!!!” she began ranning 2 the stooge.Smashey: *in girlish voice* Romeo, oh Romeo! Why would you say something like that?!Lotsa bodygards tred to stap her but a buncha gay guys including Mart and Snick and Captan Facon roped them 2 turn them gay. Luckly Rudley cold fly so he grapped Tayler Soft and carred her out of Samas clatches. Wen Samas got too the stag Tad Nuget grabed his asalt ruffle and shat her like a billion times. Wile she was destracted by that Tobe Keeth sneaked up behind her and shaved a boat up her assBoth: DAAAYYUUUMMM! (sorry for swering. I prayed for fergivness from God for tiping that) like in my favoretest sing of his. Than the otter muzakans ran over and beet Samas with there instraments until she was unconshus and then the polite came and throwed her in prisan (unfortunetly they toke her 2 womans prism so she culdnt be reaped becuz shes alredy a lesban). Once allthe gays were scarred off Ridlay came back with Talar Sweft and she famished her consort.After it was dun all the musicans gave autotrophs to me and the other smashers. Talar Swift gave me the bigest best autotroph of all time becuz I warned her about Samas.“Ur my bettest frend” Taylir Swut said (off coarse Lauren is my BFF but I didnt want to hart Taylers felons by tellin her that).Smasher: I doubt she wouldn't be hurt by that y'know.Wen the consort was ovary and the muzikans laft I wenton anotter dat with Link.Smasher: They were right. Sara is a slot!Smashey: Woo! Chick Fil'a and then go home to bang! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- I loked up wat a Marisoo was and I thenk this chapper will prov that Sara isnt won so all of u libruls wil have 2 make up now ways 2 ignor the TRUTH in my storey.Smasher: Yet she's still gonna act like one. the next day Link waked me up an told me that the No Yirk Jet were playin agenst the Hirool Fotball team that day.“The Ne wYok Jars?!?!” I said.Smasher: I'll be breaking down laughing if this story reveals that their coach is Jar Jar Binks.Smashey: Anything can happen! They were my favorte footbal teem even tho I liev in Suth Carelyna becuz they have Tim Tibo playin 4 tham and hes relay awsom and a Christen. I used 2 lik the Danver Brikos becuz they had Teboo but than they get rad of him prolly becuz there couch was a gay librul soshalest or sumthin.Smashey: They have a gay couch?! *starta laughing* Forget all of the shit we've said, this is the best fanfic I've read!“And I hav sum tikets” Linj said.“Yay! We ned 2 go” I sade.“Absalootly Nit!” Mister Hem said, flaying don the hale.“wynaut” I said.“becuz we nede 2 fite maches 2day and allso im brotesh so I thank socer is fotball becuz king jorge the turd was a America-hating commanst who hated America and name socker fetball in enguld so thet reel footbal cant be in brutishland.”Smasher: Long story short, the UK is being conquered by a piece of shit? Dammit, I'm going to hell for that one...Smashey: Don't worry, I'll find someone to fill you in.Smasher: Aww, thank you.I strummed off becuz Master Han was been such a jurk!!! He ran aftar me.“But theirs sumthin eels 2day. Sinc Samas is in prisan now we neded anew smasher to replac here.” Just than Crazy Hanie flewed up and withim was LAUREN!!!“Hey gurl!” Lauren said. We higged each other.“3” I said.“Shell be stay in ur rom becuyz Samas had losts of lesban sax on her bed so she prolly dont wanna slip their” Crapy Hans sad.“Yay! Were romies!” I charred.Smasher: Crapy Hans finally reunited the dynamic romies!“Now u 2 r teem up 4 ur first mach 2day” Mister Hens said “u will fite Math and Captan Fukton. Goto the studiem nao.”I was sad that I had 2 fite Marth even tho I was dating Link. I still had felons 4 Mark. I told Lauren abot this.“Its ok im her” she huged me agen and I falt beater.We want 2 the mach agenst Marth and Capten Fulcone. Wen we got 2 the stag they wer havin gay sax onit. I throwed up and so did Lauren and so did all the otter Christen watchen. Tehn the frat begun.Smashey: Umm... how does one throwed up after watching gay sax?Smasher: Nanomachines, son.“Ew! Ur fashon sanse is like so bid” Marth said.“Liar!” I sad. Both Lauren and me allways had the best close ever. Marth tred 2 hit Lauren with his sord but she dogged it. Even tho Lauren did not have powars frum God, neither Marth nor Capetn Falcan were fat enuf 2 hit her.Smasher: Oh, so it's sumo wrestling?I didnt evan have 2 us my powars in the fite. Lauren was that guds on her one that I barely evan hed 2 do anytin. She basecly wan the fit buy herself (c Sara cant be a marsu if theres sum1 batter then her).“this gaems winnar red teem” the narater sade.Lauren and me hagged agen wen we won. After a few more fites (wich we alos won) we were dun 4 the day. Aftar we wer don we went 2 r rom and Laurens stuf was alredy their. We massed the fettbill gam but we saw that the Jers won and Tom Tebo scared a buncha pants.Smasher: I feel bad for the pants. Why did Tom Tebo have to scare them?I called him 2 congradulat him (I had his privet fone nomber) and than LAuren and me went 2 slap. We slipped in the only bed but NOT IN A LESBAN WAY WE SLEP IN THE SAM BAD AL THE TIM BUT WERE STRATE WE WERE NISE CLOSE AND MAKUOP AND PUT EFFART IN R HARE AND DONT TRY 2 LOK MANELY!!!Smasher: But if you're going to bed in order to slap each other, then you don't really have to worry about it being in a Lesban way nor would you have to lok manely.The next day Lauren started dating Ike and they want on a dooble dat with Me and Limk. We wrent 2 Chickfela agen becuz they opos the gay agands.Smashey: And then they went home for Crunchyroll and chill, then sex.Smasher: A Slotty Marisoo, I tell ya.I loki up the defanation of “troll” an I jus have 2 say that its tipecal librul behavor to just call me a troll because yall dont wanna accept that everytrthing I say is tru and u libruls are wrong and agenst God himself.Smasher: Not every librul is agenst God y'know.Yall refuse to accept that any1 has a difring oponion frum u becuz if u do that then yule hav 2 accept that ur opinyon is wrung. U R HIPPOCRATES.Smashey: Someone tell me how do we shove Sara's mom in a crate.Smasher: BUUURRRNNN!! CHAP 8: SAMAS BRAKES OUTTA PRISANLauren an Me had lotsa fun and wan alota maches over the naxt weak. Havin her in tha manshon was the best thin ever. We also went on a tun of dobbie dates with r boyfrens Like and Ink.Smasher: How're y'all not running out of Animes to watch?Smashey: They probably watch Hentai.Smasher: Probably. On dya I was bye myself tho and walking around the manshon. I had the day off becuz Lauren was teeming with Ike and Link had a 1-an-1 mach agents Ganandalf. I was walking past a buncha door an stuf. Than Zelda waked up to me.“Hi Sara” she said. She was starring at my shirt. I was wearing a pink tank top that staryed out blake but then I took alota glitter and spel “Obama Sux” onit.“Lick my shit?” I said.Both: *trying not to laugh*“yes. Thats why I was luking their” Zelda said she loking bak at my fase “lets go2 my rome”“OK” I said. I fellowed Zelda 2 her room. Wen we want inside the room was dirk and I herd the dore slum behind me.“hai their pretty gurl” I recognized the vois imedietly. It was SAMAS ERIN!!! But she was supposed 2 b in prism.“But ur supose 2 be in prisan” is aid.“I braked out” she said. It was my worstest feer.Smasher: Yeah, Sara. Samas Erin braked out of prisan because she couldn't handle the rats nibbling her toenails!I new she wuld evantully be pardanned by Bareck Obaka but I hopped the wasingtan burowcrasy wuld dely her pardan lon enuf 4 a Republeken too be elect or for Obamuh 2b impech. I didnt except 4 Samas to brake out.“Zelda we ned to ran” but Zelda was bloking the door “whats gone on?”“U didnt figar it out yet?” Zelda said. She runned ovary and stated to ripe off my close and she kissed me.“Ono ur a lesban now” I sad, puling away. Howevar Samas grabed me form behind and than started ribbing my butte.Smashey: C'mon now, you wasting all that BBQ sauce on her ass cheeks!Smasher: A piece of that ass with BBQ would be nice.Smashey: But what if her ass ain't big?Smasher: I don't care. I'd still take it.Smashey: *sets fanfiction scroller thingumajig on auto* Well listen here, clone! I dunno...*Both gets into an argument about Sara and her ass being covered in BBQ sauce*“Yes I am sexay Sara” Zelda toched my brass.“I turmed her into my luver when I return from prisan” Samas whispared in2 my eer.“And son yule be a lesban to” Zelda whaspered in my otter era.“No ples no” I said “i dont wanna be a lesban. Ima Christen!!! Sumbuddy Halp!!!”Smasher: Y'know what, just get the fuck out of here.Smashey: Fine. *leaves*Smaser: *sets fanfic scroller to manual* Now where were we? Aah, whatever.“Noone can here u. We mad sure every1 els was in the stadiem” Samas said.“God can her me” I said.“Ha! Im an athist librul now! I dont beleve in God anymor!” Zelda said.“Yes now we both warship Satin!” Samas said.Smasher: So now Zelda and Samas are a warship named Satin?“Just becuz u dont beleve inhim doesnt meen hes nor reel” I sade.“Well I used my magik combined with the pwoar of Santa and Barak Obema to seel the door to this room” Zelda said “lik it or not yule be a lesban sun!"Smasher: Zelda has Santa Claus's powers... Need I say more.I runned into the coroner of Zeldas room.“Sty back!” I sad, praperd fora fit.“Been a lesban isnt sumthin to be afeared of Sara” Zelda said “Im hapy now that Samas and I r dating.”“It doesnt matter how hapy u r. Its an abomasnow!” I sed “God hats u 4 it!”Smasher: What're you waiting for? Catch the Abomasnow!“Beleve me yule be hapy 2 wen u becom 1 of us” Samas said.“Maybe ucan turn Lauren into a lesban than u 2 can dat eachodder” Zelda said.“No! Id never do that to my best fren!” I said “she may be the prettest gurl evar but we ned 2 goto hevan not hell. WERE CHRISTENS NOT LESBANS!!!”“Not 4 long” Samas and Zelda said in unisan.As the 2 lesbans aproched me I was more scarred than id evar ben in my life. Al I culd do was prey and prey that sum1 came to my rescue. Did I mak it out safe or did Samas and Zelda tune me in2 a lesban athist librul? Find out in the next chaptar!!!Smashey: *walks in dressed as Jotaro* Allow me to fix that for you.*Yes - Roundabout* ________________|To Be Continued > -------------------(A/N: Yes that was my own attempt at recreating the JoJo's Bizarre Adventure "To Be Continued" arrow) ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- So u libruls kep callin me a troll? I aint a troll!!! IMA CHRISTEN!!! As allways thank all yall who worte god revews!Smasher: How do you make a god revews?U r good Christens and I prey that good thjins happen 2 u evary nite.CHAP 9: SARA ESCAPSSo I was cowing in the cornor of Zeldas rome preying and preying 2 God 2 sav me frum becaming a lesban.“SNAPE OUTTA THIS ZELDA!!! U R A CHRISTEN! REMEMBER WEN WE FOTE BOOZER AND FALCOR AND LATER U TEEMED UP WITH ME 2 TRY 2 SAV MARTH EVER THO IT DIDNT WORK?” I said.“Yes u wer relly sexay in ur red dress that day Sara” Zelda said “u make me wanan rap u evan mor!!!”Smasher: I wanna hear Big Poppa by Notorious B.I.G.“No go away!!!” I said. But Zelda and Samas keeped slowly approching me loking as deductive as passible. All I cold do was prey and prey and prey. Then I had an idiom.“So Zelda am I pretier then Samas?” I sajd.“OFF COARSE NOTE!!!” Zelda sad.Smashey: So her idiom is a off coars note! I knew it was a bad idea!Smasher: Since when?Smashey: She's a marisoo, so you know it's going to be off coarse.Smasher: True.“Dame rite she aint” Samas culd swer becuz shes a lesban and goin 2 hell aneway.Than Samas and Zelda lusfully loked in eachodders eyes and prassed there lucas lips togetter.Smashey: They have Lucas as their lips?B4 lang they ware crassing eachotters subtitle beasts. It was a discussing abomnation but at lease they werent dong it 2 me. Evantully they forgote I was their so I sneaked 2 the door but itwas still seel!!! I tred to kick the door and scram 4 halp but it was a relly stron seel and sondprof. So I went bak into the corner curred up in a fatal positron and preyed sum moor. I was abot to gave up hop wen the door braked down. It was LAUREN AND LINK AND IKE!!!“God gabve us a massage so we came!” Lauren said. I ranned over 2 Lauren and huged her and crayed.“They wer gone 2 turn me into a lesban!” I sad.Smasher: So that's why God gabve Lauren and Link and Ike a massage?“Its ok im here” Lauren rubed my hare as a frend.“Zelda! Why r u a lesban now?” Link was clergy very sad abot this.“Becuz I raepd her” Samas said.“Than u well dye!” He drawed his sord.Smashey: *in CDi Ganon's voice* You dare bring lesban into my lair. You must dye! *makes thunder noises*Smasher: Hey, nice impression!“No Link wen gayz and lesbans have sax they charg up with the powar of Satin and Barak Ovama! There 2 powarful rite now!” Ike sad.Samas and Zelda gut outta Zeldas bed and rane at us. Lukly Lauren brot a crust which she hald up so that the lesbans hissed and backed away and we 4 Christens cold escap.Smashey: So lebans hate crust? They're like me.Smasher: Same here. Unless you toast the bread.Later we went on anotter doble date 2 chikfela. Link was sad that his frend Zelda was an evul lesban now so we all chered him up bye goin 2 the movie he wanted 2 see afterword.Smasher: In other words, say it with me now...Both: THEY WENT TO CHIKFELA, THEN WENT HOME FOR CRUNCHYROLL AND CHILL!The next day Link and I wer walking down the jhall wen Zelda bloked ar path. She had her hare cute vary short and wasnt wering makup anymor and was wereing a plad flanel shirt and paints insteed of a dress.“DONT RAP ME ZELDA!!!” I sade.“Im nut her 4 u thes tim Sexay Sara” Zelda sed.“Than why r u here?” I said.“Link as u no im the princess of Hirole so I mad a new law” she said “STRAITNESS IS NOW ILLEGAL!!! U WILL HAV 2 MARRY GANANDORF OR GOTO PRISAN!!!”I gasped! How wode Link and I fine or way outta this one!Smashey: At least there's suspense...Thank u 2 everone who gave good revews. And all the athist libruls who say bad thins need 2 stop dong thet.Smasher: What bad thins? Im relly excite agen becuz Lauren is coming 2 my jhous for new yatrs. Its alweys relly fun wen im with her and I fel relly good. She is my BFF forever and I adorn her with every fibber of my bean.Smashey: Sara adorn Lauren with every liar of her bean?CHAP 10: LINK RENONCES HIS CITZENSHAP“NO I WILL NOT MARRY GANENDORF!!!” Link sed.“Than yule go 2 prism!” Zelda said “the weddings 2marow so be their. I ned 2 go to Hom Depo with my girlfren Samas now tho so im leving.”Zelda blowed me a kiss and than she laffed evully and than she left.Smasher: Why'rethey insulting Hom Depo?Smashey: I've never been there, but I don't remember it being for lesbans...“wat shuld we do!” I said.“well im not gonna marry Ganandarf!” Link sad “I luv u so much! And im not gay and nether r u.”“rite” I new Link wasnt gay and even mor then that I new I wasnt a lesban. If any yall think ima lesban then I shuld let u no im 100 percant not and nether is Lauren.Both: Give us proof.Smasher: Oh wait, she ain't.Since I was alredy thinking abot Lauren I new we shuld ask her wat 2 do now.“why dosnt Link just renonc his Hirole citzenshap” Lauren sed wen we fond her.“Gud idea” I sad.Smasher: How did she knew what they were talking about?Smashey: NANOMA-Smasher: No!Smashey: Ok...“It hirts me 2 do this becuz im saposed 2 be the protractor of hirole” Link said “but noting can protract them from Gods devin wreath now that theres so much gayness their”“ok so that saddles that” I sade “but we ned 2 do sumthin abot all thes gays and lesbans in the manshon.”“I no wecan rappel them with a kriss. But thats only a temprary soluble becuz if any Christens r cot with there gard don theyll be rap in2 mor gays and lesbans” Lauren sed.Smashey: Then rappel them with a kriss!Smasher: Then drop the mixtapes!“I wish makin people strait Christens was that easy!” I said.“If it was that easy God wodnt have 2 sand u” Link said.We gathered a mating of all the remaning Christen Consertatives in the Manshon.Smasher: After all that sex Sara had with Link, she got the whole damn roster to have a orgy?!Smashey: *breaks down laughing* We're so going to be removed from the roster for that... Everbuddy got a buncha mor crasses. Than we all mad sure 2 lack r dors and widows at nit so no 1 cold brake in and rap us wile we slep (thats wen Samas got Zelda. She want 2 bed a Strat Christen Consarvetav and waked up a lesban athist librul). We new we had 2 prepar 4 whatever Satin and Osbama had plened. It was prolly sumtrhinh vary evul.Wen Zalda and Samas got back frum the manshon we told her that Link was renoncing his citzenshape.“I excepted this” Zelda sad “so I writed up anotter marrege cirtefikat. Now Ton Link must marry Ganindalf.”Smasher: How can Ganon marry both Ton Link and Link simultaneously?Smashey: I hope to god he won't be in a wedding dress... *shudders*Smasher: You're right...“NO HES MY BRUTHER!!!” Link said.“Its 2 late. Hes not old enuf 2 renunce his citzenshop and I declard myslef his legel garden so I wont do it 4 him. The wadding is 2morow and theres noting u can do 2 stop it.”Smasher: No wonder he's been planting flowers on her!Zelda blowed me a kiss and walked away.“We ned 2 stap this weeding!” I sed.“I no!” Link sid.We gathered the Christens 2getter to thank up a plane.Smashey: Wait, they're gonna thank up a plane in order to stap a weeding?Smasher: C'mon Sara, we just need to drop it like it's hot! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Why dose everone think ima lesban? How meny tims do I hav to say im not a lesban IMA CHRISTEN!!! Lauren and I r jus frends and noting has EVAR happen like that. Lauren is a pretty girl but I dont like girls that wat and nether dos she. I hed 2 tak a brake frum riting becuz I was so hurt by ur acualizations.CHAP 11: TEH WADDINGThe next day wuz the weeding betwin Tone Link and Ganondalf. It was in the tempo of tim in hirole. All of the Christens wer their becuz Poon Link neded molar support. Also we wer gonna stap the weding. Gangnamdorf was alredy gay so he was wering a weding dress with a wite vale and Bozor was waking him don the isle. Smasher: Oh I should've known... Smashey: Yeah, but that name tough!Ton Lenk was wering a taxemo. Ther was a athist pastor wading at the alter. I wor a nice dress but not my best one becuz I didnt aprov of the weeding. Lauren loked relly petty but I didnt want 2 kiss her becuz im not a lesban.Wen Gandalf retched the alter the athist pastor began taking.Smashey: I thought it was Gangamdalf that was marrying Ton Lenk, not Gandalf.“Were gathared her 2day 2 jon thes 2 in UNholy mantramoney. If any1 objects 2 this onion speck now or forevar hold ur piece” the athist pastor sed.Smasher: Phoenix Wright has a objection towards the onion!I pulled out ny dads shitgun and shat the athist pastor. He dyed insanely.Smashey: The pastor had a seizure, then died right after Sara fired a shitty bullet at him?“No! Ur failing my plane!” Zelda sed.Suddenly everyone pulled out there wepons and Link runned over and garbed his brother away from Ganandorf. All the normel people wer ejaculated out of the tempal of tim wile the Christen smashers including Lauren and me strayed 2 fite the libruls.Smasher: *trying not to laugh* I think I love this chapter!It was the greetest battal I evar fot in. Lauren and me killed like a lot of gays and lesbans that began poring in wen we stapped the weding. Link was fiting Gamondirf.“ho dar u stap my wedding Link!” Ganandarf sad. He punked Link reptadetly. Then he kiked Link with his hi hells. I new I had 2 sav my bofrend. I shat Ganpndorf with my dads shitgun but it didnt kill him becuz he has like magic powars and stuff.Smasher: Because blasting shit at him's not effective!It gut his atention tho and he runned over to me and tred 2 fite me. I used my supper strenth 2 through him threw a wall and than shat him agen evan tho it still didnt do anythin. It was fun tho.“U insolvent FOOL!!!” Ganandarf sed. He riped off his wedingf dress and ther was his armoire underneth. He flayed up into the are and fired a magic blust at me lik in the gam macarena of tim.Smasher: Man, what a nostalgic reference to my favorite Zelda game: macarena of tim! I defrocked it bak at him. It hit him and he felled don. Than Lauren runned over and nocked him unconshus. I looked arond and sawed that all of the othar libruls were unconshus 2. R plane worked! We coldnt call the polite 2 arest the libruls becuz we wer in Hirole and Zelda was the riler and she was a lesban now so we just had 2 leve. Frist we returned 2 the Manshan and mad sure Toin Link was ok. Once we did that, Lauren and me went on a doble dat 2 chickfila with r boyfrends. We told everone ther abot the gay weding we stopped and their were hi fives al around.Smasher: I'm pretty sure they'd arrest you, but Marisoo logic is Marisoo logic.Smashey: They need to stop going on doble dats and all that. They'll eventually run out of animes and hentais to watch!Smasher: Then we have to hear her gripe about watching Yaoi and Yuri!Why exectly dose everbuddy thank that Lauren an Me r lesbans? Iv sad like a thosand tims that we ant. Weve nevar hed sax!Smashey: You're lucky you didn't hed my saxophone!We both were makup and put efirt in r hare and dont try 2 lok manely and r relly pretty and the 1 tim my dad tok me to hom depo I thot it was boaring and hatted it their!!!Smashey: hom depo isn't really a bad place to be honest...Lauren had 2 comfart me (NAT WITH LESBAN SAX!!!) wen I telled her ur lyes abot us! STAP LAYING YALL!!!CHAP 12: THE 4 HOARSEMANSIt was a few dyas aftar the wreding and everone was still scarred form the experyance. Me and Lauren were waking don the hall han an han with R BOFRENS LONK AND ICK. Wen we want passed one rome we herd voises cumin from inside. I opaned the door and saw sum TV screans that wer all showing the sam thin. In Subspas World, Barak Osama was talking 2 STAN HIMSLEF!!!Smasher: And how did they managed to have TVs that shows what shit goes down in the Subspas World?Smashey: NANO... Actually, nevermind.“Zeldas atampt 2 mary Ton Link 2 Ganandorf falled!” Satin sad.“I no! It wasnt my falt! It was Jorge W. Boshs falt (becuz Ubama alwas blams Bosh 4 his fallures)” Bork Ogama said.Satin opaned a porthole an the four mos terble comanists in allof histary came on at a tim. The firts comanst was Adulf Hitlur. He was the presadent of Germeny during one of those world war thins. He was a leftwang excrement who killed consertatives in conservation camps. Wen America defeeted him he channed the nam of Germeny 2 the Saviet Onion and fot us agen in the coald war.Smasher: The Saviet Onion must be really dangerous.The naxt comanast came out dong the Ganon Style dance. He was Charmen Moa. Charmans Mow was the presadent of Asia 4 awile. First he boned perl habor so we nuked him than he chaned his nam 2 Charlie 4 sum resin and fot my grandpa in Vetnam. Wen he did his lesban dotter Kimmy Jonquil tok ovar as presadent but than she died 2 recantly I thenk.The next comanst was King Jorge the Thard. Like I sad erlier he was the resin that socar is called fotbal in Britishland so that reel fotball dosent get plaid their. Also he was the king of british two thosand yers ago wen Jesas and Jorge Wussinton teemed up 2 fond America. King Jorge crusifed Jesas but than Jorge Wasinton killed him 2 make America free and becam the first presadent.Smashey: This is so politically incorrect, it's hilarious!The last comanast was sumon I new very wall. It was MR JONSON!!! Mr Jonson is my sinance teecher and hes an athist who trys 2 shave evilusion don r throts. Also hes givin Becky a beter grad in his clas prolly becuz shes an athist 2 and a lesban (she sad shes a femanast wich is the sam thin). Hes the wurst teecher evar.“Gesunhate (“Hello” in Germen) Lord Satin!” Hitlur sad.“Konichywa (“Hello” in Asian) Lord Satin!” Charmans Moo said.“Ello guvnuh. Bluddy hall, u wankar! (thats how they talk in Britishland)” King Jorge said.Smashey: Then apparently you didn't do the bluddy research!“Hello my Master Lord Satin!” Mr Jonson said.I new that all of us Christens wer in sirius treble if we had 2 fite thes 4 comanasts. I returned 2 my room 2 prey to God that I cold defeet them wen they showed up.Smasher: Wow, a chapter ended without a Crunchyroll and Chill joke!Smashey: Actually we made one.Smasher: Wait...Flashback Smashey: They need to stop going on doble dats and all that. They'll eventually run out of animes and hentais to watch!Smasher: Then we have to hear her gripe about watching Yaoi and Yuri!End of FlashbackSmasher: DAMMIT! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Smasher: How we're this far is beyond me...Sum of u libruls r gettin upsat abot the TRUTH in my storey. Yall say Yall wil do bad thins 2 me if I post chaptar 13? Well, fin. THEIR IS NO CHAPTAR 13!!!Smasher: But you're posting the chapter, so what gives?Also my KRISSmes brake is ovar now so im beck in scol. That mens im in Mr Jonsons class agen and he alredy sed that Becky was rite abot sumthin wen she razed her hand and ansared a questan (She sad that humens wer in the primat ordar OFF COARSE MR JONSON WUD THANK THATS RITE) but sed I was ron wen I ansared a difrant questan (I sed that see spanges are pants but Mr Jonson sed they were anemals. I men he evan brot a ded on into class 2 sho us and it CLERGY wasnt an enemal) latter. LIBRUL BYASS!!!CHAP 14: THEIR IS NO CHAP 13I was scarred abot the four hoarsemans cumin 2 get me wile I slapped. Lauren and I had 2 take turds been awake so that noone culd snek upon is.Smashey: To be fair, I feel bad for the bathrooms. They slap each other and take shits simultaneously!Lauren was relly pritty wen she sleped but I didnt kiss her on the lips becuz that is what lesbans do and im not a lesban. Also noone snacked upon us that nite.The naxt day I was lissening 2 Rash Limbag on the radio with Lauren and Lank and Oak and I reelized wat the for hoarsemans were dong last nite.“Today acorn rugged the electron in Germeny so that Adolg Hetlure is now there presadent agen.Smasher: Damn you acorns!They also riged it in Asia so that Mosey Dong is now presadent of Asia agen to. And they also got King Jorge the Thud electred King of Britainland agen by latting Mikey Moose vote. Also Mr Jonson is now the principle of my frend Saras scool in Soth Caralena becuz Obaba premoted him. He also fired all the good Christen teechers and replaced them with otter athists like Charls Darwen and Ricard Dawkans and Lennon and Clare Marx and his bruthers,” Russ Limbog said.“Ono!” I said. Not onley was Barak Ovary the dictater of America and Zelda was the rular of Hirol but now Germeny and Asia and British and My Scule were also ran by evul pepole. I wasb afeared that evantully the entare world wod be run by comanism.Smasher: *cracks up* Barak Ovary must be a really bad dictater!Smashey: Wait a minute... If Marisoo can add other random characters into this, then can't we add other?Smasher: EXACTLY! Lesbans and gays, I would like to introduce a special guest star that is TOTALLY NOT AGAINST HIS OWN WILL...Smashey: *drags hooded figure in* here he is to take my place temporarily! *walks away* BYE BITCH!Smasher: *takes hood off* Featuring Envy from the Pipsqueak May Transmutate series!Envy: What have you guys gotten me into...“We shud tell the otter Christens in the Manshan” Kink sad.“No they must of alredy lassened 2 Rosh tell it” Lauren sed. I new she was rite.“But we ned 2 do sumthin” Ick sed.Envy: Is the writing by a 2 year old?Smasher: Nah, this is normal. You'll get used to it.“I no” I sed “but we cant do anythin rite now becuz were all the way in Nentendor World and their in the reel world. Its not essay 2 go betwin them I neded God himself 2 do it.”So we want 2 Chikfela agen to help fite the gay ajenda. We culled the otter Christens their so we had a huge meting 2 discus. We were all relly scarred by what happaned that day. We neded a plane for what 2 do but it was hard becuz of how far awey the reel world was from Nintando World. We preyed 2 God 2 show us the whey becuz we didnt no wat 2 do. God sant us a massage.Smasher: How can you be scared and ask God to sant y'all a massage?Envy: *kicks feet back and raises eyebrow* I seen better writing than this.Smasher: *shrugs* NANOMACHINES SON!Envy: Nanoma...ma... Oh whatever.My parants r so STUPED. Laurens birthdey is on Janary 26 and then Velantens Day is on Febrary 14. And my parants onely gave me $1000 for both togetter. I wanted $1000 4 EECH!Envy: Ain't 500 enough? Selfish bitch...I cant by pore pepole close 2 Lauren she desarves mor then that. Shes tuning 14 (isnt it cul that my BFF is a yer oldar than me?) and shell be gong 2 hi scule next yare wile ill onley be in ate grad. Im afeared that Lauren well fine a new BFF in hi scule and forgat abot me.CHAP 14-2: THE FURST HOARSEMANSmasher: Where's chapter 14-1?I was gong 2 anotter doble dat 2 Chikfela with Lauren and Lunk and Uke. We wer waking 2 the restarant wen suddanly we turd arond and the ANTIRE BRETISH MILTRY WAS SNEKING UP BEHIND US. They wer all in ther red cots and marking in strate roes with there muskrats and they had drummar boys to kep them marcing in rithum. They had cum outta nowere.Smasher: These errors are too funny!“Were gunna bloody kill u old chap” the genital in charg of the Britush miltary sed.“no u aint” I sade.“yes we bloody r” the genital sad.Envy: You're actually right. *laughs a little*“YES TEHY BLOODY R U WANKARS!!!” sudanly I saw King Jorge the Thurd ranning up 2 us.“Ono were undar ateck!” I sed.Likn and Iek drewed there sords and Lauren and Me got in a fitting posse.“BLOODY KILL THAM” Kin Jorge said.Envy: Does every single sentence of these people have to have "bloody" in it?Smasher: She didn't do research.“bloody ok” sade the genital and son like a millan muskats wer ponted at us. We startad fitting the Bretosh Milatry lukly it taks a reel lon tim 2 relode a muskrat so we cold like stab them and punk them and stuff wile they wer buzy dong that. We mangered 2 beet alota them by dong that. Howevar their were 2 many of them. Sun it was clare that we were defeet. The Bratish luned us up in a row so they cold kil us by faring skwad.“bloody 3... bloody 2... bloody 1...” the genital sed. We tred 2 dog the bullats and Lauren and Ike mangaged 2 but I trepped and falled don so Link shelled me frum the muskat ballots. He was shat like a bajillian tims.Envy: The *ahem* genital must have a verbal tic and a bad case of uh...Smasher: Let's just say bathrom problems.Envy: Ok then.“I luv u Sara” Link sed.“I luv u 2 Link becuz ur a guy and im strate” I repled. And than Link ded. I was vary upsat abot this becuz he was my bofrend and I was vary attrected 2 him.Envy: She loves him because he was straight?Smasher: In a nutshell, She fights off lesban and gays because she's a Christian. Overall, this story makes no sense to be honest.“ILL KILL U ALL THE BRITASH MILATRY!!!!!!!!!!!!” I sade.“no u bloody wont” King Jorge said.Than I stareted ranning firs and bronystone from hevan on the Britash Miltry.Smasher: We have Bronies coming from the sky y'all!“I say!” they solders sad as they were crashed or burst into flem.“No now im bloody ded agen” King Jorge the Turd sad as I kelled him “but u wont stap the othar bloody 3 hoarsemans!!!”Once King Jorge was ded the British didnt have 2 fit us anemore.Envy: And why do this British always have to have Bloody in every sentence?Smasher: She just doesn't understand it.Envy: True.But I was stil sade abot Link been ded now.“Were all bloody sorry abot killing Link” the Britush genital sad “well halp u with the blody funarel.”So the Britash Militry came bak 2 the Manshan with us so that they cold help with Links funarel wich was the naxt day. It was a vary sad day and wen it was don the Britesh Miltary left 2 return 2 Enguld becuz they neded 2 elect a new king agen.I was still scurred frum ranning into King Jorge on the wey 2 Chikfela so that day me and Lauren and Ike and Clod (my new bofrend becuz Link was ded and Marth was stil gay) ordared piza delivary from Popa Jans (they hat Obamacar so there a gud plaec 2 eet 2) insted.Smasher: Hang on... She starts dating Cloud because Link's dead?!Envy: And she could've brought him to that Chikfela she calls it.Smasher: *facepalms and slumps down muttering* Now she's gonna do Crunchyroll and Chill with Could... ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- U libruls ned 2 stop atecking my storey. Everthin init is a thosand percant troo and I stil dont no wy everone think ima lesban. IM NOT A LESBAN PEPUL!!!CHAP 15: EVUL CLON SARAA few deys aftar Oinks deth I was wakking threw the Manshan with Lauren and Clod and Uke.Smasher: Aw, man, Oink's dead! I wkald past the room wuth the TV scrans that shood us wen Satin and Omaba brot the for hoarsemans. Their was taking frum insid it agen so I opaned the dore agen and saw that it was stil shoing Subspas World with Obummer (Haha!) and Satin.(Haha!) and Satin.“King Jorge is ded agen” Satin sad.“OMG that sux” Obaja sed.“I no” Satin sid “nao theres onley 3 hoarsemans and whatif Lauren an Sara an all those oter pepole kill them 2”Envy: Then I guess you're screwed. Besides, I hear she's called a... uh...Smasher: Mary Sue.Envy: Exactly. 'whatever that means...'“Dont wary my mastars!” Mr Jonson came into The Room.“u have a plane Mr Jonson” Ona,a saod.“Yes” suddanly I WALK IN SUMHOW EVAN THO I WASNT THEIR!!!“ONO ITS SARA!!!” Satin and Obana pupped their paints.Smasher: How're there so many Obanas?!“No thes is a clon of Sara” Mr Jonson sed “I mad her in my siense clasrom with the halp of my favortest stoodant.”Suddanly Becky waked in The Room. Becky is relly stooped but thinks shes so smart becuz she wares glases and gets relly gud grads and stuff but shes an athist and a librul and a “femanast” wich relly mens shes a lesban my dad sed wen I aked him wat a femanast was also she has lotsa zots and acme on her fase and shes relly fat to I men I sawd her bying a SIEZ 6 pans frum Targat (lol shes so pore and morbadly obase) I dont lik her at all!!!Envy: What a prestigious bastard.“This clon is exectly like Sara EXPECT SHES A LESBAN!!!” Becky sed.“How didu maek that hapen” Satin sed.“First we mad a normel clon of Sara and than Becky rapped her” Mr Jonson sad.“Iv alweys ben jelus of Sara becuz shes so much pritter and smartar than me and I hav an obveus lesban crush on her so it was fun 2 rap her clon” Becky sid.Envy: Doesn't lesbianism happen naturally?Smasher: Of course. In here, however, if you get rapped by the same gender, then you become a lesban/gay.Envy: This writer makes no sense...“Can I go kill the reel Sara and than rap Lauren and have a treesam with her an Becky now” Evul Clon Sara sed.“No u dont hav Reel Saras God Powars since I got her ganetics b4 that hapend so u cant kill her u ned 2 rap her into a lesban 2 so that shell turn into an evul lesban and use Gods on powars agenst him” Mr Jonson sid.“Ok” Evul Clon Sara sed “than well have a lesban 4 way aftar I rap my good verson and Lauren”“Thats the sperit” Obaba seid.“I luv u Evil Clon Sara” Becky sed than she and my evul clon startad makin ot wich was DIGUSING becuz evan if I was a lesban WICH IM NOT id dat Lauren becuz shes so pritty and Becky is so uglay. But im not a lesban so I wan 2 dat duds not ether of them evan tho Lauren is my BFF and shes so pritty and I luv her in a frend way not in a romentic 1 becuz im not a lesban.Envy: The way you go on about Laura pretty much makes you act like one, dumbass.“OK Evul Clon Sara sinc u dont have Saras God Powars Lord Satin and I will giv u ars” Barock Obema sed.So than Omaha and Satin gav Evul Clon Sara there powars.“Now go 2 the Smash Manshon and rap Lauren and the reel Sara!” Satin sed.“I cant wate until thos 2 r lesbans 2” Evul Clon Sara sed “I will hav so much lesban sax with Lauren wen shes a lesban.”I new that my clon was NOTING LIEK ME AT ALL wen she sad that becuz im not a lesban Lauren is my BFF not my luver.Smasher: There wasn't really anything to point out nor say about this chapter. Feels like a filler if you ask me.Envy: The thing is... How did they managed to put cameras up in this Subspas world?Smasher: Logic.U no wats relly funny?Smasher: *plays Filthy Frank - STFU* I sed Becky wers a siz 6 paints in the lust chaptar but I checked her pints siez in jim class today and she acsholly weres a SIZ 8 now. Lol she git evan fattar. I wer a siz 2 in case ur wondaring. Im trying 2 get 2 a siez 0 lik Lauren.Envy: *laughs*The naxt day I was along outsid of the Manshan loking at all the flowars and stuff becuz they smolled like Lauren and were pritty liek her. It was all pacefel and stuf and I dident c aney dangar. I wuz on hi alurt tho becuz I new Evil Clon Sara wod cum 2 the Manshan son and I wantad 2 be reedy. Butthan wen I luked arond agen I sawed MOSEY DONG THE SECANT HOARSEMAN and he was ridding Godzela and had a buncha samereyes and nunjas and otter asoan stuff with him.Envy: Probably Fullmetal Shorty's with him.I was all along and scurred and I crayed for Lauren 2 cum sav me but she wasnt nier so I culled 4 my bofrend Clod but he wasnt their ether so I stated culling nams of allthe Christen smasers but I was al along.“Noone is here to herp u” Charmen Moo sed. Than Gidzela rored.“Ono” I sed.“Now Godzera is gunna eet u” Cheerman Mow “but firsts I wir sand ar of thes sameris and ninjas to kir u”“Please no” I sed.“To rate. Rord Satin wir be vary preesed” Charming Moai sid.Smasher: Finally, no Mary Sue B.S!Suddenly the sameris and nonjas atuked me so I hed to fit tham. I killed like a thosand of eech b4 thay wer all defeet. Than Godzela attecked me buy tring 2 eet me an he wuz so hug that I coldnt beet him normely. So I hed 2 us my finale smosh and turd in2 a angle. I reined divyne furry on Gidzola and Mosay Dong as an angle and killed them both.Smasher: DAMMIT!“u kirred me!!!!!” Charmin Mai sed as he dyed. Godzula jus rored and falled ovar. I retuned 2 the insid of the Manshan and tolled Lauren and Clod and Ack and aney utter Christen smasgers I cold fine abot my fit with Mosey Dong an Gozala and the samires and the ningas. Wen I got 2 talling Maryo he wuz confised.“Bat ho wer u outsid fitting Charmun Mos wen u war in her minuets ago” he sed.Smasher: Probably all them 1-up 'shrooms!“no I wusnt” I repled.“ya u wer u wen in2 peeches rom 2 take 2 her alon” Maryo sed.“ONO THATS NOT ME THATS EVUL CLON SARA AND SHES A LESBAN SO PECH IS IN DANGAR!!!!!” I yeled.“OMG thats turible” Maryo sed.Envy: Well she didn't have to yell...So Me and Maro runned 2 Pechas romo 2 trey 2 sav her frum Evul Clon Sara and we mat up with Lauren and Clod and Oke alon the wey. Wen we gut 2 The Room we opaned the dore and insid PAECH AND EVUL CLON SARA WER HAVIN LESBAN SAX!!! WE WER ALREDY 2 LAT!!!Envy: Hey, be glad it wasn't you.“Ono my gurlfren is a lesban now!” Marui sed. Pach and Evul Clon Sara stapped having lesban sax and luked at us.“hi good Sara... and Lauren” Evul Clon Sara stated aprochin Lauren deductivelay.“Stey bak” Lauren puled ot her crass 2 repealed Evul Clon Sara an Peech.“Lauren! I jus went 2 hav a forsam with u and Good Sara and Becky” Evul Clon Sara sed.“Ew Becky is so discussing!” Lauren sed “shes so fat and stooped.”Smasher: *raises a eyebrow* Racist!“Ino but shes the resin ima lesban so im grateful 2 her” Evul Clon Sara sed.“Wy wold u be grateful 4 the persan who mad u a bad persan whos gong 2 hell” I sed.“becuz im hapey that ima lesban” Evul Clon Sara sed.“it dosnt matar ho hapy evul maks u ur stil evul and u wil be vary unhapy wen u dye and go2 hell 4 been a lesban” I sed.“wel than ill mak u an Lauren jon me in hell” Evul Clon Sara sed.Envy: Are they going to fight?!“Lets ran outa her” Clod sed. So Lauren and Me and Maryo and Clod and Icke runned outa The Room lukily Peech and Evul Clon Sara want bak 2 lesban sax and didnt chas us.Envy: Hey, you didn't make a Crunchyroll 'whatever that is' and chill joke.Smasher: YES!! *cracks open beer* Cheers for that Palm Tree!Envy: *frowns* You sure didn't remember that... ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- I stell dont no wy everone thanks ima lesban wen im not. Been a homasexal is a choys so im not a lesban becuz idont chos 2 be 1. I CHOOZ 2 BE STRATE!!! Taht wey ill go2 heven an nut hall wichis wer lesbans go wen they dye.Envy: Not really...CHAP 17: LONK IZ EN SUBSPASI was wakling passed the rom with the TV screans agen and I herd voises cumin frum insid it agen and I went insid the rom becuz the last 2 tims it was impotent. Wen I luked on the screns I saw that Limk was tid up in Subspas World and Bark Obems and Satin wer naxt 2 him. “Haha we hav u prisanor!” they sed “and sone well hav a gay guy in her 2 rap u so u tirn gay”“No that wont work” Loin sed “I new that mite hapen soi pored alota supper gloo in my butte so gay gays coldnt rap me evar becuz there man parts cant getin their wen its close all the tim.”Smasher: Two things. 1: Wasn't Loin supposed to be dead, and 2: How do you put supper gloo in your asshole?Envy: This writer's going places! “Ono u otsmart us but we ned 2 fin sum supper glo remuvar well kep u tid up wile we do that” so Satin and Borat Obaema leaft the room. I runned outa the tv scren rome becuz I new I onley had a lettle tim 2 sav him befor Saten and Ohama got the supper gloo removar and I didnt want 2 fale lunk like I falled marp.Envy: Does that stuff even exist? I runned don the hellway until I fond Lauren. She wasnt in the Manshan yet wen Marht was turn gay so I new shed be an impotent fector in saven Pink. Hoever b4 I cold talk Evul Clon Sara runned from the otter way.Smasher: Actually... she ran the other WWWWAAAAYYYYYAAAYYY!!!“Stey away from Lauren Evul Clon Sara” Evul Clon Sara sed.“No ur Evul Clon Sara” I sed.“No im the reel Sara” Evul Clon Sara sed “u r Evul Clon Sara. And ill led Lauren into the safty of r room 2 protact her from u. Fillow me Lauren.”Smasher: I mean, how can you not trust her?“No dont lissen 2 her shes Evul Clon Sara and shell jus rap u wen u go2 r room with her” I sed.“I dont no wich on of u is the reel Sara!” Lauren sed “we hav 2 do a test!”“OK” I sed. I new I cold win becuz im the Reel Sara.Envy: And a Mary Sue.“OK” Evul Clon Sara sed. She felled rite in2 the trap becuz I new Lauren wodnt fall for her trikes. Also unlik me Evul Clon Sara was a lesban so she coldnt passibly get the rite ansars 2 questans that a strate gurl lik me wode no.“Firts queston is for thes Sara” Lauren ponted 2 Evul Clon Sara “How ded we first meat.”“R mothars wer in Bibal stody togetter so they lerned they had dotters around the sam aeg so on day wen I was 4 an u wer 5 thy brot me 2 ur hose. U wer play legan of zalda the wide wanker on ur gamcoob and it was the furst tim I evar saw a girl playing vido gams evan tho my bruther had a plystashun 2 that he playd Maiden Fitball gams on.Envy: The Wide Wanker?Smasher: It must be about a wanker who's wide and jerks off. U wer waring a gren shit and bloo genes and evan than I thot u wer vary pritty. Wen I spant mor tim with u I stared 2 like vidoe gaems 2.” Evul Clon Sara said. ONO! THAT WAS RITE! EVUL CLON SARA MUSTVE HAD ALL MY MAMMARIES!!!“Rite” Lauren sed. Than she turd 2 me “now othar Sara what was the first gam u oned for urself that wasnt ure bruthers.”“I got the playstaton 1 gam fenal fantesy steven wich was old evan than 4 my fiveth birthfday that septamber. Thats the gam with Clod inet” I sed “I pleyed it at ur hose erlier becuz ur sister oned it 2.”Smasher: Well... at least she played a damn good game.“Rite” Lauren sed “sence both of u were rite we hav 2 do a tye braker. Both of u at the sam tim yell the nam of ur favoret stor.”“Victoras Secrete” I sed. I dont acsholly by stuff ther that oftan but I like 2 lok at all the pritty womans in ther catlog and on pictars in the stor but onely becuz I hop 2 lok liek them sumday not becuz ima lesban.“Hom Deppo” Evul Clon Sara sad revelling hersalf 2 be the fak. Lauren stapped away frum Evul Clon Sara becuz we both new that my clon was a dangaros lesban.Envy: It's gonna need to be another tie breaker. They're both acting like lesbians.Smasher: True!“Ono u fond me out!!!!” and Evul Clon Sara runned away.I telled Lauren abot how I saw Link captared in Subspas so we had 2 sav him. We fond the otter Christen smaserrs and prepaired 2 goto Subspas agen. Hopfully thes tim turd ot bettar.Envy: *sighs* how much longer do I need to suffer...Smasher: ...Aah, you can go now.Envy: YES! *leaves* LATER, BI-ATCH!Smasher: *chuckles*Im so scarred 2day. Laurens sister Leslie was bak form collage 4 this wekend and she was waching a sho on her commuter called Baffy the Umpire Slayar wich is a relly old shoe abot lesbans. Smasher: Huh... I thought it was a show about a woman fighting Umpires. She sed she burrowed the complet DVD sat from on of her collage frends. Im afeared that LESlie (c its rite ther in her nam) was turn into a lesban at collage wich I herd happans 2 good Christen gurlsd sometims. This gos alon with her votin 4 that gary jonson guy insted of Mit Roomba.Smasher: If that R was replaced with a G, then I'd be laughing my ass off.I hed 2 slep relly clos 2 Lauren in bed so her sister coldnt rap us wen we seeped. But Laurens sister is still here and shell be back in 2 weks 4 Laurens birthday whatif her “presant” 4 her sister is LESBAN SAX!!!CHAP 18: RETUNE 2 SUBSPASLauren and Me got Clod and Icke and Ton Lik and Pet and Nads and Lookus and Maroi and Looeg and Sonak and Mastur Chafe and Kurby and Kang Deedee and we all want 2 Sunspas 2 sav Loink.Smasher: Wait, you got a pair of balls to help you? Don't look up 'nads' y'know...We new it was dangares becuz their ware moar gays and lesbans in Subspas then in Sen Fransisko also Stain and Brick Obsma wer their and they war the evullest pepole 2 evar live.We got 2 Subspas and wer insanely swarned by enemas. They atecked us but we fot back. I used my God powars and Lauren used her awsamness and Clod used his ginormes sord and ded omneslush and Icke used his sord 2 and so did Tone Loc. Pet baneshed the bad guys 2 hell and Nas and Lucius used there magek powars.Smasher: Lucius Fox's a magician?Maro and Logi shat furballs and Sonec turn in2 a bull 2 hit the evul pepol. Master Chef shat them with a ton of gans and Kirb and Krang Deedee used big hamas. It was a reel difecult fit but we 1. Than 2 Germane gay guys with blod hare and blo eys atecked us and they had sastekas and I new that Hitlar the thurd hoarseman had 2 be nearbye.“Helo Sara” Hetlur sed “i dident except 2 c u her 2day.”It was Hitlur and he had his notzee army of Germen gays and lesbans with him!!!“Were here 2 save Limp!” I sad.Smasher: He's fallen and he can't get up!“But u will fale since u cant beet the powar of comunism and gayness and LORD STAN!!!” Hurler sade “NOTZEES ATACK!!!”“Yes mine furor” the notzees atecked us. Than Hitlar pulled ot a jont of pat and begun smoking it.“Dont do drugs Hitlor or u will go2 Hell” I sed. “I wont stop becuz im evul. B4 I changd the nam of Germeny 2 the Savet Onion I chaned it 2 Dutchland so I culd smok wed in amstardam evary day (if u lissen 2 his speches he sas Dutchland alota tims but nevar Germeny)” Hiter sed.Smasher: Why the fuck you lying? Why you always lying? mmm, oh my god... STOP FUCKING LYING!!I woldve talked 2 Hitlir mor abot hoiw drugs r bad but I had 2 fite the notzees he sant 2 kill us. King Deedee was hitten the notzees with his humor wen HITLIR SNEAKED UP BEHID HIM AND RAPPED HIM AND TUNED HIM GAY!!! Than we had 2 fite King Deedee 2. Wen we won I pushed Hitter of the ege of Subspas intoo oblevyon. Now Mr Jonson was the onley hoarseman left.Aftar Hetler was defeet we runned 2 the room were Likn was and he was stil ted up.“Sara! U cam 2 sav me!” he sade. B4 I cold unty him I hed 2 check his butte 2 c if ther was still supper gloo in ther I tolled Icke 2 do that and he did.Smasher: And you bitch about gays and lesbans?! Damn girl, you're ironic!“Yep theres still supper gloo” he sed. So I cute Linl free. Jus than Satin and Barko Bama return with the supper gloo remouver.“stop them they r escap!” Satin sed. Than sum gay guys jumped ot and stated rapping Clod. I new it was 2 lat 4 him so we all had 2 ran away with Libk. We managed 2 get back 2 the Smash Manshan but we wer 2 tired 2 goto Chikfela so we ordared Pupa Jons pezza agen but we didnt tup the delevery guy becuz that encorges lazyness 2 giv muny 2 pore pepol.Smasher: I don't think it encourages lazyness.Smashey: I'm back!Smasher: Long story short, Link used supper gloo so gay gays can't rap him!Smashey: Thenn... Crunchyroll and chill?Smasher: Yup. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- I spant anotter nite at Laurens hose lukily Laurens sister still hasnt rapped us and shes leavin 4 collage agen 2day. Im afred that shell try 2 turn Lauren and maybe alos me into a lesban at Laurens birthday party tho.Smasher: Do you really expect Insect will turn your friend into a Lesban?Maybe I shod bui Lauren sum pepar sprey 4 her birthday justen case (but that wont be her onley gift becuz im a good frend but not her lesban luver).Alos I dont no wy everone thinks ima slit slyts ar gurls who have sax with bois b4 marreg and iv nevar evan wanted 2 do that. Iv nevar evan wantad 2 kiss a boi b4 marrage.Smashey: Says the Slut that had sex with Link & Cloud during Crunchyroll and Chill!Also they were cloths that sho of there big sexay bobs and there buttes in ordar 2 put lesban thots in the mines of strate Christen gurls like me that we hav 2 prey 2 mak stop.CHAP 19: GOALITH THE RELLY BIG EVUL GUYThe naxt day Samas and Zekda and Paech and Evul Clon Sara wer having a lesban orgie in the cafatirea of trhe Manshan.“Stop thes” Masgter Han sed “their is a rul in the Manshan no lesban orgys in the lanchrom.”Smasher: At least he had common sense to make that rule.Smashey: Thank god he didn't hear us...“No we wont stop” Evul Clon Sara sed.“Sara? Ur a lesban” Muster Hen sid.“No im not!Q” I yalled ovar frum my table “thats Evul Clon Sara”“U hav a evul clon” I relized noone told Mastar Hans abot Evul Clon Sara.“Yea” I sed.“U ned 2 tell me wen Evul Clon Sara cum to Manshan” Mister Ham saud “theres lotsa papurwerk that neds 2 be dun whenevar theres a new smashar.”Smashey: There's so many Mister Hams in this fanfic it's ridiculous!“BUT SHES NOT A SMASHAR SHES MY EVUL CLON AND SHES LIBRUL AND A LESBAN AND A ATHIST AND SHES TRY 2 RAP ME AND LAUREN!!!” I sed.“I dont care we ned 2 be tolerate” Mastet Hadn sed.“No u cant tolert the gay agend theyll tune ever1 into gays and lesbans if u dont sand them 2 prisan until they die and goto Hell” I sed.Smasher: One minute it's yelling, then you're calm?“Stop been a homophone Sara” Mastur Hand sed.“U r wrung!” I starmed off angerly and Lauren and Lank and Oke fellowed me. I coldnt beleve that Master Han was been so unresinable and I hatted him so much for goin agenst God by tuning a blond eye 2 the gay aganda. I waked passed the TV scran rome agen and herd talken agen. I want insid and loked at the screns but Beckys fat butte tooked up half the scren and her ginormes zits taked up the other half. She was wennin the award form the genius book of word retards both 4 her fatness and how big her zots r.Smashey: THAT'S RACIST! Than the award giver persan left.“Im vary unheppy!” Staten sed “Hitlar and Moai and Kang Jorge r all died and Lonk escape b4 we cold turn him gay.”“Dont wary Lord Satin” Mr Jonson sed “Me and Becky crated a new savant 4 u. His nam is Goleth lik the big guy in the Bibal who fot Kin Daved expect this Goalith wont die frum a slinshat becuz I spraid him with slinshat repealant.”Smasher: Does slinshat repealant even exist?Suddenly a relly relly big guy waked into the rom. He was relly big and like tem fetts tall and his mussels wer hug.“Bloody das boot kawaii!” he sed. I new he had 2 be haf Bretash haf Germen and haf Aslan. That cold onley meen he was mad frum the DAN of the othar 3 hoarsemans. I remambered how scurry difecult thos 3 fits were and was vary afeared abot havin 2 fit sum1 with the combened abiletys of all 3 of them.“I mad him frum the DNS of Hutler and Mosey Dong and Kang Jorge the Turd alon with a buncha othar comunits ajnd than I replased his blud with sterods so hed get relly relly big lik he is” Mr Jonson sid.“Wanker sourkraut banzai!” Goileth sid.Smasher: Plenty of bloody research not done, I guess...“Now Becky u must go 2 the Smash Mention and take Goaluth with u to beet up Sara and Lauren so u can rap them” Borak Osama sed.“OK” Becky sed. Than she and the relly big guy laft the rom. She was so fat that it was hard 4 her to fit thro the door also she coldnt see it becuz she forgat her glases becuz shes so stooped. Mr Jonson had to leed her 2 get tham. I new I was in sirius terible if I runned into Gouldeth.Smashey: You wouldn't if you stop being racist!Hay I hav a queston. I hav a frend nam Lara and she has a BFF Sauren and they r both strat Christens and they lik 2 huge ech odder adn held hans but in a strate way (wich is perfactly nomel 4 strate gurls 2 do). Butthan alova sadden last evning Lara and Sauren were in Saurens rom doin all that an than they sidenly kised each odder on the lups. How lung wod they hav 2 prey 4 God 2 forgave them and 4 the evul urgas 2 do that agen 2 go awey? Agen these 2 pepole im taking abot r Lara and Sauren NOT Me and Lauren but nun of the 4 of us r lesbans.Smasher: Um... I'm pretty sure it's both of you. YOU SWAPPED THE FIRST LETTER IN BOTH OF Y'ALLS NAMES.I herd of sumthin relly cole in englush clas 2day and I thenk ill put it in thes storey now.CHAP 20: GOLATH CUMS ALSO BECKYS RELLY FATThe nexr day I was train with Lauren on the Finial Dissertation stag. Her lon bron hare blewed in the brez as I starred in2 her depp bloo eys. Even tho we ABSALUTLY R NAT LESBAN LUVERS were still BFFs so it was difecult 2 hav 2 fit her evan if it was only jus 2 trane.Evantilly Lauren wan and we laft the aroma. Suddenly Libk runned up.“Manshan is undar ateck!” he sad. We runned 2 the frant dore 2 the Manshan. I excepted it to be Goleth an Becky and I was rite. The antire Manshan was shuken like an erthquack from the wate of Goalths mussels and Beckys obasety.Smasher: Remind me to put a warning sign in the notes.Smashey: Okay.“Bloody blitskreeg karaty” Geliath sed.Lonk tred 2 het Galith with his sord but was noked away. Than Ike tred that 2 but was noked away 2. The sam thin happened wen Tin Lenk tryd that. Pit tred 2 use his heven bow but Golsath runned ovar and knacked him unconshus. Than he knacked ot the otter Christen smashers expect for Lauren and Me. Wen he tred 2 ran tords us 2 Becky stapped him.Smasher: GO ATTACK ON TITAN ON HIS ASS!!!“No. I went tham 2 be awak wen I rap tham. Ty tham up” Becky sed. Goalith grab sum rop and ted Me and Lauren up.“Sara Im gonna rap Lauren fisrt. I want u 2 hav 2 wach as ur BFF becums a lesban in luv with me. Than Ill rap u 2” she sed.Smasher: *brings out radio and plays Feuerroter Pfeil und Bogen*“no stey away” Lauren sad.Goleth waked ovar to held Lauren stil but he was suddenly shat! I loked ovar 2 were ballot cam frum and I saw it was my bruther Josh.Smasher: *throws radio on floor and gets up* FUUUCK!!! *kicks radio*“Get awey form my sistar and her frend” Josh sed. Sudanly the son Reel Amerkan by Huck Hogen startad playen (My bruther werks ot 2 this son alot. Its anoyin sum of the tim wen im tryen 2 do sumthin eels but the musac fils up the hose. And wen Me and Lauren r togetter 2 do normel strate girl frend thins the musac roons the mod. But thes tim its god becuz hes their 2 sav us. Also hes an ant hero wich I herd abot in englash class 2day wich mens he can do stuf that normel heros like Me and Lauren cant).Smashey: So he's a ant?Josh put an AR fiften undar ech arm and opaned fir on Goaleth. Wen he shat all the bulets he throed the gans aside and garbed 2 rockette lanchers and fird the rockettes than he throed sum groinaids. Al of this injared Goalith and scarred him away. He tred 2 shat Becky 2 but she was so fat that the bullet just bonced of. She runned away anyway tho.Aftar Josh unted Me and Lauren Mastar Hanes and Crapy Han flayed in.“Wats gon on here?” Mastur Hen sed.“I jus savd ur manshan and ur smashers u stooped glov” Josh sad.“That was amazin” Mustard Hans sed “do u want 2 jon the smashers? Ill get tha papurwerk.”Smasher: NO! *opens beer*“No I werk along” and so Josh walked ot the frant dor of the manshan “Ill cum back 2 protact my sistar wen she neds it but I dont wanna lessen 2 anyuns authorety but Gods.”And son Josh was gon.Smashey: Oh, so he's just there and then leaves?Smasher: I thought we were going to get some AoT action... *faceplants down on table and starts to wimper*Smashey: Now, now... *pats Smasher's back* ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Im starten 2 get scarred that Bjork Obema and the librul medea mite find thes storey and mak fenfacshunnat tak it don so no im on the wating lest 4 anutter sit call archev off r on wich ill put a bakip of this on for if the libruls remov my storey her 2 silance me I cam contenu it their. I wilnut be sillans Brak Obuma!!!!Smasher: I don't think he would actually do that...CHAP 21: THE GUD TEECHERIt was a fwe days latter and Josh was stil in hidan and we coldnt fine him. So I went on anuther doble dat 2 chickfela with Lauren and Lunk and Ije.Both: AND THEN CRUNCHYROLL AND CHILL!I was eetin my fod wen sudanly a famelar persan I wasnt excepting cam and sat naxt 2 me.“Hi Sara” she sed.“Hi Tiffany” I sed back.It was my englash teecher Miss Dawson but I call her Tiffany evan tho in reel life shes ben tell me 2 stap dong that 4 moths and ses shell giv me a dameret if I doit agen.Smashey: Dafuq's a dameret?In this storey shes ok with it tho. Shes relly patent with me evan tho I hav dislexa and wratin is hard. She evan lets me cum in aftar scule sumtims 2 get help with wrating. I thank that mens wer frends. I thank dislexa is a chalunge that God mad 4 me jus like he mad girls so much mor atrective than bois so thet steying strate wodnt be 2 esy for me and id hav 2 werk at it. Im try hard 2 overcum both chelenges so I can hav a gud life and than goto hevan.Smashey: But how many times you had to orgasm is beyond us Marisoo.Shes also yung and pritty 4 and smells nise. The onely bad thin is that shes engag 2 Mr Jonson of al pepole in fact I wrot the first chaptar of this storey aftar she cam into class and telled us she was engage. Most of the girls in my class r made abot the engagmant becuz they think Mr Jonson is hawt 4 sum resin but hes an athist librul and hes not gud enuf 4 Tiffany.“I jus braked up with Mr Jonson becuz hes evul” Tiffany sed.“Cool” I sed. So we all want back 2 manshan togetter. Wen we git 2 the Manshun and Mister Ham flewed up.“Sara u ned 2 stap brinen new pepol her” Matter Han sed “espeshully withot dong the paparwerk.”“Master Hanes ur such a jurk why do u hav 2 be that wey” I siad.Smasher: She didn't ask for a job! *mutters what a asshole!*“Its ok Sara” Tiffany sed “Ill do thes relly big globe thins paparwerk.”“Its ok Sara” Tiffany sed “Ill do thes relly big globe thins paparwerk.”And so Tiffany left 2 do that. I went 2 the TV scren rom agen 2 see if the evul pepol wer up 2 anythin. Mr Jonson luked sad.“My gurlfrend braked up with me becuz im evul” he sed.“Thats ok we shuld probebly tell Samas 2 rap her into a lesban aneway” Barick Amoeba sid.Smasher: Aah, it's a Amoeba. Don't worry about it.“Yea go do thet now Becky Samas is prolly in Hom Deepo becuz shes a lesban” Satin sed.“Ok” Becky sed “I was gon 2 goto their aneway becuz ima lesban 2. Wen Miss Dawson (shes not god enuf frens with Tiffany 2 call her by her furst nam) is a lesban shell go bye Ms Dawson becuz thats wat librul lesban womens do and than shell giv Sara a F and rap her.”And so Becky laft 2 goto Hom Deepo. I was scarred agen. I had 2 protract Tiffany form becom a lesban! Id stap her befor she got 2 Hom Depo but im strate so I didnt no were the neerest on 2 the Manshan was and evan if I did that plaec wold sertenly be fill with 2 many lesbans so I just had 2 protect Tiffany by stayen neer her.Smashey: Oh come on! She just wants to drop a mixtape!I want 2 tell everone abot wat I saw. Lauren and Lenk and Icke jonned me in protect Tiffany frum been rap by Samas.B4 u read this chaptar u ned 2 her abot my frist and thenkfuly onely trep 2 Hom Deppo in reel life.Smasher: No one cares, moving on!CHAP 22: ASALT ON HOM DEEPO PART 1 THE PLANEAftar I told Lauren and Lunk and Ikd abot wat I saw in the tv scren rome I wated 4 Tiffany 2 get dun with her meetin with Mister Hanes. Wen she was dun she came outsid Mastar Hens orifice.“Becky iz gon 2 Hom Deepo 2 tel Samas 2 rap u” I tolled her.“Ono” Tiffany sed “we ned 2 do sumthin”“Dont worry” I sed “Were gonna all protact u”“I thenk that all thes lesbans in Hoem Deppo ned 2 be delt with” Lonk sed.Smashey: Here we go again!“But their r 2 maney of tham their” I sed.“Thats wy we hav 2 do sumthin” Tiffany sid “Hom Deepo is the fecal pint of all lesban actevity in the ara.”“Its 2 dangaros 2 try to fite tham their on there hom terf” I sed. Lauren put her han on my shulder.Smasher: *mockingly* OH, BUT NOT IN A LESBAN WAY!!“Dont worry Sara we all belev in u” Lauren sed.“Thank u Lauren” I smoled at her.Smashey: Good guess tough...“So ur atecking Hom Deppo” I tuned tords the dor and Josh was their “how cani help”“We ned a plane” I sed.“Ill cum up with on” Tiffany sed “jus brin all the Christen smashers 2 a mating room in an ower.”Smasher: So they're having another orgy?Smashey: Thank god none of the other Smashers are reading this, otherwise we'd be off the roster!So we wated an owar an than went 2 the meting room with all the Christen smashers. Tiffany had a perjactor huked up 2 a commuter and than she stated shoing us her plane.“firt of all we ned 2 splat up in2 2 teems” Tiffany sed “Ill be staying her as mishon contral and luking at a map of Hom Deepo on the intranet to tell u were 2 go thro walkytalkys. Sara and Josh r the teem captens and u ned 2 salect ur teem members. Sara go furst”“I chooz Lauren” I sed.“I chooz Master Chef” Josh sid.“Link” I sed.Both: Obviously!“Maryo” Josh sed.“Icke” I sed.“Pet” Josh sad.“Nas” I sade.“Lookus” Josh sed.“Loygee” I sadi.“Tone Lik” Josh saod.“Sonec” I sed.That ment Kerby went with Josh. R teems went ovar 2 us as we called tham. Than Tiffany contenued with her plane.“Joshs teem neds 2 fite the Mexakans outsid of Hom Deepo and than baricad the entranses 2 kep renforcments frum ariving. Saras teem will cleer ot all the lesbans frum insid the stor. Wen that part of the misan is complet u ned 2 fined a wracking ball and destroy the stor itsalf ons and 4 all. That well mak mist of the lesbans dispars frum the area.”Smasher: ...Why Mexicans? What did they do wrong?“This sonds like a plane” I sad. So we all got reddy 2 go 2 the lesban HQ an tak the fit 2 them.I feneshed shaping 4 Laurens birthday 2day. Hopfully she liks wat I gav her. I havent talked 2 her much in reel life since Sunday but not becuz were akward abot r kiss becuz we didnt kiss and we r strate and not lesbans.Smashey: Yet you go on about her!CHAP 23: ASALT ON HOM DEEPO PART 2 INVASHUN OF HOM DEEPOWe all aproched Hom Deepo form a hill overloking it. The parken lot was petrol by maxipads. They wer speckin spanush insted off inglosh becuz they wer inedible imegrunts. Joshs teem runned don the hull 2 tham 2 get there attrition.“kay pasta ombray” the leder of the mexakans sed wich was prolly an insalt in there luggage.Smasher: Translating that would mean they sa- oh wait, we can't understand it.“SPECK ENGULSH!!!” Josh het the mexakan leeder in the fase. He garbed his sambaro and threwed it lifk a frazbe at Josh but Josh bloked it with his feetbal helmut. Than Josh usd his linbaker skills form fotball 2 tickle the Moxiecan leder. Than the rest of Joshs teem came. They fot the Maxekuns 2. Wile my teem runned into Hom Deepo 2 fite the lesbans.“Sara wach ot theres lesbans direct 2 ur left (becuz lesbans 2 leftwong)” I herd Tiffany say threw my walkytalky. She was on a websat of the intranet that shoed were all the lesbans wer in Hom Deepor and alos were I was.Smasher: That doesn't even exist!“Now theres lesbans hidin behind the cheekot lines” Tiffany sed. I threwed sum groinaids at the chekoot lins and blowed up the hidan lesbans. Than we sneeked farther into Hom Deepo.Their wer lotsa lesbans in their 4 us to fite. I used my god powars and my dads shitgun. Lauren used marital arts (shes a blokbalt in ty kwahn doe). Lunk shat aros and boms at the lesbans. Smashey: Jesus Christ, Link has one of the worst cases of diharreah of all time!Icke dekapitated them with his bug sord. Nas used pk fir on them and Loige did that thin were he flays reely far with a headbutte and Sonec runned reely fat and turd into a boll. We wer in hedcarters of lesbans tho so they kep cumin. Than Samas and Zelsa and Peacg and Evul Clon Sara and Becky came. The othar lesbans steeped asid 2 let tham thro becuz they wer the most impotent lesbans.“Well well luk who came” Samas sed.“I thot the Mexakans wod stap u” Celda sed.“My bruther is fitting tham” I sid.“Well than he will dye all Maxkuns hav drig kartal tranning so they no how 2 fite reel gud” Patch saod.“And were gunna rap u and Lauren 2 mak up 4 all the lesbans u killed b4 r massev orgi 2day” Evul Clon Sara sed.“And than well all go2 the Manshan and rap Miss Dawson and Mister Hanned will letus becuz he is tolarent of r evul gay agrnda” Becky sed.Smasher: How do you rap Mister Hanned?Smashey: NA- *gets punched my Smasher*“No ill stap u” I sed.“Ha theres onley a few of u and alota us” Becky sed “and im fat enuff 2 cont 4 lik ten pepole wile u and Lauren r so thin and pritty and stuf.”“But u forgat on thin I hav God on my sid” I sed.“But were athists so we wershap Satin and dont beleve in God” Samas sed.“And that wy u well los” I sid “wen God crated the Erth SIX THOSAND YARS AGO he mad sur that gud wold alweys triamp ovar evul!”Smasher: *yawns* DBZ conversations are tiring me out!“Lol ur stooped Erth is billons of yars old nut six thosand” Becky sad.“No ur wron and u libruls r usen ur byasd carban doting 2 lye 2 the pepole and try 2 undmane the werd of GOD!!!” I sed. I actived my finel smush and gut reedy 2 fite all the lesbans at onse.Ho meny tims doi hav 2 say it IM NOT A LESBAN AND NETHER IS LAUREN and im not in dental. Also I have anothar day of from skule on Mundy becuz of Marten Loother Kin Day. I forgat what he ded 2 get a holaday but hes blak so he was prolly the first MVP of the NBA or sumthin.Smasher: *breaks down laughing* Politically Incorrect through the roof!I wondar if their will be a Lebran Jams day sumday I liek the Mami Heet becuz they wine all the tim and sens all baskatbell tems r filed with libruls I dont have any otter way to chooz wich tem to rout 4.CHAP 24: ASALT ON HOM DEEPO PART 3 SARA CONCURS HOM DEPPOInsanely wen I activeted my finale smish a buncha lesbans leept 2 pine me to the grond but I mad a fors feld that disinterested them. Than I fird sum mor beems of hevanly lite that vaparized mor lesbans. Than Peech fgarbed a chansaw frum on off the shelvs and runned at me weth them. I graped the chansaw blad and riped the cghan of wile it was ranning and than knacked Peech asid an she was unconshus.Smashey: Wouldn't that cut your hand off?Son it was cleer 2 them that I hed wone and Becky gat ot her fone and culled Satin and Derek Obauma. Saddenly a porthole opaned up 2 Subspas.“Hurray getin” Oibama sed. Becky and Evul Clon Sara and Samas jumps into the porthole and Zelda tred 2 fillow them but Lonk used the cootball skills that Josh tot him 2 tackal Zelda and the porthole closed b4 she cold get 2 it. Than Oak noked her unconshus.Smashey: ARE YOU A BOY OR A GIRL?Smasher: Good one, man!“I see onlin that u nocked Peech and Zalda unconshus” Tiffany sid.“Yea” I sed “Shud we kill them b4 they wak up”“No. I hav an ida. Ty them up and brin them 2 my rome wen ur dun with destoryin Hom Deppo” Tiffany sade.“ok” I sod.So aftar I got rod of al the lesbans that wer stil in hidden I walked outsid and Link climed into the wreking ball masheen and destructed Hom Deepo. Aftar that was dun we hird a consecration teem 2 build a new shaping mall there and they wold hav gards 2 mak shur gays and lesbans didnt cum inside. Smasher: *trying not to laugh*Than we laft 2 retune 2 Tiffanys rom with the unconshud Zedla and Peech. Alon the wat they waked up.“Hey will u leyus go so wecan rap u” Zeda sed.“No” I sed.“But yule lik been a lesban” Peech sed “Evul Clon Sara is a lesban and shes relly hapy.”“But shes gong 2 hell” I sade “I chooz 2 be strate 2 goto hevan.”“U ned 2 stap lissen 2 ur parants their is no haven and Lord Staten will be nise 2 u in hell” Zepda sad.Smasher: Why the fuck you lying?Smashey: Why you always lying?Both: mmm oh my god... STOP FUCKING LYING!“No Stan is evul and ur a lyar!” I shatted “NOW SHADDAP OR ILL NOK BOTH OF U UNCONSHUS AGEN!!!”Tesla amd Peevh shat up. Son we retuned 2 the Manshan.“Sara wy did u destruct Hom Deepo” Mastar Hend sed he was watting outsid the frant dore.Smasher: Because plot device.“That dosent mater u ned 2 be tolerate and wy r Peech and Zelda tid up” Matter Hemp sedd.“Becuz Tiffany wants 2 c tham in her romo” I sid.“Why” Nastier Hen sed.“I dont no but it sonds impotent” I sed.“Ok but u ned tobe punash 2 destoryen Hom Deepo. So no mor maches 4 u untel I say so!” Mastar Han flayed of.Smashey: Yaaay!“I cant beleve Mister Hond.“Hes suck a stooped jurk!” Lauren sed. She huged me becuz she new I felt bad abot my unfar punashmant. We toke Paech and Zeald 2 Tiffanys room.“Ok there her” I sed “why dou want 2 tid up lesbans in ur room they mite brake free and rap u.”“Good Sara” Tiffany sed “Dont wary abot me I hav a gun and Im getin Master Chef 2 be my armed gard (ALL SKULES SHUD HAV ARMED TEECHERS AND ARMED GARDS BARK OBAMAS KIDS SCULE HAS THOS BUT HE DOESNT WANT ANY OTTER SCOL 2 BECUZ HE DOESNT CAR ABOT ANY1 ELSES KIDS BUT HIS ON HE JUS WANTS 2 TAK AWEY EVERONES GUNS). Asfor wy I ned thes to well I ned 2 test thins on tham becuz IM GONA ADVENT A CUR 4 HOMASEXALITY!!!”Smasher: ...Smashey: *grabs ray gun and shoots self in head*Smasher: ...Shit. *gets up and leaves* Hey Envy! I need you again! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Im so exited its onley 1 wek until Laurens Birthday!!! To bad Okamis secant interrogation is on Moonday wich sorta runis the day of from scool. He didant reely win the electron goto barackofraudodotcom to lern the TRUTH abot his VADER FROG and wy Mutt Rambo shuld be presadent now becuz hes the 1 who relly win.Smasher: So Marisoo wanted a dog version of John Rambo to win instead of a frog dressed up as Darth Vader? The elections must be really interesting! CHAP 25: THE SERCH 4 A CUR For the naxt few days Tiffany was on the intranet loking up the cur 4 homasaxelty. Smasher: In which I doubt she wo- oh wait, Marisoo logic. Lauren and Me helped her with thus. I was so excite becuz of the cur not becuz I neded it becuz im alredy compliantly strate but becuz it culd help alota pepole lik Peech and Zetta and Mark and Snopes and Kung Deedee and Clod who wer all organically Christens but wer turn gay wile I was in the Mashon. Maryo sudanly came. "Did u devalop a cur 4 my girlfrend Peech yet" Marik sed."Im nit ur gurlfrend anemone im a lesban now" Peech sed."Thats a no than" Maryo laft the rom disapoint. Smasher: Well she DID friendzone him on Color Splash, so... yeah."In ordar 2 figur ot a cur I ned 2 no wy pepole turd gay wen rapped by gays and lesbans. Their has 2 be a resin forit" Tiffany sed "Sara and Lauren goto the librery and get as menuy boks as u can fine." Smasher: Let's get a little critical about this: It's because of how they want their sexuality. You can't just convert a Heterosexual person into a Homosexual by just raping them. If they want to go after the same sex, then let them go after the same sex.So Me and Lauren want 3 the libray 2 find boks abot how pepol tune gay. Mastar Hends libya was the bigast anywere so it was harrd 2 find the rite boks we runned into Crapy Hanes.Smasher: Oh my god, Crazy Hands went from going Crazy to being Crapy!“Do u no were ur bruther keps the boks abot why pepole turn gayu” I sed.“Yes but he telled me not 2 toll u becuz u ned 2 be tolerate and nut try 2 chang pepole” Crazy Hind sid.“Ill giv u munny” I sed.Smasher: For the love of god, don't pull Kingdom Hearts into this, please don't!!“ok ill halp u” Crazy Hung flayed of and came beck with lotsa boks that we neded I gav him munny and leaved the rom and want beck 2 Tiffanys rome.“Yes thes boks will halp” she sed “now I ned 2 do som reserch so brin be bak sumthin form Chikfela. So Me and Lauren and Luke and Ine went 2 Chikfela and got som fod and eat it and then ordared tak ot 4 Tiffany and tolled everone wat she was dong and the pepole that werked there gav us Tiffanys fodo 4 free becuz she was werkin on a gud claus and they sed thed halp in aneway they cold. We brot Tiffany beck the free fod.Smasher: AND THEN CRUNCHYROLL AND CHILL!“I fond ot sumthin impotent” Tiffany sed “Samas and Capten FappingSmasher: *cracks up* I just fucking love Trollfics!wernt turn gay buy rap butt bye govermint vaksine!”“o yea” I remambered that.“So we ned 2 fin the vaksine and than make it the opasit so it curs homasexelty insted off makin pepole gay” Tiffany telled us “I ned 2 reserch this sum moar aftar I eet.”She ate the Chikefla fod and than retuned 2 her wirk. It wuz a few days latter wen she fond ot mor abot the vaksine.Smasher: More like after being banged, am I right? *looks out door* Don't tell anyone I said that...“I hev god news and bed nesw. The gud noose is I fond ot were the vaksine is” she sed “u ned 2 get it so I can fin ot whats init so I can mak it the opasit and cur homasexality.”“ok ill do that” I sed.“Wats the bed news” Lauren sid.“The bed nos is Barracks Epona keps the vaksine in a secrete rom of the wite hose naxt 2 his planes 4 wite slavary.Smasher: Shame on you, Epona! No wonder Link traded you in for a motorbike!Its reely secrete and noone nos abot it so itll be hard 2 find and he well try 2 stap u becuz the wite hose is were he livs” Tiffany sod “u ned 2 us steelth 2 brake in and git the vaksine so onely bring a few pepole.”I desided 2 brin Lauren and Fink and Uke. We hed 2 snape in2 the wite hose!Smasher: OBVIOUSLY!Hello agen everone its Sonday so I hop u all went 2 chirch. If u dont u well go2 HELL!!! Smasher: Wow, what a asshole you are!I cant beleve its ben a munch sense I publashed this on Fanfectiondotnat. Tim reely files. Thanx 2 everone who laft me gud revews in that tim!This is my furst archev of or onw excloosev chaptar becuz Barik Oboma fond ot abot my storey on fanfection.netCHAP 26: SNEKING IN2 THE WITE HOSEThat nite Me and Lauren and Lank and Ice went 2 the Wite Hose in Wassinton CD. We hed 2 thank ofa plane 2 sneek insid. We want 2 the Chikfela in the city 2 talk abot r plan becuz anewere eels wod caus libruls 2 eevsdrap onus and warned Brak Odama.Smasher: I'm sure Brak Odama wouldn't care about you having a orgy at Chikfela. *slumps down* I need to stop making these "Crunchyroll and Chill" and "Chikfela" jokes...Sudanly as we were taking Guvaner Mit Ramney and Cangressmen Pal Rain and Speeker of the Hoes Jan Boner waked in2 the restarnt.Smasher: Misspelling: Coul possibly be the best thing ever done, if done right.“Hi Sara” Mott Roomie sid.“Hi guys” I sed.“God telled us what u wer dong and asked us 2 help u brake into the wite hose” Andrew Ryan sed.Smasher: More self inserts? *brings out some finger puppets and shrugs* Better than nothing!“Yes were also ned 2 get the planes 4 wite slavry becuz were all wite and dont wana be slavs 2 the blecks and the mixalots and the aslans” Guvanir Raimi sed.“Cool” I sed “Tiffany sed there in the sam rom.”“ok” Congrassmen Reyn sed.So we all want 2 the wite hose and entred threw the front dore. Suddenly a buncha libruls atecked us! Me and Lauren and Lkni and Iek and Rian and Boner stated fitting them. Butthan Ramnoy pulled ot alota munny and pade the libruls to leev becuz libruls r pore and lik gettin mony 4 noting. Than we loked 4 Barek Obsamas ovary orifice becuz that leaded 2 The Room. Suddanly Barak Ebauma cam outta a roon wering pajamas with pictars of Lennon and Stallion and Car Max al with harts around tham.Smasher: *rubs forehead* How di he went from being in subspas to here?Finger puppets: *slaps Smasher* It's plot device y'know!Smasher: Ow, jeez! *throws finger puppet away* Can't hurt myself for the rest of this...“Hey watter u dong in my hose!” he sed.“Were is the vaksine that cases gayness! Tellus or well beet u up!” I sid.Suddanly Brad Obooma puled ot a reed lifesaver! He was a Seth Lird! It was werd that he was a librul with a red litsabar and im was a consergatev wiyh a blu lutsaber but I guess star wares gotit moxed up.Smasher: *plays Duel of the Fates and grins evilly* This is gonna be good!“Go find The Room ill fit the presadent” I tolled Lauren and everone else. Than I startad fitting Brake Obbema. We fot r way 2 the rom in the wite hose with a catwalp ovar labia.“Giv up Sara u well loose” Ovama sed.“No Impala I well beet u becuz God ison my sid” I saod.“No Im gonna knak u unconshus and than get a lesban 2 rap u so ull be an evul lesban lik Evul Clon Sara” Opana sed.“Wy do u went everone 2 tune gay arent u strate u hav a wife” I sed. Butthan Mishell Obuma runned in and puled don “her” paints and reveled that “she” was a MAP with a PENS!!!*record scratch*Smasher: *throws radio out* There goes any good lightsaber fights!“No u no the trooth” Brock Obana sed.“But ho do u hav 2 dotters” I sed.“In a few yars ill get sugary 2 turn my pens in2 a vegeta and than ill get preggant and giv barf 2 tham and sand them back in tim with r tim masheen” Mishell Ogama sid.Smasher: Hope you got a scouter Mishell!“hunny dont tell Sara abot r tim masheen!” Barek Obamuh sed “it was a gif from Lord Saten!”“Its ok werent u gonna defet her and find a lesban 2 rap her son aneway” Mishell Opana sed “I want 2 tel her sumthin eels first. U mite no me by my old nam.”Suddanly Mishell Ubama stated monwelking acros the crapwhelk.Smasher: I'd play Billie Jean, but... *checks radio* shit, it's broken again!“MIKAL JAKSAN!!!” “she” sed “I fakked my on deth and tuned mysalf blak agen and pretanded 2 be a women so I cold mary my gay luver Bark Oabma.”“Ull nevar git awey with thes” I sed.“Yes we well” Barok Ohonda and Mikal Jaxun sed.Suddanly Lauren and Lunk and Ico and Renesmee and Reyn and Boner runned passed the doreSmasher: Yeah guys, just leave. Marisoo trying to have a lightsaber "fight" over here!“we got the vaksine and the savory planes” they sed. So I jamped ovar Bork Odom and Mikhail Jaksan and runned outta the wite hose witjh my frends. Wen we got otsid I telled them the dark secrete I lerned.“now giv us the planes and the vaksine and well take the vaksine 2 Tiffany and make the planes pubic so wecan impasse Opoona and his gay luver and fail there evul planes” Rimnet set. So we gav the planes and the vaksine 2 the tree consarvetav poletishens butt they stated laffing evully. They riped of there musks and reveled that they werent the reel Matt Ronmey and Pual Rany and Jan Boner atall! They were Becky and Evul Clon Sara and Goleth in disguys!!!Smasher: And how did they not even noticed Goleth? He's freaking huge for God's sake!“Were r the reel pepole!” I sed.“we tarped them in Sunspas and son Barek Ibama and Mikal Jaksan will rap them and tune them gay so thell be spys 4 the Democrat Party” Becky sed.“We hev 2 sav tham!” Lauren sed.“Ull hev 2 fite us firts!” Evul Clon Sara sed. She throwed the planes and the vaksine 2 Golath who runned away with them.Smasher: Aah, the old classic: CLIFF-HANGERS! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Happy Matin Loothar Ken Day everone! And boo 4 the falsy-elacted presadents secant inebriation! Smashey: But yay that not only I'm still alive, but ours brains are still intact! I gess Ill be rooting 4 the Revans in the supper boll becuz the 69ers r frum Sen Frensisko so there antire teem is prolly gay.Both: *tring not to laugh*I wantad the Felkans 2 win the NCF Champagneshap but they didnt becuz the reefs prolly were gay 2 and riged the gam.CHAPTAR 27: EVUL CLON SARAS FENAL SMASH“Theirs 4 of us and onely 2 of u so giv up” Lauren sed.“And I have the powars of DOG!” I sid.“Well I hev the powars of Saten and Adama!” Evul Clon Sara sed.“They wont be enuf 2 beet nme” I sed.“Yes thay well!” Evul Clon Sara sed.Smasher: Say it with me...Both: What a boring DBZ-esque conversation!“Ill fite the othars hunny” Becky gave Evul Clon Sara a discussing kis on the lisp. Lark and Spike atecked Becky with there sords but she was so fat that they coldnt cut throo 2 her blud vassals thro her thik layar of obasety. Lauren tred to panch her but her fist bonced of.Meenwile I was fitting Evul Clon Sara we were evanly powared becuz she was my clon. I new there was onely on way 2 became mor powarful than her. So I actived my finale smash!“Ha! Now u dont steand a chans aganst me!” I sed. But Evul Clon Sara jus stated laffin. Than she actived her finale smash 2. I didnt evan no she cold do that. Her finalle Smash mad her gro a hole buncha wongs lik Stepharoth the evul lady form Clods gam (shes prolly a lesban becuz ho evul she is and she has a manely vois in kindam harts 2).Smasher: No no no!! Don't attack Sephiroth, or in this case Stepharoth!Smashey: *smirks*Smasher: Plea- wait. Sephiroth + Kingdom Hearts 2 + Evul Clone Sara + Fight = ... *plays One Winged Angel*“Ono” I sed. I new I was in 4 ther fit of my lief. We stated atecking each otter and I shat holly bemas and she shat demonstrative banes. We war stall evanly powared.Smashey: In bathroom problems that is!So I preyed 2 God 4 advise.“Remamber! Evul Clon Sara cums form u!” God sed. Than I had a idiot. Smashey: Ooooh! She going to hell!I plased my han on Evul Clon Saras cheat and apsorbed her back in2 me! Than, b4 my finale Smash wore of I opaned a porthole 2 Hell that suked Becky in. I new Satin wode jus let her ot agen but she wod not have a fun tim 4 the littal bit she was their. Than my finale smash wored of and I falled on the grond.“Sara r u ok?” Lauren sed.“U want 2 hav lesban sax Lauren” I herd Evul Clon Sara in my hed.“No im strate!” I shatted.*One Winged Angel lets the air out of the band*“Wat?” Lauren sed.Smasher: Yeah. What Lauren said.“I apserbed Evul Clon Sara 2 beet her but no shes in my hed tryin 2 contral my thots and tune me in2 a lesban!” I sed.“Ono!” Lauren sed.“We ned 2 fin the vaksine 2 mak a cur 4 homasexalty!” Lick sed.“But Golath runned of with it!” Ice sad.Suddanly Josh waked up caring Goaleths savered hed in on han and the vaksine and wite slavry planes in the othar.Smasher: *throws book called "Well Made Plot for Dumbasses" Out window*“Hi everone I saw Golith runing with these so I killed him and taked them” he sed. He saw me wrathin in pane on the grond “wats wron with Sara?”“RAP LAUREN MAK LAUREN UR LESBAN LUVER RAP LAUREN” Evul Clon Saras thots flewed thro me hed. I coldnt speek (if u evar saw Lord of the Wangs Fallowshep off the Ron wen Frollo gets stab by the cloaky badguy and colapses and they thank hell tune in2 on of tham 2 so the girl frum Armegalodon taks hem 2 the alf town sumthin lik that is happen 2 me in this storey rite now).“Ty... ty... me up” was all I maneged 2 get ot.“We ned 2 tak her 2 Tiffany” Lauren sed. So they ted me up and caryed me bak 2 the Manshan. Will Tiffany fine a cur in tim b4 Evul Clon Sara taks ovar and I becum a lesban? Fined ot naxt tim!!!Smashey: Which is... now.Im bak 2 scule agen. Its gud 2 c Tiffany agen but I hav 2 call her Miss Dawson in class or shell giv me a damerit and 3 of thos is a ditenshun and my parants well be made at me if I get on of thos. I relly lik the outfet that Tiffany wore 2day shes almos as pritty as Lauren and shes a relly gud teecher. I wish she braked up with Mr Jonson in reel life lik she did in my storey.Smasher: OH BUT NO- Just get on with the story.I spant the naxt few days in Tiffanys rome. Evul Clon Sara was sloly take ovar my mined. I falt sinfel dasires 2 rap evary women I sawed. But I stell noed it was wron so I wasnt a lesban. Prolly my God Powars protracted me frum lettin Evul Clon Sara complately tak ovar. Butt I new Tiffany had 2 hury.Evantully Tiffany came with a nedle.“Im gonna inject this in u” she sed.“IM GONNA RAP U!” I sed but it was relly Evul Clon Sara contralin my thots.Smasher: Which one are we doing; injection or mixtape?Master Chef ponted his trankwilezar gun at me in cas I braked free and tred 2 rap Tiffany. Tiffany stucked the nedle in my amr and sudanly I falt a wav of putrefaction clansen my sole of the gayness and son I was as strate as I was b4 absarbin Evul Clon Sara (complately 100 percant strate pepole!).“It werked” I sid.Smasher: ... Fuck it. *leaves* I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!Smashey: *shrugs*“Ok thats grate heres a presant” she pulled ot sumthin and handad it 2 me. It was a Hom Deppo gift card.“Ew whyd u giv me this” I throwed it on the grond.“Becuz I had 2 mak sur it relly werked and u werent jus try 2 trik me” Tiffany sed “Unty her Mister Chafe.”Muster Cheef untyd me wile Tiffany injacted Peech and Zoltan with the cur 2 and tey tuned strate agen 2.“Yay! Were strate agen!” they sed.“Ok now we ned 2 cur everone” I sid. Furst we fond the pepole who used 2 be consarvetiv (March and Salted Snap and Kin Deede and Clod) and curred tham.Smashey: Boy the IQ sure is going down the roof!“Hi Sara. Sorry I was gay. Can we dat agen” Marht sed.“Well Im daten Lunk no” I sed.“Its ok ill dat Zeda no that shes strat agen 2” Lonk sed.“ok” I sid.“ok were dun no rite” Lank sed.“No we shud do the rite thin and cur the libruls 2” Lauren sed.So we went thro the Manshan curring all the libruls of there gayness and maken tham consarvetev.Smashey: So to recap... CRUNCHYROLL AND CHILL WITH MARTH! *claps* Marth's back to getting pussy!“Im so sorry I tred 2 rap u al thos tims lets go shaping sumday” Samas sed 2 me wen we curred her “but 2 a gud stort not Hom Deepo.”Soon all of the smashars wer curred and wer on r sid.“Saten and Oblama dont stand a chans!” I sed.Sudanly God walked in.“Acshully Satin figared ot what u ded and no he sumaned lotsa damons from Hell 2 gard Subspas and there relly powarfel and stuf. U will ned everone 2 halp u sav Mit Rmoney and Pail Rayn and Jin Boner” God sed “and I brot 3 mor allys 4 thes.”Smashey: Three more?Suddanly the 3 gratest presadents in histary waked in. They war Tomes Jafersan and Roland Regen and Ann Rand! Tomes Jafersan wrot the constatushan and invanted freedam. Roland Regen defeeted the comies buy knaking don all the walls in the Saviet Onion wich mad the seelings fall on al the comansts and kill them. And Ann Rand wrot Atlus Shagged wichis the most impotent bok evar expect 4 the Bibal.Smashey: Note to self: Drag more needless guest stars from random Animes into this reading.I new we had 2 hurry if we wanted 2 sav the consarvetav polynesians frum Brock Obumeh and Mikal Jaxan and Stan.Smasher: Are you done?Smashey: The gays ar-Smasher: *leaves* WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS FANFIC?!?Smashey: Umm...
10564485
Trainwreck
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Bonnie Bennett, Damon Salvatore", "Fandom": "The Vampire Diaries (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by coraxes", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-08T00:00:00", "words": "1,661", "Additional Tags": "genderbend au, Damon's a girl AU, feat. bi!bonnie", "Relationship": "Bonnie Bennett/Damon Salvatore", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Daniela Salvatore is a trainwreck, but somehow Bonnie can’t make herself look away.She doesn’t know what it is about the elder Salvatore that draws her attention.  Usually when people beg to be seen like Daniela does, Bonnie gets no small degree of satisfaction from outright ignoring them.  But something about Daniela draws the eye, even outside the whole supernatural-good-looks thing.  She drinks like a fish, looks like a model even wearing baggy men’s clothing, and hits on every girl who catches her eye.Maybe it’s the last part that catches Bonnie’s attention.  Mystic Falls is a quintessential small Southern town in a lot of ways.  There is a gay couple--one of them works at the high school--but people mostly just…ignore it.  The way they aggressively ignore that the Bennetts are one of the few Black families in town.Not that she’s sympathizing with Daniela, or anything.  The bitch has killed people, her Grams, almost murdered Bonnie herself.But there’s something about the way Daniela continues sticking around and trying, despite failure after rejection after failure.(Maybe Bonnie does sympathize.  Just a little bit.)  Bonnie didn’t like the boardinghouse when she first started coming over with Elena, but she has to admit it makes a good place to hang out.  Daniela built up a small collection of magic books, so once Bonnie gets through Grams’s she starts looking into those, too.  It’s become increasingly clear that Bonnie will have to learn as much magic as possible if she wants to keep her friends alive.Sometimes, though, Bonnie hears things she’s not meant to.  Like today; as she finds her way to the library, she hears Elena say, “I’m not Katherine.  I’m nothing like Katherine.  And even if I were, I’m with Stefan.”Bonnie hears Daniela’s disbelieving chuckle.  “You sure you’re nothing like her?”  Then, softer:  “You never know until you try.”She can picture what Daniela’s face must look like, all wide-eyed intensity, a smug smirk on her lips.  Bonnie has seen that particular look on the vampire’s face more than she would like. No sound comes from the library.  Did Elena seriously take the vamp up on her offer?But--no.  Of course not.  “I don’t need to try,” Elena says firmly.  She’s using her scolding voice, the one that comes out around Jeremy sometimes.  “It’s not going to happen, alright?”Another pause, then a sigh.  “Give it time,” says Daniela, but there’s no real conviction in it. Soft footsteps sound on the floor.  Too late, Bonnie realizes where they’re heading--just as the vampire throws open the door Bonnie has been standing behind.  “Eavesdropping, Bon-Bon?”  Daniela leans against the door frame, all lazy confidence as if she hadn’t been rejected only seconds previously.  Maybe you get used to it, after a while. “I wanted to look at your grimoires,” Bonnie says quickly.  Unaccountably, her face feels hot--something about the very, very obvious scan of Daniela’s eyes.  She resists the urge to adjust the neckline of her top. “What a coincidence,” says Daniela.  “I was just on my way to the library.”  She turns and gestures for Bonnie to go ahead of her. No matter how well Bonnie can defend herself, she doesn’t want to be cooped up alone with an irritated vampire.  Especially not one who had almost killed her once before.  “You want to join me?” Bonnie asks Elena, pointedly ignoring Daniela.Elena’s eyes dart back and forth, and she worries at her lip.  She opens her mouth to speak, but then the door creaks open.  “That must be Stefan,” she says, apologetic, and Bonnie waves a hand.  She can’t begrudge Elena boyfriend time, even if that does leave her alone with said boyfriend’s evil older sister.“What do you need in here, anyway?” Bonnie asks, once she’s poking around on the shelves.“Do I need a reason to be in my own library?  That I’m graciously letting you use, I might add.”She gives her an unimpressed look.  “Actually, Stefan is letting me use it.”Daniela shrugs.  She sits back in one of the comfortable chairs, feet propped on the table.  In her sneakers, jeans, and loose flannel, she looks like she should be drinking a beer and watching TV--not sitting in a library with books more valuable than Bonnie’s house.  “Stefan’s not the oldest.  Technically, it’s my library.”“Were women even allowed to inherit in your day?” Bonnie points out.Daniela shrugs, her mouth setting into a thin line, and Bonnie turns away.  Point to her.Still, she can feel the vampire’s eyes, focused on her like a laser sight between her shoulder blades. She wants to tell Daniela to knock it off, but what spills out of her mouth instead is, “Do you really have to try things with other girls to know?”As soon as Bonnie realizes what she’s said, her jaw clenches shut; she stares, wide-eyed, at the shelf, determined not to look at Daniela. The vampire chuckles.  “Why, witchy?  You curious?”  There’s a rush of air, a sudden warmth just behind Bonnie’s shoulder blades.  “I’ve been told I make an excellent closet key.”Bonnie takes a deep, steadying breath.  Then she pops a few blood vessels in Daniela’s brain.While the vampire is clutching her skull and swearing, Bonnie blindly grabs a tome from a shelf and walks toward the door.  “Think I’ll pass,” she says, smiling sweetly at the still-grimacing vampire, and shuts the door behind her.  (It’s not as if she hasn’t tried things with girls before.  Sleepovers with Caroline and Elena, where they’d been half-delirious from lack of sleep and stolen alcohol, worrying about knowing how to kiss once they had a boyfriend.  Parties, playing spin-the-bottle or truth-or-dare.  It hadn’t done much for her; Bonnie was too nervous and self-conscious to know if she liked it or not.  Then again, it had been the same way with most of the boys she’d kissed.So.)  Somehow, Bonnie gets stuck with Daniela-sitting.It’s one thing to work together during a crisis.  The two of them do that well.  The others are idealists; she and Daniela know what it takes to keep the rest of them safe.  But the vampire keeps turning up even when nothing is wrong, finding her at the grille, showing up at her house, texting interesting pictures she finds in grimoires.She asks her why one day when, for about the tenth time, Daniela slides across the booth from her at the Mystic Grille and starts eating fries off of Bonnie’s plate.“And cut that out, you don’t even need to eat,” she adds, scowling as she jerks her plate back.“Because I’m tired of listening to Stefan and Elena either boink or moon all over each other all day,” Daniela says with a scoff.  “It’s exhausting.”Bonnie raises an eyebrow.“Don’t give me that.  She’s not Katherine, whatever, I’m over it.”  She makes a face.  “But he’s my little brother.  Plus,” she adds, like an afterthought, “you’re the only one who doesn’t feel the need to tell me how not into women you are all the time.”Then she steals Bonnie’s ketchup, and they fight briefly over who gets to keep it. Bonnie considers.  “Still, you could be bothering anyone.  There are plenty of people you could compel to like you.  Why me?”“Don’t act like you really mind, witchy,” says Daniela breezily.  “This way you know I’m not murdering anyone, right?”  She smiles at Bonnie like murder is their private joke, and steals a fry.  At the decade dance, Daniela turns up in a pristine black-and-white tux.She twirls Bonnie around and pulls Bonnie against her and almost cares, and Bonnie really, really tries not to care back.Then Daniela’s dying, black and green spreading from the wound on her arm, sweaty and sallow on her bed. “We’ll figure something out,” she promises.  Because despite what a terrible person Daniela is--maybe something in her is worth saving. “Careful, Bonnie,” says the vampire.  She tries for a smirk, but it comes out more like a grimace.  “I might start to think you care.”Bonnie hesitates.  Then she leans forward and presses a kiss to Daniela’s cheek.  “Maybe a little,” she says, mouth dry.  Daniela just stares; and Bonnie flees from the room, telling herself it didn’t mean anything.  After she finds out about Jeremy and Anna, though--well, there’s no reason not to anymore, right?  Jeremy could cheat on her with a dead girl, but Bonnie had a dead girl of her own.  So she marches over to the Salvatore boarding house.Daniela’s sprawled on the couch--passed out, maybe; the room reeks of alcohol.  She looks like shit these days.  It doesn’t matter; she’ll do, for Bonnie’s purposes.  She shakes Daniela awake and the vampire comes to, blearily shielding her eyes.  “You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” she says, slurring a little.Bonnie reconsiders.  How drunk is she?  And how fast do vampire metabolisms work?  Plus, just.  Ew.  “How long will it be until you’re sober?”“Hangover’s setting in already,” Daniela says, faux-cheerful.  Then her eyes narrow as she takes Bonnie in.  “What’s the matter, witchy?  Someone else die?”“No.”  Bonnie takes a deep breath.  This was what she was here for, right?  She doesn’t know how to put it into words, so she straddles Daniela on the couch, bracing her hands against the back. “Oh.”  The vampire’s hands come automatically to her hips.  Daniela gives her a long, considering look; Bonnie glares back, and tries not to shiver when she feels cool breath on her skin.  “What happened to Jeremy?”“Do you actually care?” Bonnie asks, and grinds down a little.  Maybe it doesn’t have the same effect as it would with a guy--she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do here.  But she’s made herself clear.Daniela grins and leans forward, just enough so her lips brush Bonnie’s when she speaks.  “Good point,” she murmurs, and kisses her.
10533762
Never Played It Cool
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Farah Black, Amanda Brotzman, Dirk Gently, Todd Brotzman", "Fandom": "Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Lavellington", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-03T00:00:00", "words": "1,858", "Additional Tags": "faranda, I would lay down my life for these two wonderful women, but that's unlikely to come up, so I've written them making out, Farah POV, Farah has a crush on Amanda, and she's in for a pleasant surprise", "Relationship": "Farah Black/Amanda Brotzman", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "I Always End Up Where I Need to Be", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
They meet each other around the corner from the Ridgely, Amanda hopping out of the van and waving goodbye to the Rowdy 3, whom Dirk had very pointedly not invited. Farah leans against the brick wall, her arms folded and her heart beating uncomfortably as she tries to figure out what to say. She's relieved when Amanda hugs her, taking the greeting out of her hands."Dude," Amanda says, squeezing her tight while her hair tickles Farah's face. "It's so good to see you.""You too," Farah says, meaning it, and when they break apart Amanda's hands linger on her shoulders for a second longer than they have to, and that's nice. That's enough to feed her borderline pathetic crush for a week, at least.It's a surprise party, of course, so they hang around a few minutes waiting for Todd to leave; Dirk has assured them that he's concocted a genius plan to get him out of the apartment."I hope he doesn't set the place on fire," Farah says. "I really, seriously, hope that.""I don't know," Amanda says, grinning. "Might be kinda funny."Farah snorts and leans back against the wall. Amanda stands next to her and smokes in her leather jacket, looking achingly cool and like every one of Farah's lurid teen fantasies, until Dirk texts them the all-clear and they go up.Farah had her misgivings when Dirk texted to invite her to a surprise party, but the discomfort she's waiting for never really manifests. It's surprisingly good to see Dirk and Todd again, and Amanda...well, she's not surprised how good it is to see Amanda. They exchange significant looks at Todd's expression of slack surprise when Dirk gives him his present, and the very long hug that follows. Farah stifles a smile, and then remembers she doesn't have to, and grins at Amanda, who coughs pointedly until Dirk and Todd remember there are other people in the apartment. There's pizza, and beer, and her cake is a hit. She realises, halfway through the evening, that she's having what could legitimately be called a pretty good time. She's not sure what to do with that.She sits next to Dirk on the couch and watches Todd and Amanda sitting on the bed, and thinks that she never would have picked any of these people out of a lineup as her future friends. Then again, she just compared making friends to identifying criminals, so what does she know?"Hey," she says to Dirk, when Todd and Amanda get caught up in one of those sibling squabbles that no outsider should go anywhere near, "thanks for organising this, Dirk. You're a good friend."Dirk looks at her in naked surprise, his mouth parting slightly as if she just told him he's won the lottery, and then he turns pink and smiles widely at her. Farah feels a sudden burst of affection for him."Thank you, Farah! That is, you're welcome. And thank you for coming. It's very good to see you."It should sound like a meaningless pleasantry, but it doesn't. Farah lets herself accept it at face value, and not worry for once about whether she's the spectre at the feast. In some strange way, she does fit here."It's good to see you too," she says, and it's different than when she said it to Amanda, but she means it this time too. Dirk smiles again. * Todd has just finished very dramatically telling them the story–for the second time that evening–of how Dirk broke the toaster, when Farah decides she needs another beer. Todd is playing something old and familiar on his guitar as she takes the bottle out of the fridge, and she leans against the counter, takes a slow drink, and listens.Amanda wanders in after a moment and smiles at her, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter opposite and swinging her legs so that her socked feet thump against the cabinet, like a little kid."Having a good time?" she asks, and if she'd had one beer more or one less, Farah might get defensive, might hear imaginary judgement in Amanda's tone. As it is she just tips her head to the side and says,"You know what? I really am."Amanda laughs."No need to sound so surprised, dude. We might not be as cool as all your badass bodyguard friends–""Oh, you're definitely cooler than any of my other friends," Farah says, picking at the label on her beer bottle. Amanda looks surprised for a second before she recovers and says,"We are? Even Dirk?""Well," Farah concedes, "I maybe wouldn't use the word cool to describe Dirk. Or Todd, for that matter. But they're definitely...something.""So you're saying you think I'm cool. That's. Basically what you just said." Amanda looks mischievous, hands resting on the edge of the counter as she leans forward, just an arm's length away across the tiny kitchen. Farah takes another swig of beer in lieu of answering. Amanda leans back and grins like she's enjoying Farah's discomfort, and Farah is surprised to find she doesn't mind at all. She's being teased, not mocked, and it's a novel sensation."So, what's it like, being rich and unemployed?" Amanda asks."It's...interesting," Farah says, before realising that this is Amanda, and she doesn't really need to give diplomatic non-answers. She thinks for a moment. "It's a little disconcerting sometimes. Less structured than I'm used to. But good. At least for now. What's it like riding around with a bunch of psychic punks in an old van?""Same answer."Farah laughs and Amanda flashes her a grin."Were you a big fan of structure before?""Not really," Amanda says. "but I didn't have a choice in the matter. When you have a chronic illness and can't leave the house, you tell yourself that eight hours sleep and three square meals a day will make the difference." She pauses, worrying at a chip on the edge of Todd's counter with her thumbnail. "It never did, but at least it stopped me going totally crazy. Reminded me I was a person. That I was alive, even if I wasn't really living all that much. Does that make sense?"She looks up at Farah, and Farah blinks, opens her mouth, and can't think of a thing to say. She notices dimly that the guitar has stopped, and Dirk and Todd are talking quietly on the couch. Amanda smiles at her, in that sweet way she has, and Farah spends a full ten seconds fixated on her dimples before she clears her throat and says,"I think you're the most alive person I've ever met."This seems to catch her off guard, and Farah watches in fascination as her nonverbal blinking of a few seconds before is played back at her in reverse.Then Amanda bites her bottom lip and very obviously looks at Farah's mouth, and okay, okay, that's...new. That's a lot. Farah stands perfectly still, afraid to tip the moment in either direction, and then Amanda holds out her hand, and Farah sets down her drink and takes it.Amanda pulls her in so that Farah is standing between her legs, cups her hands on either side of Farah's neck, and just kisses her, just like that. She feels a thrill like an electric shock go through her, and then something else takes over, something which lets her brain go blessedly silent for a few seconds. She doesn't realise that she's put her hands on Amanda's thighs until Amanda makes a choked noise and uses her legs to pull her in tighter, and suddenly she couldn't stop kissing her if her life depended on it. Amanda's socked foot moving up and down the back of her thigh seems bizarrely like the most erotic thing that's ever happened to her. She moves her hands to Amanda's hips, and daringly lets one hand inch under the fabric of her shirt, sliding around to the smooth skin of her lower back. She feels Amanda smile against her mouth.They're still kissing slowly, sweetly, but Farah can feel that they're near a tipping point. Amanda's lips clinging to hers makes her ache, makes her shiver, and she feels a throbbing between her legs that reminds her of how very long it's been since she's been in a position like this. She sighs as Amanda's hand trails down her neck, coming to rest inside the V of her shirt, over her heart. They're still for a moment, breathing into each other's mouths, and then she touches the tip of her tongue to Amanda's lips, and Amanda opens and lets her in and that's it, she's gone. They're kissing frantically, Farah clutching Amanda's hips while Amanda winds her limbs around her and pulls her impossibly close. Farah's mind is a blinking cursor, a fuzz of static, and she never wants this to stop.She breaks away to kiss Amanda's neck, drinking in her gasps and the sweet little noises she makes. She's thinking dimly that they should find a bed or a vaguely bedlike surface when she suddenly remembers with a jolt that they're standing in Todd's kitchen and that Todd and Dirk are in the next room. She pulls back, but doesn't go far. Amanda makes a discontented noise and tries to chase her mouth, but Farah stops her and says breathlessly,"Amanda, your brother–we're in your brother's kitchen. We can't–""He's asleep," Amanda says, her fingers hovering over the top button of Farah's shirt in a highly distracting way."How do you know?" Farah whispers.Amanda sighs, raises her voice slightly, and says in the direction of the living room, "Pixies suck."There's no response."See," she says, "nothing. But I take your point. Maybe we should go."She looks at Farah expectantly. Her lips are red and shiny, and Farah's brain definitely hasn't quite rebooted yet, because she has no idea what she's supposed to say right now."Um," she tries. Amanda rolls her eyes."Aren't you going to invite me back to your place?" she asks. "I'd take the initiative here, but I currently live in a van.""Oh, right," Farah says, smiling and ducking her head. She's sure she'll find plenty of reasons to freak out about this in the morning, but right now the thought of going home without Amanda seems ridiculous and maybe even impossible. She takes a breath and looks into Amanda's eyes. "Amanda, do you want to come back to my place?""Hell yes, I do," Amanda breathes, and kisses her again so perfectly that Farah completely forgets, once again, that she's in Todd Brotzman's kitchen."Just so you know," she says, when she pulls back, "I do."Amanda blinks, focusing on her face. "You do what?""Think you're cool," Farah murmurs, touching her thumb to Amanda's bottom lip.Amanda's face lights up."Dude," she says, "I've been failing at playing it cool since the day I met you."Farah laughs, the sound coming surprisingly easy, and says, "Fine, I guess I'll be the cool one." *
10566330
Ill do better cause you
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Simon Lewis, Jace Wayland, George", "Fandom": "Shadowhunters (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Shadowtravelingtitans", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-08T00:00:00", "words": "2,993", "Additional Tags": "Married Life, lyrics", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood", "Series": "Jimon Week", "Collections": "Malec/Jimon Stories Form Different Authors", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“Hush, shhh it’s okay, daddy’s here.” Jace whispered into his son’s ear, rocking back and forth trying to calm the wailing infant in his arms. “Please, daddy has work in…” quick glance at the clock ”..three hours.” He had tried everything to placate his son, feed him, changed him, burped him, and yet he’d been screaming non stop. Simon had already tried twice, but he’d looked so exhausted doing it that Jace volunteered this once. His husband usually stayed home with the baby, while Jace worked at the Institute. He felt it was only right that he be the one to calm George down at least tonight. Or this morning. Yet, right now more than ever, he felt so out of place holding the tiny infant. Jace made it a point to be present in his son’s life, would drop everything to be there for him, show him he was loved and not broken. Not like himself. Still, deep, deep in the dark muddled waters of his mind, there was a fear that he’d break his son, like Valentine had done to him. That he couldn’t live up to the expectation of a great father. Or even a decent one. The piercing sound of his son’s wailing brought him back to reality. “George, please you’ve got to help me out here. Daddy wants to help, but daddy doesn’t speak baby babble, he’s sorry.” He has no idea how Simon has managed to do this every night so that Jace could sleep and be refreshed for missions the next day. He smiled fondly at the memory of a tired Simon holding George every morning as he kissed both of them on the forehead before heading off to the Institute. His eyes scanned the room and quickly landed on Simon’s first acoustic guitar. He had insisted that it be placed in George’s room, because it reminded him of his father and he wanted to make sure the original Papa Lewis was watching over his grandson. Music would definitely be something that they would share with George as he got older. A thought slipped its way into Jace’s head the longer he stared at the old guitar. “ May these words be the first to find your ears. ” He started, slowly, his voice a mere whisper. “ The world is brighter than the sun now that you’re here. Though your eyes will need some time to adjust to the overwhelming light surrounding us.” He slowly swayed his son and himself, hoping to find a lulling rhythm. “ I’ll give you everything I have. I’ll teach you everything I know. I promise I’ll do better. ” He pulled his boy closer to him, hoping that the force of his love and want to protect could seep out of his heart and his George’s bones. Completely unaware of the soft gaze quietly watching them both from the doorway. “I will always hold you close, but I will learn to let you go. I promise I’ll do better.” Simon remembers when he first mentioned the word ‘adoption’ in front of Jace. He had been trying to introduce the concept to him ever since Max had celebrate his third birthday in the Lightwood-Bane household. The conversation quickly escalated into a screaming match between the both. Luckily the only fatality was the Pikachu cookie jar his sister had gotten him for his birthday the year before. “I will soften every edge, I’ll hold the world to its best, and I’ll do better.” The next time he mentioned it was after Clary and Isabelle returned from their DisneyLand vacation with the twins. Simon had offered himself and his husband to watch over the kids while the girls went to shower and take a quick nap. Apparently taking two hyperactive five year olds to Disney was not the greatest decision. Needless to say, Jace spent most of the time playing with them, but would freeze when any of the kids asked him for a hug. Simon would of laughed at the expression of horror if he didn’t know where it stemmed from. At the end of the night, after they returned home, he mentioned that it hadn’t been so bad, nothing to worry about, kids are harmless. Jace’s response was a glare and a slammed door, the words ‘ but I’m not’ cutting through the air. “With every heartbeat I have left I will defend your every breath,” The turning point, if Simon had to pick one, was on a regular Thursday night. There had been no mention of children for the longest time, Simon had accepted the fact that it wouldn’t be a possibility with Jace. Or at least he had thought he had gotten over it. But then they watched some stupid movie with some stupid characters that had a stupid kid and it was so stupidly heartfelt and warm and Simon wanted that. He wanted to raise a child with Jace. He wanted to teach him how to play guitar while Jace accompanied them with his piano. He wanted to watch Jace and their child play baseball, or basketball, or even dance, because he knew that Jace would approve of anything their child wanted to learn. He wanted little intimate moments where there was so much love between them that you could drown in it, willingly. He wanted to decorate a room with Jace, to discuss names with Jace, he wanted, God, he wanted Jace to see how great a man he was. And how good he would be as a father. But Jace didn’t want it. Didn’t want that type of happiness with him. Even the pain of being turned and digging himself out of his own grave hadn’t hurt this much. So when the movie ended Simon untangled himself from his husband and ran to the bathroom of their shared room. He couldn’t breathe, he just wanted to cry and just scream until his heart stopped aching. He cried silently, hands placed on the sides of the sink, head bowed in prayer. Maybe he should pray. Pray to God to give him the strength to stop wishing for the impossible. To stop dreaming about preschool conferences, and children’s laughter. To just be happy he has Jace, a man he loves and who he knows loves him, and happy to be an uncle to Max and Raphael, to Luke and Maryse.   He felt Jace at the doorway before he saw him. Leaning up against the frame. Simon could feel his eyes on him, and he wished he could hold it together. He wished he could just put this stupid wish behind him. He didn’t want Jace to feel bad about not wanting kids, but it was so hard for him to leave it alone. “Do you want to talk about it?” Simon sniffled and tried once more to compose himself. “No it’s stupid, I’m being stupid, it’s nothing to worry about.” He heard Jace sigh and his heart ached because he knew Jace was probably blaming himself, even though it wasn’t his fault. Simon just couldn’t stop the tears falling from his eyes. “Simon, it’s not stupid. Nothing that’s making you this upset is stupid.” Simon tried taking some deep breathes. “Just talk to me, please.” Silence. “It was the movie.” He nodded. “It was the kid in the movie.” Simon choked out a yes. He heard Jace sigh again and he couldn’t stop the torrent of words flowing out of his mouth. “It’s not your fault, I’m just being emotional, not that you aren’t emotional, you are I remember you cried in the beginning of Up. I mean anyone would cry at the beginning of Up, it’s completely heart wrenching. I mean why did they have to show us that, they were so happy and all she wanted was a child and...” Simon sucked in a shaky breath, before he whimpered. “Jace.” He turned around to meet his husband’s chest, already awaiting Simon, and he buried his head into the soft sweater Jace was wearing. Flashes of baseball games, and concerts, recitals, a swing set in their yard, three pairs of shoes flung near the doorway instead of two, and of homework, and of prom, all ran in his mind and he sobbed. He sobbed because he shouldn’t want a child this bad, he should be happy with this man who puts up with his rambling and horrible puns, but no. Here he is being ungrateful and probably causing Jace to hate himself, and God he feels like a horrible husband. He continues sobbing, tucked under Jace’s chin and listening to the sound of his husband’s heartbeat. Jace’s one hand pushing through his curls while the other secured him closer to him by the waist. Slowly his sobs become sniffles, but Jace doesn’t let go, just holds him as if he might leave too soon. “Simon.” He finally says after more time has passed. Simon leans away from his husband’s chest and wipes his eyes, trying to avoid looking at his face because he doesn’t want to see the pain he’s caused him. Jace has other plans and uses the hand that was playing with his curls to tilt his chin towards him, forcing eye contact. He sees hurt in his husband’s mixed matched eyes, but he also sees worry. “Why didn’t you tell me this was so important to you?” “Jace, it’s not, it wasn’t supposed to be. At first I was just curious, you know, cause Alec and Magnus had Max and Raphael, and they looked happy. But then Clary and Izzy adopted the twins and they seemed tired all the time, but like they never really complained, it’s like they enjoyed being exhausted by the kids. And every one of our friends seemed to be so content with having little ones and you...you Jace, whether you noticed it or not, you looked happy with them. You can’t deny that you loved playing with the twins, or didn’t enjoy Max’s tea party, or didn’t feel pride when Raphael called you the cool uncle. And I thought….” He shook his head and tried clearing his throat, anything to keep his voice from shaking, not to any avail. “..I thought that maybe that meant you wanted kids with me, to raise a little guy or a little girl, but every time I mentioned it you pushed me away. You rejected any mention of it and…” He paused to taken in a shaky breathe. “I realized that maybe you just didn’t want kids with me, that you didn’t think we could do it, but, Jace, I know you. I know all of you. And if there is one thing that I’m certain of besides my love for you is that you would make an excellent father.” Simon finished, sniffling in anticipation of what Jace might say. He knows Jace is sensitive to this topic and he wishes, everyday, that Jace could see how wonderful he is. “Simon.” Jace huffs out, body tensing up, defenses closing him off to Simon. He should have known, he should have just gotten over the baby fever from the beginning. But seeing Jace, so clearly reject the notion of a child together, that was breaking him. He began to pull himself away from his husband’s embrace. “I get it. I know. It’s, again, stupid. Just, don’t worry about it, I’ll get over it soon. I won’t bother you with this again.” Because he doesn’t want to lose Jace, not over some hypothetical child he’s raised into college years in his head. He and Jace have fought so hard to stay together, Simon won’t ruin that with his pointless dreams. “Simon, it’s not stupid.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “It’s not stupid, I just. I can’t be trusted with. I just can’t do it, okay. You, you’re so good at emotions and the kids love you. You’re a natural with them, you read them books with those weird voices and you let them watch Disney movies all the time, and Simon, I can’t do that. I’m not safe enough to be near kids.” “What are you talking about? Jace, the kids love you. You’re their favorite uncle, why would you ever think differently. Besides we’ve babysat them before, without the others. What am I not getting?” “It’s different with you.” Simon blinked, confused. “Not in a bad way, just, shit.” Jace ran a hand through his hair, before bringing it back down to hold Simon’s hands. “You make me better. You remind me that I’m not what Valentine or what the Clave raised me as. I’m not a mindless shadowhunter who just follows orders. I have emotions and I can be kind. But I need you there. If you’re not there, I can’t.” “I mean, I don’t trust myself with a child, our own child. I may have gotten better, but I was still raised by Valentine. What if I hurt them? What if I end up breaking them like Valentine broke me? We fought so hard to be together and I just...I just don’t know what I would do if you ever began to see me as I see myself.” Jace gripped his husband’s hands tighter, hoping that this wouldn’t be the end. He hadn’t wanted to tell Simon how insecure he was about having children, someone fragile he could break or ruin. “You stupid man.” Jace looked up, confusion written all over his face. Simon removed his hands, gently, from his husband’s grasp and brought them up to cradle his face instead. He brought their foreheads together, silent tears falling freely from his eyes once more. “You were kind before I came into your life. You’ve always been kind. Alec and Isabelle can attest to that. I just reminded you of it. Jace, I don’t know what Valentine did to you as a child, not completely, but you’re not that. You aren’t your past or whatever mental torture he put you through. You are so much more than that.” “You are kind.” He placed a kiss on his husband’s nose. “You are loyal.” Another on his right cheek. “And so strong.” One on his left cheek. “And smart when you want to be.” A kiss to the forehead. “And most of all, you are so full of love and life. That won’t ever change. You are more caring than you give yourself credit for. That’s why I wanted a child with you, because I couldn’t imagine anyone else better suited for fatherhood than you, my love.” He finished by placing what Jace would later remember as the softest kiss on his lips. After that they had talked about it some more. Jace voicing his insecurities and Simon reassuring him that, yes parents weren’t perfect, but regardless of what mistakes they made as parents, their future child would be loved. When they finally went through the adoption process and brought little George home, he could tell that Jace was still anxious about caring for their son. It showed in the way he stayed off to the side when Simon was playing with him, or when he held George for a bit but immediately gave him back to Simon once he was in the same room. Except now, looking at the scene before him, it seemed that little George had closed the gap that Jace seemed certain he never could. “and I’ll do better.” Jace couldn’t explain what came over him, all he saw was his son, his son, and the urge to protect him was so strong, he couldn’t fathom why his father, or his fake father, hadn’t felt the same for him. That Valentine looked at him and saw a weapon, whereas all Jace saw when he looked into those small brown eyes was innocence and love. And a fear rushed through him, memories of feeling unwanted and uncared for crashed into him, and he needed to let George know. He needed to let his boy know that he was loved. Nothing would ever change that. He was loved and loved and loved so much, by his uncles, by his aunts, by his grandmother, by his adoptive grandparents, but most importantly by Simon and himself. His dads. He walked towards the cream colored crib and paused just taking in the features of the small boy in his arms. Soft skin, cheeks tinged red from the effort put in wailing, tear streaks staining his face. The only sound in the quiet of the night was his son’s soft whimpering, and his labored breathing. His son needed to know, just how important he was to him. Swallowing the lump in his throat he continued, softly, the pad of his thumb wiping away the tears.   “ Сause you are loved.” He croaked out. “You are loved more than you know. I hereby pledge all of my days to prove it so .” He could feel his eyes swell, the vision of his son becoming more and more blurry. “Though your heart is far too young to realize the unimaginable light you hold inside.” He felt tears roll down his cheeks, one landing on George’s cheek. His son’s whimpers subsided, his bright brown eyes watching the mixed matched ones of his father’s. Slowly little George brought his chubby hand up and placed it on his father’s tear stained cheek. For a moment Jace forgot how to breathe, and nearly lost it when George offered him a small toothless smile. In that moment Jace knew, despite what had happened, despite the whispers and rumors of demon blood, he would never, ever, let himself become to his own son, what Valentine had become to him. “ I promise I’ll do better. ” It was a testament to how enraptured Jace was by his son, that he hadn’t felt his husband come up and wrap his arms around his waist from behind until he heard him whisper next to his ear. “ You already have.”
10526382
Sirensong
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Nanase Haruka, Matsuoka Rin, Tachibana Makoto, Nanase Haruka's Grandmother, Nanase Haruka's Parents, Tachibana Ren, Tachibana Ran, Tachibana Twins", "Fandom": "Free!", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by OnceABlueMoon", "chapters": "4/4", "completed": "2017-05-02", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "7,504", "Additional Tags": "Sirens, Siren Rin, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Fairy Tale Style, Fairy Tale Curses, Selkies, Romance, Cursed Haru, merfolk culture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Selkies, Merpeople, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Suicidal Thoughts, but not really, Angst with a Happy Ending", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka, Nanase Haruka & Tachibana Makoto, Tachibana Makoto & Tachibana Twins, Nanase Haruka & Tachibana Twins, Nanase Haruka & Nanase Haruka's Grandmother", "Series": "What the Water Gave Me", "Collections": "Fairy Tales, FTTN's Favorites", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
In Iwatobi, close by the sea, there is a river. The rushing water is distinct in the entire west side of the town, so loud the church bell’s ringing isn’t audible. The riverbanks are slippery and down along the path, the cliffs rise. Continuing is impossible.Nobody tries to climb the cliff. If you fall down, if you slip, you’ll land in the water. Before the fishermen will find your reeking corpse in their nets, they will know you have died by the screeching of the seagulls and the stench the wind brought with it. If you haven’t been ripped to shreds by the bedrock’s jagged edges, you’ll be devoured by the seven rapids the river hosts. Even the fish don’t survive there.This is the first lesson Iwatobi’s little ones are taught: Stay away from the river (it will be your death if you don’t).Sometimes, though, passer-by’s see people climbing the rocks in the river, as if they are following a path only they can see. They don’t think it strange. They don’t feel alarmed. If there are people on the river rocks, it can only be the Nanase’s, named for the seven rapids that make the river so dangerous.A Nanase’s foot won’t slip off the riverbanks, nor will they fall off the stepping stones. They belong in between the rushing water, the sharp rock and the howling of the wind.The bay at the river mouth is their sanctuary. One side is sealed off by the river and the cliff, the other by the course crashing into the sea and where the current is calmer, the coral reefs. Seabirds do not dare to deface the place, but you’ll spot crabs and treasures in the sand- shells, sea stars and if you’re lucky, a sand dollar. The breeze smells like a mixture of salt and sand, and the pebbles are smooth. Despite the force, the rushing is never louder than the waves crashing into the shore.It is a beautiful place, but the water flows sorrowful, like a mother dying of childbirth caressing the child’s face for the last time. No one knows why.When they hear the seagulls screaming another fell victim to the sea, the old biddies gather children around them and spin tales of sirens in front of the fireplace. “Gorgeous creatures singing their hearts out for lost men,” they croak. “They lure sailors into the sea and drown them, ripping into the corpses with the shark teeth hidden behind their pretty lips. Ruthless as the sea itself.''The children hang onto their words- Nobody knows whether that story is true either.His grandmother tells him tales.‘’They sang, darling,’’ she would say to him on cold nights when he left his bed behind and crawled shivering into hers, ‘’and it sounded like home. They are the voice of the sea, the pearl in the shell of the world.’’An owl hoots outside. It’s dark, but it’s warmer than his own bed, nestled against his grandmother underneath the duvet. It smells like old people, but that’s okay. Haru has never known anything else. He vaguely remembers his mother’s rose perfume, but otherwise, his grandmother’s lavender scent means family.He puts his cold hands in hers and shifts closer to her warmth. He watches the shadows on the wall and loses himself in the story. ‘’Long ago, on a coast not yet named, a fisherman spent all day at sea, but as the sun began to set, he still had only a meager catch. When night fell, he rowed to shore and beached his boat. As he walked across the beach, he heard a sweet, lyrical tune, a song more beautiful than any he had ever heard. He turned towards the sound and saw. There, near the water, a dozen Selkie people were laughing and singing. The fisherman could not believe his eyes. Few ever saw the seal folk, who now and then cast aside their skins and took on human forms to play on the shore. The fisherman stood and stared, but when the Selkie people noticed him, they quickly dived into the sea. Slipping beneath the waves, they disappeared. "I must have been dreaming," said the fisherman aloud, and again he turned toward his cottage. But something nagged at him, so he turned again, and this time he noticed something sleek and shiny lying on a rock. He walked closer, and now he saw: It was a seal skin. "No one will believe I've seen the Selkies unless I show them this," he said, and so he picked up the skin and slung it over his shoulder. As he walked, he whistled. "What a pretty penny I'll earn by selling this." Just as he said this, he heard footsteps behind him, and fearing a thief, he quickly turned around to look. There was no thief behind him. No, indeed. It was a beautiful young woman standing there, weeping so hard it nearly caused the fisherman's heart to break. "Beautiful lady," he said, "why do you weep?" "Kind sir," she said, choking back tears, "you have my sealskin. I beg of you, give it back, for I belong to the Selkies, and cannot live under the sea without my skin." The fisherman could not stop staring. You see, he had fallen in love at first sight, and because he was a young man, and terribly headstrong, he thought he must keep her with him, not thinking of her wants at all. He clutched the sealskin to his chest, pressing it to his pounding heart. "Dear lady," he said gently, "be my wife, for I have fallen madly in love with you, and without your sealskin, you'll have to live on land. I'll make you happy, I promise." "Please sir," she cried, "my folk will be so worried. I must go home. Never could I be happy on land." But the young man was stubborn. So he smiled as sweetly as he could, bowed his head and bent down on one knee. "Dear woman, my cottage is a cozy place. I'll keep you warm by the fire, I'll feed you all the fresh fish you could ever wish to eat. I promise you will live a blissful life on land as my bride." The young woman was helpless without her skin. "I fear I must go home with you until you will return my skin," she said frightened, and he took her hand and led her to his home. For many weeks the fisherman kept the sealskin with him, for he feared his bride-to-be would steal it and slip away. But after a while, the sweet lady began to settle in the life on land, and when the fisherman thought she was content, he stuffed the skin inside a crevice in the chimney. "There my girl will never find it," he said to himself. They married and time passed. They led a joyful life, for though the fisherman was stubborn and selfish at times, he was also kind and generous. He truly loved his wife, and worked hard to make her happy. After a while, the Selkie woman grew to love her stubborn husband, and sometimes she would sing to him. Those nights he was the happiest man in the world. As the years passed, the couple had seven children, and the Selkie woman loved them with all her heart. Most of the time the family was merry, though every once in a while the children would find their mother on the beach, gazing wistfully out to sea. They would circle her and ask, "Mother, why do you look so sad?" And she would shake her head and kiss their foreheads. "Never mind," she told her children, "I've only been dreaming too long." One day the fisherman and the three eldest children went out in their boat to catch fish. The next three walked to the village to buy some bread and milk and the mother and her youngest son stayed home alone. Now the mother looked out of the window and watched the waves crashing onto the shore. Far in the distance, she noticed a band of seals playing and barking on the slick, black rocks. She sighed deeply, and her eyes filled with tears. Her youngest son ran to her side. "Mother, what's wrong?" he asked.  "Whenever you look out to sea, you grow so sad." Without thinking she turned and said: "I'm sad because I was born in the sea. It's the home to which I can never return because your father hid my sealskin." Now the boy, like all children, had heard tales of the Selkie folk, so right away he knew what his mother must be, and he ran to the fireplace, reached up and pulled the sealskin from its hiding place. He held it out to his mother. "How did you find it?" she asked, astonished at the sight of her skin. "One day, I was here alone with father," said the boy, "and he took this from its hiding place and stared at it. I knew it was special, and now I understand what it is." The woman embraced the sealskin, and then she reached for her child and embraced him. "My darling," she whispered, "I will always love you," and then, clasping sealskin to her heart, she ran outside and down to the sea. She slipped into her skin and dived into the bracing water.  ‘’And the wife swam away from her husband. And though he called out to the sea every day, desperate to get her back, she never answered.’’Haru frowns. ‘’What happened to the children?’’His grandmother smiles sadly, her face barely visible in the soft lamplight of the bedside table. ‘’The sea god was furious. His rage brought terrible tragedy upon the fisherman’s family.Because, despite the fact the selfish fisherman had forced the selkie maiden to marry him, he was a family man and what hurt his family hurt him. So the sea god took his revenge in a manner so terrible that even today we can hardly bring ourselves to speak of it. He cursed the fisherman’s children and all those of their line to lose their tail-skins upon birth, fated to long for the sea forever, but never able to join it.’’There has been a tremendous ache inside of him his entire life and the tale makes him awfully sad. But Haru can see the look in his grandmother’s eyes and knows he is not alone in this.They still do not sleep well that night.His gaze tends to flit around, as if glimpsing something in the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t, but Haru feels like he should. Like the creatures in his dreams belonged there, dancing in the water instead of air.The life he lives while awake is boring in comparison.He doesn’t mind the other children as long as they don’t bother him. He just wants to do his own thing. Wants to be free, even if he isn’t sure what being free truly means.He’s been trapped all his life.‘’It’s just,’’ his mother sighs, looking at the lipstick stain on the rim of her teacup, ‘’I would be less worried if he would talk to people. Makoto is his only friend. He shuts everyone else out! Haru isn’t shy- he’s anything but! So why does he keep being difficult?!’’His mother picks at her sleeves. The plaid shirt is wrinkled and her fidgeting only makes it worse. His grandmother reaches over the table and takes his mother’s hand. Her expression is tight and she licks her lips as if she is trying to soften it. It doesn’t work.Haru knows how hard it is to be patient with the people around you.‘’Aoi, stop worrying about Haruka. He’s fine, believe me. Chiura was no different as a child! Always puttering of somewhere, doing who knows what- though it probably involved water.’’ She frowns and lets his mother’s hand go. ‘’How is Chiura, actually?’’His mother averts her eyes, biting her lip. ‘’He… He isn’t well, I’m afraid.’’His grandmother shakes her head, gaze straying to the sea, lost in thought. She folds her hand under her chin. ‘’I thought so.’’Haru doesn’t dwell on the conversation. To be honest, the only thing he paid attention to was the one friend remark. That’s not true. Haru has two friends, and though he loves Makoto, Rin makes the world shine brighter.Rin is different. He’s another species, to begin with. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Seven In his dreams he has a tail. It isn’t scaled, but dark specks scattered over tough matt brown skin. The fins mirror flat shells and there are webs between his fingers. It’s leathery and slimy to the touch. He has dreamt of that tail longer than he can remember.So when he sits up after snoozing in the bay’s shallow part, raising his hand to shield his eyes and sees a long, green tail, his only thought is: Oh. That’s new.He follows the tail’s slow, lazy movements in the crystalline water. It swings from side to side and breaks the surface, green scales reflecting sunlight like they’re made of metal. The water flows off it and splashes on Haru’s chest.He yelps. Cold! It’s hot outside today, unbearable outside the sea or the pool, but the water is still frigid enough to shock him out of his dream like state.The tail sinks into the water again.Haru didn’t move.His breath catches. He isn’t moving those muscles. The tail isn’t attached to him and he isn’t dreaming either. There truly is a face in front of his, way too close for comfort, and dawn red eyes peering up at him. ‘’Hi!’’Haru startles and accidentally gulps some sea water in. It tastes like salt and gets into his air pipe. He tries to back away, but the cliff is too close by and he hasn’t scrambled backward for more than a meter before he bumps his head against the rocks, still coughing loudly. The impact is hard, and his head pounds for a moment or two.Calm down. He tries to slow down his heartbeat by controlling his breathing and cards his fingers through his wet hair. There’s a slight bump underneath his fingertips. Wincing, he looks up at the face that surprised him so.‘’Are you okay?’’ The boy (is it a boy?) asks, furrowing his brow. He leans forward.Haru doesn’t know what to say. The boy is too close and he doesn’t like it. He squints and leans forward too, hand raised.The green tail. The translucent fins along the sides are raggedy. It reminds Haru of seaweed. His hand glides along the scales, reveling in the slimy, bumpy texture. A hand closes over his own. There’s webbing between the fingers.Haru raises his head and catches sight of the boy (yes, definitely a boy. Haru’s certain now) cradling his tail in his arms, sizing him up with wide eyes. Haru doesn’t care.This is far too intriguing to let go of without even attempting to discover more.‘’What species are you?’’Haru knows it’s the kind of question his mother would scold him for, but that’s never stopped him before. Besides, he hasn’t seen her in years. Grandma gets him, though she did say not everyone would see his queries for what they are.The boy isn’t deterred by the question. On the contrary, it breaks the slight hesitance that crept into his eyes. He tilts his head towards the sun and beams. “My name’s Rin! What’s yours?” Twelve “It’s funny, don’tcha think?” Rin is laying on his back, raising his hand above his head, fingers spread to led the sunshine through.It creates interesting shadows on his face, and Haru should take his pencils with him next time- maybe even his watercolor set. He can’t capture  Rin in black and white- he’s too vibrant and colorful for shades of gray.“What?” he asks.Rin’s hand falls and he shifts to his side. “Your eyes are blue, like the water, but mine are red like fire.” He says, putting his cheek on his hand. He gazes softly at Haru, but somehow, neither of them feels the need to smile.Rin’s tail brushes against his legs, but it seems to be an accident, so Haru doesn’t say anything. Thirteen ‘’Race me underwater,’’ Rin turns to lay on his stomach, his eyes following Haru. He’s gliding through the water with practiced ease.‘’No,’’Rin lifts his upper body and tries to drag himself into the water. He loves how new everything is in the world above, but as much as he likes the beach, getting back into the water is hard. Next time, he should stay in the sea.But that is what he told himself last time too. And the time before that. Plus, Adventures (with a capital A!) are supposed to have obstacles to overcome, right? The human world is definitely an Adventure.When he reaches the water, he looks at Haru again. ‘’Why not?’’Haru keeps swimming, but there’s a small pause in his stroke.‘’Don’t feel like it.’’‘’Come on, Haru! I know you want to! Swim with me, and I’ll show you a sight you’ve never seen before!’’Haru stops and stands up, fists balling and clenching his teeth. His glare is intense and Rin has to stop himself from flinching.This is Haru. He will meet every challenge issued. He doesn’t care Haru is stalking towards him- okay, he does, because he wants Haru to be his friend, but if he is going to be like this, he could go stuff himself with his stupid: I don’t feel like it!Rin glares back just as intensely and doesn’t give when Haru jabs a finger in his face.‘’I can’t breathe underwater, jerk!’’…Oh.The fight leaves Rin in an instant and he averts his eyes. Sinking to the ocean bottom doesn’t sound too bad right now…The sea floor, where Haru can’t follow him.‘’I didn’t know that.’’Haru crosses his arms. ‘’Well, now you do. So stop trying to convince me to swim with you!’’It hurts.But Rin doesn’t know the meaning of pain yet. Fourteen ‘’When a siren falls in love and they reach the age of majority, they will feel the call. Then the hunt starts.’’Haru stares at him.‘’You don’t get it, do you, Nanase!’’ Rin hisses in Haru’s face. ‘’They find their mate, drag them to the bottom of the ocean and mark them.’’That, at least, got a raised eyebrow. ‘’And?’’Rin flushes redder than a fire engine and begins to splutter. ‘’Well… they…’’ A blush creeps down his neck to his chest. Haru’s eyes follow it. What is he thinking?  Rin crosses his arms, shifting uneasily. ‘’Stop being such a loser! I’m trying to have a conversation here!’’Shit. That didn’t even sound convincing in his own head. Haru doesn’t appear to be impressed either. His deadpan expression says it all.Rin looks away quickly.‘’Anyway, that’s the reason we’re not supposed to talk to humans. They can’t exactly breathe down there, and if they die… Well, nobody likes a feral siren.’’‘’You’ll come back,’’ Haru says crabbily, crossing his arms and looking anywhere but Rin. Rin gets it, though- he knows Haru. He can hear the please and the promise me, even though the human boy doesn’t voice them.A smile creeps up his face and he surges forward, throwing his arms around his neck. Haru squeaks and Rin giggles. Haru may be an introvert, but he’s not stoic. It’s cute, actually, the siren muses, resting his cheek on Haru’s shoulder.What’s even cuter, though, is the slight blush on Haru’s face when he pulls back. It does funny things to his stomach.Rin bites his lip. Should he… His heart sounds like a hummingbird, Haru’s eyes are on him, and his breath catches in his throat.The water feels strange against his skin, and he shivers, even though he isn’t cold. I can do this, he tells himself, I can do this.So he takes a deep breath, snatches Haru’s hand and bites down on the middle finger, his razor sharp teeth coming in handy. Haru jumps, but Rin coils his tail around him to prevent an accident. Blood wells up from the tiny puncture on the raven’s finger and Rin smiles.Haru, however, clutches his wounded hand to his chest. “That hurt!’’Rin frowns. ‘’Of course it does. That’s part of the process.’’ At Haru’s glare, he understands. ‘’This is a human quirk again, isn’t it? You call the most ordinary matters strange,’’ he giggles. ‘’It’s a blood promise.’’Suddenly, he frowns and tilts his head as if he hears a voice in the distance. It’s the last thing he does before his eyes glaze over. He smiles at Haru one last time, disoriented, and swims towards the open ocean.He blinks, and Rin is gone.The wind yanks at Haru’s hair and the waves rise, higher and higher, until collides with the cliff, scattering the water and drenching his clothes.He remembers what Rin once said: ‘’Swim with me and I’ll show you a sight you’ve never seen before!’’ To his distress, he realizes that parting from Rin is going to strike him even harder. His heart clenches, but he keeps staring at the spot where he saw the last of Rin.Not for the first time, Haru curses his lungs with all his might- but he damns the true curse resting upon him more. Because deep down in the sea, there is a boy he loves but cannot follow. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “But curses can be broken, right?” His grandmother nods and leans forward. “But our curse can only be defeated when the cursed children leave the sea song behind. Only then they can become one with the sea.’’ Fifteen ‘’I’m not coming.’’For a moment, Haru doesn’t know what to say. His lips tighten and he clenches his jaw. His body is shaking, fists balling and relaxing without rhyme or reason. He can’t ‘’I knew you were a coward,’’ he spits out, ‘’But congrats, you’ve reached a new high.’’It’s quiet at the other end of the line for a moment, before: ‘’Young man, I don’t care if you are upset about your grandmother's death, I am your father, and I will not be spoken to in this manner!’’It takes all the restraint he can drag from his meager reserves not to hurl the phone at the wall. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. What had he expected? The fight leaves him, and somehow, that feels terribly sad. He’s tired of the disappointment.‘’You lost the right to call yourself my father a long time ago,’’ he sighs, ‘’and it has a lot to do with your lack of care.’’The words he doesn’t say echo louder than the ones he does.‘’Stop running and come home. I can’t bury her alone.’’They carry her body through the darkness, step on the river stones and walk past the seven rapids, to the bay. The sand crunches underneath their bare feet and the air smells like salt. The water is calm tonight, the waves nothing more than bumps gently rolling onto the shore.The lay her down, her feet in the water.They hold vigil over her body the entire night. Watching silently as the day breaks and the first sun rays touch the water, their reflection a breath-taking display of orange and red. It seems to take an eternity. But then it happens- the moment the light reaches her body, she dissolves. White flocks are the only thing left behind, and the ocean takes her, riding on top of the waves.She’s beautiful, even as seafoam. White, airy, and most of all: In her element. She’s joining the sea.Haru’s chest feels like a cage and he can’t breathe, suffocating, the pressure dragging him down. The realization is awful.His father tried to break the curse by leaving the sea, but he’s been doing that since Haru was four, and the only thing it resulted in was a child unfamiliar with his parents.Haru hates the curse as much as he loves sea song, and as he has realized by now, the only way to break it, is to die.His father disappears again, desperately running from a curse he can’t escape.(Haru is fifteen, and all his hopes for freedom have turned to dust)He has no purpose anymore. It’s easy to lose himself in dreams. The sea song’s jarring notes hurt his ears and the scent of salt escorts him everywhere.“Take one more step and we’ll be together forever.” It whispers when he sleeps, and the water sloshes around his legs. He can taste his own fear, his heart thrumming in his chest.The sea waits for no one. It’s a blessing and a cruelty at once. Sixteen When he wakes up, there’s a hole in his heart. His fever dreams are full of green tails and sunset eyes. They make him press his hands against his head in an attempt to make it stop. It doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work and it hurts.  He’s never needed someone as much as he does now, so he stumbles out of his back door and runs. His sweat-soaked pajamas stick to his frame and he shivers, but he has only one thing on his mind.The darkness is suffocating, the air is cold and the smell of sickness hangs around him. Nanase river is in sight. The rushing water is a balm to his soul, and when he leaps off the river bank, onto the stepping stones, he can feel his heart beat like a drum.  The stones cut his bare feet, and the blood soaks into the bay’s sand. His footprints are stained red. In front of the sea, he stops.His knees give out and he collapses onto the ground. There’s a lump his throat, and he can’t swallow it down.Every morning afterward, he wakes up at first daylight, only to find himself on the shore. He’s in the same position as his grandmother's corpse before it turned into seafoam. It screams of death and drowning.It should scare him, and somewhere deep down, he’s sure it does. It’s just that the sea song sings louder. Louder and louder, until it deafens him. Until he wants so badly it hurts, but he doesn’t know what he desires. It twists and turns, his thoughts whirling around in his head like snowflakes in a blizzard. It’s freezing and unbearably hot both, and Haru shivers along with it.(salt, ocean, darkness, green scales, sharp teethhatelovewaterwaves, pressure).Exhausted, covered in sweat, and sand sticking to his slick skin, he thinks: A siren song, that’s what this is. His head falls back, breathing in sync with the roll of the waves. The seagull call sounds and this time, he knows exactly who the sea took. He has resigned himself to his fate- his drowning is only a matter of time. Seventeen One morning, Makoto walks into the Nanase household and discovers Haru sitting at the kitchen table, back straight, hands resting at his sides. He’s staring into the distance, towards the sea, and the depth of his gaze is unsettling. His expression is dazed.For a second, Makoto mistook Haru for grandmother Nanase. He remembers her sitting in that chair, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing like the folds of old knitted blankets, softened by the passage of time. One hand cradling her cheek, the other straying over the polished wood, veins clearly visible. Old, color washed out, withering as people do.She would sigh quietly, so whole, like it was the last flicker of a candle flame, the smoke the only thing left to spiral in the air.He blinks and the image is gone. Only the quiet, longing sadness she shared with her grandson remains.It scares him, to see his friend like this.Haru startles awake in the middle of class, the teacher not even bothering to try and wake him anymore. The notes in his ear dance merrily and their message has never been so clear.Rin is on his way back. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The sea song and Rin’s siren song entwine until they’re one. It’s a wave longing creating a storm of passion. It feels like Haru is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders walking around these days. The stones for his drowning have already filled his pockets- he can feel the burden pulling on his clothes, even if they aren’t there yet.To his surprise, their presence is a comfort.Though Makoto is usually good about giving Haru space, he has been hovering over him the last few days. He keeps reaching out. Almost touching Haru, but not quite. Brows furrowing and trying to keep Haru in sight as long as possible. It’s so subtle Haru wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t know Makoto so well.It’s like Makoto can sense Haru is going to disappear any second now, so he tries to hold on with a desperation that’s not like him at all. Haru knows he’s the one driving Makoto to this utter madness, but he wants to turn away and simply not see it. But it’s never been that easy. Makoto flinches every time Haru withdraws, looking down and burying his hands in his pockets in a terribly awkward manner. It makes Haru’s chest feel tight the way the song holding his ears captive doesn’t anymore.So he walks with Makoto every day, slowly seduced by the lapping of the waves. He can hear the quiet splashes his first steps into the water will make, but he walks beside the only friend he’s ever had silently. His only friend besides Rin, of course, but Rin is different. If that wasn’t clear by now, then nothing would be.It all comes to a head on a summer evening. The air is moist, the kind that makes it hard to breathe. It lies over Iwatobi like a heavy blanket, covering the entire town and slowly suffocating it. The sun is bright and most people fled the streets hours ago.Haru and Makoto are in the Tachibana’s backyard. The wood of the picnic table is rough beneath Haru’s thighs- he’s only wearing his swimsuit. Makoto already gave up on getting him to wear more clothes earlier that day.The popsicle feels cold against his tongue, a welcome relief from the heat. It’s melting too fast, though. It hasn’t been outside the freezer for more than two minutes and his hands are already sticky from the sugary water running down the sides.The crinkling sound of plastic being crushed makes him look up. Makoto sits there, his whole body tense, lips tight, his fist is clenched around the wrapper of his popsicle, knuckles white.‘’Why can’t you just be happy with what you have?!’’It hangs in the air between them.A bird tweets in the distance, and Haru can hear the rustling leaves of the camellia shrubs Makoto’s mother cherishes so much. The grass in the yard is dead, but the plant still flowers. The delicate petals of the red-pink blooms remind him of Rin.Rin is everywhere Haru goes- even if it is only in his own thoughts. It would probably drive him crazy if it was in his nature to struggle against such thing. But it’s not.Just like his longing for the sea song, his love for Rin has become an everlasting part of his soul.‘’I can’t change the motion of the ocean.’’ Fighting against things that are never going to change is futile.Makoto lowers his head slowly, shoulders hunching and arms pressed against his sides.‘’I just…’’ his voice is small, his seemingly too-big hands fiddling with the edge of his shirt as he looks down, ‘’wanted this summer to last forever.’’He raises his head, a sad smile bordering on a bitter grin on his face as green eyes meet blue. ‘’But I guess that’s just not possible, isn’t it?’’Something in Haru contracts. He raises his hand to somehow comfort Makoto, even though he has no idea how to do that.He never gets that far, though, because he’s interrupted by the loud creak of the garden gate being thrown open.Ran flies into the garden, stumbles and keels over, hair falling all around her, her breathing violently fast.Is she hyperventilating?!Makoto has already gotten up, ready to deal with a scraped knee, when Ran pushes her hair out of her face like it’s seaweed she’s tangled in, eyes desperate and pleading.‘’Onii-chan!’’ She tries to get up, but she’s doing everything at the same time and falls down again. Makoto helps her up, but she’s shaking terribly, holding onto his arm. Makoto grimaces. It’s a vice grip‘’I had a fight with Ren! And… And…’’ she’s sobbing, and it’s preventing her from talking. That only makes her cry harder. Her face is red and her nose is runny. Crying children are never pretty, but Haru’s too concerned to contemplate that now.‘’He stormed off to Nanase river!’’Haru doesn’t need to see the blood draining Makoto’s face, because he can feel the same happening to his own. The river doesn’t hurt those who bear the name of the seven rapids, those who bear the curse, but it certainly will take the life of little Ren Tachibana if he gets too close to the riverbank.The idea of the boy's small body being devoured by the rapids, the light slowly leaving his eyes as he is dragged down by his heavy clothing, to the sharp rocks on the river bottom makes Haru recoil.Before he’s even got the chance to think, he’s on his feet. God, don’t let them be too late. Let Ren, small Ren, who was just a baby yesterday, still be safe and sound. And most of all, far, far away from the river.The pounding of his feet is a background noise, and he’s still not running fast enough, but he can’t push his legs to go any quicker. They’re burning already and it feels like fire in his veins, but he doesn’t care.He can almost see Nanase river, but Makoto is in front of him, blocking the view and-  A piercing scream leaves Makoto’s mouth.Haru knows what’s happening before he sees it- Makoto freezing at the sight of Ren slipping down the river bank, white trousers smearing with mud.Haru throws himself towards the edge, pebbles digging into his skin, but it’s too late. Ren has already hit the water, and Haru’s hand only grasps straws as the current drags the boy with it.The sound of the rushing water is deafening and it melds together with his heartbeat. It’s louder than anything he’s ever heard before. The cold dirt beneath his body is seeping into his swimming trunks, and his chest is slick with mud. It rises and falls abnormally fast.The sudden clarity of the moment is stunning in the chaos.  Haru is content with dying in the arms of the waves, drifting down as bubbles leave his mouth, slowly losing oxygen as he becomes one with the sea.He belongs to the ocean, but being separated from it until their death is the punishment the Sea God gave to all the Children of the Sea who were tainted with the blood of the selfish fisherman. Haru hates that blood, but his grandmother possessed it too and he did love her. His heart is so painfully human, despite loving a creature of the sea.Makoto is still petrified, wide eyes staring down at the whitewater's surface. Haru gets to his knees, staring at his hands. There are no webs between the fingers. He looks at his feet. Human. But these feet have stood upon the stepping stones in Nanase river, have passed the seven rapids without a single drop of water wetting them.He is the only one who has a chance of saving Ren and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try. One of these days, the water is going to take him anyway. It might as well happen while he’s not throwing his life away in vain.He stands up, closes his eyes and raises his arms above his head. He inhales, breathing in the heavy air and jumps, using all the power he has in the legs he has cursed for years.He breaks the surface, the water slamming into him, folding around him and swallowing him whole. Even when submerged, the noise never leaves him. The water beats against his ears, bashes his body and his lungs. It doesn’t want to let him go.The sea song is there, and so is the siren song. It spirals around him in tighter and tighter circles, light and heavy at the same time. The notes voice so much longing and sing of peace, storms, and chaos. Of places where no line is straight and the light of day cannot reach. Of eternal movement, of red hair and a bright grin, of a mouth against his own and scales hard as steel pressing into his skin.For the first time in his life, Haru resists. He pushes against the door in his mind until it closes, inch by inch, and locks it thrice. The song pounds into it like a battering ram, demanding entrance. He refuses to listen to it and something in his mind screams: LEAVE ME ALONE! As he puts all his body weight into preventing it from opening again.Because Ren Tachibana is a child with lungs in need if oxygen, and the sea can’t have him. Suddenly, it’s quiet, but Haru doesn’t give it a single thought, because right at that moment, his hand cuts through the water and closes around Ren’s arm. He drags the boy to the riverbank, the water no match for his will when he has something so precious in his arms.Makoto is finally moving again and pulls Ren up, tugging him against his chest while sitting on the grass. He’s crying, running his hands all over Ren to make sure he’s fine. The boy is crying just as loudly, his face blotchy, and clinging to his brother's arms. His hair is sticking to his skull and his soaked clothes are drenching Makoto too, but neither of them pays it any mind, far too glad to be alive.Haru has heaved himself up by that time, breathing becoming more even, and all he can think is: Thank god.It’s quiet. Terribly, terribly quiet. An alien sensation to someone whose world has never been silent before.Haru stands up and stares at the water. It doesn’t sing. There is no rippling aria attempting to ensnare him, but something surges within him nonetheless. But he doesn’t have to listen to the urge if he doesn’t want to.It’s a choice now, and Haru knows what to do.He turns back to Makoto and Ren one more time. His eyes glide over brown hair, soft skin, big hands and a face that holds the gentlest smile he has ever seen. He loves Makoto, he really does, but he has the blood of the fisherman in his veins, and he’s almost as selfish as his ancestor. Almost, because he might be leaving Makoto behind, but he was willing to give up the sea song for Ren. There was no guarantee that he would get it back.  Ignoring the sea song in order to save the life of another means there’s something more important to him than his own selfish desires.And that might just be enough.The corner of his mouth tugs up. (“But curses can be broken, right?”His grandmother nods and leans forward. “But this particular curse can only be defeated when the cursed children leave the sea song behind. Only then they can become one with the sea.’’)He turns and dives into the water, the river welcoming him in its embrace. This time, it pushes him forward, caresses his skin as he rushes through the seven rapids without hesitating even once. The rocks on the bottom of the river are blurs in his vision as he turns and he twists and feels something change. And it rises and rises within him, his heart beating faster and faster, because this is it, this is what he has been waiting for all his life. This is it and it’s happening. As it reaches its peak, he bursts into the open ocean, current matching the speed of his body, and he gives in. There is calm.There is quiet.There is nothing but the sound of the overflow within him. He spreads his arms, bares his neck towards the surface above him, body arched upwards.He breathes. And he is what he was meant to be. A part of the sea, salt water in his body as if it’s air, legs melded into one, his seal-skin in the place that was so painfully empty before.For the first time in his life, Haruka Nanase is free. And he knows exactly what he wants to do with that freedom.And Rin is there, watching him with eyes as big as saucers, somehow there at the exact moment Haru needs him to be. Rin’s mouth is hanging open, not believing what he is seeing, though he need not gasp for air when he’s underwater and he has the gills just above his ribs to breathe.The moment is the kind of wild, free thing that does not need words. It speaks, sings its own song.Haru smirks and propels himself forward with a single movement of his powerful tail, parting the water effortlessly, and grabs the dazed Rin.He drags Rin down- he is the stone in his pocket, the weight he himself placed there. It’s an instinctual reaction- drown or be drowned, and yet it has another meaning entirely. Drown in me, Rin’s eyes scream, beg, shout- Sunset red sings his heart out.Haru tightens his hands- webs between his fingers- around Rin’s shoulders in reply, nails digging into his skin. Rin snarls, shark teeth visible even in the darkness of the deeper parts of the sea, and tries to make a grab for Haru instead. He’s unable to break Haru’s hold and keeps struggling, but he’s not unwilling.It’s a fight, a struggle for dominance and all the words they don’t have the time to utter. But it doesn’t matter, because Rin’s back touches the ocean floor and Haru knows.They have time now. This is forever.It’s all he ever wanted and more.Two weeks after Haru’s disappearance, Makoto throws a message in a bottle into the churning waters of Nanase river.The next day, the mayor declares Haruka Nanase dead.The only thing he wrote was: Be happyIn the end, the people of Iwatobi conclude the Nanase boy, Haruka (How peculiar his parents named him; it’s such a girlish name for a young man), must have drowned in the sea, his body washed away by the waves.They can’t bury the boy, but they don’t want the thought of his watery grave lingering in the darkest hours of the night, so they decide to put a headstone in the graveyard for him anyway.They try to find a family member to put the boys grave next to, but despite the fact that the Nanase’s have lived here longer than Iwatobi town has existed, they cannot find a single grave that sports the name. “It’s like they turned into sea foam,” they laugh. But the joke falls flat and feels uncomfortably close to the truth.Makoto grieves, though he knows Haru isn’t dead, for all he was swallowed by the sea. He knows he lost something. He was the land to Haru’s sea, and will have to learn how to live without him.Haru isn’t dead, but his grave isn’t empty. A part of Makoto is buried there.Decades later, the Nanase’s and their curious habits are all but forgotten, only a vague memory in the minds of the elderly. These days, the inhabitants of Iwatobi town talk about the Tachibana’s and their quaint tales of siren songs, love and loss.They’re good natured, happy folks, though, and nobody minds a fantastical story on a drinking night in that strange little town by the sea. It’s just a story after all, even if the little ones find glistening scales on the shore and the passer-by’s swear they see people swimming in the river whenever the moon is full.In Iwatobi, there is a river. The rapids aren’t the only thing the children are warned about.
10576713
Every Time That The Sun
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by monkiainen", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-09T00:00:00", "words": "284", "Additional Tags": "Hippogriffs, Eggs, Pre-Movie(s)", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Newt Scamander", "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "fan_flashworks", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Newt Scamander was not your ordinary young man. Oh no, he definitely wasn't. While the other young men of his age were solely interested in wooing young women, all Newt wanted to do was to explore the world and study all the beasts known to wizard-kind. (and maybe find some new beasts from his travels!) So, while his Ministry co-workers were all talking about how the Quidditch referee in the last game had been totally blind, and how Abigail Nicola was the most beautiful woman in the Wizengamot, Newt was making scarecrows to lure out Grofs and Xenopolyxes.Just because they weren't mentioned in any of the official beast roster made by The Ministry Press, it didn't mean they didn't exist. It only meant no one had been able to catch them.When Newt wasn't too busy to discover more fantastic beasts, he went back home to his parents' and helped his mother with her hippogriff farm. They were such a majestic creatures, and Newt had always loved watching them. As a small child he had often wondered if the hippogriffs laid eggs like ducks, because one half of them was clearly that of a bird. There was only one way to find it out: he would sneak out to the hippogriffs' yard during the mating season and see it for himself. He never did found out the truth, because his father caught him before he could enter the yard and gave him a stern lecture about it. The lecture did nothing to stop Newt's thirst for knowledge when it came to finding information about beasts around the world.One day he would solve the mystery of hippogriff eggs, that he was sure of.
10584468
Rogue
{ "Archive Warning": "Major Character Death", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Cas - Character, Castiel, Reader, You", "Fandom": "Supernatural", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by krazyk2314", "chapters": "3/3", "completed": "2017-04-15", "published": "2017-04-10T00:00:00", "words": "4,451", "Additional Tags": "Reader Insert, Character Death, Demons, return from the dead, Angst, rogue hunter", "Relationship": "Dean Winchester/Reader", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It was a doomed hunt from the start. Facts never seemed to line up, the four of you arguing continuously over what you were actually hunting. It turned out to be a Demon hunt, something that the four of you could usually handle with ease. But when you charged into the old, run down farm house miles from anywhere, you could easily see how big of a mistake you had made. Dead bodies were strewn across the floor, their throats ripped. At least fifteen Demons were spread around the room, standing to attention when you charged in, one Demon blade between the four of you, along with holy water, and two angel blades. It wasn't good odds, but you had faced worse. With a gance at each other, you had pushed forward. Staying with Dean, you slashed holy water as Dean sliced with the angel blade. Sam had his Demon killing blade, and Cas had already killed one with his Angel Blade. Working hard, you quickly took down one after another, feeling a sense of hope that you might actually walk out of this hunt with only minor scrapes. Taking a nasty hit from one Demon, you were pushed away from Dean, far away from the safety his Angel blade provided. Hearing him yelling for you in the distance, you swung with the holy water, tossing the can to the side when it came up empty. Pulling out your knife, you sliced at the Demon, knowing it wouldn't kill him, but at least it would keep the Demon's at bay until you were back with Dean. As you sliced the blade against the Demon's arm, you were forced back, held against a hard chest, the Demon's hand heavy against your neck."You bitch." He growled against your ear, causing you to groan as he bit down hard on the tender skin, ripping skin. "You hunters are always sticking your noses where they don't belong. It's about time you learn a lesson."Taking your knife, he drew a symbol on your forearm, the blood trickling down and falling onto the dust covered floor. Glancing around frantically, you saw Cas smiting the life away from one Demon while Dean grappled with two simultaneously. Sam was picking himself up off the floor, a gash on his forehead. "Y/N!" He yelled, moving to rush over to you, but another Demon stepped out from the hallway, corning Sam before he could make his way to you."There, that makes things more interesting." The Demon grumbled low in his throat. "Now for the fun part."Before you could even fight to get away, the knife left your arm, plunging straight into your stomach. A horrendous scream left your lips as you felt a white hot pain enter your system, your insides feeling as if they were boiling. "Y/N!" Dean yelled, killing off both of his Demon's before rushing towards you."Time for me to vanish. See ya soon sweetheart." He promised before smoking out of his meat suit. Hearing it thud behind you, you held a hand over your wound, your legs giving out underneath you. "Cas, get over here!" Dean yelled, grabbing you just as you went to hit the floor. Cradling you to his body, he winced at the blood pouring out of your stomach, fast and hot. "Y/N, don't worry. Cas will get over here, and everything will be fine."A sudden cough racked your body, blood covering your lips making Dean's words a lie. "Dean, please. Go help your brother and friend." You pleaded, seeing the way that Cas and Sam were still struggling to end the life of at least four Demons."They can handle themselves. I'm not going to leave you." He argued, but you knew your fate."Dean, I'm dying. Don't lose them too." You mumbled. The feeling from your wound was gone, a peaceful numbness filling your being. With tears in his eyes, Dean glanced between you and the rest of the team. He was torn, wanting to stay with you, but knowing Sam and Cas needed his help. "Damn it Y/N." He muttered, a tear slipping out."Go." You told him, your hand gracing his cheek, before slipping off, laying uselessly at your side as your eyes slid closed."Y/N, no!" He pleaded, but it was too late. The Demon had taken your life, right out from under his nose.A Year Later, Dean's POV"Sam, you know how I feel about Demon hunts." I growled, tossing back another shot of whiskey. Sitting at the table in the library, my feet propped up on the table, I refused to move. "I know you hate them. But just think this way. The more Demons you kill, the more revenge you get for Y/N." Sam argued, and I had to admit, he had a point. "Dean, you're not the only one hurting with Y/N gone, but she wouldn't want you to stay here, drinking yourself to death.""What else am I supposed to do?" I asked him. "Y/N was under my protection. She was there because I wanted her to be, and now she's dead. I can't stop blaming myself for that moment over and over again, and going on a hunt isn't going to change that fact.""Killing yourself here isn't going to change it either. We need you. This Demon is killing people, human and Supernatural alike. I've never seen anything like it, and it needs to be stopped, now.""You mean it's killing Monsters?" I asked, Sam finally gaining my attention."Yeah. It's killed werewolves, vampires, even a vengeful spirit. Along with a couple teenagers and a middle aged man. It doesn't add up." He explained as he sat down across from me.It was then I noticed the frown on his face, the way he kept nervously brushing the hair back from his face. "There's something else isn't there. Something you're afraid to tell me."I watched as his eyes flickered nervously to the staircase, like he was waiting for someone to walk in. Holding his laptop tight in his hands, he looked down at it, keeping his gaze away from me. He knew how well I could read him, and he didn't want me to. Which made me tighten my hand around the crystal glass in my hand knowing whatever it was, it had to be bad. "Tell me. Now.""I called Cas. I thought it would be better to say it once, to both of you." Sam said quietly just as the door opened and Cas came walking in."Sam, I received your message and came as quick as I could. It sounded urgent." Cas said as he came to stand next to me."It is urgent." He said. "Dean, I know you're not going to like this.""Just get it over with." I grumbled, tension making me run a hand over my mouth, wishing I hadn't downed the last of the whiskey.Opening up his laptop, he clicked a couple of buttons. "This is surveillance footage of the last two murders. Take a close look at our suspect."With both Cas and I leaning forward, Sam pushed the laptop our way. Watching as a familiar silhouette easily tossed down the middle aged man, I couldn't see the person's face at first. I watched as the person, or monster, easily stabbed the man in the heart, before pulling the knife from his body. Wiping it on her clothes, she finally turned towards the camera, making my heart catch in my throat."Y/N." I whispered, recognizing the beautiful face anywhere, even in the bad footage of the surveillance video. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Y/N." I whispered, recognizing the beautiful face anywhere, even in the bad footage of the surveillance video. Watching closely, I looked for any sign that her body was being possessed. That, or for glowing eyes that stated she might be a shape shifter. Anything to explain why the girl I loved was in the video in front of me killing helpless human beings. That wasn't the girl I knew, and it made my heart break even more."I wasn't sure at first, but this second video confirmed it. Dean, I'm so sorry. But you know what this means." Sam said softly as I could hear Cas pacing behind me. "Damn it." I muttered as I forced myself past Cas, pulling a new bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet. With this type of news I wasn't sure there would be even whiskey in the world totake away the pain."I can go there now, get an idea of what we're dealing with." Cas offered. "I can even handle her. That way you don't have to do it Dean.""Handle her." I chuckled darkly. "This is Y/N we're talking about and you make it sound like it's just another monster to kill!""Dean." Sam answered softly, trying to placate me. "Cas is just trying to help. He didn't mean anything bad about it."Rubbing my hand along my mouth, I held back the sob that wanted to escape. "I know. Sorry Cas. It's just, I never expected this to happen.""Dean don't worry about it." Cas replied, placing his hand on my shoulder. "We will fix this, even if it means burning her body."With a sigh I began gathering up my items, not wanting to wait any longer. Truthfully, a little part of me was excited that I would get to see Y/N again, even if only for a moment. Even if it truly wasn't her.With Sam beside me and Cas sitting in the backseat, I pushed the Impala down the highway, the radio turned up loud to stop any sort of conversation that might be brought up. I didn't want to talk, to hear them voice what we all were thinking. That I might have to watch her die all over again, probably by my hand. The thought had my jaw clenching.It was a couple hours later I was pulling up to the town she had last been seen in. Stopping in front of a bar, I could feel two pairs of eyes staring down at me. "If Y/N's still here, this is a good place to start looking.""You take here, Cas and I will check us into the motel, then head to the crime scene. Meet back at the motel?" Sam asked and I nodded. Watching them leave, I walked into the sparsely populated bar. A couple of older men were playing pool, a couple sitting at the booth in the back. Another booth, in the shadows, had a person in it, too dark to get a description.Taking a stool at the bar I raised my hand for a shot of whiskey. The graying bartender sent a glass my way, before turning his attention back to the ball game on the TV. Sipping the liquid, I titled in my seat, looking as if I was watching the pool game while I tried to peer into the back booth. The build was about right, but that's all i could make out in the darkened corner. With a sigh I knocked back the drink before ordering two more. With them secured in my hands, I stood up, making my way towards the pool tables before I quickly slid into the booth beside the girl. "What the hell?" She asked, frantically looking for an exit. "Y/N, what's your game? Or should I say whoever is possessing her body?" I growled, holding the container of holy water in my hand where she could see."No black eyes." She growled. Spritzing her with the water, I was surprised when her skin didn't sizzle."Fine. Shifter then." I answered back, placing my silver blade against her skin, frowning when it didn't burn. "What the hell are you?""I'm just me." She answered. "But who the hell are you?"Reeling back from her question, I studied her closely. Everything about her seemed normal, exactly like the Y/N that died in my arms. "Come on, we're getting out of here." I told her, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the booth. Slightly struggling, she followed along, not giving too much of a fight until we were under the parking lot light.Roughly pulling her arm from my grasp, she pulled out a long, evil looking knife. "Now, let's try this again. Who are you, how do you know me, and why did you call me Y/N?""You don't remember?" I asked her, wishing that Sam and Cas were back to help me out. "Y/N, it's me Dean. We hunted together, even fell for each other a little bit.""Doesn't ring a bell." She scoffed. "Now how about you let me go, and you won't end up getting hurt."Thinking quickly, I prayed to Cas, hoping he could hear and come before this became a disaster. With my hands in the hair, I took a step closer to her, watching as she pointed the knife closer to my chest. "Y/N, we're trying to help you." I pleaded with her, taking yet another step closer.Suddenly, without warning, she jumped forward, slamming me to the ground. Even though I outweighed her she had the upper hand, her strength even more so than when she had been alive. "Y/N stop!" I exclaimed, deflecting a hit, then a second one. Too quickly I realized she had her knife in her hand, holding it against my neck."Enough." She warned. "Let me go and forget all about me.""No, I can't do that." I told her just as I heard the familiar sounds of Cas arriving. "Wrong answer Dean." She whispered and I could have sworn I saw heartbreak in her eyes just as she moved her knife from my neck, plunging it down into my skin.Groaning as the metal separated skin, I pushed her off of me, pulling the knife from skin and tossing it far away. As I pressed a hand to staunch the bleeding, I watched as Cas grabbed her from behind, holding her tight. "Don't fight. He's stronger than you, you won't be able to get away." I warned her, but still she fought until Cas reached up, pressing two fingers to her forehead knocking her unconscious. Reaching for her, Cas shook his head."No Dean. I've got her. You're hurt." He argued. "Why didn't you pray to me sooner?""I wanted to try it by myself." I told him, wincing as I moved my shoulder. "She's not a Demon, or a shifter.""Then what is she?" He asked, glancing down at her. "I wish I knew." I answered.Walking with him the couple of blocks to our motel I knew that we must look a sight. A man holding onto his wound, another wearing a trench coat, carrying an unconscious girl. Sticking to the shadows, we made sure we didn't draw the eyes of the cars passing by.Sam had already made it back to the motel room, holding open the door when he saw us coming. "What the hell happened?" He asked, looking at my blood soaked shirt and Y/N laying limply in Cas' arms."I found her." I answered, watching as Cas gently placed her down on the bed. As her body relaxed on the mattress the long sleeved shirt rode up, hinting at a mark on her skin. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I walked over, pushing her sleeve up the rest of the way.Whatever it was was deep and red looking. A triangle with weird etchings carved into her skin. It wasn't on her before we went on the hunt, and I glanced at Cas. "You ever see something like this?" I asked him. Stepping up next to me, he shook his head. "Never. It looks ancient, but I don't know what those symbols mean."Sighing, I gingerly pulled my shirt off, knowing my wound needed cleaned and stitched right away. "Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure it's the reason she's back."**One More Part! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Final Part of the story requested by Risk_DashAs she lay unconscious on the bed, I couldn't help but study her closely. The similar way her eyelashes dusted her cheeks as she slept, her hair I ached to run my hands through once again. Everything about her seemed the same, but so different at the same time. The tattoo on her arm a glaring reminder that I hadn't been able to save her. That she had died on my watch, and now something had returned her topside, turning her into a viscous killing machine. A machine that I might have to kill. The thought sent a shiver up my spine, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to."Dean, we need to work fast. She won't be out for long." Sam said softly, knowing the turmoil I was going through. "We need to search for a way to save her, or face the possibility that we might have to...""I know that Sam. It's just...." I started before ending my sentence. He knew how I felt, there was no need to take out my frustration on him. "Dean, I wish I could be of more help, but I haven't heard of a symbol like this. It's Demonic, I know that. But as to breaking it, I can't help. Call me if you need anything else." Cas apologized before reaching over and healing my wound effortlessly. Without another word he vanished, leaving Sam and I with an unconscious Y/N. "Great." I muttered, just as Sam opened up his laptop. Sitting down across from him, I opened up Dad's journal, hoping for some sort of clue in his crooked handwriting.An hour passed and Y/N had yet to stir. Sam was still hunched over his laptop, furiously typing away while I was coming towards the end of the journal. Disheartened, I was about ready to shut it when I saw something written down in the margins. The symbol seemed close to the one on her wrist. Reading what Dad had written, I was finally feeling a little bit of hope that I would be able to actually help Y/N."Sam, I think I might have something." I told my brother just as Y/N began stirring on the bed. "Damn it, I thought Cas said she would be out longer!" I exclaimed, rushing over to the bed. She hadn't totally woken up yet, but I knew as soon as she was conscious we were in trouble. "Try to figure it out!" I yelled at Sam, tossing him the journal as I rushed over towards her. Just as I reached the bed, Y/N sat straight up in bed, her eyes wild as she glanced around the room. Her eyes might not be black, but you could just feel the evilness rolling off of him. "Y/N, wait." I started, but before I could grab her she was off the bed, rushing towards the door. Jumping forward, I wrapped my arms around her, both of us falling to the ground. Wrestling on the ground, I was quickly losing control. Whatever that spell had done to her had made her strong, much stronger than before. Wincing as her elbow connected with my cheek, I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to hurt her, knowing that my Y/N was in there somewhere. "Dean, here!" Sam yelled, tossing a pair of handcuffs my way. "Maybe a little help!" I yelled back, reaching over and grabbing the cuffs. "Hell no!" She cussed, rearing back and letting another punch fly, this one connecting with my lip. "Ugh." I groaned. Still grappling with her, I finally got one hand in a cuff. "I'm going to skin you alive." She growled. "You, that man over there. I can't wait to inflict as much pain on you as possible.""Promises." I answered. With a groan I was able to pull her up off of the floor. Sam had pushed a chair close by, and I attached the other cuff to the chair. It wasn't much, but it gave me a chance to take the rope, tying her up before she could inflict any more damage on my already sore body. Breathing hard, I placed my hands on my knees. "So Sam, you figured anything out?" "Yeah. There's a reversal spell, but it's pretty nasty, and Dad wasn't sure it would even work. He said that even if it did it might kill her all over again." He explained, turning the laptop back to him so he could look up more information. "The spell is relatively easily, and we already have all the ingredients.""Set it up, I'll keep an eye on her." I told him, watching as she fought against her confinement, spewing profanities. "Dean, we're going to have to break the mark. That means inflicting pain." Sam said before he went out to the Impala. Sitting down across from her, I waited for Sam to come back. "You know, I actually remember you." She said, and my head snapped up, staring at her in surprise. So far all of her actions had pointed to the fact that she didn't know us. "You're just trying to reel me in." I answered carefully."No, it's true. I remember you, and Sam. Even Cas the awkward angel. I remember how much I loved you. But do you know what?" I knew better than to answer her, but I couldn't help myself. "What?" I asked, watching as an evil grin broke out on her face. "I don't care. I don't feel any of those emotions any more. To me, you are just three people that got in my way. And I can't wait to watch the light fade away from your eyes. And it will, I promise that." She purred, just as Sam came rushing back into the room, his arms full."I'll add the ingredients, you break the mark. With any luck it will be over in an hour." Sam said, frowning when he noticed the bleak look on my face. Pulling him over to the side, I leaned forward, speaking low. "She says she remembers, everything. I'm just afraid that this isn't going to work." "If it doesn't, you know what we have to do." He said, watching me carefully."I know. And I will be the one to do it. But let's hurry up and get this over with." I muttered, taking the knife from my bag and striding back over to Y/N."Aww, did you guys talk about me? About how hard it's going to be to kill me?" She asked, her face lightning up at the thought of blood, even if it was her own. Without saying another word, I leaned down, running the knife along her arm, watching as it sliced right through the mark. Blood welled up, but the deed was done. The mark was sliced in half.Stirring a bowl, Sam came walking over to me. "It's ready. We take this paste, pack it on and around the mark. We say these words, and it should be done."Taking the bowl from him, I began placing it on the mark. Wincing as her skin started bubbling and she started moaning in pain. Still I kept at it, even when she smacked her head against mine and I swore I was seeing stars. "Damn it." I mumbled, knowing my face was going to be a multitude of bruises the next morning. Pressing down against the still bleeding wound, I made sure the paste made it's way inside."No! You're going to kill me!" She screamed before her head slumped forward."Do you think we did? Kill her I mean?" I asked, knowing that was a distinct possibility. Pressing against her shoulder, she didn't move. Rubbing my hand along my mouth, I went to the fridge, grabbing a beer. Downing it all in one long gulp, I tossed the bottle into the trash can before continuing my pace around the room. With my eyes on her, I waited for signs of life.My gaze kept moving from Y/N to the clock, watching as time slowly passed. An hour, then two. Sam had left, getting food that laid uneaten on the table as I waited for her fate. To know if we killed her, of if she would survive.It was about three hours later when she finally showed signs of moving. Her entire body started shaking, as if she was experiencing a horrendous seizure. "Y/N?" I asked, kneeling down next to her. Throwing her head back, she kept shaking, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Damn it Sam, I think she's dying!" I exclaimed, tears in my eyes as the threat of losing her was right in front of me. "Dean, it might be for the best." He answered, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know it will be hard, but we already lost her once.""Dean?" I heard a small voice whisper as my attention was focused on my brother. My head turned so fast I heard the pop of my neck. Staring at me was Y/N, her eyes wide with shock. "Y/N!" I exclaimed, ignoring Sam's warning as I reached forward, untying her from the chair. Slumping forward in my arms, she started shaking once again. Pulling back, I noticed she was sobbing. "Shh, it's okay. It's all over now." I assured her, rubbing her back."It was horrible. I wasn't myself. That Demon spelled me. In Hell he made me..." She started, tears running down her face."The mark is gone. You're back to normal now." I assured her, but it still hurt seeing the pain and guilt in her eyes."But all the people..." She whispered, and I placed my hands on her cheeks, making her look at me."That wasn't your fault. Sure it was your hands, but all the blame goes on that Demon. I know it will be hard to get past, but I will be here for you. It's been so hard without you." I comforted her, loving the feel of having her back in my arms."Thank you for not giving up on me." She whispered, before tilting her head up. With a soft smile, I leaned down, pressing my lips against hers."Of course I wouldn't give up on you. Love you too much for that." I assured her.That was the last part. Hope you liked it!!
10540932
Jedi and Knight
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Poe Dameron, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Snoke (Star Wars)", "Fandom": "Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-04T00:00:00", "words": "1,623", "Additional Tags": "knight of ren poe, Dark Poe, Sexual Tension, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping", "Relationship": "Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "The Broken Edge AUs", "Collections": "Gen Prompt Bingo Round 12", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
1. Poe Dameron's earliest memories are of darkness, and a looming pale face. It's been the pale face, the voice, that has guided him ever since he can remember. He is a little boy without his parents, and he doesn't need them. He is the Supreme Leader's apprentice, good as his child. He can remember stories of Dark Side history being told, as well as, strangely, those of the Light. Then again, the Supreme Leader has always had a unique vision, and they need to trust in it. They need to understand, and follow. Poe's world from the time that he's very young is this: obey the Supreme Leader. Trust in him. He will be your father, your leader, your teacher. All enemies of the First Order will not show you compassion, or mercy, and so you must not show them such in turn. And beware the Light. From the beginning, the call of the Light is seen as something akin to the boogeyman. When Poe hears it, he is afraid of it. Afraid of what it means, what it represents. When he hears it, he shies away, fights it with all he has. Every bit of anger, every bit of hate. It's during one of their meditation sessions that the Supreme Leader says to him to beware the Light, as if Taral hasn't heard it a million times before. "And beware the Jedi," the Supreme Leader says. "They will trick you. They are incapable of any sort of love or compassion. They took children in the night back in the day.""Why 'back in the day'?" the small boy says. Even as a little boy, he is described by others (in worried tones) as incorrigible. "Skywalker has no doubt changed some of the rules," says the Supreme Leader. "But the Jedi are still dangerous beings, Poe Dameron. Be wary of them." 2. When Poe is seven, Lisaris takes over his training, as the Supreme Leader is on a prolonged infiltration mission. Lisaris becomes a secondary teacher for Poe, and Poe can't help but find Lisaris a bit scary, what with his strange, crackling voice. Still, Lisaris nurtured his talents, things like flying, which Poe is really good at. One could say that Lisaris was where his flying passion got reignited. 3. It's when Poe is eighteen years old, after a successful mission to Onderon, that he takes on the name Taral Ren. Taral means protector, and that's what Poe ultimately wants to do. Protect the Supreme Leader's legacy whatever the cost, and protect the galaxy. The Supreme Leader has told him much about how the Republic failed to protect the galaxy, and Poe learned how to hate the Republic just through that alone, along with the Jedi Order. Jedi, Republic, what is the difference in the end, besides the fact that one has Force users and another doesn't?Poe Dameron is destroyed at that point. He was weak and foolish like his parents before him, and deserved to be destroyed. Taral Ren is the better creation that's sprung from the ruins. 4. He first meets Ben Solo, the one that the Supreme Leader's become obsessed with, when he captures him on Starkiller Station. Taral cannot help but be struck by his beauty. He is so lovely, with his contrast of dark hair and pale skin, dotted with freckles. His eyes are wide and dark and expressive, his lashes also long and dark. He's slender and yet the muscles on him are powerful, especially striking next to Taral, who has always had a degree of self-consciousness about his height. No one takes a short man seriously, after all. Ben Solo has a boyish face, and his lips are full and soft, his face framed by long, curly black hair making him appear almost princely. Taral looks at him, and he cannot help but feel enchanted. He feels a sort of enchantment that he's never felt before, and even long after he's secured in the interrogation room, Taral visits him. He tries to comfort him, because Taral Ren isn't a sadist like Lisaris, he never has been. He gives Ben food, comforts him. He shouldn't be doing this for an enemy of the Order, and yet he feels a tug that suggests he needs to. 5. Though Ben Solo is released thanks to Lisaris' foolishness (and Taral cannot help but think how much better a Master of the Knights of Ren he would be. If you can't do something right, after all...), Ben remains in Taral's mind too much. He keeps having these images dance through his mind, images of what Ben's body looks like under those Jedi robes, images of Ben on his knees with utter lust in his eyes meant for Taral and Taral alone, his eyes, those beautiful dark eyes... Taral can't say that he's ever felt desire. Desire was quashed among the First Order, among the Knights of Ren, while he was working with them. And now it hits him -- if this is what desire feels like, it's no wonder that it's been quashed. He wants this Jedi -- and he shouldn't. This Jedi is an enemy of the First Order. This Jedi is a liar, this Jedi doesn't know compassion or love or anything like that; the Supreme Leader has hammered it into his mind as much. And yet he also remembers what he felt from this Jedi. A strange disturbance, a mixture -- but it can't be. A mixture of both sides? And yet it's true. No wonder the Supreme Leader was so obsessed with finding him. This Jedi is different. This Jedi is darker. No, this Jedi is neither truly Dark nor truly Light. He is...unique. And Taral cannot help but be fascinated. 6. Their battles are strange and peculiar things, combinations of combat and sexuality that is barely repressed. Ben knows full well that Taral wants him, is fascinated by him. Ben knows Taral has kindness in him, which he can appreciate, but he doesn't know if he can reciprocate these feelings of attraction. Taral is tireless in his courtship. Making Ben offers. "You can belong here with us," he says at one point. "You never have to be lonely again." All so tenderly, all so gently. Ben knows he doesn't entirely belong with the Order, but he's far from lonely. Taral talks as if every part of his life has been a torment that's only been broken up by Taral coming into his life. It's more complicated than that. Ben knows it. It's always been. 7. When Taral removes his mask, Ben is so flabbergasted by what he sees, the almost angelic face framed by black hair, that he stammers out, "You're beautiful." Taral is obviously startled. "Thank you," he says, as if he doesn't believe it himself, or understand. "You've been in that armor just about your while life, haven't you?" Silence. Then Taral says, "Since I was a boy. It's intimidating-looking, but it kind of makes you sound stupid with the apparatus..." Ben raises an eyebrow. "Did Taral Ren just say something funny?" "I...guess I did." Taral laughs. It's a beautiful, bright sound, and Ben can't help but be captivated by the sound. And his smile...he's absolutely radiant when he smiles, Ben can't help but realize. Like the sun. He shouldn't have to wear a mask. Not such a beautiful, fundamentally good man... Is he falling in love with Taral Ren? It's strange, and yet it seems to be the case. He's starting to fall in love with this man, and he hates himself for it. 8. When Ben's twenty three, he falls to the Dark Side. Part of it is for Taral, just so they can be together. Ben looks into the eyes of the unmasked Taral Ren and speaks. "I love you. Dear Force, I shouldn't but I do -- " "Ben. My dear Ben. I've loved you from the start. I knew you didn't fit in with the Jedi. I knew how they treated you as so much less than the beautiful, powerful, precious being you are. And you...you looked at me as no one ever did. I have never felt the way I do for you before in my life." And Ben knows Taral means every word. "Neither have I," Ben said. Taral holds him, and Ben feels a strange sort of safety in his arms he hasn't felt in quite some time. 9. The first time they kiss, it's after Ben becomes Kylo Ren, and Kylo is startled by how soft Taral's lips feel beneath his own. Soft, silky, full. It takes work to get there but the taste is a reward in and of itself. As Taral rests his forehead against Kylo's, he murmurs, "I dreamed of kissing you, my love. Knowing what you tasted like. You're just as sweet as I imagined you'd be." 10. Taral Ren was a force to be feared on his own. Now, with his lover at his side, he knows that very little will stand in their way of completing the Supreme Leader's vision. And no matter what happens, he willl keep Kylo from the cold, from further pain. Even as he takes Kylo to the bridge, he knows he'll give his love everything he can just to make him happy. Taral has never felt like this before for anyone, and to feel it is strangely electrifying. "I've never seen so many stars in my life," Kylo says, and his voice even filtered can't disguise his amazement. "They shine for you, my beautiful Knight." Taral knows he would give more than just the stars to Kylo. He would give him everything and anything. The stars are just one way to start.
10507032
Beautiful Damnation
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "America (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), Russia (Hetalia), Spain (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia), 2P Canada, Canada (Hetalia), Austria (Hetalia)", "Fandom": "Hetalia: Axis Powers", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-31T00:00:00", "words": "4,988", "Additional Tags": "FrUs - Freeform, RusAme, Human AU, Sweet Devil AU, Human Names Used, Devil America (Hetalia), Demon Alfred, Smut, Light Bondage, Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Religious Themes, Cheating, Basically, it's complicated - Freeform", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "America/France (Hetalia), Austria/Spain (Hetalia)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Francis shouldn’t affect him this way. There’d been dozens upon dozens of humans much like him throughout the centuries. Humans weren’t as special as they liked to believe, but sometimes, they felt like the exception, the shining light in these monotonous, tedious trials that made up existence.And Francis was that exception for Alfred.His optimism was as high as his cynicism was low. He wore his heart on his sleeve; Alfred would be able to read his thoughts even without the help of being able to see his aura, which fluctuated from yellows, reds, and greens to greys, blues, and dingy browns and then a mix of those colors that seemed to create a war only Alfred could see but only Francis could feel.He shouldn’t be so special. He shouldn’t have such a strong grip on Alfred’s heart.But humans could hold so much more power over Hell than they knew.Damnation would be easier without a soul, but that seemed to be the point. Alfred didn’t even want to imagine how the seraphs were reacting, seeing a devil getting spoon-fed chicken broth by a human worried about his boyfriend’s supposed fever.“You need rest, mon loup,” Francis murmured, aura flashing with greys and blues in worry.He didn’t show any fear from Alfred suddenly snatching his wrist to stop him from taking his glasses off. Alfred didn’t have the energy to keep his glamour in place without the help of his enchantments, which were his bomber jacket and glasses.His jacket was already off, and he could already feel his head and the base of his spine itching, the skin tight and irritated. If his glasses were taken off, his tail and horns would appear immediately, followed by his eyes and hair changing color and his skin becoming even hotter. The “fever” already showed he was close to transforming, his low energy making it hard to keep his glamour in place.He was so stupid!He needed to feed soon, but the thought of it pained him.The seraphs were most definitely cackling at him.“And you need to go to work,” Alfred replied, holding up a finger when Francis opened his mouth. “I know Feliciano likes you, but Romano has been looking for a reason to fire you. Don’t let my poor vitamin habits be that reason.”“But—”“Please?” Alfred pushed against Francis’s will with his own. He’d never done this to him before, and it sickened him to do it now, but he wasn’t about to show him what he actually was.Stupid and selfish. No wonder he was damned.Reluctantly, Francis nodded, and Alfred let go of his wrist.“I’ll be back soon as my shift is over,” Francis promised. He brushed Alfred’s long bangs back from his forehead and kissed him on the forehead. “Rest while I’m gone, and we’ll watch those Saw movies you like so much. Matt said he’d be away all weekend.”Matt was Alfred’s roommate. Alfred had amassed enough wealth over the centuries to live by himself, but living with a human was preferable—and Matt was unobservant enough that any slips of power on Alfred’s part were easily overlooked.Alfred smiled. “I should get sick more often.”Shaking his head but unable to stop smiling, Francis left. Alfred stayed in bed until he heard his apartment’s door open and close. He got up and closed his bedroom door to inspect his face and hair in the tall mirror posted on the back of it. His roots were starting to darken, but that was easily explained as him dying his hair—though his eyebrows were still blond.They would darken soon; Alfred needed to find someone to feed from and soon. He hadn’t waited this long to feed since first becoming a devil, and he didn’t have Arthur to save his ass this time.Probably not even Heaven or Hell knew where that guy was these days.The itching on either side of his head and at the base of his spine began to ebb soon as Alfred pulled his bomber jacket over a Sniff Test-approved T-shirt. He rolled his shoulders, back sore and stinging. He didn’t have wings—didn’t need them with the ability to turn into shadow, mist, and corvids. Instead, his back was covered in intricate tattoos to create his own personal Seal, keeping him bound to Hell.Usually it wasn’t visible, but it occasionally shimmered white. It looked beautiful, the delicate curves and artistic angles and crosses giving it a look of elegance and purity—ironic, but that was the point. Hell’s first ruler had been the most beautiful of the seraphs before their Fall.The burning and prickling pain was a reminder of Alfred’s purpose as a devil. It alerted him to his lowering energy levels and would put him into a magically-induced coma if he went too long without feeding, to keep him from dying before an opportunity to feed presented itself.Devils didn’t lure humans to Hell as part of the job description. There was no job for them, just meaningless existence.Feeding on humans, though, tipped the scales into Hell’s favor. Not always, though. Sometimes the humans got better and continued to live and work towards Salvation; sometimes they didn’t. It all depended on their own will to live and walk along the Narrow Path.Alfred tried not to think about it too much.Opening his window all the way, Alfred took a deep breath and spun once. In a blink, he was a raven, though his eyes were blue instead of black.It wasn’t long before he was in another part of the city, where he was sure to go unnoticed by Francis, who worked in a bistro in Kenwood, or Feliciano, who also worked there. He also shouldn’t run into Francis’s two friends, Antonio and Gilbert. Gilbert was working towards his Masters at University of Chicago, and Antonio was getting his Ph.D. at the same college. That was in Hyde Park, and they should have classes today if Alfred was remembering right.While Francis was a social butterfly, he was only close to three people besides Alfred, which made it easier to avoid those who might wonder why Francis’s boyfriend was sleeping around.Though until now, shame had kept Alfred from doing such a thing. Shame he could no longer afford if he wanted to keep living, with Francis.Alfred used to live in West Ridge, back before the Cabbage War back in the nineteenth century. He’d left for New York City during that squabble, opening his own speakeasy and hosting parties he liked to think had helped inspire the character of Jay Gatsby. The Fitzgeralds, while not lovely people necessarily (though Zelda had been a joy to know), had known how to set a scene.Ivan was working in his garden as per usual—when he wasn’t screaming Alfred’s name, anyway.Having been a source of food many times for the past year, Ivan was able to sense Alfred’s presence even before he changed back into his human shape. The tall fence enclosing the back yard kept the neighbors from seeing, but most kept to themselves in this area anyhow.“I thought I was going to have to summon a new one,” he huffed, yanking out some weeds and casting them aside.He grunted as he stood, cracking his back dramatically. He might look to only be in his mid-twenties, but he acted like an old man. He even complained about technology and the new generations (each new generation since his own). He might as well start playing BINGO and get a cane.He’d look good with a cane or walking stick, actually—maybe one like Lucius Malfoy used in Harry Potter. Ivan had the hair. It used to be wheat-blond but had paled to silver over the years, and his violet eyes (once blue-grey) gave away his supernatural nature.Well, it couldn’t be called nature. It had been gifted to him.In exchange for letting Alfred fuck him whenever he needed energy, he got to keep his youth and live well beyond the years set for most humans. Their contract was open-ended, though, so if Alfred grew bored of him or otherwise wanted to end their relationship—if it could be called that—then Ivan could summon another devil to create a new agreement with.The list of names was written in Alfred’s own blood on a scroll of lambskin, rolled up in the silver vial Ivan never took off from around his neck.“Gotta learn not to be so impatient if you’re gonna live forever, darlin’,” Alfred purred as he adjusted his glasses.He reverted to his Georgia accent, having met Ivan when he first immigrated to the US and moved south, preferring the hot weather and hoping to monopolize on the fact that the Civil War had left the area desperate and ripe for others to swoop in and start picking.“Shut up,” Ivan growled, pulling Alfred towards the door.His cat ran outside when they entered, but they paid no mind as their mouths rammed together, painful and harsh as Alfred kicked the door shut behind him. They weren’t even to the L-shaped couch before their clothes were off, Alfred’s skin hot to the touch and hair black as pitch. Ram-like horns appeared on either side of his head, curling under his pointed ears.“You’ve waited too long,” Ivan whispered as their kiss broke long enough for his shirt to be taken off, and it was Alfred’s turn to tell him say “Shut up.”Alfred’s long, leathery tail wrapped around Ivan’s legs and made him lose his balance. He gasped and fell back, Alfred smirking as he caught him and carried him to the couch. The sclera of his eyes were black instead of white now, his blue irises iridescent and seeming to float in nothingness. His pupils narrowed to slits as he licked his lips, purring for Ivan to let him work as he pulled the taller man’s jeans and boots off.“Lube’s… in—”“The table drawer,” Alfred finished, his tail opening the small drawer and grabbing hold of the half-empty bottle, nearly dropping it. “You’ve been busy.”“I like having sex once in a while without passing out right afterwards,” Ivan grunted as his legs were parted, Alfred careful not to accidentally jab or cut him with his sharp nails.They were stained black, matching his fingers, which made it look like he’d been finger painting with charcoal paste. Thin lines of iridescent pale blue broke off the ends of the black, stretching halfway up his arm in jagged designs like a coming-apart spider webs crafted from lightning. The lines flashed as Alfred discarded his jeans and sneakers, and the tattoos covering his back burned and shimmered.He’d waited longer than he thought. How he’d managed to keep his human form intact (even with the enchanted jacket and glasses) this long, he couldn’t say. He’d definitely cut it close.“And you’ve left me alone for a whole year,” Ivan reminded as Alfred shapeshifted the nails on his right hand to shorten. Even someone of Ivan’s tastes wouldn’t like having his insides torn up.“I wanted you to miss me,” Alfred whispered, getting on top of the warlock and silencing him with a kiss.Ivan always complained that Alfred talked too much, but when left too long with only his own thoughts, Ivan could complain nonstop.He felt like ice against Alfred’s heat, and his breath hitched as he felt those lips move down the side of his neck. The movement was slow that gradually reached towards the line of achingly so. Alfred would pause to nibble and suck, his sharp teeth teasing with the possibility of breaking Ivan’s now-flushed skin but never actually following through.The nibbles and sucking was without rhythm or rhyme. Ivan would take in a few deep breaths before forced to gasp, his toes curling and hands reaching for Alfred before being pinned down just above his head. He bit down on his bottom lip as wet heat slowly circled around one of his nipples, as the barest touch traced down his happy trail, followed his length, and circled the head.Ivan could feel him smirk against his mouth with their next kiss when a groan managed to escape.“My beautiful little toy,” Alfred breathed where Ivan’s shoulder and neck met.Then he bit down, hard, and Ivan buckled, a growl escaping this time as he hardened fully.“Get any blood on my couch and I’ll kill you,” Ivan somehow managed around the gasps and growling groans.“Mmm….” Alfred licked at the wound.The reopened scars had all been caused by him, claiming Ivan during each encounter. While dominant with other humans, having Alfred play rough with him aroused him like nothing else. Everything was off his shoulders as someone else took the reins—and put the bit in Ivan’s mouth to gag him.They didn’t have the time for much playtime today, though. Ivan had work tomorrow and couldn’t be unconscious for too long.Alfred received the message through tasting Ivan’s blood, his rough licks closing the wound.During this, Alfred had continued to stroke Ivan’s length, breaking only reach lower to pet and tease as he started another trail of kisses, nibbles, and sucking. He moved faster this time when Ivan growled at him to get on with it.His aura was shades of reds and oranges with shocks of yellow punching through with each renewed discovery of a particularly sensitive area of his body. Alfred breathed it in, feeling his energy start to rise and the tattoos on his back ease in its irritation.He ran his tongue along Ivan’s length, using telekinesis to keep the warlock’s wrists pinned above his head now, and Alfred lowered his tail to squeeze a healthy glob of lubricant onto his fingers, the nails still shapeshifted to remain short and without any sharpness to them.Kissing the inside of Ivan’s thigh, Alfred stuck in one finger and smirked when Ivan’s breath hitched again. After this long of not bottoming, he’d need a little more prep work than they were used to, but that suited Alfred just fine. After not feeding for so long, all this energy made him dizzy with pleasure.He wanted to take care of his little toy—please him to more than make up for what Alfred was taking.Compared to his skin, Alfred’s horns were ice when they touched Ivan’s skin, especially his inner thighs as he felt the lower half of his body getting warmer and warmer as the devil continued to tease him.Hot wetness circled the head, and rivulets leaked down from the tip as another finger joined the first and started to scissor Ivan wider. His breaths had been reduced to gasps, and when he opened his eyes, the edges of his vision grew blurry. He was growing more and more sensitive as the world around him cracked and crumpled, leaving only Alfred and the pleasure he was giving him.Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.“I’m—”And Alfred leaned away from him, chuckling when Ivan cracked an eye open and growled. His fingers were still inside him but weren’t moving anymore, but when Ivan started to say that he couldn’t take this anymore, Alfred started moving them again, taking them out only long enough to add more lubricant and a third finger as he left a trail of kissed down one thigh and up the other and his other—still clawed—hand grasped one of Ivan’s ass cheeks.One of his nails nearly broke skin, and Ivan hissed and gasped and then groaned as the wet heat returned to his shaft, moving up slowly and then down quickly and then returning up to circle around the head.The fingers left, and Alfred set the bottle of lubricant atop the end table after coating plenty around his cock. He entered slowly, only the head at first as he slowly leaned forward as he planted his palms on either side of Ivan’s waist.“Al—” The rest of Alfred’s name was swallowed by a loud gasp, and a shutter trembled down his spine as he started his rhythm, slow at first so as to not hurt Ivan. “Fuck.”“Language, pet,” Alfred purred, and Ivan gasped again when he was suddenly made to sit up, Alfred moving at the same time and managing to not lose his rhythm. “And remember whose magic keeps you so pretty.”Ivan’s aura shuttered, the colors dancing in time with Alfred’s thrusts.Growling, Alfred ran his hands up Ivan’s sides as he moved faster, repeatedly hitting Ivan’s sweet spot, turning his gasps and moans into a song that made Alfred’s veins sing as the onslaught of raw, heightened energy buzzed through him and blurred the barrier between them. They were two and one and nothing and everything.They came seconds apart, and Ivan slumped in the air, spent and unconscious from the energy loss.Alfred pulled out, and laid Ivan down on the couch. They were both clean of cum and sweat with just a snap of Alfred’s fingers. He made a circle in the air with his fingers, his nails long and sharp again, and the afghan rose from where it had fallen off the back of the couch and covered Ivan—best it could, being much shorter than him.Swaying a bit, twitching and sniffling like he’d just done a line of coke, Alfred inclined his head and smiled, a feral-sounding chuckle bubbling from the back of his throat. Human energy was more than his bread and butter. It was his drug, wrapping around his soul and singing sweet nothings.He was a devil, damned, dangerous, and devious—and he loved it. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Loving Alfred was like loving lightning.He was beautiful to look at, but containing him felt like a gamble he struggled to fathom, let alone sort into words. Upon first meeting, his touches delivered sparks and stole breath; his eyes made Francis cease his scoffs at authors who described gazes as “piercing.” He spoke with surety but moved with hesitance—the wink of lightning in darkening clouds.As time moved on, the touches decreased in frequency but held more meaning. His gaze softened, and his words lost its bravado while each motion to pull Francis to him was premeditated—like he weighed the pros and cons with each handhold and peck on the lips.They had never moved further than making out, which Gilbert and Antonio joked about at first. Whether the jokes had lost their flavor or they suddenly found Alfred’s religious values admirable, Francis wasn’t sure (though he’d bet enough money to pay both their tuitions on the former), but he was glad not to have those jokes jabbing him in the ears anymore.Alfred’s insistence on abstinence was still surprising, though, recalling how he’d acted when they first met. Francis had felt almost like a conquest at first and had turned away every innuendo and leading question, first out of disinterest but then out of wanting to keep playing the game.And every so often, Francis wondered when the game was going to lead him to getting burned or electrocuted.The game was back; throughout the movie, Alfred would take his hand and intertwine their fingers, stroke his hair, kiss his knuckles, nibble on his neck or ear—like touch was the only thing keeping him away from the brink of death.It wasn’t until Alfred straddled Francis’s lap during the scene where the girl got her hands stuck in the razor-box that Francis asked how far he wanted to go.Francis had both hoped and dreaded that Alfred would say he was ready, religious laws be damned.When the game had faded into the quiet and careful dance of courtship, Francis felt sure of himself, comfortable.Now he felt doubtful and excited, but it was excitement that was a muddy mixture of anxiety and feral need that kept pushing him forward, telling him to “Go, go, go!”But then Alfred snapped out of it, like Francis’s question had shattered a spell.Face red, Alfred muttered, “I’m… I’m sorry… I just….”“It’s alright,” Francis whispered, kissing the back of Alfred’s hand.He was still warm, but he’d always run hot. It wasn’t as bad as this morning, at least.They settled back next to each other on the sofa, fingers intertwined and Alfred’s head on Francis’s shoulder.Maybe it was just the fever making Alfred feel heat in more ways than one? Francis couldn’t say, but he felt his heart deflate and his cock grow soft. He was both relieved and disappointed. He hadn’t been in many serious relationships, one being with a guy who was sex-repulsed. While Francis liked doing it, he didn’t feel it particularly necessary for the relationship to thrive.But with Alfred, he’d feel longing and dream fantasies that would have him reaching for the Rosaries he hadn’t held (let alone prayed over) since his mother’s funeral.As the credits rolled, Alfred was half in Francis’s lap and half out, and he made eye contact as he guided his lips to his own.In response to the invitation, Francis pulled Alfred closer and ran his free hand through Alfred’s soft, dirty blond hair. He smelled like soap and his berry-scented conditioner and tasted of caramel popcorn and ginger tea. He nipped Francis’s bottom lip lightly as he slowly pulled away, and Francis held his breath as Alfred’s mouth found his again.Alfred twirled a lock of Francis’s long hair around one finger and prodded his tongue forward into Francis’s mouth. There was barely any space between the two of them, and when it ended, it ended far too soon.After a peck on Alfred’s lips and the edge of his jaw, Francis told him to stay put while he put the dishes away and made another cup of ginger tea.“It tastes awful,” Alfred whined, lying so he took up the entire couch soon as Francis was up.“But it helps. You may be feeling better now, but that doesn’t mean you can jump right back to your usual diet.”Alfred stuck out his tongue, and Francis rolled his eyes, though he was unable to stop his smile form forming as he gathered the popcorn bowl and mugs from the coffee table.He felt abnormally cold as he took the dishes into the kitchen, his body begging to return to the warmth of his boyfriend.Loving Alfred may be like loving lightning, but touching him was like standing in front of a bonfire during winter’s longest night.* * *“Are you sure?” Antonio asked as he set his cat-ear headband next to his laptop.His dark brown bangs were getting too long again; his wavy hair nearly touched his shoulders, but instead of finding a hair dresser, he settled for wearing the headband Manon gave him when he needed his hair out of his face.“I don’t want to tell Francis something like this if it turns out to be a mistake,” he continued, bending back to crack his spine.Why did he need a Ph.D. again? Hadn’t his Masters put him into enough debt?“Yes, I’m sure.” Roderich looked insulted that his fiancé would think him willing to divulge information he didn’t fully know to be true. “I was helping Vash move out of his parents’ home when I saw a cat escape from the neighbor’s yard. It jumped over the fence when I caught it. I took it to the front door, unsure if the owner would want his cat running around when several in the area had been stolen and killed.”Antonio nodded. Some sick fucks were kidnaping cats in Roger’s Park and West Roger’s Park (there’d been reports in Lincoln Square and Ravenswood, too) and leaving them bloodied and beaten on makeshift Black Mass altars. Antonio had heard a couple Satanists he knew grumbling about it, saying people hated him enough as it was without people torturing animals and making it look occult-related for kicks.“There’s a large window by the front door, and the blinds were open,” Roderich continued. “It was definitely Alfred in the neighbor’s arms, kissing him. He even had his usual ratty jacket, so it wasn’t just someone that happened to look like him.”Eyes turning to the floor as his jaw set, Antonio mentally counted to ten. He hadn’t realized how heated he’d gotten as the story progressed. He had never been Alfred’s number one fan in the first place, always suspicious of the playboy persona he’d worn when first meeting Francis. Antonio had been at the party where he, Francis, and Gilbert all first met him.Alfred had looked at Francis the way a cat watched a mouse, imagining how to play with it before chomping down.Thinking of that look now sent a shiver down Antonio’s spine.Abstinence his ass.“Are you going to tell Francis?” Roderich inquired, pulling the chair from his desk around to sit next to Antonio and take his hands.He flinched slightly at the sudden touch; Roderich had always had bad circulation. When they first dated, the quickest way to kill the mood was one of Roderich’s feet accidentally brushing Antonio’s leg. The memories tugged a smile from Antonio for a moment, but he frowned again as he slowly shook his head.“I’ll confront Alfred first.” He didn’t meet Roderich’s gaze, but he could see he was frowning out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry. Those days are behind me.”Antonio had been to four different schools after sixth grade. One of those had been a boarding school with a tuition nearly as expensive as college, which was why soon as he graduated, his parents made paying off the student loans his responsibility with no help from them, despite them being able to more than afford it, the Carriedo family being old money and all that.Antonio’s dad had made it clear he wouldn’t give financial support to a delinquent, and no matter how long ago that was, no matter how much he’d changed, Antonio was still a delinquent in his father’s eyes.João had deserved that black eye, though, but, otherwise, memories of that past life were saturated with regret.Gilbert and Francis only knew the guy who he was now; Roderich was the only one still in his life that knew the guy that punched first and talked never. He was the only one who knew the shadows that hid behind the bright smiles. He was the only one with enough patience to wear down his walls like ocean waves against the cliffside.If not for him, Antonio wasn’t sure he would have become the person he was now.“I trust you,” Roderich said, and Antonio smiled.Roderich’s mouth was a straight line, but his eyes were soft.They were mesmerizing, purple when the light hit them just right; Gilbert called them “Liz Taylor eyes.” Antonio was unable to lie when he looked into them.“If I start to get too angry, I’ll leave the apartment,” he promised, and Roderich gave a small nod as he stood up and adjusted his wire-framed glasses.He left the bedroom for a moment and came back with a golden cross necklace. Antonio had worn it every day since Roderich gave it to him, despite him being Christian only in lineage nowadays. Roderich wasn’t religious either, but he said the necklace was his grandmother’s.When the clasp broke and Antonio lost it in one of the buildings on campus, he freaked out, nearly to the point of tears with Gilbert attempting frenzied assurances as he helped him search. Luckily, the person that found it knew it was Antonio’s and gave it back to him.Antonio had wanted to buy a new chain from a craft store, but Roderich had taken the necklace instead, saying he wanted to fix it himself instead. It was odd, but so was he, despite his claims that he was plain.“Here,” he said, handing the necklace to Antonio. “I got it back this morning. In case you get angry, you can see this and remember your promise.”Smiling as he felt his tense muscles melt into cooling calm, Antonio took the necklace and nodded.“Thank you.”“You must be tired.” Roderich brushed Antonio’s bangs from his eyes. His icy fingers sent a shiver down Antonio’s spine. “Usually you show thanks instead of stating it.”Smirking, Antonio grasped Roderich’s hand to keep him from leaving the room. He set the necklace onto his desk and led Roderich to their bed, their lips locked.Shiver after shiver spiraled down Antonio’s spine, the chill of his fiancé’s skin toying the heat growing within his body, and for a while, all thoughts of Francis and Alfred were shoved from his mind. All that existed with Roderich, his breath hitched and his pale skin flushed red as more of his clothes were tossed onto the floor.His thoughts growing foggy, Antonio suddenly found himself on his back as he helped Roderich get his jeans off. Sometimes being with Roderich was a high Antonio couldn’t fathom, and he didn’t want to—all he wanted was to ride through every experience it had to offer. His skin was cold, but it felt like a fire had ignited inside him. Every sensation carried electricity, and he only wanted more.He vaguely remembered a promise he’d made as he felt pressure, swiftly followed by tingles and then shots of pleasure. It travelled up to his head, thickening the fog before scattering throughout the rest of his body like ripples caused by a skipping rock over water.In this moment, Antonio was sure he would keep any promise he made to Roderich, whatever it was.
10519803
Okay Theres a Line and
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung | V", "Fandom": "방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by Shadower426", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-01T00:00:00", "words": "783", "Additional Tags": "High School, Alternate Universe - High School, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Kim Taehyung | V is a Little Shit, Jeon Jungkook is Bad at Feelings, Jeon Jungkook is a Little Shit, Implied Sexual Content, Based on a Tumblr Post, April Fools' Day, Sketches, Drawing", "Relationship": "Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
JUNGKOOK POVThis hyung, I cursed as I fumed in my chair.Class ended already, and everyone had left. I was about to get up when I discovered something.I was glued to the chair. Literally glued to the chair.And I think I know who did it.TAEHYUNG POVHehehe I'm such a nice hyung.Jungkook has been messing with me for the past month, stealing my stuff, hiding it, locking me in rooms, splashing water on me (and my favorite outfit).I just waited until the time was right before I got my revenge.Looks like he's in a bit of a sticky situation. It's a good thing I used clear glue hahaJUNGKOOK POVWhy would he do this to me, though? What did I do to....oh.The pranks.I might have pulled some small pranks on him throughout the past month. I'm a bit of a prankster, but I like him. He's my favorite hyung, but I wish I could say more than that. You know, there were better ways to show your affection towards him than what you actually did. "Thanks, Captain Hindsight," I mumbled under my breath.In retrospect, my mind was probably correct, but it's too late to admit it. How long am I going to be stuck here? TAEHYUNG POVHe probably thinks that he's alone, so I'll let him suffer by himself for a little while.What? I'm not that mean to my crush.Crap. Did I say that out loud? (Yes.)Oh well. Now you know.I was perched on the ground underneath the classroom window. Jungkook's desk is by the window, so I had a perfect view of him, and he was too oblivious to see me.I had an adhesive remover laying on the ground next to me, along with a pair of sweat pants and a new pair of school pants. Just in case."Ugh! I should've just told him that I freaking loved him instead of pulling all of those stupid pranks!" he angrily shouted as he slammed his head onto his desk.I silently gasped.I was going to wait a while longer before helping him, but I couldn't help myself.JUNGKOOK POV"You," my head jerked up at the quiet voice, "...love me?"Crap. He knows now."T-Tae?" I stutter.He silently bounds into the room, two pairs of pants and a spray bottle in hand. He sets them down on the desk in front of me before sitting in the chair. He wouldn't look me in the eye."Why didn't you tel-l me?" he sniffled."I-I don't know," I answered honestly."I-I lo-oved you to-o," he quietly cried.He loves me? I'm such an idiot!I leaned forward as much as I could in my seat, and gently grasped his chin as I wiped his tears with my thumb. He half my hand in his after the first couple of strokes, and more tears began to fall."I have something for you," I confessed searching his eyes for a response.There was nothing.I let go of his chin and reached into my bag, retrieving my sketchbook."Look," I told him as I gave him my sketchbook with shaky hands. He snuggled before flipping through the pages.The sketchbook was filled with drawings of him. Sitting in class, paying attention and staring out the window, him practicing saxophone, everything. I got a bit flustered at the somewhat adulty drawing I did of the two of us in bed together.At the sight of the drawing, his eyes darkened.TAEHYUNG POVThe drawing was of us in bed together, a white sheet covering our lower halves as faint candlelight reflexed off of our faces. Jungkook was hovering over me in the drawing, and I smirked at the false information.I set the sketchbook on his desk as I made my way towards him."First of all," I began as I sat on his lap, facing him, "I'll be hovering over you," I grinned sexually. He visibly gulped at my sudden actions."And," I continued as I wrapped my arms around his neck, "there wouldn't be any candlelight, or at least not any that you'd see."I readjusted my position on his lap to accommodate his soon-to-be-sticky situation."Care to show me what you mean?" he growled at me."I would," I considered, "but there's something else that we should take care of first," I conclude as I peck his lips briskly. I slid off his lap, kneeling before him as I grabbed the adhesive remover.I took care of that sticky situation before I took care of the other situation. Oh, and I was right.
10501404
this city belongs to us
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Daryl Dixon, Paul Rovia, Jesus, Walkers (The Walking Dead), Negan (Walking Dead), Saviors - Character, Alexandrians - Character, Hilltop - Character, kingdom - Character, Oceanside, Scavengers - Character, Rick Grimes, Sasha Williams (Walking Dead), Eugene Porter, Aaron (Walking Dead), Maggie Greene, Maggie Rhee", "Fandom": "The Walking Dead (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by thephanlock", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-30T00:00:00", "words": "2,627", "Additional Tags": "to be honest they're all just mentioned, Set during All Out War, Kind Of, An AU version, POV Third Person, Past Tense, In Hiding, Zombie Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Jesus (Walking Dead), Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Minor Character Death, Team Family, Team as Family", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Daryl Dixon/Jesus, Daryl Dixon/Paul Rovia, Daryl Dixon/Paul \"Jesus\" Rovia", "Series": "TWD One-Shots", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
this city belongs to us   Cities belong to the walkers. That was a fact that everyone had known since the beginning, since the news stations became chaotic with confused reports about a ‘spreading virus’ and the ability to trust those around you was put to the test. So, when Daryl and Jesus found themselves sprinting through a seemingly abandoned city in the middle of the night, desperately trying to outrun a group of Saviors, alarm bells had started ringing. “Do you think they saw us?” Paul asked, still a little breathless from all the running. With a shake of his head, Daryl leaned back against the wall of the alley they had found themselves in, hiding just enough of him behind an overturned bin. “Nah but they know we’re here somewhere.” Daryl replied, trying to keep his mind off of the events of the last twenty four hours. Their mission to take out the Saviors hadn’t gone entirely to plan and now, like after the herd found its way into Hershel’s farm and like after the fall of the prison, they were in little groups, scattered all over the place, not even sure if the others were alive. When planning what was going to happen, they hadn’t anticipated Negan and his men knowing they were coming again, hadn’t anticipated that they’d be waiting, ready to fight. Still, now that the Alexandrians outnumbered the Saviors with groups from Hilltop, the Kingdom, the Scavengers and a few from Oceanside, they weren’t too taken aback. Just because they knew didn’t change the outcome of what they’d gone there to do. In the crossfire, he’d seen a few of his friends go down. He’d had no choice but to watch as a bullet tore through them or a walker got a little too close, too wrapped up in his own battles to be able to help them. Sasha, Eugene and Aaron were some of those he knew had been killed or taken then probably killed, and that was just counting those he knew. He hadn’t seen what had happened to the others. “Hey,” Paul murmured, now crouched beside him. “Get out of your head. They’re going to be okay. If I’ve learned one thing about your friends since I’ve met them, it’s that they always find a way back to each other. You included.” Daryl could still feel the pull of Paul’s hand on his, yanking him out of the battle as the Saviors surrounded him, wanting to finish their escaped prisoner once and for all. He could still hear the shouted echoes of, ‘Come on, we gotta go!’ as they ran out into the near-darkness, could still feel the cold breeze of dusk hitting him in the face as they took off into a sprint, heading as far away as possible. “They’re your friends now, too.” Daryl mumbled in return, not entirely ready to thank him for pulling him out before it got too late. Seeming to understand, Paul nodded, the sombre expression on his face lightening a little. After a moment’s silence, a thought dawned on Daryl, one that was as terrifying as it was saddening. “Now what? We can’t go back to Alexandria, they’ll be looking there. Same goes for Hilltop. Doubt the Kingdom escaped without a Savior or two following ‘em back.” As likely as it was that Rick’s side had taken out all of the Saviors, there was bound to be at least a few of the lower rankers that had escaped, slipping under the radar as the others worried about taking down Negan. And of course, those that had escaped would either flee or follow their loyalties into going for revenge, a lot of them looking for Daryl and Paul, their escaped prisoner and the man who continuously broke in and helped said prisoner escape. “I guess we lay low for a while. I think I saw a warehouse a few blocks back, looks like people used to live there near the beginning, maybe there’ll be some leftover supplies there. If not we’re in the middle of a city, there’s bound to be something here.” Paul shot back, voice still hushed in fear of lingering Saviors. Daryl noted how he skimmed over the fact that they were in the middle of a city, a few miles out from the Saviors’ compound and there were no walkers around. He hoped that the noise of gunfire and explosions had attracted them east or that the previous inhabitants had taken the majority of them out. All in all, he just hoped they wouldn’t be met with a group of walkers as soon as they opened the door to the warehouse, or even a group of survivors. Nowadays, he wasn’t sure which was worse. “Let’s go.” Daryl prompted, having been at least fifteen minutes since they heard any footsteps or mutterings. Paul didn’t object. The city around them was a ghost town and he was grateful for the silence, especially since his ears were still ringing from the loud bangs and shots, the screams barely audible over the noise of the weapons. Still, he tried to push all that out of his mind for now and focus on surviving, if not for his own sake then for Daryl’s - Paul knew he felt at least partly to blame. When they reached the warehouse, Daryl pulled his crossbow off his back, raising it to eye level as Paul twisted the doorknob to reveal… Nothing. Nobody. An empty warehouse. Well, empty except for the few sleeping bags in the centre of the room and a wind up lantern. Lowering his crossbow, Daryl stepped past Paul and into the space, heading for the sleeping bags. “Wonder what made them leave.” Paul mused, heading for the opposite side of the room, where a heap of cans lay, some toppled over and empty, some still piled on top of one another, full and untouched. Flipping one over, Paul was pleased to see that they were all still within their use-by dates. Not like that mattered much anymore. “Don’t know, don’t care.” Daryl shrugged, picking up the lantern as a brief ache ran through his heart. He hadn’t seen one of these since before, since he used to go out on hunting trips with his brother and his father. Though, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he actually missed those days. “Reckon we could stay here for a few days at least. Looks like they’re long gone. There enough food?” He asked, looking over at Paul who was already looking at him. “Plenty.” Paul replied, sauntering over to the sleeping bags and grabbing one, before curling up inside it. Even though he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping, he figured it would be better to lie down and rest, trying to regain some energy, as opposed to wandering around in the darkness as walker bait. At least here, it would be more difficult for the walkers and the Saviors to find them - though that was the last thing on both of their minds. Daryl, on the other hand, just sat on top of one of the remaining sleeping bags, legs crossed and thoughts flying around his head. After about twenty minutes of silence - at least that’s what it felt like, how could anyone tell what time it was anymore? - Daryl glanced across at Paul’s back, facing him as he lay on his side. One thing Daryl was certain of was that if Paul hadn’t dragged him out of the compound when he did, the crowd around him would have grown too large to escape from and they would have got what they wanted - him dead. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing right now but Daryl still felt his heart swell with something close to gratitude. “Thanks, by the way,” He mumbled, thinking Paul was long asleep. “I’m here because of you so, thanks.” Little did he know that it was taking everything within Paul to not face Daryl and hug him tightly right at that moment.    The next few days are surprisingly quiet in comparison to the past couple of months they’d faced and by day four in the city, the both of them felt a little more at peace and a little more sane than they had before. They’d found themselves falling into an unspoken routine. Come morning, they would eat a breakfast of some sort of tinned food, before going out scavenging around the buildings, looking for nothing in particular but rather trying to occupy themselves and pass the time. Then, as the sun was beginning to set, the pair of them would head back towards the warehouse and spend the rest of the night chatting and eating their dinner by a make-do fire in the nearby alley they’d hidden in when they had first arrived, a time that felt like years ago by now. “I kind of miss it, you know? I never felt at home at Hilltop, never really got close to anyone there really, Gregory hated me so that didn’t help and I suppose running off in the middle of the night didn’t either. But that’s where I first met people after the apocalypse, including my boyf-- my ex-boyfriend. That’s where I got to know the people I see as my family. That’s where I got to know you.” Paul said, feeling as though he was rambling as his gaze dropped to his hands, twiddling thumbs and fumbling fingers desperately trying to busy themselves. “I get that,” Daryl replied. Normally, he wouldn’t open up to people, letting his feelings bottle up until it all became too much but with Paul, it was different. It was so simple to talk to him and Daryl was sure he could tell him everything about himself before he even realised he opened his mouth. It was just so easy. “‘Used to camp out in the forest near the house where everyone else slept, hunting in the day and not really talking to anyone but Carol. Just didn’t really want to risk losing anyone I cared about an’ I wouldn’t care about anyone unless I spoke to them so,” He explained, referring to the days they spent back on Hershel’s farm. “I get it.” “You’re just easier to talk to, I feel like I can tell you anything.” Paul said, looking across at Daryl with a fond look in his eyes. It felt as though Paul had took the words right out of his mouth and at that, he smiled, knowing that whatever this was, whatever was going on with his feelings right now, was returned. “Not sure anyone’s ever said that about me before.” Daryl replied, since people used to find him harder to talk to. Nervous and wary, Paul leaned into Daryl’s personal space and paused, giving him time to pull away if that’s what he wanted. But something in the way they looked at one another, the way they spoke to each other in hushed voices, as though every word uttered to the other was a secret kept between only the two of them, the way their touches lingered for longer than necessary, told him that Daryl wouldn’t. A little impatient, Daryl grabbed the lapels of Paul’s coat and pulled him towards him, lips colliding in a kiss. Paul let out a surprised noise, before melting into the kiss, hands finding the back of Daryl’s neck as he tugged him even closer. Whatever this was, it was good. A few moments passed before Paul pulled away, a bit breathless, as he kept hold of Daryl for a second, Paul’s fingers intertwining with his. For a while, they fell into a comfortable silence, as the stars finally graced the sky above them and becoming their only light source, as the fire began to flicker out. As was the case most nights, they both stood up and went back inside, after Daryl had stomped out the remains of the fire and Paul had thrown the empty cans into the bin nearby. They both knew they wouldn’t be able to stay there forever and within the next few days, they would have to journey away from the city in search of the others but for now, there was stillness and quiet. There was nothing to worry about, besides the light vanishing from the sky before they made their way back to the warehouse. For now, they could pretend that everything that happened was a faint and distant nightmare. For now, the city was theirs.    On the seventh day, they bumped into their first set of walkers since everything that had gone down at the compound and Daryl wasn’t all that surprised to find that his suspicions were right - they’d been lured to the Saviors by the noise. He hoped that the walkers heading this way had wiped out the remaining Saviors before they got out of the compound, not feeling at all guilty for thinking so. “We gotta get going today, there’s gonna be more of ‘em coming.” Daryl stated and Paul nodded in agreement, having been thinking the same thing. Grabbing his backpack and stuffing as many cans as he could fit into it without making it too heavy, Paul started to walk in the opposite direction of the walkers. “It’s this way to Hilltop.” He said, having rode in the back of a truck through this city many times before, knowing this route like the back of his own hand. Thinking Hilltop was probably a better option than Alexandria, even if Negan had been taken out, Daryl followed Paul as they set off. “Shouldn’t take long. If we can find a car we’ll be there before sunset.” Luckily enough, after twenty minutes or so of walking, the walkers far behind them now, there was a line of cars abandoned just outside the city, where the buildings gradually changed to countryside. The fourth car they tried had just enough petrol in it for the journey and was, conveniently, not dead. Neither of them spoke for a long time, Paul’s hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Without asking, they both knew what the other was thinking. Chances were, the survivors had had the same idea as them, meeting back at Hilltop or the Kingdom, most likely avoiding Alexandria. So, the pair of them were wracked with nerves and dread, unprepared to find out which members of their family had made it out and which hadn’t. “I didn’t know you could drive.” Daryl uttered, disturbing the silence in favour of small talk. Eyes focused on the road, Paul hummed in response. “Why would I try and steal your truck if I couldn’t drive?” Paul teased, a small smile playing at his lips. Daryl’s expression soon mirrored his and he playfully punched Paul’s shoulder. “I just prefer walking. Gives me time to think.”   A few hours and a couple of pit stops later and their car was rolling up to the gates of Hilltop, both of their hearts pounding hard enough that Paul was convinced his heart was going to fall out of his chest, push through his rib cage and out onto the dashboard of the car. Daryl stuck his head out of the car window and threw a thumbs up Kal’s direction, who was on watch duty. Barely a moment later, the gates were opening and the car was rolling onto familiar ground. As Paul parked the car on the grass, Daryl looked across at him, took a deep breath and nodded, an unspoken agreement, a gesture that was returned. Whatever had happened, they would combat this together. Stepping out of the car, Daryl could see them at the doorway to Barrington House - his family, their family.
10595502
Take Hold
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Mari, Makkachin (Yuri!!! on Ice)", "Fandom": "Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by LavenderProse", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-13T00:00:00", "words": "20,343", "Additional Tags": "Soulmates, Bodyswap, Mutual Pining, Falling In Love", "Relationship": "Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Despite exhaustive research on the subject, little is yet known about the mechanism which allows transference of consciousness, and much of the knowledge that we have on the subject comes in the form of mere conjecture. For instance, MRIs taken at the moment of transference have shown that, for a period of five to thirty seconds, all brain activity ceases. This would indicate that the transference is not necessarily instantaneous, which in turn may indicate that consciousness must actually 'travel' between minds. Because it isn't possible to anticipate how far away mates will be from one another at the moment of transference, and because the inherent unpredictability of transference has made repeated trials of most experiments impossible or financially unfeasible, it hasn't been possible to discover if distance plays a factor in the length of inactivity—a time which is referred to by specialists as the 'transference gap.' Likewise, it is unknown why consciousness will only return to its rightful owner during mouth-to-mouth contact. For many years, it was assumed that it was merely consciousness reasserting itself through the first orifice presented—it is, after all, a ritual in most societies to kiss one's mate upon finding them. However, after some research, it was discovered that only oral contact served to reintroduce consciousness. Individual experiments have tested mouth-to-ear, ear-to-ear, and mouth-to-nose contact with no apparent exchange of consciousness. It must be the mouth. It is unknown how long consciousnesses can remain out of their rightful bodies. In Western society, the transference is used as a means to an end—once one's mate is found, consciousness is reexchanged immediately. This often happens after only a few days or, in many cases, hours. However, in many areas of the world, mates remain switched for months or longer as part of various rituals and ceremonies. The traditional Hindu wedding ceremony ends with the newlyweds exchanging consciousness with their first kiss as spouses. In certain parts of rural China, a mated pair may spend up to a year becoming acquainted with their partner's body before finally meeting and returning to their own. Russian Orthodox, who were once known for their speedy weddings—very famously, Czar Nicholas II and Alexandra Fedorovna were married only nineteen hours after their transference—have, in the past, chosen to remain switched until their wedding night, believing it to be an important part of consummation. Few things are concrete about transference. Many consider it to be spiritual in nature; others think it a simple indication of maturity. Of those things that science has managed to pin down into concise answers, most are widely known and considered, generally, to be true. For instance: 59 percent of mated pairs are born within one-hundred miles of each other. 78 percent are born within three-hundred miles of each other. Only 1.3 percent of the population is born outside of 1000 miles from their mate. This means that, statistically, you are far more likely to be mated to someone within your own country, who speaks your language, and has a similar belief system to yours. This may be due to evolutionary drives. It is not known what triggers transference. Only that it has something to do with chemical changes associated with the full maturation of the brain. We know that transference can only occur once both mates are mentally mature. Typically, this occurs between ages 23 and 25. Those mates who mature last are known as 'instigating partners.' This being, of course, because it is their mind which instigates the transfer. It is extremely rare for mates to be more than ten years apart in age. In fact, there are only a dozen or so confirmed cases of this. Although little is known about transference, it is widely considered the single most important moment in an adult's life. It is the definitive sign of maturity in most cultures, and has been exalted by religions worldwide as having deeply holy connotations. It is very likely that science, at least as we know it today, will never be able to fully explain why or how it happens. However, unlike much of the unknown, this one mystery that the world has never feared. - Excerpt from Study of the Soul by Doctor Nia Johnson The thing is, Viktor never even noticed that he hadn't transferred until he was twenty-six, and suddenly realized that he was too old to be the instigating partner. He woke up one day and realized that he'd neglected to care about that one person whose life fit into his, whose soul would someday call out to him so loudly that Viktor's soul fled to their body to be closer."I mean, it's not like I…don't care," Viktor tells Chris, prostrate, miserable, little more than an athlete-shaped puddle on top of the comforter of Chris' Sochi hotel suite. Chris is in the mirror, straightening his cufflinks, and Viktor is probably catching the plague from the duvet cover. "I just never thought about it. It's not the sort of thing people actually…purposefully think about. Is it?""Think about your current state of affairs, my friend, and then answer that question for yourself." Chris crosses from the mirror to the bathroom door, knocks gently with one knuckle and coos, "Mon chou!" through the door."Did you just call him your cabbage?" Viktor grumbles. Markus and Chris talk to each other in a dizzying mixture of French, German and English that Viktor can seldom follow. Chris transferred shortly after last year's World Championships, and he and Markus had the entire off-season to get to know each other. The wedding is planned for April.Chris doesn't respond; he disappears when Markus comes out of the bathroom and they slide past each other through the doorway with ease. Markus replaces Chris in front of the mirror, and glances over his own shoulder at Viktor, still languishing. "Oh, Viktor. Are you going to be this way all night?" His accent his thicker than Chris', and much more German."No," Viktor says, as he does nothing at all to alter his current state. "I'm just—well. You were the reciprocating partner. You were waiting—and you didn't know when it was going to happen—""It happens to half the population of the world, Vitya!" Chris calls from the bathroom. "I know you're under the impression that you created beautiful misery, honey, but you really didn't.""Did you think about it?" Viktor asks Markus, finally sitting up from his sprawl. "When you passed the age of instigation, did you start to worry? That it wouldn't happen? I didn't even think about it until…"He knows why he thought about it. It was in part passing that unspoken age marker that meant there was now an 'indefinite' stamp on the length of his wait for his soul mate. But the realization was ushered in not by something within himself—rather, it came with watching Yakov and Lilia walk very suddenly out of each other's lives two summers ago, and the gold ring on Yakov's finger still remain."What happened?" Viktor whispered, on the day he found Yakov three sheets to the wind in some back alley pub, slumped over the bar and muttering to himself. A bartender had used Yakov's phone to call, and when Viktor asked how the bartender knew to contact him, she said, "He has you listed under family. From the contact photo, I assumed you were his son.""It's a lie, Vitya," Yakov said. "Soul mates—phah! Only one more person who will let you down. I give forty years to that woman. Over half my life, Vitya, and suddenly she—she needs time alone? For what!"Viktor took him home and tucked him in, left a cup of water on Yakov's bedside and a bottle of aspirin within hand's reach."I don't understand it," Yakov murmured as Viktor stood in the doorway, on his way out. He would sleep in the living room that night, trying to ignore the mournful noises coming from a person he'd always thought of as utterly unflappable. "How could I be her soul mate? How could I be the one meant for her, when I couldn't even give her the one thing she ever asked of me? We tried for years, Vitya. Years. A couple of times, we thought she was…but no, it never happened.""Oh," Viktor whispered to himself, and slowly closed the door.He and Yakov never talked about it."We've all been where you are," Markus sighs presently, perching himself on the corner of the bed. "There isn't a person on this planet who hasn't thought, at some point, what if I'm alone here. The truth is, the chances of that are so low—""But possible," Viktor mumbles."It's one in a hundred million, Viktor." Markus reaches over and pats Viktor's knee, then rises from the bed again. "Now come on. There's an open bar downstairs with your name on it.""Yes! Blind drunkenness. That is what my friend Viktor needs." Chris sweeps back into the room and smacks a kiss onto Markus' cheek. "You're a genius, my darling."Markus, who is an editor at a major Zurich newspaper and whose only one-on-one experience with athletes before meeting Christophe was through interviews, chuckles under his breath and briefly adopts an expression that Viktor has come to think of as his I don't understand figure skaters face.Chris hauls Viktor by the hand forcefully to his feet and shuttles him to the doorway, hands firm on his shoulders. Viktor straightens his tie and tries to rearrange his hair, and Chris says, "We're athletes, Vitya. We peak at twenty-two and retire at twenty-nine. We're too superstitious and most of us are too busy ruining our knees to wax poetic over daydreams about transference. You'll have plenty of time to moon over your soul mate when you actually meet them."Viktor grumbles something unintelligible and swings his limbs around to dislodge Chris' hands. Chris laughs and says something to Markus in German that they both chuckle at as they walk down the hall towards the elevator bank. Viktor feels his inner Yuri Plisetsky attempting to rise through his mouth and say something snotty. He manages to hold it at bay until he gets downstairs and gets a drink in his hand, at which point the urge goes away and he feels mostly normal again.That night, a Japanese figure skater drapes himself over Viktor and invites him to his family home in Japan, where he assures Viktor that his parents will be very welcoming. He croons drunken sweetness in the vague direction of Viktor's heart and tells Viktor that his twenty-third birthday is nigh, and that he's terrified to meet his soul mate. Somewhere in the middle of his inebriated ramblings, he asks Viktor to be his coach. It takes all of Viktor's self control not to agree at that very moment, because this man is beautiful and moves like sin and sacrament all at once.When Viktor asks Christophe, much later, who that man was—although not in so many words, or any words at all really, because Chris freely volunteers the information upon seeing the still-shocked look on Viktor's face hours later—Chris tells him, "Yuuri Katsuki is an enigma among men, Vitya," and Viktor isn't sure how to take that, so he chooses instead to fall asleep half-propped up on the settee in Chris and Markus' hotel room. Viktor had a long list of things that might happen when he up and moved his entire life to Japan, but he doesn't think the coldness of Japan's top figure skater was one of them. Yuuri is a shy yet formidable entity lurking on the edges of rooms, sliding through on silent feet and only speaking when spoken to. Viktor would think Yuuri didn't like him at all if it hadn't been for that night, months ago, when Yuuri hung himself around Viktor's neck and pressed his red face into Viktor's chest and begged him to do the very thing he's just done. That is, come to Japan.But when Yuuri is on the ice, Viktor remembers why he came here. That, more than anything, is why he weathers rejection after rejection. That, and the pressing urge to be close to this man, as close as possible, even if as close as possible means on either side of any given room.Now, the added variable of Yuri Plisetsky is altering the barely-there status quo into something that is even more challenging to navigate."We thought he was your soul mate, you know," Yura tells him when they're alone, Yuuri being off at Minako's studio for the day. Viktor has been forcing the thought of Yuuri in tights out of his mind for hours. It isn't conductive thinking."Excuse me?" Viktor mutters.Yura, who's sitting on a bench gulping water like it's the only thing keeping him alive—Viktor is somewhat satisfied that he's gotten him to sweat—swipes a hand across his face and says, "The piggy. We thought he was your soul mate.""Don't call him that," Viktor snaps without meaning to, or at least without meaning it so harshly. By this point, he knows it's fault that Yuuri has been visited upon by such an unflattering nickname, and he's been coping with the realization badly. His lighthearted teasing about Yuuri's endearing post-season weight gain had been the victim of mistranslation and culture shock. Yura has adopted it into his sometimes cruel teenage vernacular, and every time it sets Viktor's teeth on edge. When they speak in Russian, Yura doesn't even bother to use the word Viktor had at first; the cute one, the one that Viktor had thought would translate into a sweet nothing rather than a grave insult.Yura shows Viktor his tongue and reaches down to tighten his skates. Viktor, curious, drums his fingers on top of the boards and after a moment asks, "What did you mean? You thought he was my soul mate?""Well, what did you expect us to think when you just up and went to Japan because of some guy?" Yura demands, frowning like it was Viktor who instigated this vein of conversation, like he resents the very idea of it. "Who even does that? I mean, yeah that's really far to transfer, but that was the only reason any of us could come up with. Aside from you being a fucking lunatic, that is.""If Yuuri and I were soul mates, it would be the farthest apart a pair of soul mates had ever been born." Viktor looks down to straighten his gloves, mostly so he doesn't have to look at Yura's face. "Yuuri was born in Fukuoka—I was born in St. Petersburg. Seventy-four hundred kilometers. That's almost sixteen hundred farther than the record holders." What Viktor doesn't say is that the technological age has brought with it a generation of soul mates transferring further and further. The current record holders were only discovered the previous September, born in Brazil and South Africa.There is something far too knowing in Yura's eyes when he says, "So you've thought about it.""There are seven billion people on the planet. Three billion of those people are unmated. The odds of me just happening to meet the person who I—""But you've thought about it," Yura says with the kind of bullheaded determination unique to those in their second decade of life."Yes." Viktor flattens his palm against the board. Yura jumps. "Yes, briefly, I thought about it." By briefly, Viktor means Often, obsessively, and even in my sleep. "But I don't, anymore. I can't. I won't.""Why, because you're afraid?""Because it's disrespectful, Yura." Viktor points a finger between Yura's furrowed brows, eyes usually so full of green adolescent envy gone wide with incredulity and shock. He jabs his finger to make his point, like he told himself he would never do when Yakov did it to him. "There's a person out there who actually is my soul mate. I have a responsibility to them. A loyalty. I can't allow myself to…It's just not done, Yura. Someday, you'll understand." Someday, when he is not fifteen and irreverent and so far away from that point in his life when, any day at any time, he could be transported to someone else's body, it would dawn on him. It would dawn on him like it had Viktor."That's so stupid," Yura grumbles. He reties his other boot and mutters, "It's so stupid." His hair flies over his eyes when he flings his head back up. "We're supposed to spend our entire lives tiptoeing around another person whose face and name we don't even know? What if they're ugly?""There are worse things, Yura," Viktor mutters. He's almost glad that a physically unattractive soul mate is the worst thing Yura can think of. He pushes away from the boards and says, "No more talking. Your break is over; I want twenty minutes of suicides.""What?" Yura demands. "That's so not fair! You're just mad because the piggy—""Suicides, now." Viktor rears up that tone that Yakov taught him, the one that booms from the chest and feels like it could level a room.Yura glares at him across the dinner table that night, sitting next to the inscrutable Mari Katsuki and agitatedly shoving tender slices of beef into his mouth. Next to Viktor, Yuuri is poking at a bowl of green beans with an unreadable expression on his face, still wearing the soft heather blue shirt he went to the ballet studio in. He smells like sweat, masculine. Viktor lets himself think about waking up in that body, because the thoughts are going to come anyway be it now or later. He allows it for exactly ten seconds before forcing it from his mind. Viktor wakes up because Makkachin clamors over him. A paw to the kidney will wake even the soundest sleepers. He grunts in dismay and wonders why his poodle has forsaken him, then rises to let Makkachin out of the bedroom before he wears a hole pacing on the tatami. Makkachin trots into the shadow at the other end of the hall. Viktor considers for a moment before following. It's just before dawn and he and Makkachin find Yuuri sitting out in the back garden, knees pulled up to his chest. Makkachin goes to him and Viktor sees the exact moment when Yuuri, correctly assuming that Viktor is not far behind his dog, realizes that he is no longer alone."Bad dreams?" Viktor asks, choosing to lean against the doorway for the moment instead of intrude too far into Yuuri's space. His plans are to leave if Yuuri wants him to, and then spend the next hour trying not to let his heart break.Yuuri, although obviously wary—Why, Viktor wants to ask, why are you so afraid of me when all I want is to see you smile the way you did in Sochi—doesn't tell him to go away. He says, "Not…bad dreams, no," and scoots over just slightly on the bench. Viktor takes this as the invitation it is and sits down next to him with the care of one handling explosives."Odd dreams?" Viktor suggests, because sometimes those can be just as disquieting as nightmares. Viktor used to dream about walking barefoot down the center of an ice rink while his mother floated above him. There was nothing particularly scary about it, but it bothered him in ways that few things ever have.The way Yuuri tilts his head is an agreeing one, and Viktor waits patiently for him to explain."I'm standing on a beach I've never been to before," Yuuri says softly, tracing his finger over the knee of his pajama pants. They, like him, look soft. "There are sea gulls. Lots of them. There's someone standing down the beach. I can't see their face. They hold out their hand to me, and I start walking towards them, but the seagulls take flight and I can't see anything. By the time the seagulls are all gone, I can't see the other person anymore—they've vanished."Viktor, in a carefully neutral tone, asks, "How long have you been having this dream?""A few months," Yuuri replies. His body language is still closed off and he still won't look Viktor in the eye, but this is one of the longest conversations Viktor has had with him that wasn't about figure skating or figure skating-adjacent, and he's going to milk it for all its worth. As long as Yuuri keeps talking, Viktor will keep listening. "Maybe…maybe since last year. I've been having it once or twice a week, recently.""Hmm," Viktor hums, trying to sound casual and contemplative as every brain cell screams at him in unison. He almost manages to sound like a normal person when he says, "It sounds like a transference dream, to me," even though his heart is trying to beat through his chest and his toes are going numb."That's what my mother told me," Yuuri says, quiet and perhaps a little sad, not like one should sound when they are contemplating meeting their soulmate for the first time. That it might happen in the near future, judging by the nature of the dream and how long he's been having it. That someday soon, probably within the next few months, Yuuri will have that dream and wake up in his soulmate's body. Yuuri is twenty-three, and will soon meet the person who's biologically predisposed to be the most important in his life. He's the instigating partner."You're the right age for it," is all Viktor can make himself say, as his palms sweat and he refuses to let himself think there's a chance, there's a chance…"I know," Yuuri murmurs. Makkachin has found something interesting at the other end of the yard and is frantically pawing at it as they watch. Viktor's chuckle comes out slightly hysterical. "I just thought I would have…more time.""More time for what?" Viktor asks. Yuuri's hair blows into his eyes; Viktor's fingertips itch with the want to push it back. It's soft, from what he remembers.Yuuri's shoulders move uneasily, like he doesn't quite want to answer the question. He eventually says, "To make myself better. For them."Viktor's jaw physically drops. How? How can this beautiful creature not see that everything about him, including his flaws, is entirely loveable? Does he not know that his soul mate, when he meets them, will inevitably realize that they've done the equivalent of winning the lottery? Unmated twenty-somethings the world over are waiting for the day that they might wake up in Yuuri Katsuki's body. Viktor knows this because Hiroko has told him stories about school boys and girls giving her son chocolate on certain days of the year. He came home with them clutched in his hands and told his mother that they were given to him by classmates out of obligation, whatever that's supposed to mean. Hiroko had a glint in her eye and a curve to her lips when she told Viktor that, in Japanese tradition, you gave chocolate to the person you hoped would one day be your soul mate."I want to buy him so much chocolate," Viktor had whispered against Makkachin's fur later, alone in his bed and surrounded by pillows and blankets and poodle, feeling his biological clock scream at him. Soul mate! Soul mate! "I would buy him all the chocolate. The best chocolate. He would get chubby and I would kiss his belly and we would be so, so happy."Makkachin had pressed a cold nose to Viktor's chest and huffed in a way that might have meant I know, or maybe Please stop squeezing me, I can't breathe."Yuuri," Viktor lets himself say, because his soul will not rest until he does, "You're perfect. Just like this."Yuuri's head swings around, cinnamon-sugar eyes huge."Your soul mate will think you're perfect, no matter what," Viktor tells him. "It's biology." What he doesn't tell him is that, if Yuuri's soul mate doesn't think so, doesn't meet Yuuri and immediately feel the need to shower him in love and affection, to kiss his hair and his eyelids and his ears and his shoulders, Viktor will show up and gladly take that job. Viktor will swoop in like vengeance personified and curbstomp whatever reckless motherfucker has the guts to reject Yuuri Katsuki, sweep Yuuri off his feet and marry him two days later in the tradition of his people.All of this goes through his head as he stares at a precious little pinprick mole on Yuuri's shoulder, revealed by the gape of his stretched collar. By the time he emerges from his daydream, Yuuri's eyes have returned to their normal size."I just find it hard to imagine that…I'm enough," Yuuri whispers, and his eyes drop. "It's like—there are seven billion people on the planet. Wouldn't it be disappointing for someone to realize that I'm their soul mate? When there are so many more beautiful or talented or…better people in the world?" Yuuri sighs and picks a thread on his pants, oblivious to Viktor trying to hold in screams of Marry me! We'll move to the countryside and have six children! I'll make you smile every day! "I don't know. I guess maybe…well. I've always thought it would be so much easier if everyone just got to choose who they were mated with, instead of just…having to let biology decide. I think it would be kinder to a lot of people.""It would," Viktor agrees after a moment. "I think…yes, I think it would."There is someone out there whose soul will one day call out to Viktor's so loudly that his own soul rushes to their body to be closer. On that day, Viktor will either have to begin living a lie, or kiss that person on the mouth and then, in the same breath, explain to them that he's allowed himself to fall in love with a man whom he was born half a world away from. A man with beautiful eyes and sad lips, whose life Viktor wants to be in for as long as he can. He will have to tell his own soul mate that he has betrayed them before he even met them, and hope that somewhere within themselves they will find the courage to forgive him. "I'm curious about something," Viktor says as they watch Yura chase the triplets around the rink. Ostensibly, he's trying to get them off the ice because he needs to practice, but it's been going on for ten minutes now and Yura is hardly bothering to hide his grin anymore as Axel, Lutz and Loop smoothly evade his reaching arms."Hmm?" Yuuri mumbles. He's watching the antics on the ice with the smallest, sweetest curve on his lips. He's sitting close, so close that Viktor can feel the warmth of his thigh where they're barely not-touching, and Viktor wants him so badly."Yuuko is your age, isn't she?" Viktor reaches forward and hangs his arms over the boards, mostly because it takes his shoulder over the gap between them to press against Yuuri's. Yuuri shifts to accommodate the small amount of weight Viktor is now resting on him, then settles."A year and a half older," Yuuri corrects."Which would make her twenty-five now," Viktor says, "and…what, nineteen? When the triplets were born?"Yuuri turns his head slightly, and there's a pensive look on his face that has the potential to turn fiercely protective if given the slightest impetus. He clicks his tongue and says, "I think I know what you're trying to ask. Maybe I should thank you for not asking her. Most people do.""You don't have to answer the question if you don't want to," Viktor assures, softening his voice to match Yuuri's. Yuuko is standing clean across the rink filming her daughters on her phone while her husband booms laughter next to her. It's unlikely that she could hear anything over the distance and Takashi's voice, but there's no harm in assuring that the conversation stays in only the air he and Yuuri share. "I would understand. I don't mean any offense.""No, I know that." Yuuri fiddles with the zipper of his jacket, looks up and squints across the rink at Yuuko. "It's just, um, she's my childhood best friend. I grew up with her. I'm very—well. I know that you…I trust you with her. I know you wouldn't do or say anything to hurt her.""Oh," Viktor whispers, the words squeezing their way out of his throat without his permission. "Thank you."He trusts me! He trusts me! Screams Viktor's heart, beating wildly at his ribcage.Yuuri's lips twitch up in response, but he's distracted by whatever words he has yet to say. Viktor waits with his breath held and pressing into his throat as Yuuri gathers his thoughts."She and Takeshi…" Yuuri starts, stops, and starts again. "They somehow always knew. Neither of them can remember when they first met, and they always—there was a connection there." He isn't quite looking at Viktor's face. His eyes are fixed at a point just past Viktor's head, possibly his ear. "I remember her telling me that she'd never known anyone who…understood her the way he does. They've always been exactly what each other needed. I was jealous of them when I was young, because I'd never had a friend like that, but when I got older, I realized…well." He sighs and returns his eyes to the kids zooming around on the ice. Yura has caught up to Loop and has her under the arms. She's screaming what Viktor thinks might be Faster! as he streaks across the rink. Viktor thinks about how Yura is closer in age to the triplets than he is to Viktor, and feels very old for a moment."They were going to wait until they knew, of course. But these things…sometimes, these things happen. They were young, and maybe reckless but they loved each other. You know—you know how it is. And after all that, they did turn out to be mates. They switched when the triplets were…four? Takeshi had barely reached transferring age, but it was a couple years ago now. They got married after. Legally, that is. They'd been calling each other husband and wife for years." Yuuri casts him a brief glance, full of some emotion. "It's—not legal. In Japan. To marry someone who isn't your soul mate.""Not in Russia, either," Viktor murmurs. He isn't surprised that their conservative home countries share such antiquated laws."Yuuko told me she doesn't regret it," Yuuri tells him. Lutz and Axel shriek as Yura gains on them. "Even though people weren't…always kind to her. She doesn't regret it. How could she? They're her children."Yuuko calls to her daughters, and they all three groan but begin slowly skating towards the exit closest to their mother. Viktor thinks she may have told them to come eat their lunch, or else that they have to get off the ice so practice can resume. Yura is panting against the boards, trying not to look like he's just had the time of his life. Viktor watches them, three little figures in pastels, and asks Yuuri, "Did you believe they were soul mates?"Yuuri shrugs. "I had no reason not to.""So do you believe that someone can…recognize their soul mate before they transfer?""Hmm…I believe…" Yuuri rises from the bench, tugs up his sweatpants in the back. Viktor's skin mourns the loss of Yuuri's warmth pressing against his side. Yuuri looks down at him, hair falling into his eyes, expression so earnest. "I believe that when you're connected to another person so closely that you share a soul, it's stupid to think that you wouldn't feel it. How can you not recognize part of yourself when they're standing right in front of you?""That's…I…yes." Viktor tries to untie his tongue, mouth suddenly arid. "You—I think you would know, yes."Yuuri walks away and skates onto the ice and Viktor's soul screams after him, Do you know? Can you see me? I'm here, I'm here. Yura leaves Japan as suddenly as he came and Viktor will only admit to himself that he misses the kid. He provided a buffer zone between Yuuri's panicky energy and Viktor's constant internalized pining, a source of liveliness, something that reminded Viktor of home and at the same time of all the reasons why he left. In his absence, Yura leaves a certain determination in both Viktor and Yuuri. Yuuri has gotten a taste of what he'll be up against, and Viktor is resolved to take Yuuri straight to the top.It's over all of this that they form a bond. Yuuri doesn't have the raw natural talent and (almost arrogant) confidence of Yura, but what he does have is something that might be even better. Skill, discipline and stamina coupled with the driving need to prove himself and triumph above his own failures. Viktor watches him grow bolder before his very eyes, throwing himself with abandon into his newly-learned quad Salchows.In the midst of it all, Yuuri starts laughing; starts having fun. Viktor's heart doesn't know what to do with itself, aside from melt into a puddle daily. This usually happens around the time that Viktor is staring up at his dark ceiling while clutching a pillow, wallowing in emotion and his own raging hormones like some teenager."Even I don't act like that," Yura had grumbled at him in disgust when he was still in Japan, watching Viktor languish. "And I'm actually fifteen. God, Viktor. Grow up.""I hate it when you talk in Russian in front of me," Yuuri said mildly from across the room, neck-deep in Viktor's old skating outfits. That, in fact, had been the reason for Viktor's episode of the vapors. "It's rude.""Viktor's an idiot," Yura snapped back—in Japanese, just to be pissy. Oddly enough, it was one of the only things he'd bothered to learn in Yuuri's mother tongue.Yuuri looked up over his glasses and said, "Yes, and?""YUURI," Viktor screamed as he slid off the sofa. "YUURI, I'M DYING.""How sad," Yuuri murmured, and continued sifting through layers of Lycra and organza.As regionals approach, they stay at the Ice Castle later and later. Yuuri on Ice is coming together beautifully and Eros gets better daily, but Yuuri still needs an exhibition skate. Viktor is determined to see Yuuri on the podium at every possible competition in the coming season, and he will need an exhibition skate that echoes those ambitions. Something that says My name is Yuuri Katsuki, I am Japan's top figure skater. Look at me, I am beautiful."Something with that Viktor Nikiforov je ne sais quoi," Yuuri says, totally deadpan, but Viktor can tell he's being teased. Yuuri has started teasing him. Viktor pouts at him externally and, internally, is alive."I'll choreograph one from scratch," Viktor suggests at first. Viktor at all times has bits and pieces of no less than three routines floating around in his head. It would be easy to combine them into something pretty, something meant to woo a crowd and garner applause; something artistic for artistry's sake. "It may have to wait until after regionals, but it can be done."Yuuri makes a noise; one of those nebulous sounds that somehow translate to entire concepts amongst native Japanese speakers. Viktor is familiar enough at this point to know this as a refusal, although he isn't sure if this is a Japanese-specific thing or a Yuuri-specific thing."I would rather focus my time on perfecting Eros and my free skate," he says, after noticing the irritated furrow of Viktor's brow. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I would rather have good competition programs than a shiny new exhibition skate.""Perhaps one of your competition skates from last year, then? You know them well."Yuuri's refusal comes even faster. "I'd rather leave that portion of my career behind me.'Viktor can understand the motivation there. It doesn't change the fact that Yuuri is waltzing into competition season with gold medal aspirations and no exhibition skate to speak of.The solution comes in the eleventh hour, less than two weeks before they leave for Okayama. Viktor leaves Yuuri to warm up and comes back ten minutes later to find him skating the beginning step sequence of Stammi Vicino. It's easy to recognize his own routine, especially given that he had seen Yuuri skate it before. It's even easier to recognize it as the only logical option for Yuuri's exhibition skate.Yuuri stops as soon as he notices Viktor standing against the boards—skidding to a halt just before Viktor knows there should have been a lutz. His voice echoes across the cavernous rink along with the scraping of his skates, "Sorry, I was—it was just—"This is one of the many points at which Viktor has to hold in the confession constantly pressing against the back of his lips. How could this beautiful man not know that seeing him skate this program makes Viktor's heart pound madly with adoration? How could it not be beating a tattoo across his chest for all to see, I love Yuuri Katsuki, written in English and Cyrillic and Kanji and perhaps every other alphabet known to man?"That's it," Viktor tells him. "That's your exhibition skate.""Are you sure—""Positive."Of course, Viktor is aware that having Yuuri skate his own routine, even as an exhibition skate, will be just a little bit like stamping PROPERTY OF VIKTOR NIKIFOROV across Yuuri's forehead in red ink. But once the thought enters his mind, it's there for good. The idea of it, of Yuuri skating the routine that Viktor has come to think of as his own soul's lament, is a deeply intoxicating one. Nothing Viktor does can dislodge it, and Yuuri never utters a single protest.At the end of every practice, he and Yuuri go through the steps of Stammi Vicino several times. It's familiar but odd at the same time, to be dancing his own routine next to another person, teaching him the choreography. Given Yuuri's practice of the routine last season, and simply by virtue of it being his exhibition skate, it's by far the routine that needs the least rehearsal. It becomes a way to wind down after practice. They go through the step sequence, they take the jumps as doubles instead of triples and quads. It all goes leisurely. It feels good. Watching Yuuri dance his routine day after day is good; so good.(Viktor starts having very pleasant dreams wherein he and Yuuri dance Stammi Vicino side-by-side before retiring to the locker room. In these dreams, Viktor kneels before Yuuri in a shadowy row of lockers and presses lips to stomach, lips to hips, lips to—He wakes up aching, frustrated, lonely.)"That was good," Viktor tells him when the sun no longer filters in through the windows, when both he and Yuuri have sweat at their collars and down their backs, when Yuuri is standing at center ice with his arms crossed over his heaving chest and the last strains of Stammi Vicino are fading. Yuuri relaxes from his stance and watches Viktor skate towards him from his observation perch at one end of the rink. A bead of sweat drips down his cheek like a tear. For one swooping, intense moment, Viktor wants to lick it off so badly that his mouth waters.He reins himself in, of course, and says, "That was good, but let me show you something. Then we're done for the day." Not that there is much day left. The sun has been gone for hours; Hiroko has probably wrapped their dinner up and put it in the fridge again.Yuuri straightens himself out and nods, turning an attentive gaze to Viktor even as his breath is still coming in exhilarated bursts. One of the various ways in which his determination to improve manifests is a hyper-focused attentiveness to direction. Viktor wonders if this is what Yakov always meant when he threw his arms about and cried, "Could you dedicate even half of your attention to this, Vitya?""Let's go back to the crossovers before the camel," Viktor says, and takes up a spot next to Yuuri so he knows that Viktor intends to go through it with him. "Get into the sit-spin as always, I'll tell you what to do from there."Yuuri does so, gathering momentum with his crossovers and transitioning into the camel position, which Viktor follows him in, before kicking himself up into the air and landing in a spit spin. Viktor lands beside him and uses the momentum to circle him, watching his form, making sure he doesn't wobble. Viktor is rather confident in his ability to perform this part of the routine at this point, and generally has no complaints; it's the part that comes after which caught his attention."Alright," Viktor says, "come out of it. Slowly. This part is gentle. Do you remember how the music slows?""Yes," Yuuri says, slowing his spin and rising from it. Viktor watches his gaze fix on the empty bleachers. Yuuri learned this routine by copying Viktor from recordings on YouTube; Viktor has seen the videos, and they do indeed seem to suggest that he is focusing his attention on the bleachers, his fans, pointing at them in homage. It wasn't the crowd he was staring at."Pause," Viktor murmurs, and Yuuri holds the pose. Viktor tucks in close behind him and raises his hand just slightly, then presses a hand to his jaw to raise his gaze to the rafters. "The lyrics, do you know what they say here?""This story will vanish after tonight like the stars," Yuuri whispers."Yes," Viktor murmurs. He presses his hands to Yuuri's belly and back, adjusts his posture to almost impossible straightness; reaching, straining. "So where should we look, Yuuri?""The sky," Yuuri says. "The stars.""Yes." The sweet and soft skin at the back of Yuuri's neck is so close. Viktor could tilt his head and—but no, it's not his place. Yuuri allows him this close as a coach, as someone he trusts himself with. Viktor takes in a deep breath and murmurs, "And now spin."They turn, still pressed close, Viktor's hand still pressed to Yuuri's warm stomach where he can feel lean muscle working with the movements they make. They come to a stop for a beat, and Viktor hears the music in his head as vividly as if it were playing over the speaker; it harmonizes with the sound of Yuuri's breath and the quiet scrape of their skates on the ice."And you stop," Viktor whispers, and feels a shiver go up Yuuri's back. It must tickle, his breath ruffling Yuuri's hair. "And you bow your head, and you think…I ache for you. When will you come into my life? And then…" He pulls away from Yuuri, takes up a place at his side again. He and Yuuri bring their arms up in unison, stroking forward twice on one foot. "Stroke, stroke…reach up." This, too, they do in unison. "And then…spread eagle." He takes the outside, mirroring Yuuri as he takes the inside. It carries on for much longer than it should, Viktor finding himself entranced by Yuuri's eyes, those cinnamon-hued pools at the bottom of which lie the soul Viktor pines for.They come to a natural stop, their momentum wearing out. Yuuri's breath is loud, his tongue pink when it slides between his lips to wet them. His fringe is clinging to his forehead and the smell of him is one that broadcasts their long day, but it isn't off-putting. Warm skin, masculine sweat, the smell of his hair. Viktor's pants are loose, his prick is heavy between his thighs, and it's been so long since he was touched."Did that feel good?" Viktor asks, and tries not to think about saying those words under very different circumstances. Yuuri's hair would still be damp and Yuuri's chest would still be heaving, but there would be far fewer clothes involved and Viktor would be mouthing that question against Yuuri's bare shoulder, or along his stomach, or into the thickness of his thigh."Yeah," Yuuri says, jerking his head in a nod. "Yeah, that was—that feels good. Feels right. Thank you.""You're welcome." Viktor makes himself pull away, flips the hair out of his eyes and offers a smile. "Good work! We're done for the day. Let's go home." He turns around and makes for the boards."Viktor—" Before he can even get started, Yuuri's hand is in his. He allows himself to be turned back around—is powerless to stop it, really, when Yuuri's hand is both soft and firm, tugging ever so insistently. He turns and raises his eyebrows, feels Yuuri's palm warm against his own, Yuuri's smaller and thicker fingers. He hears Yuuri swallow and watches his lips move to say, "I—do you—what made you—why did you choose this song? I was just…um, I was just wondering."Viktor smiles down at their linked hands, feeling sad and aroused and confused all at the same time. "At the time, I chose it because it was beautiful. And sad. And I've skated to beautiful and sad things for as long as I can remember. But since then, it's…taken on new meaning for me.""Oh?" Yuuri whispers. He hasn't let Viktor's hand drop."I started choreographing with this song over a year ago, before I turned twenty-six, and there was still a chance that—well." He shrugs, offers a chagrined smile. "It was before I realized that…I might be waiting for quite awhile."He doesn't even have to say it. There isn't a single adult person on the planet who wouldn't understand the nuances of Stammi Vicino, and of what Viktor has just said. Everyone knows the pain, the anticipation, the heartache of waiting.It's terrifying. It's exhilarating.Yuuri Katsuki, who Viktor knows for a fact is having transference dreams more nights than not, whispers, "Or maybe you won't," and Viktor allows himself, for just one second, to hope. In Okayama, Viktor watches Yuuri hurdling towards him with arms outstretched, tears and blood on his face and knows that he will kiss Yuuri Katsuki if he takes him in his arms at this moment. Knows it with the same certainty that he knows his name is Viktor Nikiforov, knows it like his soul will someday know another's. Viktor has just watched Yuuri slam face-first into a board, get immediately back up and finish a free skate that is an ode to his own skating career with his hand over his heart, pointing straight at Viktor. He has no other choice than to side step Yuuri's arms, laughing some halfhearted explanation about his nosebleed. He immediately regrets it when Yuuri fails to catch himself and trips over the edge of the boards, faceplanting for the second time in as many minutes."Yuuri!" he cries, hunching over to help his skater straighten up. "Yuuri, I'm so sorry—I didn't realize you were—""It's okay," Yuuri says, and Viktor thinks he's crying—there is a certain watery, nasal quality to his voice—until he turns over and Viktor realizes he's laughing. He swipes at Viktor's hands and cries, "I'm fine! Oh my God, you're such a jerk!""I'm sorry!" Viktor says again, laughing this time, and grabs both of Yuuri's hands to tug him to his feet.The medics descend to examine Yuuri's nose and ensure all cartilage is still where it should be. The judges wait until Yuuri has been given a wad of gauze for his nostrils to announce his scores. By that point Viktor has reigned it in firmly enough that he lets himself wrap his arms around Yuuri's body, still hot from exertion. Yuuri's temple is sweaty and a little gross when Viktor rests his own cool forehead there and nuzzles into him, but Viktor can't care.They are swept up in giving autographs, Minako and Takashi, the medal ceremony. It seems like the next time they are able to breathe is on the train home, slumped against windows and each other."Do you know I'm proud of you?" Viktor whispers into the quiet and still air of the dark train. Says it like some people say Do you know I love you? Says it that way because it's what he's saying, really. It's what he's saying in the only way he can, because chances are that Yuuri is someone else's, and he won't take Yuuri away from the person who's meant to be his."Thank you," Yuuri whispers, and looks up from Viktor's shoulder. There is such a soft, gentle expression on his face that Viktor is afraid for a moment because he almost does it. He almost tilts his head and lets himself kiss Yuuri Katsuki, consequences be damned, and almost commits one of the biggest social faux pas known the human race in the middle of a public train.Then, almost exactly a month later, he does it anyway. He makes Yuuri cry, hears Yuuri scream Just stay close to me!, and then watches him jump a quadruple flip at the end of his free skate, his very own ode to love. It's almost an out-of-body experience, the act of running along the boards until he reaches the gate and flinging himself at Yuuri, barely having the forethought to bring his arms up to cradle that precious head from hitting the ice. There will be bruises on both his forearms later, but he doesn't care now and he won't care then.Yuuri's lips are soft and vanilla-flavored from Viktor's expensive lip balm. Viktor wants to spend the rest of his life gently applying lip balm to Yuuri's lips in dry ice rinks, and also licking it off later in dark bedrooms and under warm showerheads and reclining together on overstuffed couches."That was the only thing I could think of to surprise you as much as you surprised me," says Viktor, who has dedicated his life to surprising people. Part of him hopes that Yuuri meant it that way; as the only fitting declaration of love for a man whose drive to surprise had been his defining characteristic for so long.Viktor's new defining characteristic is, dangerously enough, loving Yuuri Katsuki."Really?" Yuuri whispers, and his lips finally stretch into that sweet smile. "Well, it worked."Viktor wants to kiss him again—wants it so bad that it burns in his throat like a sob—but there is a minor uproar happening around them and a pair of security guards are looking at him from the boards. Their faces say remove yourselves or be removed. Viktor doesn't have the best track record with the ISU and he would rather not be banned from the floor before the season really even starts, so he gets up and helps Yuuri off as well. There is an official on the mic now, switching between Chinese and English to say, "Please quiet down—the judges are deliberating to determine if a penalty for raucous behavior will be awarded to Yuuri Katsuki."In the end, Yuuri gets a small reduction for the scene caused but still scores high enough for the podium. Viktor doesn't see Yuuri between the final scores being announced and Yuuri ascending the risers to stand next to Phichit with his silver medal raised high. There are as many cameras on the podium as there are on his own face, and he doesn't deign any of them with a look. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Yuuri.In the moment between the ceremony and the presser, Viktor pulls Yuuri into a less-trafficked corner and says, "Say whatever you want if they ask. I'll back you up. If you want to say we're soul mates, I'll go along with it. If you want to say it was just a—a lapse of judgment I'll go along with it. If you want to tell them I went crazy and tackled you—""Vitya," Yuuri whispers, and the rest of Viktor's words, along with his breath and heart, lodge in his throat. Yuuri turns his face up to Viktor's, raises a hand and presses it to Viktor's cheek. He feels Yuuri's thumb against his bottom lip and remembers a moment, not very long ago, when he had done the same to Yuuri. He understands now, why Yuuri's pupils had grown so large and his breath so fast. "What did you mean it as?"Viktor breathes out shakily and whispers, "An offer. To be yours. For as long as you'll have me." Please keep me. Please let me stand by your side until I can't anymore. Please let me kiss you and lay beside you at night, at least until you find the person who was made to do those things for you—and then, maybe, you'll just let me help you keep winning. And smiling. Yuuri gasps, like he somehow hadn't expected that answer. Viktor hears the wet sound of him swallowing, feels his thumb slide away to be replaced by his lips. They taste just like the first time. Yuuri's fingers grip into his shoulder, his body shakes. Viktor soothes a hand up his waist and feels his own muscles shudder. Yuuri creates an inch of space into which he whispers, "Yeah, that's—" Kisses him again. "That's good. I—yes. Mmm-hmm." His lips are going to be too red at the presser. His mouth tastes clean."My coach is a very affectionate person," Yuuri says when the question is inevitably asked roughly six seconds into the presser. Mr. Katsuki, is Viktor Nikiforov your soul mate? "From certain angles, it may have looked like…more than it was. Viktor was…excited. He was congratulating me. That's all."By some miracle, not a single press agency is able to locate a camera angle at which Viktor's arms or one of their heads was not blocking the actual kiss. Nobody is able to refute the idea that it was merely a hug."Do you think there's a possibility…" Yuuri whispers, tracing his fingers down Viktor's stomach. He's wearing Viktor's shirt and nothing else; Viktor is letting the bed sheet preserve his own modesty. They showered together earlier. Yuuri is an ethereal creature of moonlight with damp hair, a lovebite on his throat and thick eyelashes. He stops his thought to press a kiss to Viktor's shoulder, then resumes. "Do you think there's a possibility that we're soul mates?""Anything is possible," Viktor whispers. Yuuri's arm is covered in soft black peach fuzz through which Viktor now swirls his fingers. "I've never felt anything…anything close to what I feel for you for anyone else. That has to count for something."Yuuri braces his chin on Viktor's chest, and it digs in just a little too hard when he speaks, but Viktor doesn't move him. Just stares into large eyes gone almost-black in the blue of night as Yuuri whispers, "Are we horrible people? Does it make me a bad person if I say that I…want you more than I've ever wanted my soul mate?""You have me," Viktor tells him. "For as long as you want me, you'll have me."Yuuri, beautiful Yuuri who has decade-old posters of Viktor on the walls of his childhood bedroom and who was so worried about making Viktor uncomfortable with hero-worship in their first months that he had Viktor almost convinced he didn't like him, looks at Viktor through the darkness of a room that smells like citrus-scented hotel toiletries and sex and says, "I'm afraid I'm a selfish person, because I want you forever."Viktor kisses him. Rolls over onto Yuuri and rucks his own shirt up over Yuuri's hips, brings those powerful thighs to wrap around his waist and buries his face in Yuuri's neck. Yuuri scratches his nails down Viktor's back, leaving marks Viktor hopes never fade. Mari Katsuki picks them up at the airport in the family's ten-year-old silver Corolla. The car smells like menthol cigarettes and the not-unpleasant sulfurous odor that follows the Katsuki family around even outside the Onsen. Viktor has come into a great affinity for that smell; it reminds him of tucking his nose into the collar of Yuuri's wool coat, and more importantly of Yuuri himself.The car ride is awkward with the knowledge of what's changed since they left for China. Minako takes the front seat and talks in quiet, furtive Japanese with Mari, her reading glasses on and her hair piled atop her head. Viktor sits in the back seat opposite Mari, where he's convinced it's safest for him at the moment. Yuuri is staring out the window with his thumbnail between his teeth, anxious and unsure. Viktor remembers how confident and sexy he'd looked with his glasses off, flat on his back in their hotel room in Beijing, then immediately expels the thought from his brain.They drop Minako off at her apartment and watch as she skitters up the steps to greet her wife, who's leaning out the door in a bathrobe with the yellow glow of the kitchen backlighting her. Viktor has only met her an handful of times; enough times to know that she is also a dancer, speaks fluent French, and knows Lilia in some nebulous way that she refuses to explain. Minako waves from the doorway and Mari says, "One of you had better get in the front seat; I'm not a chauffeur."Yuuri opens the door and almost falls out of it. Viktor watches him round the car and get into the seat in front of him; he slides his hand between the seat and the car door to pat Yuuri's hip in reassurance.They are quiet on entering Yu-Topia, it being well past the hour when most of the guests retire to their rooms for sleep."Mom and Dad are asleep," Mari says as they shuffle into the family area of the inn, voice hushed."It's fine, I'll talk to them in the morning." Yuuri's knuckles are white around the handle of his suitcase. He glances between Mari and Viktor and mumbles, "Okay, well…goodnight then, nee-chan,"Mari lets Yuuri go, but stops Viktor before he can follow him through the hallway. She takes his elbow and says, "Can I talk to you for a minute?" in a way that can't be refused, and Viktor swings back around with a nod for Yuuri to keep going.They wait until the sound of a door opening and closing sounds in the faint distance. Mari crosses her arms in front of herself, eyes sharp from behind a pair of glasses she usually doesn't wear. Viktor wonders if she realizes just how much of her face she shares with her brother; same eyes, same nose, same eyebrows."Are you and Yuuri soul mates?" she asks, blunt as ever. Viktor appreciates that she is one of the only people in his life who's very forthright with what they want from him. As much as he loves Yuuri—and he loves him, with all his heart and soul he loves him—it sometimes feels like navigating a minefield when it comes to avoiding saying something that triggers one of Yuuri's many 'Complete Shutdown' switches.Viktor looks down at his own knotted fingers and says, "We didn't switch, no."There is a beat of silence, then Mari says, "That's not the question I asked."Viktor's gaze shoots up to Mari's face once again, and her expression hasn't shifted. It's still severe, in its own way, but what Viktor had interpreted as being disapproving might instead be an expression of concern, maybe even confusion."We think we may be." Viktor speaks slowly; chooses his words very carefully. There are so many ways he could say the wrong thing here. "I'm old enough to be the reciprocating partner, and Yuuri's been having transference dreams…he may transfer any day now. We won't know until he does it. But I…""You love him," Mari says, nodding. Her body language becomes more open all at once, apparently satisfied with Viktor's response. "I know. And he loves you. From the moment he saw you…he didn't even know you, and you changed his life. Things like that don't just happen for no reason. I have to believe that." She looks down, brows furrowed at the floor in a way that is almost startlingly reminiscent of her brother, nods again. "Yeah, I have to.""He changed my life, too," Viktor tells her. It's something he's never actually vocalized to another human. Something he's whispered into poodle-ears countless times, He saved me, Makkachin, I'm sure of it, but has never had the gall to actually say into ears that can understand. "I was…lost, I guess, before he found me. He stumbled right into my arms—literally, I caught him, and…just like that, I was changed. I love him so much. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him happy, and if—even if he transfers tomorrow, and it's not me he switches with, I'll still love him. Even if it means letting him go, I won't stop loving him. I don't think I could if I tried."Mari's eyes are soft in a way Viktor has never seen when she looks at him, tilts her head and softly says, "I hope it's you. For both of your sakes, I hope it's you he wakes up to. Hearing the way you talk about him…it's what he deserves. He's such a gentle and kind person, and he deserves someone who thinks the sun rises on him."Viktor nods, a jerky and quiet movement. "I do. I really do."They separate after a moment, once they've both gathered themselves and Mari has nodded at him and Viktor has resisted the urge to hug her because even Viktor knows that it's Not What's Done. He shuffles to his bedroom, suitcase picked an inch or so off the ground so that the sound of it rolling won't disturb the guests. He wonders when he started thinking of himself as separate from the guests. Perhaps around the first time that Hiroko told him it was okay for him to call her mama.Yuuri is sitting against the head of Viktor's large bed, one foot under his leg and the other foot swinging a few inches from the floor. Viktor is momentarily surprised, but not necessarily phased. He thinks they probably would have ended up sleeping in the same bed tonight, one way or another. If anything, Yuuri has saved one of them a late night trip through the Onsen by just planting himself where he already knows he's welcome."Hi," Yuuri says softly, almost like he's unsure of himself. He's taken off all but his undershirt and boxers. Only one light has been turned on. Makkachin is lounging beside Yuuri, head on this thigh; they both look ready for sleep. Viktor realizes, again, that this is a sight he wants to see every day."Hey," Viktor replies. He leaves his suitcase by the door, kisses Yuuri's forehead to assure him of his welcome, and begins his own bedtime preparations."What did you talk about?" Yuuri mumbles, trepidation heavy in his voice. His eyes trail Viktor as he takes off his coat and keeps going until he's in the same state of undress as Yuuri. There is a warm, quiet intimacy to being watched undressing in a completely sexless context. He likes it; Yuuri's warm and sleepy gaze on him as he gets ready to sleep in a bed they share."I'm not…sure I can explain it," Viktor says slowly. He turns off the light and lifts the blankets, crawling under them and pressing his cold feet underneath Makkachin's reassuring weight. Yuuri lifts his own blankets and settles against Viktor, warm and lovely. Viktor's eyes are so tired that it almost hurts to finally close them. His lips find Yuuri's sightlessly in the dark. "She isn't angry, though. I don't think your parents probably are either. I think…I think they understand.""Mmm." Yuuri's breathing evens out quickly, his weight going rapidly limp against Viktor's. Viktor snakes an arm over his waist and presses his nose into soft hair."Yuuri?" he says softly after a moment.Yuuri stirs again. "Hmm?""Does Mari have a soul mate? I mean, has she switched yet?" Mari, Viktor has come to understand, is nearing thirty. Viktor doesn't know what he will do if thirty appears on the horizon and he hasn't undergone his transference yet."Oh, yes," Yuuri murmurs. "Ai. A doctoral student at Fukuoka University. They don't see much of each other, but they're…well. They both know what they want from life, let's just say. When they switched, they agreed that they would each do what it was they wanted to do and let their paths align later in life.""Huh," Viktor mumbles, his breath making Yuuri's hair sway. "That's…""Mari is very independent," Yuuri says. "And from what I understand, so is Ai. But they're both very loving, as well. Mari says that it's nice, just to know there's someone out there who…loves and supports you, even in a quiet way. Someone meant for you, even if you can't be with them right now." Yuuri's hand is soft, trailing sleepily up and down his arm. "I think they'll be very good together someday. But right now, it's not what they want. Who is anyone else to tell them that's wrong?""Well said, darling," Viktor says after a moment, when he thinks Yuuri may have already fallen asleep. "Well said." After Mari's call—the words Makkachin and Emergency and We're not sure he'll make it still chasing themselves around his head—they scramble to find Viktor the first flight they can out of Moscow for anywhere in Japan. It's twenty minutes of six figure skaters and three coaches standing in a circle and searching through listings on Google, Delta, Aeroflot. Ultimately, it is a Japan Airlines flight leaving at three in the morning for Tokyo that is booked. Viktor, knowing he won't be able to sleep for even the few hours between booking the flight and heading to the airport, hunkers down against the headboard with a silenced laptop playing a movie with captions and Yuuri's fitfully sleeping head on a pillow next to his hip."You need to sleep," Viktor told him after they found the flight, returned to their hotel room and ate a meal from room service. "You're still competing tomorrow. I'll wake you up before I leave for the airport.""Alright," Yuuri whispered, something very sad in his eyes that Viktor never wanted to see again.Viktor knows that it will not be any easier for Yuuri if Makkachin should pass. He's already made a deal with himself that, should the worst happen, Yuuri won't hear about it until after the free skate. All the same, it's reassuring to know he won't be alone in his grief, if it should come to that. That he may, in fact, never have to be alone again. Just having his lover's sleeping body so close to him is comforting in the dark and slow hours that pass between Mari's call and his flight back to Japan.Yuuri startles awake shortly after midnight. His breath goes erratic all at once, and his body flinches so severely that Viktor jumps as well. When he looks down at Yuuri's face, wild brown eyes stare up at him almost unseeingly. It takes almost a full minute for Yuuri's vision to clear, for his eyes to focus on Viktor's face. Viktor watches him, knowing Yuuri is forcing himself to calm down and knowing that he should be doing something to reassure him, but unable to find the words in this moment where nothing feels right."What time is it?" Yuuri whispers, foggy, turning his body over to tuck his face against Viktor's hip."About midnight," Viktor replies. He whispers his fingers through Yuuri's hair and murmurs, "Are you crying?""No," Yuuri says, and then immediately afterward, "Yes," because he won't lie to Viktor, not even about something so simple. He tucks his face closer. "I, um…it was just that dream again. It's fine. I—I'll be fine.""Oh, Kitten," Viktor whispers, sympathetic but drained of almost all empathy. It's all with his dog, his baby, hundreds of miles away and alone and scared.Over the last month, Yuuri has been having transference dreams—or, rather, transference dream, because it's always the same one, the seagulls by the sea—with ever-increasing frequency. He has them now whenever he sleeps; sometimes twice or thrice a night. It would be profoundly stressful for anybody, let alone an athlete in the midst of a competition.Any day now, Yuuri is going to transfer and one of two things will happen. Either Viktor will wake up in Yuuri's body, or Viktor will wake up next to a stranger in his lover's body and be forced to explain the situation while Yuuri wakes up somewhere, alone, and tries to get his bearings in a body that isn't Viktor's. The latter is infinitely more statistically likely than the former, but that doesn't stop him from hoping. The taste of it is both sweet and bitter on the back of his tongue at all times."If it's midnight," Yuuri says, "Then you should get going.""Yes," Viktor says after a moment, and rises to gather his things. Yuuri swings his legs out of bed, fumbles his glasses onto his face and pulls his Team Japan jacket on over the old and thin practice shirt of Viktor's he now wears to bed most nights. His sweatpants are still on; he shoves his feet into his shoes as Viktor ties his own scarf, and they leave down the hall together."I'll call when I get to Tokyo," Viktor says as they wait for the taxi. The concierge told them a driver would arrive within ten minutes. "And again when I get to Fukuoka.""Mari says she'll call if anything changes," Yuuri says to his own feet.Viktor, whose phone holds a text conversation in which Mari agreed not to tell Yuuri if Makkachin dies, nods and doesn't respond to that. Instead, he wraps his arms around Yuuri's shoulders and says, "If you need anything, just ask Yakov. If you're in trouble, hug him, and he'll help you." And then, softer, against that part of Yuuri's head he likes to kiss at night, murmurs, "I'm so sorry, Yuuri. Even if I'm not here, I'll always be with you in spirit."Yuuri's hands fist into the back of his jacket. "I'll bring you and Makkachin a medal. I promise.""Just bring us yourself," Viktor says, and it comes out a chuckle even as tears prick his eyes. "That's all we need."He wants to say it so badly, I love you; you're my entire world; I'll get through this with you at my side because I love you, but he can't. Not like this. He can't bear the idea of his first real love-words to Yuuri being laced with so much sadness. So he kisses Yuuri, right on the spot where his lips rest when they sleep, and squeezes him once more before stepping out into the powdery Russian snow. It is 14:00 in Moscow and 19:00 in Fukuoka when Viktor exits the airport and gets into Mari Katsuki's car. The men's free skate won't start for another three hours, and Viktor hasn't slept in almost thirty hours. It feels at once like the same day of the short program, and like a week has gone by. He slumps in the front seat of the Corolla and stares without focus through the windshield for almost a full minute before he moves to put his seatbelt on. Mari has already started moving the car into the correct lane to get them back out onto the freeway."He's out of surgery," Mari says after a moment, her hands poised on the steering wheel at a seven and five position, tapping out an impatient rhythm as she waits for someone to let her over. Viktor has rode in a car with Yuuri driving exactly once and watched him hold the steering wheel the exact same way. Viktor wonders who taught the Katsuki siblings to drive. "The vet said that it doesn't necessarily mean he's out of the woods, but if he comes off the anesthesia alright, he should make a full recovery."It isn't a guarantee, but it's more than Viktor was expecting. There was some amount of certainty in his mind that he would get in the car and Mari would tell him that Makkachin had passed while he was in the air, or else that his condition had worsened and they couldn't do anything more for him. That Viktor had essentially arrived back in Japan just in time to see his baby die. Being told the opposite has an immediate and powerful relaxing effect on him; he feels himself slump against the door of the car, feels the grief that has been stinging the back of his throat for hours finally loosen into something softer, more gentle. A tear gathers under his eye and he swipes it onto his thumb."Thank God," he says in some language. He swipes his hair back from his face, and it's so oily that it mostly just stays there. He tries to sniff the wateriness out of his voice and is only marginally successful, but something tells him that Mari won't judge him. "What—um…what did the bill come to? Did they make you pay up front? I'll reimburse you.""It's fine," Mari says, shaking her head. "We covered it. The vet is a family friend. She used to be Vicchan's vet, and she knows—she knows how special Makkachin is to Yuuri. And all of us.""Mari, no. I won't—he's my responsibility." Viktor doesn't want to say I have more money than your family does, and I know it. Doesn't want to say it, but knows it's true. It's there in the way Toshiya and Hiroko sometimes stare at their accounting books with stress in their eyes; it's there in the way Yuuri takes such good care of his clothes and equipment, like he knows it won't be easy to replace them. It's here in this car, with its worn upholstery and decade-old manufacture date and broken radio."No," Mari says. "No, he—he was my responsibility. You trusted me with him."Mari's eyes go red-rimmed the same way Yuuri's do before he cries. Viktor, all at once, understands.("He ran out in front of a car," Yuuri told him when Viktor finally asked what happened to Vicchan after months of seeing pictures of a sweet little poodle. Yuuri's voice was hushed, his knee was pressing against Viktor's leg, and Viktor wanted to kiss it better, this hurt that followed Yuuri around like his own little rain cloud. "My sister was walking him and he just—saw something that excited him, and she dropped the leash, and he—""Oh no," Viktor whispered."She blames herself, I think," Yuuri said softly. "I don't blame her—she did everything she could. But I think…yeah, I think she's very hard on herself about it.")"Mari?" Viktor murmurs. "Honey, I don't blame you."Mari nods, face crumpled, and rests her elbow on the car door with her fingers pressed to her trembling chin. "I know," she whispers. She sniffs, and it's an ugly sound; a heart-wrenching sound. Viktor wants to hug her, or at least pat her shoulder, and he doesn't know how he's supposed to comfort these wonderful and emotional people who have tumbled into his life when everything he knows about comforting is something he can't do for them. "I know," she says, "but—but I blame myself."Viktor says, "Pull over," and Mari doesn't even question him; she pulls onto the shoulder and puts the car in park. Viktor lets her cry for a moment, even cries himself, then he pulls himself together and leans over the consol and says, "I'm going to hug you now, if that's alright. Can I hug you, Mari?"He waits for her head to bob in permission before wrapping his arms around her. She's smaller than Yuuri, but somehow less delicate, and stiff against him in the way he remembers Yuuri being what feels like a lifetime ago. He gives her a firm squeeze and pats her back, blinking her hair away from his eyes until he pulls away. Mari is quiet for a moment, hands folded in her lap and eyes trained somewhere through the windshield. Viktor puts his seatbelt back on and rubs the moisture from his face."Thank you," she says finally, putting the car in drive. She looks over her shoulder to merge back into traffic, and Viktor smiles, tired, at the back of her head.Mari takes him to the animal hospital. The vet on call is apparently the woman who owns the practice. She's somewhere in the area of sixty, even shorter than Hiroko but much more severe in appearance; her silver hair is pulled up tight on top of her head and her glasses are horn-rimmed. Her nametag is in Kanji and Viktor momentarily scrambles because what's the correct honorific, but she introduces herself in sharply punctuated English as Doctor Hattori. She and Viktor both bow and shake hands."Makkachin has woken up from anesthesia and is eating and drinking well," she tells him as she leads both he and Mari back into the kennel area. Viktor smiles at every dog they pass; a little black terrier, a Shih-Tzu bobbling up and down on his dog bed; a very large mastiff who raises his head to breathe boof in their direction. "He's restless, which is good; it means he's alert and that moving doesn't hurt him. I want to keep him through the night, just in case any…complications should arise. If all goes well, he'll be released in the morning." Makkachin is in the last kennel of the row, curled up on a cot in the corner. He's sleeping on his favorite blanket, which means Mari had either brought him here wrapped in it, or brought it to him later as a comfort item. Either way, the thoughtfulness of the gesture makes Viktor's heart hurt. He still isn't used to people caring so much about him and what's his.He's realizing now that, if Yuuri truly is his soul mate, his little family won't be growing by only one. It will be growing by at least four, maybe even five or six or a dozen. The Katsukis, the Nishigoris, the Okukawas. And Viktor and Makkachin Nikiforov.Makkachin wakes up at their entrance; he sees Viktor and immediately starts whining for him, and Viktor falls onto the cot and pulls both Makkachin and blanket into his lap. Makkachin licks at his face and squirms in his arms; there's a bandage wrapped around his throat."Hello, there's my baby," Viktor coos at him in Russian, sliding his hand up and down Makkachin's belly, kissing his ears. "Oh, my baby boy—hello, hello, I missed you so much. Makkachin, Makka-baby, my puppy-baby.""The incision is small," Doctor Hattori tells them, patting Makkachin's curls as he settles against Viktor's shoulder, "but he does have several stitches. We can't put an E-collar on him, for obvious reasons, so he'll have to be monitored to make sure he doesn't scratch at them. I'm recommending a soft diet for at least the next few weeks, until the stitches are removed. Considering his age, it may be wise to switch him to a soft diet permanently—once something like this happens once, it runs the risk of happening again, and it'll be harder to fix the next time."Viktor nods, tucking Makkachin's muzzle under his chin and running a hand the full length of his back. "He eats grain-free anyway. I can put his food in a blender or something, if I need to."Doctor Hattori nods, eyes soft behind her austere glasses. "You obviously take very good care of him, Nikiforov-san. He's incredibly healthy and spry for his age and breed. Many dogs his age wouldn't have done so well with this sort of surgery, but…I see no reason why your Makkachin wouldn't be around for many years to come.""Thank you," Viktor says softly, feeling a tear leak down his cheek and along his lips. He licks it away, tastes salt. "For everything."Doctor Hattori nods and bows slightly, stepping out of the kennel to speak with Mari. Viktor presses his face to Makkachin's neck and almost falls asleep, the relief hitting him all at once. Somehow, he makes himself stand up and exit the kennel, although not before kissing Makkachin once, twice, thrice more and assuring him that he will be coming home in the morning. Makkachin, unable to understand, makes mournful noises as Viktor walks away. It almost breaks his heart all over again.He is welcomed back to Yu-Topia with smiles from Toshiya and Hiroko, already sat in front of the live stream with Minako and the Nishigoris. Viktor drags his baggage to his room and reemerges to claim the seat left for him next to Takashi. Hiroko places a teacup and a bowl of something meaty and hearty in front of him and says, "Welcome home, Vicchan."Home, Viktor thinks over and over again as he feeds his starved stomach and watches Yuuri's figure, small on a computer screen and hundreds of miles away, skate onto the ice for the group practice. When did this become home? When did the generous elder Katsukis and the calm Mari and the lovely, beautiful, kind Yuuri become his family? When did his definition of family switch from distant and unpleasant to warm, welcoming, goofy?He falls asleep on the tatami shortly after Yuuri's skate. Hiroko wakes him up an hour or so later, shaking his shoulder gently and speaking in simple, soft Japanese."Vicchan," she says. "Wake up. You'll catch a cold if you sleep on the floor.""Oh." He opens his eyes and regards her drowsily. "Sorry, Mama."She smiles. "Don't apologize. You'd be more comfortable in bed, don't you think?""Yes," Viktor mumbles. He rises off the floor, back protesting, and stands up with a hand from Hiroko. They shuffle to the bedroom together, and Viktor lets her pull back the blankets for him and then cover him with them, once he's in bed. His body wants to fall immediately back asleep as soon as he's horizontal, but Hiroko is talking as she settles the blankets around him—she's tucking him in, he'll realize later; when was the last time he was tucked in? Has he ever been tucked in?—and he forces himself to listen."It's funny," she says, pulling the thick quilt up over his shoulders. He doesn't understand every word she says, but it's enough to know what she's saying. "Yuuri used to fall asleep in front of the television watching you. Viktor Nikiforov would want you to go to bed on time, I'd say. Now I'm putting Viktor Nikiforov to bed after watching Yuuri skate! Life works in mysterious ways.""Yes," Viktor says, then recalls himself from the edge of sleep long enough to open his eyes again. "Oh. Mama? Yuuri goes to Grand Prix, yes? He scored enough?"Hiroko smiles and pats Viktor's elbow. "Yes. They announced that he would be going forward just before I woke you up.""Oh," Viktor mumbles, pressing his face against the pillow. His entire body feels totally strung out, like a piece of taffy pulled apart and draped over the mattress. "I should…call him.""In the morning," Hiroko tells him in the kind of gentle but commanding tone that is unique to mothers. She straightens up and says, "Goodnight, Vicchan," before turning off the lights and leaving the room.Viktor is asleep before her footsteps fade. The smell of his lover is one that Viktor recognizes immediately; the smell of the Onsen combined with Yuuri's unique skin-smell, a fresh-scented bodywash and occasionally a musky cologne. It coils contentment in Viktor's belly and sometimes, in the early morning, turns him on. He rolls over on waking and gets a deep lungful, luxuriating in the feeling of smooth sheets against his bare legs. He reaches for Yuuri and doesn't find him, sighs and retracts his hand to trail it over his face.It doesn't feel like his face. He freezes, fingers splayed over his mouth and nose, and opens his eyes slowly. Last night, he fell asleep in Hasetsu. He remembers that now. He fell asleep in Japan, and maybe there is some of Yuuri's scent pressed into a pillow or into the comforter from sharing that bed so often the last few weeks, but he should not be surrounded by it. He's drowning in Yuuri-scent, and it's exquisite. But this is not Hasetsu, and his nose is smaller than it should be, and his eyes are not in the right place.His eyes also cannot see.With shaking hands, Viktor reaches to the nightstand and palms for a pair of glasses he knows must be there. He finds them and unfolds them carefully, clumsily setting them on his face in an unpracticed movement.The room comes into focus. It's familiar; the hotel room he left Yuuri in last night (Two nights ago?). Yuuri's luggage is lonely, sitting against the wall without Viktor's next to it; the Yuuri on Ice costume is hanging off the doorknob on a hanger, Yuuri's phone with its poodle case is charging on the nightstand, and Yuuri's open computer is on sleep mode on the other side of the bed. The alarm clock tells him that it's just past four o'clock in the morning, which makes it almost eleven hours since he fell asleep in Japan.The realization of what has happened hits him all at once. He's transferred. One of the most pivotal moments of his life—it's arrived. Not only that, but it is Yuuri Katsuki's body in which he sits—Viktor knows these hands, this nose, these thighs that are revealed when he slowly pulls the blankets back. Yuuri's body feels small, powerful. He carries tension in his shoulders and in his lower back. His feet ache in a way that Viktor's haven't in over six months. His hair is just now getting long enough that it sways into his gaze occasionally—a flash of black when he moves his head. Viktor gingerly turns his legs out of bed and stands up. Yuuri's center of gravity is lower than his own—walking in his body requires Viktor to shift his weight further forward than he's used to. He stumbles into the bathroom, where he turns on the light.There he is. Yuuri Katsuki, precious wide eyes and tangled black hair. Wearing Viktor's old practice shirt again. Viktor shuffles towards the mirror and reaches out a hand, traces the shape of Yuuri's mouth in the mirror. A mouth he has kissed hundreds of times. He moistens his lips, dragging his tongue across them, and it's at once familiar and completely, utterly foreign."Oh my God," he breathes into the silent bathroom. It echoes back at him briefly, Russian words in Yuuri's voice. Odd. It makes him wonder what it might sound like to hear his own voice speaking fluent Japanese.It's this thought that sends him stumbling back into the bedroom. Yuuri either has already or is going to wake up in Viktor's body—confused and possibly anxious. Viktor needs to know if he's okay. This is his soul mate, his soul mate. In the tradition of Viktor's people, they are now officially engaged. Viktor has a rabid need to know how he fares, half a world away and waking up in his family home with silver hair and long fingers.The phone almost goes through to voicemail. Even when it's picked up, it isn't his own voice that greets him. He abruptly remembers leaving his phone in the family room the night before when Mari answers."Yuuri, isn't it the middle of the night in Russia?" she asks, and Viktor has to scramble to parse what she's said because it was in Japanese and so quick that his barely-conversational knowledge of the language stutters."Mari," he says, "It's Viktor." Yuuri's voice comes more from his nose than Viktor's does; as he gets used to it, Viktor has to resist the urge to sneeze."What's Viktor?" she asks, tone immediately becoming one of confusion. Likely just as much at his words as at the language he said them in. "He's still asleep. Do you want me to wake him up? Why are we speaking in English?""I mean—" Viktor sighs, tries to palm his own forehead in frustration and instead nearly punches himself in the eye. "Ow. I mean—it's me. I'm Viktor. I—we—Mari, we switched.""You—oh my God. Oh my God—" It's the least calm Viktor has ever heard Mari. Her voice goes distant for a moment and she yells something away from the receiver, something containing the word Mom! and more ejaculations of shock. She comes back to the receiver and says, too loudly, "Viktor?""Yes, I'm here," he quickly answers, and finds himself a place to sit because standing around in Yuuri's body is making him a little dizzy. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten up so quickly. Nobody ever trains you for this. They all know it's going to happen someday, and yet nobody ever knows what to do when it does. Viktor thinks it's ridiculous. "You said Yuuri hasn't woken up yet? Someone should go sit with him. He'll be disorientated when he wakes up. It might make him anxious; I don't want him to have an attack.""Should we wake him up?" asks Mari. There's a kind of barely-contained excitement in her tone, like a child before a fieldtrip or anybody on the morning of a wedding. It's a tone of joy and hope and, at the same time, almost paralyzing uncertainty. Everything is bright and new and something good, something big, something wonderful is going to happen but the whole thing is shrouded in a thin veil of anxiety. Bated breath and trembling fingers. Viktor knows he would see his heart—Yuuri's heart, oh God—beating visibly against his chest if he looked down."No, just let him—let him wake up naturally, I think that's best. If someone wakes him up he'll—he might be even more confused." Viktor presses his sweaty palm to his thigh—Yuuri's bare thigh, the left one still bearing a faint mark in the shape of Viktor's mouth from days ago. "Mari? I don't know how these things work in Japan. Yuuri and I, we never talked about it because—we didn't want to jinx it, I guess. Is there something that needs to happen, that I need to…I don't know, do?""Just come home," Mari says. "Just come home, and we'll figure things out on our end. It'll be weird with—with Yuuri here, instead of his soul—instead of you, because that's…that doesn't usually happen. But we'll figure it out.""Okay," Viktor breathes. "Alright. Thank you. I—thank you so much. For everything. I'm glad that he can—that he can be with you while this happens. Not many people get to go through this with their own families, and I—there's nobody else I'd rather have him with.""We're not just his family, Viktor," Mari says. "Come home, okay? We'll be waiting for you. He'll be waiting for you."Viktor feels tears in his eyes and a happy, overwhelmed weight in his chest.After hanging up, he stumbles around the room, gathering Yuuri's things. They aren't splayed quite so widely as Viktor's things usually end up being, but he still takes a few laps around the place to ensure that he has everything he needs. Yuuri's team Japan jacket is comforting around his shoulders in a way that his own Russia jacket must be to Yuuri when he wears it—Viktor wishes that his broad shoulders weren't such an obstacle to wearing Yuuri's clothes.He pads down the hall before leaving, knocks on the door he knows to be Yakov's and continues knocking until the man answers. From living with him in his boyhood, Viktor knows that waking Yakov up in the middle of the night is a risky endeavor, but the situation is unique and, besides, it's not like Yakov can make him run three sets of suicides as retribution anymore.Yakov is surprised upon seeing him. "Katsuki?" he grumbles, squinting. It's odd, constantly forgetting and then being reminded that Viktor isn't in his own body. It's even odder how drastically Yakov's demeanor changes when he stills and says, "Is it Makkachin?""Uh, no," Viktor says, "Makkachin is—he's fine.""You speak Russian?" Yakov mutters, relaxing."Yes? I mean—no, it's—I'm Viktor. Yuuri and I switched. I just wanted to let you know that—what happened, because I need to leave for the airport. I, um…yeah."Maybe, sometime in the coming weeks, Viktor will call his mother and let her know what's happened. He thinks she'll probably be pleased, but not enough to come visit, and not enough to attend whatever wedding will happen afterwards. Viktor hasn't had extended contact with his mother since he was nine years old, and he's mostly come to terms with that. He's also come to terms with the fact that the man standing before him is the closest thing to a father he's ever had, and even though he's not entirely sure Yakov likes him very much sometimes, it still feels just a little like this is what he's supposed to be doing. That this might be what it would be like, if he had a father to tell."Oh," Yakov says. He clears his throat and shuffles his feet, reaches out a hand and pats Viktor's shoulder, gingerly, like he thinks Viktor might combust if he does it too firmly. Viktor remembers Yakov slapping the back of his head for backtalk only months ago, but also knows that this is Yuuri's body. Yuuri's body is unfamiliar to Yakov, and also inexplicably fragile-looking for how strong it is. "Congratulations, Ka—er, Vitya. I'm very happy for you."Viktor smiles. "Thank you."Yakov clears his throat again. "Do you…need anything? You have enough money to get back to Japan? Will you have a problem getting back on Yuuri's passport? I don't exactly…know how these things work. When Lilia and I switched, we were living within ten miles of each other.""It's fine," Viktor assures. "Yuuri and I already had a flight back for this morning. I'm going to see if I can get an earlier flight out, but…it's fine. There's precedent for these sorts of things now.""Good. Good." Yakov nods, looks at his own feet again. "Er…yes, that's good. Well then, I'll…good, good. Shall I tell…everyone? Yura and such?""Only if you record it," Viktor chuckles. "Yura will be beside himself. Georgi might weep."Yakov barks a short spurt of laughter that, despite its gruffness, is genuine. "I think I'll leave the videotaping to Mila…she seems fond enough of it." Yakov meets Viktor's eyes finally—it's strange, being eyelevel with him again after outgrowing him more than ten years ago. "I…"There is a feminine noise from within the room. Viktor's eyes snap to the shadowy hallway behind Yakov's back, and soon enough a figure in a soft yellow robe emerges. Lilia, glasses on her nose and makeup off. Viktor hasn't seen her this way since he was a boy living in her and Yakov's guest room.She used to hum Swan Lake to him when he had nightmares."Katsuki," she says softly, eyebrow raised. She looks older like this, standing behind Yakov with her narrow shoulders wrapped in a robe, her hair down. But somehow softer. Not so severe; kinder."No, it's…" Yakov scratches the back of his head. "It's Vitya, Lilya. He and Katsuki…""Ah, I see." Lilia's other eyebrow crawls up her forehead. Her lips, just slightly, quirk. "It's about time. Congratulations. The wedding will be soon?"Viktor chuckles. It's easy, sometimes, to forget that these two are from such a different time. Soul mates still married within the week, when they were young. Maybe it changed when the Soviet Union fell, or maybe when the world started becoming a bigger place. Maybe it's the same thing."I don't know about that," Viktor says softly. "But consider yourselves invited, when it does happen.""Of course," Lilia demurs, sets a hand on Yakov's elbow and, even though Yakov's ears are turning alarmingly red before Viktor's very eyes, Lilia is as confident as she's ever been on any stage. Slowly, she says, "That being the case, I believe you're expected somewhere, Vitya. It's very late. Let these old people sleep.""Alright," Viktor says softly, and nods to them both. He makes to turn, but is stopped by Yakov. He grabs Viktor's wrist and pulls him in, wrapping him in a hug. It's stiff, and unpracticed, but Viktor's tactile heart sings. Validation, is what he thinks this feels like. Validation and maybe, possibly, fatherly affection."I'm proud of you," Yakov tells his shoulder. "I'm…privileged, to have been the one to see you grow."Viktor cries then, and Yakov lets him. It's several more minutes before he finally goes back to his own room to gather his luggage.The flight to Japan is uneventful, tedious as it is to be flying back to Japan for the second time in less than two days. Thankfully, he's flying directly into Fukuoka this time. The only hiccup occurs when a customs officer says something in Japanese and Viktor has to explain in his own faltering Japanese that he is currently in his soul mate's body and does not speak very good Japanese, and does the customs officer perhaps speak English?"I was only welcoming you back to the country," the officer says, a smile coming onto his face. "But apparently that's not the appropriate greeting, huh? How about congratulations, then. It seems you're lucky; your soul mate is very beautiful.""He is," Viktor replies, and folds Yuuri's passport close to his chest as he shuffles with the crowd towards the baggage claim.He's surprised when, as he makes his way through the plexigass hallway separating the customs area from the airport proper, a faint barking comes from the other side and then, when he looks up, there's Makkachin. His heartbeat speeds up, because where there's Makkachin there must be a Katsuki nearby. Viktor scans Makkachin for residual signs of his recent trauma. Upon finding none, he lifts his eyes to the crowd. He doesn't have to search for long. His own silver hair makes him obvious in a crowd.Viktor had never accounted for how odd it would be to see himself from across a room. Even now, he doesn't really think about it; as soon as he sees Yuuri—himself?—he takes off running. Yuuri sees him in the window, a flurry of frantic movement against the backdrop of slower and more lethargic passengers, and does the same. Viktor watches him as they run, less than ten feet from each other and still so far. Finally, after he's jogged what feels like half a mile in a body whose equilibrium still makes very little sense to him, he reaches the sliding doors. Yuuri stands there, at the end of the stanchion line, waiting for him with arms outstretched. Viktor runs into them, all but flings his body.If he allowed himself to think about it, he would probably feel very strange being held by himself. As it is, thoughts like that are the farthest from his mind. This is Yuuri, no matter whose body he's in and no matter how tall he is. This is Yuuri, and Yuuri is his soul mate."It's you," he hears Yuuri whisper, totally awed. "I can't believe it. It's really you. I never—it's you.""It's me," Viktor agrees, pulling back. He presses hands to his own face, looks into his own eyes and somehow, against all intuition, knows it's Yuuri who's staring back at him. This is what people mean, he supposes, when they say that the eyes are the window to the soul. These are the same ice blue eyes he's been looking at in the mirror for twenty-eight years, and yet they look so different with Yuuri's soul behind them. "It's me, darling. Yes, it's me. What do I do? Do I kiss you now?" Viktor wants to hold Yuuri, wants Yuuri back in his own body purely so that Viktor can wrap his arms around the familiar width of his shoulders, press his nose into that lovely soft hair."No—wait, no." Yuuri presses two fingers to Viktor's lips, looking alarmed. "There's a—it's a tradition, that we—it's sort of a ceremony, I guess. We're supposed to have a dinner, with both of our families, but—since it's only my family, we're just…we're having it at the Onsen, and then—okay, well, the families are supposed to leave the mates alone after the meal, and there's some ceremonial toasts in there and such, and then, um…what happens is, the families leave whichever house they had the dinner in and go to the other family's house, and leave the mates to, um. Switch back. In private." Yuuri clears his throat, blushing, looking down at his feet. "Since there's no other family, um…my parents made arrangements to stay with Minako-sensei tonight. And Mari is going to the city to stay with Ai. Um. The guests will still be in the Onsen but they've been told to…be discrete." Yuuri's blush is only growing the longer he talks."Yuuri," Viktor says slowly, gripping Yuuri's hand, "Please tell me that the entire town of Hasetsu doesn't think we're consummating our mateship tonight.""The entire town of Hasetsu doesn't think we're consummating our mateship tonight," Yuuri says lowly, without meeting eyes.Viktor sighs and presses the back of his hand to his forehead. "Ah…that's what I thought.""So dramatic," Yuuri murmurs, and when Viktor opens his eyes it's to Yuuri's usual teasing smirk, distorted strangely on his own face. "Control yourself, please. I have an image to uphold.""Rude," Viktor murmurs, and kisses Yuuri's knuckles; index, middle, ring, pinky. "So rude to your soul mate."Yuuri's eyes go very, very soft. Viktor knows himself enough to realize that this is the face he makes before he cries; his own version of the red-rimmed eyes and trembling chin of crying Katsukis. He also knows with a deep certainty that if Yuuri cries, there will be no hope for himself either. They will collapse into a pair of puddles on the floor, wailing and running together while Makkachin laps at them in alarm.Thankfully, Yuuri doesn't cry. At least not then. He doesn't kiss Viktor either, while is understandable even though Viktor wants it with all his being. He's willing to wait for the passage of whatever ceremony is to come; more than willing to respect Yuuri's traditions, the culture that he is being accepted into. Was accepted into long ago."Say it again," Yuuri whispers. "I can't believe it, I need you to say it again.""My soul mate," Viktor whispers. "My darling. My sun, my stars, my Yuuri.""Oh," Yuuri whispers, and throws himself onto Viktor again, arms tight around his shoulders. Dinner is not unlike all the other meals that Viktor has eaten with the Katsukis, although there is significantly more of everything. Food, drink, people. Viktor and Yuuri are given the places of honor at the table and are not allowed to serve themselves the entire night. Viktor's plate is never empty, and his cup is never dry. Everyone Viktor knows in Japan seems to be crowded into the room, Katsukis and Nishigoris and Okukawas. The triplets are there at the beginning of the evening but, as the night draws closer to the point at which Viktor and Yuuri will be sent off to the bedroom and the adults will retire to their various lodgings for the night, Yuuko excuses herself to usher them out the door and deliver them into the clutches of some waiting babysitter.All of the toasts are in Japanese, and the alcohol consumed over the night makes them nigh unintelligible to Viktor's influent ears. There seems to be an order to be honored, because Toshiya goes first—and Viktor sees, then, the resemblance between father and son; the blush of alcohol, the happy squint to the eyes and cheeks, the curve to the lips—and then Hiroko, and finally Mari.At the end of this, everyone stands and stares at them expectantly. Viktor, who hasn't had a real clue what's been going on all evening, snaps his gaze up to Yuuri's for direction."We thank them for the dinner," Yuuri tell him softly, "and tell them that we hope they will enjoy the rest of the evening after we part from them to take our last steps in each other's bodies.""Ah," says Viktor, who isn't sure how to say any of that in Japanese. The heat in Yuuri's eyes is unmistakable. Viktor wants to be returned to his own body only so it can be torn apart by Yuuri's nails and teeth."It's fine," Yuuri assures. "You don't have to say anything."Viktor thinks a lot might have been lost in translation, because what Yuuri says to their assembled friends and family almost has a ring of poetry to it, the sort of beautiful and delicate words that one only says once in a lifetime; like marriage vows. Viktor grips his hand tightly, listening to Yuuri speak in elegant and flowing Japanese in his own voice.The gathering responds to Yuuri's speech as one, which more or less confirms Viktor's suspicions."They wished us good luck," Yuuri tells him. "They also said…not to trip? It's hard to translate into English."Viktor nods, turns to the party to say, "Thank you," and bows deep. If this was the wrong thing to do, nobody mentions it. They're all too busy smiling to their ears, probably far too giddy to have a negative reaction to anything at the moment. More than anything, Viktor doesn't think he will ever get used to being so unquestioningly supported. Every single person in this room is so genuinely happy for them.(In part, this may be due to the alcohol and the opportunity to throw a party. Viktor has been reliably informed by several sources that after Viktor and Yuuri retire, the party will likely continue into the wee hours wherever the rest decide to relocate. If Viktor had been Japanese, or had even just had family to come to this dinner, the two families would spend the night mingling and combining. As it is, Viktor and Yuuri's transference is being used as an excuse for drinking and merrymaking and lovemaking, and Viktor can't think of any better way to celebrate an engagement.)Yuuri leads him off down the hallway, leaving the party behind them. Their feet are soft on the hardwood, Yuuri's hand is tight on Viktor's. By the time they get to the door of Viktor's banquet room-cum-bedroom, Viktor's heart is beating hard enough that he hears it in his own ears. Yuuri slides the door open softly and they tiptoe onto the tatami. Night-sounds come in through the partially opened windows, and the darkness casts shadows over everything.As soon as the doors are closed, Yuuri spins around, lifts him up by the thighs and pins him back against the wall. Viktor yelps, surprised, unused to being small enough to be thrown around.He thinks he likes it."Like that," Yuuri whispers, hot, against his neck. "That's how I want to come back. Surrounded by you.""Oh God," Viktor mewls. He takes Yuuri's face in his hands, along the curve of his jaw, just the way Yuuri loves to touch him when they kiss. "I need you. Kiss me.""Yes," Yuuri breathes, and presses their open mouths together.There is a split second in which Viktor only feels the kiss, Yuuri's hands on his thighs, the wall at his back. Time stands still, just for a second, and then everything tilts. It's dizzying, like the world has turned completely on its head. Viktor pulls away, gasping as his head spins, except—does he? His eyes are squeezed shut, he doesn't know which way is up or down or even where his own toes are. The world is white-hot, waves of it coming and coming.God, don't let Yuuri drop me, a desperate part of his brain yells. It echoes back as, God, don't let me drop Yuuri. For a second, he can feel both his hands on Yuuri's thighs, and also Yuuri's hands on his thighs, can feel both the wall at his back and the cool floor on his feet. Then, finally, it all snaps into place.Yuuri is panting into his neck, fingers arched into Viktor's shoulder blades, legs clamped around his waist. Viktor drags his mouth along Yuuri's shoulder, kissing, biting. "Oh my God. That felt like…""Yeah," Yuuri whimpers. "Yeah, it did." Viktor has scratches on his back, and they make him want to ask if Yuuri actually came, because what just happened felt like the best orgasm of Viktor's life and he doesn't even think it actually was one."Alright?" Viktor pants against his cheek; wet, languid, aching."Yeah." Yuuri hikes himself further onto Viktor's waist. Viktor stumbles back to avoid overbalancing, and Yuuri whispers, "Take me to bed, Vitenka," frantic against his temple, squirming in a way that's doing things deep inside Viktor."Yes, yes." Viktor stumbles to the bed, collapses onto it with Yuuri underneath him. Presses kisses down Yuuri's chest, down his stomach, lifts up his shirt and drags his lips along hot skin, the hair above his waistband. From there, face-down between Yuuri's thighs, the place where Viktor sincerely believes he was always meant to be, he looks up at Yuuri's blushing beauty, griping the pillows with his chest heaving, and says, "Oh my God, you're so gorgeous. I love you."Yuuri's lips part to release the headiest gasp Viktor's ever heard."I love you too," he whispers. "God, I—I love you so much."Viktor presses his face down and unzips Yuuri's zipper with his teeth, feels Yuuri's foot arch against his back, slowly and deliciously loses his mind. Viktor wakes up to an empty bed and the blue tinge of pre-dawn twilight peeking through the windows. The sheets next to him are still warm. He slides out of bed and tiptoes across the room to the balcony, where he can see Yuuri's shadowy figure curled on one of the two wooden chairs there. He spends a minute just looking at him, the shadows playing on his face and his hair swaying in the breeze, before sliding open the door just far enough to step out. Barcelona smells sweet, and even in December the temperature is cool enough to stand outside in nothing but sleep pants and bare feet. Yuuri is wearing the shirt that matches the pants. Viktor is glad that he's found someone to make use of all the forsaken shirts in his pajama sets."Hey," Viktor says softly, sliding up behind him. "Couldn't sleep?""No," Yuuri hums, and hugs his knees closer to himself."That’s no good," Viktor murmurs. "You're competing tomorrow, you know." He gingerly sets his hands on Yuuri's shoulders and, when Yuuri doesn't pull away, leans down to rest his chin there. Turns mouth into Yuuri's ear and whispers, "I hate waking up without you.""I know," Yuuri whispers, and turns his head to press his lips to Viktor's like an apology. "I just, um…I'm sorry about…what I said last night. I don't know. I just can't stand the idea that I'm taking something away from you. Something you love.""Yuuri." Viktor wheels around to Yuuri's front, kneels before him like a sinner making prayer. "I haven't lost anything since I came to you. The only thing I've done is gained. Family, friends. And not just—just in Japan. Yura talks to me now, and Yakov—I still don't know where things are with Yakov, but they're better than they were. Maybe better than they’ve ever been. I've gained a proper understanding of myself. Yuuri, God, for the first time in my life I—I understand who I am and what I want. Truly understand. And what I want…" He takes Yuuri's hand, lifts it to his lips, kisses, kisses. "What I want is you. To be with you however I can, for however long I can. To build a life with you."Yuuri bites his lip. "But I—you love skating.""I love you more."There's the red eyes. Yuuri's face crumples as his chin begins to wobble. "But I feel so—so bad. I don't—what if, in five years, I haven't amounted to anything and you—you realize that you—wasted all this time on me, the last years of your career—""Yuuri." Viktor pulls him down, curls him into his lap, kisses his head. "Oh baby, oh darling. Please don't do this to yourself. What can I do for you? Let me do something for you.""I don't know," Yuuri whimpers into his neck. "I don't know, I just…want to…sit here. And cry.""Okay." Viktor kisses his head again. "Alright, you do that."The sun rises on Barcelona as Viktor holds Yuuri, shielding him from the breeze even as his own back goes very cold. Finally, Yuuri sniffs into his neck and Viktor feels the smallest, gentlest peck against his neck before Yuuri tells him, "I'm sorry I made you cry.""I'm sorry I said you were selfish," Viktor says in return. "Will you come back to bed with me?""Yeah," Yuuri whispers, and lets Viktor lead him back to their makeshift bed, where Viktor has been trying to avoid falling through the crack all weekend. They curl up on their sides, facing the sunrise, and Viktor presses his lips to the nape of Yuuri's neck."In Russia, there's a…legend, I guess you would say," Viktor whispers. "Or maybe it's a proverb. Either way, it goes that…the reason soul mates switch, the reason we trade consciousness and live in each other's bodies…is that at the moment your soul mate needs you most, their soul calls out to you so loudly that your soul rushes to their body to be closer. But a body can't have two souls. And so their soul goes to yours, and they stay there until you find each other."Yuuri sniffs and lifts his face from the pillows to mumble, "I like that. It's a good story.""I don't know if it's true, though," Viktor says. "Because you…came to me months before we switched. And you saved me, Yuuri Katsuki. Right then and there. You made me realize that I have…so much life left to live. I have never been happier than when I'm at your side, and I want to be at your side for the rest of my life. I understand that…there are some things that love can't fix. That there will be things we don't agree on, things that we'll never agree on. There'll be days where we probably won't be able to stand the sight of each other. But we'll get through it. How could we not? We were made for each other." He shuffles down until his forehead is between Yuuri's shoulders. Sighs there, "We'll talk about our careers after the competition is over. Once the pressure is off. Okay?"For a moment, Yuuri is just still. Then he nods, slowly, hair sliding along the pillowcase. "Okay. Okay."Viktor is almost asleep when Yuuri rolls over and hugs his head to his chest, kisses the top of his head. Viktor drapes an arm over his waist and breathes in the smell of him, spins the new weight of his ring on his finger.There are still a lot of things to be said and a lot of issues to be solved. Viktor doesn't doubt their ability to get through them. He never really did.Yuuri moves permanently to Saint Petersburg on a Tuesday night. Their new training schedule officially begins in two days, bright and early at the Saint Petersburg Ice Palace, conveniently located a six-minute walk from the front door of Viktor's apartment.Their apartment.Viktor stands in the doorway on Yuuri's first morning in Saint Petersburg and just watches him. His Sleeping Beauty. Viktor's bed has never looked so inviting as when three-fourths of the space is being taken up by Yuuri, sleeping like an octopus with limbs spread to the four corners and duvet pulled clean over his head. The floor is cold underneath Viktor's feet and he's holding a lukewarm mug of tea in his hand, and he's never been happier in the middle of a Saint Petersburg winter.Yuuri seems to finally realize, somewhere beyond his slumber, that someone is staring at him. He flips over in bed, yanking the duvet away from his head as he does so to reveal his face, reddened from the humidity under the blankets and surrounded by a halo of tangled black hair. Yuuri is a beautiful, lovely person. Before nine, he tends to be a lovely, beautiful person with the personality of a bridge troll."Is that mine?" Yuuri mumbles, making wild eyes at Viktor's mug."Ah, no," Viktor says. He would absolutely offer Yuuri the shirt off his back or the tea in his cup, but he has the feeling that if he handed Yuuri his half-full mug of tea with jam instead of the hot coffee Yuuri is expecting, Yuuri would toss it right back at him. "I'll bring you some. Just a minute." Thankfully, he has had the forethought to brew a pot.When he returns one minute later, steaming mug of coffee in hand and Makkachin at his heels, Yuuri has thrust back the remaining blankets and sat up in bed. He eyes Viktor blurrily as he stretches taught, arms high above his head and shirt trailing far over his ribs. Viktor crosses the room in three steps and slides himself in behind Yuuri, folded against Yuuri's back, his leg pressed to the bare skin of Yuuri's bum."Here," he murmurs, winding his arm around Yuuri's waist to offer him the coffee."Thank you," Yuuri grunts, and drinks half of it in one go. After that, he looks down at it and says, "This is really good."Viktor chooses not to tell him that he probably just drank seven hundred rubles' worth of coffee."Have I ever told you," Viktor whispers against his neck, kissing from ear to collarbone, "That you are the most beautiful…sexy…and amazing person in the whole entire world?""Yes," Yuuri says slowly, and takes a more reasonable sip of coffee. He turns his head and lets Viktor slide his tongue into his mouth, which tastes like coffee and sleep. Viktor wants every morning for the rest of his life to start this way. Yuuri pushes him back with the handle of his mug against Viktor's chest and murmurs, "If you bring me another one and let me brush my teeth, I'll let you fuck the most amazing person in the world in the shower.""Yes, yes, yes!" Viktor sings, taking the mug by its rim and leaping out of the room. Makkachin barks, excited at the sudden flurry of activity. Viktor mixes two creams and a sugar into another mug of coffee as he finishes his own tea and giddily tells Makkachin, "I'm going to marry that man, Makkachin. I love him so much."Makkachin pants at him, and for a moment Viktor has a vivid, poignant flashback of the countless days he spent standing in this kitchen with only this dog and these stark white walls to talk to. It's enough to make him feel all that loneliness, only for a second, before he hears the sink in the bathroom start up. Remembers he has a soul mate now, a drowsy and crabby one who's waiting for him to bring him a cup of coffee and give him a drowsy early-morning orgasm while they waste hot water."I heard him, Makkachin," he whispers. "It may not have been when I was supposed to, but I heard him.""Vitya!" Yuuri calls from the bathroom, muffled like the toothbrush is still in his mouth. "Did you get lost?""Only distracted!" Viktor replies, and bounds back into the bedroom.This is the beginning of the rest of his life.Take hold of it together; it won't feel so heavy.-Russian Proverb
10524132
Y si Severus hubiera
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Severus Snape, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "Español", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by SeverusianaMerodeadora", "chapters": "1/6", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "951", "Additional Tags": "Perdón, arrepentimiento, Amor - Freeform", "Relationship": "James Potter/Lily Evans Potter", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
- Escucha Lily , he estado pensando en una cosa - dice James mientras Lily estaba lactando a su hijo Harry , a su lado - ¿Qué cosa James?  - Quizá tienes razón , y ya es hora de que entierre el hacha de guerra que tengo con Snape - dijo James seguro  - Es lo mejor que se te ha ocurrido cariño, es lo más sensato y lo más noble también - dice Lily sonriendo y sacándole los gases a Harry  - no quiero que por culpa de mi inmadurez , mi hijo sufra por parecerse a mí , cuando Snape le de clase - dijo con remordimiento por su comportamiento idiota hace años ya - No creo que Sev le guarde rencor a nuestro hijo ¿O si? - no , más bien lo compararía conmigo , míralo fijamente se parece en físico a mí - señala a su hijo que ahora está con un peluche de lobo , le acaricia un poco el cabello que es igual al suyo sonriendo  -Es muy probable pero dejemos que el tiempo pase  - atico atico - balbucea Harry - ¿Que quieres Harry? - ah ya veo - suelta James una risa - el peluche le recuerda al tío Lunático , o sea Remus - Jajaja si ¡Mira Harry! se parece al tío Remus - bueno volviendo a lo de antes , ¿ cómo hago para disculparme con Snape sin que al verme me quiera lanzar un hechizo ?  - Yo podría ser intermediaria... quizá, de seguro querrá hablar conmigo aunque... buen yo también siento que debo disculparme con élJames la mira pensativo y decidido - seguro que contigo no hará nada raro , además yo soy parte culpable de que ambos acabarais vuestra amistadLily asiente - En su momento me dejé llevar por la rabia y pensé que a pesar de tu hostigamiento y presión él no ha debido llamarme de esa forma, que lo hubiese hecho Lucius Malfoy, Rabastan, Rosier, en fin, no me hubiese molestado pero ¿que lo hiciera él a quien yo adoraba como al hermano que nunca tuve? - pausa un momento - De todos modos eso ya quedó en el pasado . Espero que me perdone por haber sido tan dura con él- pero yo lo provoqué , se le notaba avergonzado , ya sabes a los hombres no les gusta demasiado que los ayudé una chica porque entonces los otros pensarían que es débil , ya sabes cosas de hombres - dijo James simplemente- Lo sé, ustedes los hombres son un poco básicos -dice la pelirroja riendo  - y sabes que a veces Sirius era peor que yo- Me atrevería a decir que mil veces peor- Ninguno de ustedes sabía por lo que había pasado Severus, su vida nunca fue fácil, por eso no concibo que se hayan metido con él, a la gente hay que respetarla , pero no te preocupes que no te estoy reprochando, solo recordando el pasado- ya sabes el grupo era el guapo y fuerte , el sexy e impulsivo , el inteligente y tranquilo , y por último el gordito pero gracioso - dice James divertido- Debo confesarte algo -Lily se sonroja un poco - ¿ el que ? - pregunta su esposo curioso- Ya me gustabas desde ese entonces, sobre todo amaba la forma en que agitabas tu cabello, te hacía lucir tan sexy, pero yo tenía que hacer un enorme esfuerzo porque a la vez me molestaba tu arrogancia y todas esas estúpidas chicas detrás de tiJames se sonroja pero le sonríe - solo quería llamar tu atención , es que nunca me hacías caso- Precisamente por tu actitud egolatra, pero cuando comenzaste a cambiar... cuando te mostraste ante mí tal cual eras, me enamoraste, no pude resistirme más- yo era así porque mis padres me consetían todo y casi nunca me regañaban cuando hacía alguna tratada y por eso cuando llegué a Hogwarts me creía el rey pero alguien me hizo descender de las nubes - pausa y la mira - tu mi maravillosa y terca pelirroja Lily Potter - le toma la mano y la mira con amor- Te amo James pero no sabes cuanto temo perderte a ti y a nuestro Harry, sois mi tesoro más valioso- lo dices por la profecía que se refiere a nuestro hijo verdad- Si, lo digo por eso, ¿Y si él quiere secuestrar o matar Harry? Yo no lo permitiré JamesMientras tanto un hombre con una capucha oscura se iba acercando a la casa de los Potter al lado de un hombrecillo bajito .- Entonces , querido Colagusano , dices que están por aquí los Potter - dice una voz que parece el siseo de una serpiente - Si, mi señor - Responde Colagusano con voz trémula y una incipiente sensación de arrepentimiento aunque su miedo a enojar a su amo era más fuerte - Es esa justo en esa calleEn las sombras había un hombre que lo estaba viendo todo , y sin que se dieran cuenta de su presencia , cuando Colagusano le indico la casa y se rompió el Fidelius ,se apareció rápidamente en la casa de los Potter en el mismo salón donde estaban James , Lily y el pequeño Harry mirándolo algo sorprendido pero le sonríe- Lily , Potter tenéis que salir de aquí con vuestro hijo , vuestro amigo Colagusano os ha traicionado - dice la voz oscura que corresponde a Severus Snape , parecía agitadoJames lo miró boquiabierto - Snape ¿ que demonios haces aquí ?- ¡Dios mío! - Dice Lily aterrada sujetando al bebé que James le ofrecía - Severus... tengo miedo.... mi bebe- No hay tiempo para explicaciones ,él ya viene - dice apresurado Snape- ¿A dónde iremos?- A casa de Sirius? - Propone James- Es buena idea , ir a la casa de Black - oyen como la puerta principal cae por un Bombarda- ¡Vamos James! . Desaparecen al instante .  Al mismo tiempo que Severus desaparece a su casa , una parte de él se sentía bien por haber salvado a su rival James Potter , pero esta acción en un futuro tendría buenas consecuencias para todos.
10554824
Why the legends dont
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Rip Hunter, Ray Palmer, Nate Heywood, Martin Stein, Jefferson \"Jax\" Jackson, Sara Lance, Leonard Snart, Mick Rory, Amaya Jiwe", "Fandom": "DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-06T00:00:00", "words": "1,071", "Additional Tags": "Canon Divergence, Fluff, After Moonshot", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Sara Lance/Leonard Snart, Amaya Jiwe/Mick Rory", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
They had finally got Leonard back from the legion. So to celebrate they had all decided on starting a new to series to watch. Of course everyone had there own ideas for what to watch. Eventually that had all decided to watch prison break. And all 4 seasons of it. As soon as Gideon had set up a room for all of them to watch it, stein and rip included, they began the first episode.They all watched intently as the characters Michael Schofield and Lincoln Burrows began to look extremely familiar. It was Sara to notice first. "Don't you think that Michael looks like you and Lincoln looks like Mick?" Sara questioned Leonard lightly. Leonard turned to her and shrugged. "We don't look anything like them we are, I mean I am more handsome!" Leonard told her before she began giggling quietly. She hoped he was joking because there was quite the resemblance between them.After about the tenth episode Stein was the next to notice that the two main characters looked close to Leonard and Mick. "Isn't slightly weird that the two main characters in this show look quite like Mr.Snart and Mr.Rory over there?" Stein questioned Rip and Jax who sat right behind him. Jax merely shrugged his shoulders where Rip concentrated a little more than checked out Leonard and Mick before looking at the professor just as fascinated as he was.Mick didn't seem to notice whereas Amaya did. "Hey that looks a lot like you and Snart on this," she said trying to sound serious. Mick rolled his eyes and then turned to look at her. "Yeah because that's definitely me and Snart there isn't it. I don't see the resemblance at all!" Mick said in defence.Nate and Ray however didn't notice that the main characters looked like there resident crooks.Sara had finally confronted Leonard again. "Len I'm like 99% sure that that looks exactly like you and Mick!" Sara pointed out as she jumped out here chair and went to sit next to him. He huffed. "Gideon," Leonard shouted to their AI. "Could you pause this a second," he asked everyone looked around questioningly wondering why he had paused the episode. "Gideon who are the actors that play Michael and Lincoln?" He asked frustration in his tone. "The actors are a Wentworth Miller and a Dominic Purcell" Gideon said. A picture of the actors came up on the screen. Everyone looked at Leonard and then at Mick. When no one said anything Gideon continued. "These men are from earth 96 and they are doppelgängers for Mr Rory and Mr Snart." Gideon said. The room went silent. " Ha I told you it looked like you and you didn't believe me!" A voice rang out. Everyone turned to look at the blonde assassin. "What, I did!" She exclaimed. Len sat back down with a huff. Once they had finished the episode everyone began leaving to go to bed. The last to leave were Sara and Leonard. "You know your cute when your frustrated!" Sara said before leaving for her room. Leonard stopped in his tracks. Sara thought he was cute. A grin spread across his face as he eventually began to walk back to his own room. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They had decided to make a thing of watching different things as a group. Everyone got to choose something different. First Leonard wanted to watch Pinocchio, no one knew why, Jax wanted to watch Harry Potter, after saying Stein would make a great Dumbledore, and Sara wanted to watch Assassins creed, for the obvious reasons, however it wasn’t there turn to pick something to watch it was Mick's. After their run in with the zombies in the American Civil war and Mick getting turned into a zombie, he has been pretty obsessed with anything to do with zombies. "Mick it is now your turn to pick the next thing to watch tonight," Sara said to Mick in the bridge. "What's it going to be?" She asked. "Gideon is there any movies about Zombie's?" Mick asked after finishing his beer. "Mr. Rory there are several movies with zombies in. I would suggest resident evil. There is 6 chapters to the movies and is based on the Japanese video game." Gideon eventually said making Mick just nod his head.  "Ah I will have them then Gideon!" Mick requested with an amused look on his face. Sara shook her head, stein was going to have a heart attack when he finds out the movie choice of tonight. The Legends started filling in to the room they had begun to use for their entertainment purposes. Once Rip had came into the room they got comfy into their usual seats and began to quietly eat the sweets that Gideon had made for them beforehand. "Gideon could you please play tonight's pick: Resident Evil!" Rip said slightly annoyed at the choice they  Mick had chosen.  The movie began slowly and everyone was concentrated on the screen in front of them. The zombies soon showed up and Stein wasn't having any of it. "Mr. Rory you know I have an irrational fear of zombies!" Stein said slightly agitated at the movie.  "Come on, I'm sure there wont be a lot of zombies in the movie!" Mick said trying to sound reasonable. Stein shuck off the comment and tried, hard, to watch the movie. The movie continued with Stein wincing every time a zombie or anything close showed up on the screen. "Come on Grey you need to get over your fear of zombies sometime," Jax said having enough of Stein being terrified and curling into what resembled a ball into Jax's side. Everyone turned to look at the two men, one who was acting like a young boy. With a huff someone began to talk. "professor why are you here if you don’t like zombies?" Snart said.  "I didn’t know that this movie and all of its other sequels were about such horrifying things!" Stein answered emphasizing the word horrifying. "I think I might just leave I don’t think I can carry on sitting here and watching this," he continued before standing up and making his way to the door to the room. Stein shivered to himself once he was out the sight of the rest of his teammates. The rest of the team continued to watch the movies without any more interruptions.
10521006
Do you like him
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron), Pidge (Voltron)", "Fandom": "Voltron: Legendary Defender", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "1,994", "Additional Tags": "Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Love Confessions", "Relationship": "Keith/Lance (Voltron)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
"Do you like him?" Hunk asked, with a smile on his face."I don't know, Keith isn't a shitty person, I guess..." Lance stuttered, and then buried his face in the crook of his elbow to hide his blushed face."Come on Lance, you know what I mean. Do you like, like him?" Hunk rolled his eyes, and shoved Lance, trying to get the truth."yes......" There was a long pause from Lance, then he sighed, "I don't want to like him, or his stupid fucking mullet, or his ugly fucking face. But I do. I kinda do..." Lance wanted to bang his head against the table for his confession."He likes you too, so just TELL HIM." Hunk laughed at Lance. It was almost obvious that they liked eachother, Lance just couldn't bring himself to tell Keith. He was afraid that Keith may push him away, and be disgusted with Lance."How do you know that Keith likes me, he has never told you, I bet." Lance chuckled and put his face in his hands."Whatever, man, do whatever you want. I still think you should tell him." Hunk threw a pillow at Lance's face. "You guys would be a great couple.""FINE." Lance's face got really red as he continued, "I will tell him today. I will fucking do this shit. Okay?" Lance stood up, then flopped himself back down on Hunk's bed."Not right now..." Lance explained, "later today, when we train together." Lance nodded, to himself, he knew it was a good plan to wait. About an hour later... Lance walked to the training room, slowly, and anxiously. He was going to tell Keith how he felt about him. He faced the entrance, and stopped. Maybe he should go back, and act like he's sick today, instead of training with Keith as promised. Nope. He knew he had to do this, for himself. He walked in the training room, and approached Keith."Hey Lance, let's work on sword fighting, because your bad at it, and it's fun to watch you struggle." Keith let out a laugh, and a michevious grin. Lance sighed, and felt a blush creep up on his cheek. Keith had a beautiful face, and Lance wanted to touch it. He figured he would grab one of the swords and kick ass first, though."Alright, but this time, I'm winning." Lance said smoothly. Keith looked at his face, and he felt his heart booming in his chest. Keith loved it when Lance made that face, or used a steady voice. Keith blushed, and dug his nails into the palms of hands, trying not to look embarrassed.Keith and Lance twirled their swords around for sometime, until Lance gave up, and tried to let Keith win.Keith didn't take the bait, "You're letting me win, Lance." He said through clenched teeth."Oh, Keith, I don't know what your talking about?" Lance gave Keith a innocent look, and let his voice sound sickening sweet.'God dammit. Why was Lance so cute?' Keith thought to himself. He never could get his thoughts under control, especially not around Lance.Keith swung his sword for the last time, just wanting to end the fight and get something to drink. Keith swung the sword a little too hard. Lance yelped and jumped back, holding his arm like it was going to fall off."I-I am so so so sorry..." Keith wasn't trying to get out of trouble with an apology. Keith was genuinely sorry, and worried about what he had done. Keith rushed over to Lance to see if he was okay. "Ow! Shit man!" Lance mumbled every Spanish curse word he could remember, and then grabbed Keith's arm.Keith couldn't stop the blush that ran up to his neck and face, just by Lance's touch."Get me a towel, please?" Lance asked, not with anger in his eyes, just anxiety, and a little pain."Uh...yeah, I'll be right back." Then Keith dashed out of the room, and Lance was alone.Lance thought about Keith's perfect face. A couple of weeks ago, he would've hated those thoughts, try to push them away. But now, he thought about Keith, alot. He didn't even try to stop thinking about him, that would be too hard. He loved Keith's deep indigo eyes, his (probably) soft black hair, and especially his smile, when he was lucky enough to see it.Then Lance saw Keith at the door, with a towel hung on his shoulder, and a cold waterbottle in his hand."Here, I got a towel, and a waterbottle in case you needed to... I don't know, I just found it." Keith practically ran into the room, and threw the towel like Lance was suffering a fatal injury."Okay, thanks." Lance smiled, and cleaned up the blood, and his own arm. There wasn't much blood, because the cut was barely two inches long.Keith watched as Lance cleaned up the wound. Keith felt horribly guilty, constantly asking Lance if he was going to be okay."Keith, buddy, take a breath, calm down, we're both gonna be fine." Lance's heart pounded at Keith's sudden concern."I just feel so bad... but I guess you can take care of yourself, so I'm just gonna go..." Keith got really akward, and stood up to leave."Wait, Keeeiitthhh," Lance whined, "stay with me, please?"Lance's adorable face was hard for Keith to say no to, "fine." Keith grumbled, and sat back down.Lance's arm was fine now, he got up, and started walking around anxiously."Keith, I'm not very good at face-to-face combat, so I was wondering if you could help me out. And let me practice on you." Lance's cheeks turned a light shade of red, and he shifted his weight on each foot."Uh, you want to fight me, for real?" Keith questioned Lance's logic."Yeah! It will be good for us both, and I'm going to feel a lot better when I win." Lance kicked the leg of the chair that Keith was sitting on."Alright, fine." Keith smiled, because he knew he was going to win. Not at all because it gave Keith an excuse to touch Lance's smooth, tanned skin...They started out soft, not really wanting to hurt each other. Then Lance swung his elbow behind him, and hit Keith in the chest. Keith stumbled back, and caught his breath. Lance saw the death glare on Keith's face, and ran. Keith ran, almost twice as fast, after Lance. Without thinking, Keith flung his whole body at Lance, hoping for some kind of impact. They both toppled to the ground.Keith landed on top of what could only be Lance. Lance's face turned a deep scarlet color, and he gulped, realizing that Keith had landed on top of him. Keith blushed, and started to lift himself up. This was Lance's chance to tell him, or to show him..."Wait-" Lance took a handful of Keith's tanktop, and pulled him back down towards his chest."Keith, trust me, sometimes I want to slap you." Lance chuckled, and Keith frowned. "But, when I see your gorgeous face, and your beautiful smile, I feel different. I have liked boys before, but not like this. Whenever I'm around you my face gets really red, and my heart pounds really, really fucking hard. I think that I like you a little bit more than just a good friend..." Lance studied Keith's face, trying to know what he was going to do.No matter how long he studied Keith's face, he couldn't have predicted what happened next.Keith smiled, the biggest grin that Lance had ever seen from his usually solemn, little, friend. Keith's face blushed, and then Lance could feel his hand start to shake a little.Keith leaned in, put his hand on Lance's chest, and closed the distance between them with a kiss. It wasn't the most corrdinated kiss. They were both hesitant.When Lance thought his lungs were going to explode, he pulled away."Let's go." Keith stood up, and held his hand out for Lance. Lance took it, and followed Keith to his room.When Lance entered the room, he expected something different. He didn't know what to expect, but this was too plain. The only thing that Keith had in his room, other than the bed, was a night stand, and a lamp. That was it, the bare minimum, and then nothing else.Keith was shuffling around, trying to make the bed, and pick up his dirty laundry off the floor."You don't have to impress me, Keith," Lance laughed a little."Well, too late." Keith finished with the bed, and then he sat down with his head in his hand. Lance could assume, that a wave of realization crashed over him, and Keith was afraid, maybe."What's wrong, Keith?" Lance sat on the bed beside him."I never thought that you liked me back. I just can't..." His voice got softer, then stopped."What is it? You can trust me, I promise." Lance smiled sweetly, trying to coax the information out of Keith."It just feels like a mean, twisted joke, where you tell everyone that I 'actually had a crush on you,' and that I had no chance with you. I-I just feel like you could've chose anyone. You're sweet, funny, loyal. And I'm none of those things, I'm just..." Keith couldn't get his idea out in words."You don't give yourself enough credit, Keith." Lance shook his head, "I know that you are guarded on the outside. But that doesn't mean that you aren't heartless. You are soft on the inside, and I won't hurt you." The corner of Keith's mouth turns up in a small smile."I trust you Lance, I do." Keith's voice sounds small."Come here," Lance slid his arm around Keith's waist, and pulled him closer. Keith blushed, and put his head on Lance's chest. Damn it, Keith was falling hard for Lance. Keith never really loved anyone. No one had really loved Keith. He had always been content like that, he never really needed that. Well, he never thought he needed it. When Lance smiled, or flirted with him, Keith felt a new thing. Whenever Lance walked into the room, he was happier. Keith wanted Lance to be his. Lance flirted with everyone he met. That never bothered Keith, until recently, when he started to feel jelous. Then he would lie awake at night, thinking about how he would always be longing for something he couldn't have. That was different now. Lance was Keith's knight in shining armor, Lance was Keith's fucking prince.Keith's train of thought crashed when Lance spoke up, "So, do you... want to, umm, be my...uh, boyfriend, maybe?"Lance knew that he already had Keith, he just wanted him to say it."Yeah, I'll be your boyfriend," Keith rolled his eyes, but didn't stop blushing.Lance flopped backwards on the bed, and then Keith joined him. At first, Keith was stiff, and uncomfortable. Lance was a fucking natural, he swung his arm around Keith's waist, and buried his head down on the pillow. Keith gave Lance a small peck on the lips, and said goodnight.Lance could feel Keith become less rigid each time he exhaled. Lance couldn't have asked for this to go better. Lance had a boyfriend, and it was Keith.Keith was a god damned angel, and Lance knew better than to hurt an angel. So in that moment, he made a personal vow, never to hurt the fragile angel in his arms.They fell asleep like that. So close, that Keith could feel Lance's breath on his neck until he drifted off to sleep. They were so comfortable, but so close. Keith wasn't used to it, but he loved the feeling of being in someone's arms. It made him feel loved, for the first time in a long time.
10559664
Cherry Cigarettes
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Lita Halford, Ophelia (Brütal Legend), Lars Halford, Kill Master (Brütal Legend)", "Fandom": "Brütal Legend", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by sonicsora", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-07T00:00:00", "words": "3,482", "Additional Tags": "Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Femslash, Bisexuality, Romance, Developing Relationship, Awkward Romance, Eventual Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension", "Relationship": "Lita Halford/Ophelia (Brütal legend)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/F, Gen", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“Is there a reason you hate my guts?” The question startled the blonde woman from polishing her Halberd, her gaze snapping to Ophelia. The brunette was reclined back in the grass, dark eyes watching the other woman seriously. The sun was dipping behind her almost giving her a halo at this point. “You know why.” Lita defensively bit out, grip tightening on the worn rag in her hand. She had to look away now, feeling uncomfortable. This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation. Usually Ophelia backed off after this point, usually she let go. Ophelia raised her voice, openly pushing back against Lita looking away. “I am not my parents, Lita. I’ll never be them. I’m not a tear drinker. You should know that by now.” “How can I know that for sure?” Lita scowled downwards, hand curling into a full fist now around the rag in her grasp. Usually the conversation died by now, Ophelia would relent and things would go back to what it usually was. Neither of them pushed the issue hard, not wanting to fight, not wanting to upset Lars. Both of them had danced around the topic for years.Lita could hear Ophelia getting up, dusting grass off of her jeans casually. Too casually for Lita’s tastes. Ophelia had to be planning to come at her. The blonde’s shoulders tensed, readying to fight the other woman. “I’ve done everything for this rebellion. Have I ever hurt you or Lars? I’ve never put either of you in danger.” Lita could hear Ophelia drawing closer. “I’ve done everything I could to help. Even when Lars wouldn’t let me.”“There is alway the chance, how can I-?” She whipped around now, scowling back at the other woman. Lita was decidedly derailed when Ophelia reached out to close the shockingly small distance between them fully. Instead of a fist being thrown, an arm was curled around Lita’s waist and she was drawn forward for a quick peck. “You have to trust me. At least a little.” Lita’s mouth fell open at that, openly stunned. Ophelia released her grasp on Lita stepping away. “See you later, Lita.” All the blonde could do was gawk openly, only staring as Ophelia walked out of sight.---Ophelia stomach clenched as she tried to stay casual as she walked away. Oh, Ormagoden, oh Ormagoden-‘ rattled through her mind as she realized what she had just done. She had kissed Lita Halford. The woman who hated her guts. ’She’s going to kill me. I’m dead.’ Ophelia dragged a hand down her face wondering what she had just done. Why had she kissed Lita? Some power play? Some attraction?Ophelia had always found Lita attractive, hell when they were younger she had a crush on the other woman. It was hard not to with how deftly Lita handled her halberd. The quirk of her lips turning into that confident smirk had always left Ophelia feeling very warm all over. Even now she sometimes had that rush of warmth before she could contain it. That crush had quickly been snuffed out when Lita discovered just who Ophelia’s parents were and tried to kick her out of the group. If Lars hadn’t stepped in things would have been very different.Ophelia did what any rational person did in this sort of situation, run off into the fields and hide behind some statuary to have a mild freak out. When Lars came back later in the day with some food and supplies, both women pretended nothing had happened. Lars at best assumed they had an argument and didn’t press the matter. The status quo settled over the group whilst Lars made small talk about the rebellion.--- The sun beat down over the three tents that made up Bladehenge’s village. Even with the comforting warmth of the sun, windy season was in full effect. The threat of wind growing stronger made the animal skin tents wobble and shake to some degree. Ophelia could only sigh at the sight, closing her eyes against it. She let her head thump back into the grass as she lay on the ground. She had barely gotten her tent to stay upright after the windstorm that swept through the valley the night before. She could only guess she was gonna need to refasten it again. The wooden stakes holding the tent's down wasn't doing much during the windy season.“Damn.” She sighed audibly at the familiar snap of one of the tent’s stakes being knocked over and the side of the tent flapping up. Ophelia rubbed at her face moving to actually get up. This time it was Lita’s tent that flew up, starting to flap. The brunette was half tempted to leave it, she owed Lita that much given how the blonde hated her guts. She shook off the bitterness moving to grab the edge of the tent, careful to not get that close to avoid having it slap back down on her. “Hold still-“ She hissed in frustration, catching enough to keep it steady. The wind was picking up and there wasn’t a lot Ophelia could do to get a better hold. Ophelia was only startled at another pair of hands grabbing at the tent. “Don’t let go-“ Lita growled back. “I’m not!” She bit back, tightening her grip and yanking down hard. With Lita’s help they could actually get the tent back down. “Why didn’t you fix this?” “I did! It just won’t stay down.” Lita was agitated but more focused on holding the tent to get too snarly. Ophelia was thankful of that much, grabbing the loose cord and tying it to the stake and slamming it into the ground. “We need a better way to hold these down.” “Any suggestions?” Lita wasn’t exactly snipping at least, clearly wordlessly thankful for the help. Ophelia used a rock to hammer it down back into the dirt. She placed the rock on top of the stake to make sure it stayed down now.“A stronger base? Something heavier than these wooden stakes.” Lita grunted in turn, crossing her arms over her chest. “Only problem is we have to scout to find material for it. We can’t just go our own ways.” “Two of us can stay, one can scout.” “The problem with that is what if something happens?” Ophelia rolled her eyes a little, some old bitterness rising to her chest as she spoke. “If I went I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t care.” Lita paused at that, opening and closing her mouth. Her expression stunned. “That- uh.” “Point proven.” Ophelia scoffed sharply back. “When Lars is back, we’ll figure it out.” She turned away from Lita, moving towards her own tent only to be startled by the blonde woman grabbing her wrist. Lita tugged Ophelia back towards her. “Don’t walk away from me when we’re talking.” She bit out, clearly frustrated. In all her frustration she fumbled with what to say. “I don’t- I wouldn’t want you to-“ “You would!” Ophelia yanked her hand back out of Lita’s grasp. “You’d be happier if I died. Don't bullshit me, Lita.” “I would not!” Guilt was clear enough on her features to say she had thought on the scenario a bit too much. Ophelia frowned, frustrated. “Ormagoden’s sake- just admit it! You’d be thrilled if I dropped dead now!” “I wouldn’t!” Lita stepped in close, ready to grab at Ophelia again to make her stay put.“Ophelia! Lita!” Lars calling out made both women step back from one another, glancing in the direction his voice was coming from. Ophelia took the chance to head off, leaving Lita in the lurch. The blonde woman swore lowly under her breath reluctantly following after Ophelia. She could already hear Lars' voice jump up in excitement in whatever he managed to find out there.All Lita could think about was what Ophelia had said. Would she have been happy if Ophelia died? The thought wouldn't stop niggling at her the rest of the night. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The windstorm did a fair shake of uprooting their tents once again. That much was enough to spurn Lars into suggesting a supply run. It solved at least one problem in camp. Sort of. Lita and Ophelia were still skating around actually talking to one another. Lars hadn't quite noticed yet. Then again, it wasn't all that unusual. The thought made Lita wince as she crouched down to shift through the taller grass. When she found what she was looking for she sat up, turning around partially to catch Lars and Ophelia's attention. The past two hours had been spent trying to find something they could carry that would still be heavy enough for their purpose. "This should be heavy enough." She mused holding up some sturdier metal pieces that fell from one of the trees further from their campsite. "If we collect enough we can properly root down the tents." Lars perked up, an excited smile curling across his lips as he strode over to examine what Lita had in hand. "Ah, a brilliant idea, sister of mine!" "Yeah, it'll make things simpler." Ophelia agreed, not quite looking at Lita. The lack of direct eye contact was annoying Lita, but she wasn’t going to push it.The rest of the afternoon was spent gathering up the metal pieces, carrying them back with them to their campsite. The argument and that kiss lingered between them. Lita wasn’t sure how to address it. An idea came to her when they were restaking their tents. One that left her stomach twisting uncomfortably and heart hammering against her ribs. If Ophelia could play this... kiss game, so could she. ---Lita leaned forward jabbing a stick at the animal on the fire, forcing it to turn. Steel Quilled Urchin wasn’t going to feed them that well, but it was the best they could do during the lull of the wind. The windy season made things harder. Animals could smell them coming much more easily now, they startled easier, they proved craftier with the wind bringing every sound to them.It made hunting a vexing task. One Lita regretted volunteering for. Her only condolence was the fact Lars felt guilty enough to try and track something down to add to their meal. Ophelia for her part shockingly didn’t have a pithy remark on the situation, simply nursing a beer bottle spread out across the grass across from her. Lita kept finding her gaze drawn to the other woman, tracing the contours of her legs, eyes catching on the glimmer of the fire reflecting on her studded bracers and belt. Lita hesitated, clearly torn before rising from where she sat moving to carefully sit down next to Ophelia. The brunette predictably startled at the sudden close quarters company, dark eyes snapping to look at Lita warily. “…Yes?” The suspicion wasn’t unwarranted given the past days interaction. “Did you need something?” “Yes.” Lita stated simply, openly hesitating before dipping down to press a kiss against Ophelia’s lips. What the hell was she doing? Lita really didn’t know honestly, that was the scary part, but she cupped Ophelia’s cheek in her hand. The brunette initially was too stunned to react before suddenly kissing back. Her beer forgotten in favor of grabbing a fistful of Lita’s vest yanking the blonde down more. It was less a kiss and more a battle of wills with lips and teeth. They broke apart for air, breathing heavily. Before Lita could react, Ophelia yanked her down, moving to pin her in the grass. The blonde squawked awkwardly unable to do much.“Ophelia!” She barked out, struggling against the sudden shift. Whatever vague plan she had was gone now. Ophelia looming over her was distracting. Distracting in a way Lita wasn’t sure what to do with. “What is this is?” Ophelia questioned, pressing a hand against Lita’s chest, holding her down. “What are you doing!?” “I could ask you the same question! You-“ She sputtered, hating the fact she was turning red. Her sentence trailed off, her next words coming out softer than she expected. The warmth of Ophelia’s hand against the exposed skin of her chest was making the blonde nervous. “You kissed me first.” “I…” Ophelia swallowed nervously. “That doesn’t matter.” “Excuse me?! How does it not matter?” “I- It doesn’t.” She backed off suddenly. Panic written across her features. “I- should go. We need more beer.” Ophelia hopped up, grabbing her weapons and disappearing into the darkness outside of the circle of their fire. “What?” Lita barely managed to sit up before Ophelia was gone. “Ophelia!” The lack of response warranted a frustrated sound from the blonde. She slammed her hand into the ground, staring off into the darkness with a scowl. With some reluctance she glanced back at the fire.“Ugh!” Of course, the food had burnt, just… another positive for today. Lita punched the ground again, frustrated and unable to do much beyond aggressively turn the food and yank it off the fire to try and salvage the night.---“Lita?” The blonde woman groaned a little, turning where she lay squinting at the darkness. The campfire across from their tents at best gave her the rough idea it was Ophelia lingering at the entrance of her tent. “What?” She snapped back, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. “Can…” Ophelia was wringing her hands nervously enough Lita could see it from here. “My tent kind of got ripped. Can I stay with you?”Lita had to sit up, opening the tent to peer out at the vague form of Ophelia. “Ripped? How?!”“Can you believe a steel quilled urchin got in when I went to get beer?” Awkward laughter followed that question, earning a frustrated sound from Lita. This was a common issue with Lars, not Ophelia of all people. “You left it open?” “I forgot.” “So sleep there.” She started to close the flap, only to be stopped by cold hands grabbing her own. Lita jerked back, brows vanishing into her hair. How long had Ophelia just laid in her tent with the hole inside of it? Had she planned on just dealing with it? Sudden guilt stayed the blonde's hand considerably. “Please. I’m kind... of freezing out here.” Ophelia pleading was new. Strange. Lita would normally drag it out, maybe a little, but was too tired and now cold to bother. Beyond that it didn't feel as fun as it normally would have to give Ophelia some shit.She simply sighed, scrubbing her face with her hands. “Get in here.” She scooted aside to give the smaller woman some room. The tent wasn’t that large to begin with. Two of them with two bed roles was considerably tight. Lita knew she'd be sleeping pressed against the side of her tent tonight.“Thank you.” The genuine thankfulness in Ophelia’s voice was hard to miss. She stepped in gingerly, carrying her sleeping pelt with her. “I- it felt weird asking Lars. I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.” She gave an awkward soft laugh, letting her sentence trail off there. Lita grunted in response, trying not to dwell on the discomfort the idea brought her. She moved to re-secure her tent’s opening against the wind. She flopped back down on her bed furs trying to settle again. Normally the idea of Lars and Ophelia being close was annoying at best. Now it made her... uncertain. “Just sleep.” “Yeah. Right…. Thanks.” Lita listened to Ophelia settle, refusing to look in her direction. This was only for tonight. Then Ophelia would go back to her own damn tent. Lita stared up at the ceiling of her tent, crossing her arms over her chest. Ophelia was… close. Very close. Lita could literally smell the winds on the other woman, and that distinctive earthy smell only Ophelia had. For a tear drinker she didn't smell awful. Why was her heart going crazy like this? She pressed a hand against her chest, forcing herself to breath slowly and evenly. Even then she couldn’t sleep like this. At best she managed to just stare into the darkness with no real goal being achieved. Long enough that Ophelia had already dropped off to sleep besides her.She finally cut her gaze back to the other woman, tracing the shadow of Ophelia’s face with her eyes. Cautiously, she reached out to stroke her thumb across Ophelia's cheek. Her skin was still decidedly cold to the touch from the winds outside. Her skin was also... very soft. Lita withdrew her hand nervously pressing it against her chest. ---The next morning was awkward. Lita already knew it was going to be, but awakening to it was hardly great. At some point Ophelia had moved closer to her during the night and her hand latched onto Lita’s arm. She blinked sluggishly staring at the hand holding onto her. Her gaze flicked back up to Ophelia’s peaceful face, taking in her features in the morning light. The urge to touch her cheek rose again and was quickly snuffed out. Lita winced at herself, running her free hand through her hair. The blonde growled disentangling herself from the brunette, yanking some pants on before stomping outside of her tent. It was early enough the winds had died down that she wouldn’t need her usual vest. “Ah, sister- good morning!” Lars per usual was a ray of sunshine, bright and sunny even if the sky had yet to catch up with his expectations. He was settled in front of the newly stoked fire on one of the logs surrounding it. His smile dimmed somewhat as he spared a glance back at Ophelia’s tent. Lita had to wince a little, the tear was bad. It was big enough Ophelia’s clear attempts to seal it had come undone thanks to the winds beating against the fabric. Lars had been nice enough to find her lost things and gather them up next to his tent. “Do you know where Ophelia is? I’ve been worried about her, but if I went chasing after her you know she’d… take it badly.” To say the least. Lars babying Ophelia usually never went well. “She stayed in my tent.” Lita grumped back, moving to poke at the morning catch Lars had secured over the fire with a stick. He was decidedly more attentive to the meal than she had been the night before. “Truly-?” She could hear the surprise in Lars“Yes.” Lita cut her gaze back to her brother’s incredulous expression. “Would you rather I let her freeze?”“No, no- I, well. I didn’t expect…” He sunk back into the log he was seated on somewhat, clearly struggling to find a polite way to continue his sentence. “Didn’t expect what?” Ophelia cut in, yawning somewhat as she stepped out of Lita’s tent.Ophelia’s presence was all it took to brighten Lars back up, the man smiling at her fully now. “Ah, good morning, Ophelia!” “Morning.” She offered back, lips quirking upwards now into an amused smile. “What’s for breakfast?” Lita was more than happy to stand back and let the two get carried away in morning preparations. Talk of the rebellion was thrown around, excitement making the two laugh and share a smile.Lita simply drank her beer, avoiding eye contact with Ophelia completely. There was this… odd feeling in her chest she couldn’t classify. Lita wasn’t particularly fond of that. She liked her world simple, easy to understand. Demons were bad, the drowned were bad, humans were good, Lionwhyte being the only exception to the rule. The callous back stabbing bastard. Ophelia was complicating things again and Lita wasn’t fond of it. She chewed listlessly at breakfast staring into her beer. She finally glanced back up when Ophelia slid another bottle over wordlessly. Her smile making the blonde feel uncomfortable. “Thanks.” She grunted back, unable to look away fast enough to miss Ophelia’s warm expression. Lita was not going to deal with this today. “Don’t get too carried away, her tent is still a mess.” She stated simply, cutting off the current conversation completely. Lars gaze finally snapped back to Ophelia’s tent, clearly just remembering it now. “Lita is right! We need to work on that before anything else!” Ophelia blinked, nodding some now. “Oh yeah- uh, I can fix it.”“No, no, no-“ Lars shook his head, clearly already setting his mind to the task. “Let me.”“Uh, Lars-““Don’t worry Ophelia, I’ll have it fixed faster than any of us can finish a keg!” He launched up onto his feet, disappearing into his own tent for supplies before moving to Ophelia’s. Repairing the tent went as expected. Lars was eager to help, happy to take over most of the task whilst Ophelia hovered nearby clearly at loss on what to do. Lita was glad to be left out, just this once.
10527336
Istinnoie blazhienstvo
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi", "Fandom": "Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace", "Language": "Русский", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Angorka", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "393", "Additional Tags": "Fluff, Махровый флафф на лапках, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian", "Relationship": "Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Он болтал ногами в прохладном бассейне, запрокинув голову и наслаждаясь мягкими лучами солнца Корусанта. В кои-то веки его чувства были спокойными, и это было видно по тому, как разгладилась морщинка между бровей. Он вернулся со спарринга меньше десяти минут назад и был не в настроении медитировать, сейчас его общение с Силой было совершенно бессознательным. Над ним порхали птицы, садясь и взлетая с веток, склонившихся над бассейном. В мягком свете поблёскивали мошки, жужжа над ухом, однако он был настолько поглощён своими мыслями, что даже не отгонял их.Все его мысли занимали зелёные глаза. Эти глаза захватили его сердце, его душу и всю его сущность. Он не мог думать ни о чём другом, как бы ни старался. Разве что о длинных каштановых волосах и стальных мускулах, натренированных за долгие годы – эти мысли не шли из головы Оби-Вана. Они с Квай-Гоном договорились встретиться у бассейна, в его любимом месте храма.Сильные и тёплые руки обхватили его за плечи и притянули в надёжные и уютные объятия. Он потянулся навстречу прикосновениям ладоней, которые заскользили по линиям его тела с благоговением и любовью. Мягкие, невинные прикосновения очерчивали как прямые, так и округлые линии. Он словно оказался во сне наяву. Одновременно умирал и возвращался к жизни. Он вздохнул, ощущая себя по-настоящему дома.В этих объятиях его тело запело от неги и любви; Квай-Гон опустился на колени, его руки продолжали изучать тело Оби-Вана, а губы прошлись вдоль шеи лёгкими поцелуями и наконец коснулись ложбинки между лопатками. Тем временем его ладони легли на бёдра Оби-Вана, массируя без сомнения уставшие мышцы. Он почти слышал невербальный призыв расслабиться, и ощущал любовь в каждом прикосновении. Оби-Ван улыбнулся, хотя Квай-Гон не мог этого видеть, и повернул голову, чтобы поцеловать кожу, которой так жаждал коснуться. Это показалось настолько правильным, что его душа запела. Он обхватил затылок Квай-Гона, запустил пальцы в волосы, пропуская между ними длинные пряди. Он ощутил улыбку Квай-Гона на своих губах; одна крупная ладонь по-прежнему покоилась на бедре, а вторая коснулась щеки, поглаживая скулу. Губы Квай-Гона были чуть шершавыми, но горячими, и показались Оби-Вану пламенем.Там, у бассейна, они и устроились, окружённые любовью и мягким светом, а над ними порхали птицы. Они могли бы сидеть там, пока не зашло бы солнце, а на небе не появились бы звёзды, ведь рядом не было никого, кто мог бы их осудить. Оби-Ван Кеноби улыбнулся в объятиях любимого; они и были истинным блаженством, его настоящим домом. Он был счастлив.
10519272
In thunder lightning or
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by sevenofspade", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-01T00:00:00", "words": "2,391", "Additional Tags": "original alternate versions of canon characters", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Gwen Stacy", "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Worldbuilding Exchange 2017", "Fandoms": "Secret Wars (Hickman/Ribić 2015 mini-series), Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Gwen rode the lightning to the Isle of Agamotto. She arrived in a crash of thunder. The Sheriff, of course, was unimpressed, but she wasn't doing it for him.In one hand she held her Mjolnir and in the other one of the hundreds of Gems the Sheriff had had her find over the years. In all seven years that she had done this, beginning when Battleworld had been new, the Gems had never done much else than float about an inch above her palm. * Gwen had been one of the very first Thors. Her Mjolnir had been one of the first batch, ripped from the sky by the God-Emperor himself before her very eyes.There was much less protocol back then. It had been back before the various parts of Battleworld had unified even somewhat and crossing the rift from one Domain to the next came with a change in the laws of physics and a high risk of death. The first Thors had been selected because they had proven, in some other world before this one, that they could be more than they were now. Some other Gwen Stacy had been Sorcerer Supreme, in some other life. Sometimes, in the middle of the storm, before she picked up her hammer, Gwen wondered what that was like -- how did it feel to wield primal forces of the universes?Then she would pick up her hammer and wonder no more.In those days, Gwen had been no Stormbreaker, but a simple Berserker. She'd worked with Beta Ray Thor. It felt like they'd worked together forever.They hadn't, Gwen knew that, but it sure felt like it and the paperwork backed it up. It said today marked the tenth anniversary of their partnership. So, they went out for donuts in the Kingdom of Manhattan.Because they were in the Kingdom of Manhattan, they were the closest to the incident. Because they were the closest to the incident, they were first on the scene. Because they were first on the scene, they were the only witnesses. Because they were the only witnesses, it was easy to make Gwen disappear after she returned to Doomgard with the Gem hovering over her hand and became Sheriff Strange's special agent.So really, this whole Infinity Gems business had started with Gigi's donuts. * Until today.Today's Gem had been in Castle Doom itself.In the bowels of the castle, in between the many roots of the World Tree, was a small, auxiliary lab. It belonged, nominally, to the Foundation. In practice, it belonged to the only person who knew it existed at all, Valeria, daughter of Doom and Head of the Foundation.It was not the first time Gwen had met Valeria -- but she hadn't been Head of the Foundation then. There had been no Foundation. * Gwen had been the Sheriff's agent for a year. Stormbreaker Gwen of Thunder still rolled uneasily off her tongue. The title felt unearned still when she had never been a Thunderer.Gwen was pretty sure a Stormbreaker landing in the Egyptia desert wouldn't have turned her landing spot to glass, unlike Gwen herself. It'd been too long since she'd come to a desert Domain and she'd forgotten about the thunder glass.She shrugged. Her muscles shifted below her skin and she departed towards her real destination, further into the desert.At the border between Lower Egyptia and Upper Egyptia there was no divider, no boundary marker. The shift between the two was invisible, perceptible only on a metaphysical level, but there it was obvious enough that the most non-magical of people would feel it.It was probably why the Daughter was here. The Daughter's infinite love for science and equally as infinite ability to poke her nose into where no nose should be were equally renowned all over Battleworld.Around the Daughter were spread out all manners of scientific apparatus -- Gwen did not even know the half of them."Kid," Gwen said.The daughter drew herself up to her six-year old height. "I am not a child! My name is Valeria.""Valeria. You can't be here. It's dangerous," Gwen said."I know," Valeria said. "That's why I'm here."Gwen rolled her eyes. Kids. Were they all that bad or was it just this one?"You've ascertained I'm alive. You've done your duty," the Daughter said. "Now shoo.""Shoo?""Yes. Shoo." The Daughter made shooing motions with her hands. "Your thaumaturgic energy is messing up my power readings.""I know," Gwen said. "That's why I'm here.""You're here to mess up my power readings?" Her voice when high at the end, the way only the voices of betrayed children ever did."Yes." Gwen saw no point in beating around the bush. "Sheriff's direct orders: collect the Daughter and the Gem.""The Gem? Do you have it already or can I help you collect it?" The Daughter's eyes were shining bright and Gwen felt bad about what she was about to do.She opened her hand and the Gem floated above her palm. "I have the Gem already.""One day," the Daughter said as she held out her hand to Gwen, "I'm going to find one of those and study it and neither you nor the Sheriff will be able to stop me." * Doom had known about the Gem, somehow, and found Gwen and Valeria arguing over it. As always, his appearance had sent chills down Gwen's spine, even if she knew his weakness -- that he was not omniscient did not matter when he was omnipotent and in the room with her. * Doom so very rarely left the castle. When he did, as was the case now, he usually took the Sheriff with him.Gwen kept her hand fisted around the Gem. It had no edges, but it dug into her palm painfully anyway. The teeth in the back of her skull buzzed ever harder the more tightly she held it."My lord." Gwen knelt, armoured knees hitting the ground."Rise, Gwen of Thunder," the God-Emperor said.Gwen rose. She kept her head bowed. It was never smart to look omnipotence in the eye."The Sheriff tells me nothing of import is happening here."Gwen threw a sideways glance at the Sheriff. He nodded minutely so she nodded more vigorously in answer to the God-Emperor's question."Rise your head and use your words, child."Unbidden, the thought sounds like a recipe for revolution came to Gwen's mind. She crushed the thought before it could become treason. The God-Emperor forgave her her slight.She knew it was only her imagination, but the Gem seemed to burn against her palm."There is nothing happening," Gwen said. It was not a lie. Whatever had been happening no longer was, so it wasn't a lie. The Gem burned ever hotter against her skin. She resolved right then and there that no matter the loyalty she owed to the Sheriff, if the God-Emperor asked, she would answer.The God-Emperor did not ask. With a nod of his head he dismissed Gwen. Gwen clapped her Gem-holding fist to her breastplate and bent her head.The God-Emperor turned to the dam that had overflooded. With a wave of his hand, he rebuilt the dam and erased the damages of the flood. The man who had been responsible for the overflowing now had never been.No one man should have all that power.That was as treasonous a thought as a thought ever could be. Both that the God-Emperor was a man and that he did not deserve his power were reason. It was treason and revolution all in one thought and the Gem burning evermore against her skin like a brand. That it was not her thought did not make it any less revolution, any less treason.She breathed out, slowly, and watched the God-Emperor leave. One moment he was there, the next he was not, leaving her alone with the Sheriff. She clenched her fist tighter around the Gem. Suddenly she knew, clear as a bell in spring, that the God-Emperor knew nothing of her mind.He was omnipotent but not omniscient.Emperor maybe, but no God.Gwen opened her fist. The Gem detached from her skin slowly to float over her palm. It was a lovely, seductive blue.Unlike her, the Sheriff did not touch the Gem with bare skin. Now that she thought about it, he never had. She felt hurt, and betrayed.Today, it seemed, was a day for treason.Then the Sheriff ported the Gem over to the Isle of Agamotto and Gwen's thought were fully her own once more. It couldn't be the Gem; they were inert. * The man's lack of omniscience meant he knew nothing of the Gems' power. Neither did Gwen, but she had not set herself up as God-Emperor -- that was petty. The man was a god in every way that mattered; it was his will alone that kept Battleworld whole. She could respect that.Now more than ever.She'd thought she understood power, once. She'd been wrong. * In one of the domains of Battleworld, there ruled the House of M. The almost-heir daughter of the House was named Wanda. In another domain of Battleworld, there lived another one of her, a witch of little repute dressed in scarlet.It was her Gwen was facing now.The Gem she held was red as well. Red like fresh blood and autumn leaves.Wanda held the Gem out to Gwen. "Thank you for coming, Gwen of Thunder. I believe you're the only one who can help. This Gem is power, is temptation -- the first of which I have aplenty and the second of which I do not need."Gwen could see where Wanda was coming from with the temptation, but power? Nah. Also, "Why are you using my title? It creeps me out coming from you.""Oh, Gwen." Wanda moved in closer and hugged her friend, keeping the Gem as far from the hug as possible.Gwen hugged her back. "Wanda. It's been too long. But seriously, what's with the formality?""I do need your help in a formal capacity," Wanda said.Gwen nodded. She plucked the Gem out the air and put it in the Uru-lined pouch at her belt. Her palm twinged with phantom pain.Wanda flicked a finger and there were suddenly two mugs of steaming hot chocolate on a nearby table. As she said, Wanda had power. She always had, ever since her childhood when her and Gwen had been much closer friends than they were now.Wanda had always had power, far too much for her mortal frame. They said the almost-heir of the House of M had no power at all -- maybe this was why Wanda had as much as she had, power for two thrumming under her skin.Then again, maybe not.None had more power than the God-Emperor and there was not another of him anywhere.Once, Wanda had loaned Gwen a portion of her power. Gwen had never looked at her friend the same way again. * Gwen had touched today's Gem and that... that had been something else entirely. * She'd felt everything. Every misaligned piece of herself. Every edge of Battleworld. Every strand of Doom's will that binded it all together. Sheriff Strange's collection of artefacts of power in the Isle of Agamotto. Owen Reece in the bowels of Castle Doom.Everything.She could see, but most of all, she could touch. She'd reached out a hand made of lightning towards Arachnia. There, among the rubble and the rust was another Gwen Stacy. A girl-spider to Gwen's own girl-thunder. To that other self she had granted strength of mind.In Arcadia was another Gwen-spider. To her, Gwen-thunder had granted strength of mind as well.And so on and so forth, through all the domains of Battleworld and all the Gwen Stacys therein. Her gifts were one and the same -- the knowledge that they were not alone, bone-deep and soul-sure.Then she felt temptation creeping at the edges of her mind -- if she could do this much, what else could she do? Wouldn't it be so much easier to rebel against the God-Emperor now? Bring him now and rule in his stead? She'd do a much better job -- and she'd used all of her will to open her hand. It wasn't enough to free her.It was enough for Valeria to reach for the Gem. Her fingers had closed around it and she'd been able to see everything. Gwen had been able to tell that her child's brain could not process the information. That had made it easier for the both of them to snap the Gem into a glass jar, where it floated malevolently.Doom had arrived then, finding Gwen and Valeria with the glass jar and an argument between them. Gwen had been terrified, of course. She had treason in her thoughts and power in her blood -- and she was not Wanda.But Valeria was a child and Doom was her father. Protecting his child was first in his mind and that meant removing the Gem from Valeria's vicinity."Take the Gem to Stephen," he said, his voice curling around the Sheriff's name. "I trust he will do what is necessary."Gwen had nodded and taken the jar from where it had rested on Valeria's workbench. Wisps of corruption tried to wrap around her fingers. They failed, stopped by the jar. The glass jar was not made of simple glass. Gwen narrowed her eyes, but she was a Thor and the affairs of the Foundation were not for her to get involved in.The God-Emperor had raised a hand in dismissal and Gwen had spun her Mjolnir to ride the lightning away from Castle Doom. * She stood now in the Sanctum Sanctorum of the Isle of Agamotto, facing Sheriff Strange.She offered him the jar with the Gem inside. The Gem had calmed down since she'd left Caste Doom. "This is it," she said. "This is the last one. This is the right one."The Sheriff accepted the jar and opened it. The Gem floated out leisurely. He called the Glove to his side and fitted the Gem inside. He nodded at Gwen in dismissal."The God-Emperor says he trusts you to do what must be done." Behind her, she heard "Oh, Victor."
10526397
Last Winter
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester", "Fandom": "Supernatural", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by hhopp", "chapters": "16/16", "completed": "2017-04-24", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "2,204", "Additional Tags": "winter fluff, Fluff, fluff fluff fluff, Living Together, AU, Established Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Snow, Cooking, cooking together, Soup, Movie Night, Cuddling & Snuggling, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Castiel is a Sweetheart, Sickfic, Sick Castiel, Hot Chocolate, Marshmallows, Ice Skating, Trust, Pet Names, Dean Loves Christmas, Mistletoe, Sleepy Kisses, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Dean, Sleepy Castiel, Ugly Sweaters, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Cold Weather, Coats, Scarves, fluffy fluff fluff, Domestic Fluff, Domestic, domestic as all get out srsly, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Castiel, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Christmas Lights, Sledding, Socks, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Fuzzy socks, Fireplaces, Christmas Cookies, Cookies, Dean Winchester is a Good Cook, Champagne, Drunk Castiel, New Years, New Year's Eve, New Year's Resolutions, New Year's Kiss", "Relationship": "Castiel/Dean Winchester", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
When he woke, it was to Dean shaking him back and forth, far too excited for 7AM.   “Cas. It’s snowing.”   “Mmm?”   “Snowing. Outside. Let’s go.” He sighed. Dean loved wintertime, and as endearing as it was, he knew it meant he wouldn’t be getting to sleep in this morning.   “Coffee first.”   “Deal.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They were iced in. And the power had cut out.   And it was the third day of this in a row.   Dean had tried to make the most of it. They built a blanket fort in the living room and he lit a fire. They played cards until they had paper cuts. They took turns digging through their memories, trying to find stories they hadn’t yet told, but eventually, they ran out of things to do.   “I’m hungry. Can we go make something?” Might as well. They untangled themselves from the tentacles of the blankets and went to the kitchen, huddling into each other for warmth. While pawing through the cupboards, they found little.   “How about soup? We’ve got chicken broth.”   “Sounds good.” Soon enough, the salty smell was rolling off the stove in waves. Dean grinned and held up the spoon for him to try. “Taste okay?”   “Mmm. Very.” They stood there for a minute, grinning like idiots. “Hi there.”   “Hey, pretty boy.” He set the spoon down on the counter and wound his arms around Cas’ waist. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered.   He didn’t respond, just leaned in. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Alright. What are we watching tonight?” Dean dropped down onto the sofa, bowl of popcorn in hand. He read off the title from the DVD case and snuggled in close.   At some point, his head slipped from his shoulder to his lap and Dean’s fingers combed absentmindedly through his hair. His hands were very warm.  Jingling bells rang from the television speaker as his eyes slipped shut; the last thing he registered was Dean’s throaty chuckle and ‘goodnight, Cas.’   When he woke up again, the tv was switched off and he was snoring behind him. As Cas shifted, arm full of pins and needles, Dean whined sleepily and fell over in an attempt to get away from whatever was disrupting his sleep. He harrumphed, and Cas knew he was awake.   “Hello, love,” he yawned.   “Cas? Time is it?”   “Late. I think it’s time we head to bed.”   “I’m good. Let’s just stay here.” Cas sighed. He knew that in the morning he’d be complaining about his neck hurting, but as Dean pulled him up the couch to lay in his arms, he couldn’t bring himself to care. “‘Night, baby.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “You can be a real dork sometimes, you know that?” Of course he knew. He was the one wearing sparkly garland like a wig. “Maybe we should just put you on top of the tree.” “And why’s that?” he laughed, hooking a few ornaments from his fingers. “Because I’m pretty well convinced you’re an angel.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I’m dying.”“No you aren’t. Just a little case of the sniffles, baby.” Wrong. He had only days left, he was sure of it; Dean rolled his eyes and leaned over the back of the couch to ruffle his hair. He leaned into the touch. “Your head’s a little warm.”“I told you.”“You’ll be fine. It’s just a fever, Cas.” He groaned and curled further in on himself. “Alright. Hey, let’s get you in bed. Much more comfortable.” Normally he’d have asked where Dean would sleep if he was covering their bed in germs. Today he just nodded and dragged his tired self across the apartment, falling on top of the covers as soon as he was close enough. Chuckling, Dean rearranged him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Need anything, honey bee?”“No thank you.” The bed shifted beside him and he found a warm chest pressed to his back.“Get some rest, then.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Microwave minutes are longer than regular minutes,” Dean whined as he dumped the chocolate powder into the mug. Cas kissed his cheek.“Patience, grasshopper.”“But Caaas—”“Here,” he interrupted. “Open.” Dean turned on his heel and found himself face to face with him, their noses almost brushing. Cas held up a mini marshmallow. Plump lips parted obediently, and were rewarded by the morsel’s sticky sweetness. Dean hummed at the taste and leaned forward, capturing his lips in a soft, sugared kiss. He always smells like cinnamon, he thought, burying his nose in the soft curve of his neck once they pulled apart. The microwave chimed; they ignored it. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I’m not going to let you fall, Cas,”  he promised. His mittened hand was clasped firmly around his own. “Do you trust me?”“Yes,” he said, taking a steeling breath. Dean kicked his skate into the ice and they started gliding. He locked his knees and kept his feet glued to the ground, choosing to allow Dean’s foot strokes to guide them along the slippery white surface.“You’re good. You’ve just gotta relax, baby, I’ve got you.” He nodded and allowed his muscles to uncoil the teensiest bit. Dean, still tugging them around, shuffled so he was moving backwards before him, holding both his hands. Slowly, Cas lifted one foot.Falling. He was falling over. Not good. Not good. Dean, help. “Ah!” Steadying hands grabbed his waist and righted him.“I’ve gotcha. You aren’t gonna fall.”“Promise?”“Of course.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- He was brushing through the doorway when Dean tapped his shoulder.“Look up,” he said, pointing. A little bunch of green leaves were tied up with a red ribbon, hanging from the ceiling. Then, laughing, “I wonder who could have put that there?”“You’re ridiculous.”“You love me for it.” Cas surged forward and, chapped lips and all, kissed the smirk right off his face.“I can’t deny that.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I’m not wearing it, Cas.” The sweater was cute. It had a reindeer on it.   “The hell you aren’t.”   (He wore it.) ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- He needed to put Dean in a long coat more regularly.  Lord have mercy, the sight was almost enough to melt the snow around them.   On the other hand, it was still positively frigid out here and no matter how hot his boyfriend was, he was still three seconds away from freezing to death. He puffed warm air into his hands for the third time in five minutes and Dean shot him a look.   “Cas, I told you to bring gloves or something.”   “I didn’t expect it to be this cold, though.” He sighed at him.   “Come here.” They pulled off to the side of the walkway. He unwound the scarf from around his neck and tied it around Cas’, then opened the front of his coat. When he settled against his chest he buttoned it back up again, arms coming around the both of them. “Better?”   “Thanks, Romeo.” He felt lips against the back of his head.   “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I love you.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Do you think I’m prettier than the lights?” he mused as they started walking again.   “Much.” The world was a knot of icy streets and glowing bulbs. If you listened closely, you could hear Nat King Cole playing from somebody’s speakers, or the conversations of their neighbors as they all wandered the sidewalks. He gripped his mug tighter and leaned into Dean’s side as his breath formed a little cloud in front of his face. “Chilly, huh?”   “A little.” A warm, heavy arm got draped around his shoulders. Next thing he knew, they had stopped walking and were kissing in front of the house with not one, not two, but four nativity sets in the front yard. When they finally came up for air, a crowd had circled around them. He glanced up and then looked away again, burying his face into his shoulder. “Dean, they’re staring.”   A whoop drew him out of his embarrassment. Somebody laughed, and several more applauded. He looked up at the ring of people and gave a little wave.   “Merry Christmas, everyone,” Dean crowed, and they all chuckled at him before turning away. “And merry Christmas to you too, baby.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- A sled was so much better than wings. The cold didn’t even matter as he whipped down the side of the hill, the downy white powder at the bottom a promising runway to stop in. Dean was neck and neck with him, but it looked like Cas just might pull ahead— and obviously, he couldn’t let that happen. He leaned forward, and gained more and more speed.   The problem was that he couldn’t stop.   He flew head over heels, cutting a thick path through the snow. The sled veered off towards the bottom on its own. Eventually, Dean landed face-down at the foot of the hill. Cas slid in just a moment later, as he rolled so that his back was in the ice.   “I won.”   “Yes you did, Romeo.” He looked him over. Now he understood why people took so many pictures of eyelashes with snow on them. Wow.   “See something you like?”   “Perhaps.”   (And that’s the story of how they both almost got frostbite from making out in a snow bank in the middle of December.) ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- There were only a few more days before Christmas when he finally got tired of it. How on earth were his feet so cold? They were sitting on the sofa, Dean folded up in Cas’ lap, and his icy toes started creeping up beneath the hem of his pajama pants. He probably didn’t even realize what he was doing.   “You need to stop doing that.”   “What?”   “Your feet are exceedingly cold, love.” He smirked and pressed his toes further against his calf. “Dean,” he groaned.   “Something bothering you?” This was how it started last time. That tickle war ended with a twisted ankle, a broken lamp, and a small dent in the wall which they still hadn’t fixed.   “Please go put some socks on.” Dean looked at him, sighed, and laughed.   “Whatever you say, angel.” He kissed his cheek and pulled himself off the couch. “Be back in a sec.” When he came back, he had on a pair of ridiculously fuzzy socks. They were bright blue and had little snowmen on them.   “Much better.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Do you think we’ll ever get married?” he asked idly.   “Do you want to?” The fire popped at them, maybe like a laugh. Dean shrugged against his chest.   “It was always kind of a ‘someday’ thing for me, but if you do, then yeah. I think you’re pretty much it for me.” For his commitment-phobe boyfriend, this was a big admission. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head and sighed happily. Dean picked his hands up from his waist and started playing with the slender fingers.   “You’re it for me, too.” He didn’t flinch, just traced a fingertip along Cas’ palm.   He wondered, idly, whether he would remember the smell of woodsmoke when he thought back to this moment. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Dean, you’ve got flour on your face.” He also had icing in his hair and what was probably dough stuck to his shirt, but that wasn’t really the point.   He shrugged, ‘eh’ed, and went back to frosting his cookie. For somebody with such large hands, he was surprisingly good at the intricate detail work. Christ, it was nearly midnight. And half of the cookies hadn’t gone in the oven yet. This year, being their first Christmas, they didn’t want to miss any important Hallmark moments— including Christmas cookies.   They had needed to go to Costco to get all of the ingredients. There was now a whole cabinet devoted to baking pans. They had printed enough recipes to make a book.   To be fair, they had only chosen eleven or so to actually make.   “And… done.”   “Wow.”   “You like them?” They were beautiful. Snowflake shaped sugar cookies, all spread with the thinnest layer of blue icing and adorned with skinny, white and silver spiderweb-like designs; he nodded zealously. (When he kissed him, his lips tasted like cinnamon and sugar.)   Dean picked up a smaller cookie and snapped it in half. A little something inside of him died at the sight— how could he break something so pretty? It was more than made up for, though, when those decorator’s fingers brought a bite to his lips. Immediately, he noted the sweetness of the frosting, then the warmth of the pastry.   “Sweetheart, you’re a culinary genius.”   “So we should make them again next year?” He just snatched another cookie off the tray. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Why don’t we drink champagne all the time? It’s so fizzy and happy. He hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud until Dean laughed.   “I think it’s about time we cut you off, honey bee.”   “Have I told you the thing about the monk and the stars before?”   “Three times.” Oh. A glass of water was folded into his hand in place of the crystal flute. “Only a minute left.”   “Oh yeah?” Dean hummed and leaned into his side, hips pushing against against the edge of the countertop. “I think my resolution is to kiss you, more.”   “Well, then. I think we’d best get started, huh?” As Dean pressed their lips together to a soundtrack of fireworks, Cas knew how the monk felt; he was tasting the stars.
10547452
Lifehood
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100), Anya (The 100), Raven Reyes, Indra (The 100), Abby Griffin, Marcus Kane, Gustus (The 100), Aden (The 100), Lincoln (The 100), Octavia Blake", "Fandom": "The 100 (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by BoomOut77", "chapters": "5/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-05T00:00:00", "words": "17,342", "Additional Tags": "Pregnant Lexa (The 100), Pregnant Clarke, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe, Babies, Clexa children", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Anya/Raven Reyes, Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Gustus/Indra (The 100)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
-Tell us mommy! - little girl shouted while grabbing her blonde mother's neck, forcing her to pick her up. -Yeah we wanna know! - another small, dark haired creature with big, blue eyes appeared from the bedroom as he heard his mommies closing the main door. He was tangled between Lexa's legs in seconds, trying to get his mother's attention. Lexa and Clarke smiled at each other as they heard little feet taping the floor with their bare feet. They were waiting patiently for their two the youngest children who were desperately trying to keep up with their older siblings. Finally when they did, they followed Jake's lead and hugged their mothers' legs. -Let us take our jackets off first. It's hot in here, unlike outside. - Clarke managed to chuckle back as Ella was digging her fingers into her neck. Then she put her dark haired, little girl on the ground, took her coat off and helped do the same her very pregnant wife. -You want me to help you with those shoes? - Clarke asked pointing at her wife's white converse.-Normally I'd say no, but it's really late, my feet are burning, my back hurts and I'm carrying a little human inside so yes. Yes, I'd like that. - Lexa answered, while her hands were placed on her children's heads. Clarke didn't waste a second and kneeled in front of her wife, quickly taking her shoes off and making her sit on the couch. Two little creatures crawled on Lexa's lap, putting their little hands on her bump. She noticed her children's faces were covered in paint and they were wearing capes. -What is that? - She pointed at twins' faces. -It's war paint momma! - Jake answered from the back while sitting down on the floor just in front of her pregnant mother.-We we playing warriors! - Jasmin chuckled.-'We were' Jasmin. - Lexa corrected her daughter.-And who won? Where's auntie Raven and Anya? - In the same moment she spotted her sister and her sister's wife walking out of the room. Their faces were covered in the paint as well.-We had no chance in winning against your small army. You trained them well. - Anya chuckled as she sat herself on the couch opposite to the one Lexa was sitting on. Lexa smiled.-Of course I did. You should've known better than to try to fight my private army. - Lexa answered as she kissed the top of Aden's and Jasmine's head. -Come on! Tell us! Are we going to have a little brother or sister?! - Ella shouted, pulling Clarke's hand to the living room. Clarke laughed as her the oldest, 4 years old daughter couldn't wait to finally find out. She settled herself comfortably next to Lexa, putting Jake and Ella on her laps.-You want to tell them or should I? - Clarke asked.-You can do the honors. - Lexa smiled at her wife with heart eyes. Clarke looked at her children and took a deep breath.-You're going to have a little brother. - she finally announced.-Nooooo! - Ella and Jasmin shouted. They were disappointed at having a brother instead of a little sister. -Yeeeesss!!! - Jake and Aden were happy they're going to have another person to play their 'men' games. They shouted at the same time and Clarke, Anya, Raven and Lexa couldn't help but to laugh at children's reactions. -What's so wrong with a brother? - Lexa looked at her two precious, sad little princesses. -We wanted to make our own girl army momma. - Jasmin bubbled with a thumb in her mouth.-And auntie O said that armies have to have at least 4 people. Jake and Aden already have Jessie and Adam. They don't need anyone else. We only have Malia and we need one more! - Ella continued. -Well, I'm sorry baby I disappointed you. - Lexa answered sarcastically.-It's okay momma. But can we have a girl next time please? - Ella looked at Lexa with her puppy eyes. -I don't know if we're gonna have another baby. - She was searching for Clarke's gaze. She wanted to have more children, although those little monsters can sometimes give her a hard time, having a big family was always her dream, but she didn't want to promise something she didn't know if she can make come true. Clarke nodded at her wife, like she knew how awkward Lexa must feel.-But we'll do our best. - she turned back to Ella again. -What took you so long? - Finally Anya broke the comfortable silence that settled between them. Lexa groaned and pushed herself further into the pillows.-I'm sorry we kept you in here. Our doctor was stuck in the traffic. - Clarke continued as she knew her wife got really stressed and furious about the whole situation. Both of them wanted just to find out what's the baby's gender and come back to their warriors as fast as they could.-I'm sorry, do you want something to eat? Is anyone hungry? -We just ate pizza momma. - Aden and the rest shook their heads.-Is there anything left?! - during whole pregnancy Lexa was eating way more than usual. One time she woke up kids at 3 o'clock because Clarke had to go to work in the morning and took them to McDonald's just because of her extreme desire for McFlurry. -Yeah there should be at least 3 pieces left. - Raven answered, knowingly. When she was pregnant with Adam, she felt the same.-That's my cue to leave. - Lexa started pushing herself up, when she was stopped by her lover's hand on her shoulder.-Sit down. That's MY cue to leave. - She kissed Lexa's lips and marched to the kitchen. Ella followed her. -By the way, I didn't asked...what happened that you decided to find out baby's gender, instead of waiting until he's born, like you did with the rest of those little cuties? - Raven asked curiously. -After Ella briefly explain to the kids what pregnancy is and after she told them that she was the one who chose Jasmin's and Aden's names, they started to get really anxious and curious about baby's gender and the topic couldn't go untouched even by one day, so we decided with Clarke that this time we find out earlier. - Lexa put her right hand on her bump and left pulled Jasmin closer. -There you go, your pizza - Clarke handed Lexa a plate with 3 slices of pizza while holding Ella in her arms. -Thanks baby. - She immediately pushed pizza into her mouth.-Am I the only one who's missing something... or more someone? Where's this rebellious kid of yours? - Clarke asked after she fell down on the couch. -Oh! Adam fell asleep as soon as Ella put him in the jail and settled on your comfy pillows. -Raven smiled on the thought of her little knight. In the same moment Adam walked into the room, rubbing his eyes.-Speaking of the devil. - Anya whispered. Adam crawled into her lap and settled his head on her shoulders. -I think we should be going. - Raven stood up and everyone followed her lead. -Thank you so much, once again for taking care of them. We owe you. - Lexa pulled her sister and her sister's wife into a hug. Clarke did the same.-Oh stop it! Your kids are adorably cute and super awesome. We enjoy spending time with them. -I hope they weren't much of a trouble.-Twins got in the fight two times but me and your sister handled it. Besides that, they were like angels. - Clarke threw a mad look at twins, but couldn't be angry with them as they were laying on the couch, rubbing their sleepy eyes. -Next time, we're taking care of Adam. - Clarke pulled closer to Lexa, hugged her from the back and put her hands on her wife's bump.-Deal. - Anya whispered quietly, trying not to wake her son, then they exited the room. Clarke and Lexa turned around finding their children laying all around the living room, obviously exhausted after playing 'war game'. Clarke picked Jake from the ground. -Okay guys. Let's go to the bathroom. We have to wash this war paint off your faces. - little warriors quickly ran to the bathroom. She and Lexa were really glad to have big bath tub so they can wash all of their kids at once. -Mommy can we get our toys? - Jasmin turned to Lexa who managed to take her daughter's shirt and pants off. -Sure. Take them quickly, before water gets cold. - little girl only in her underwear ran to her room. Other followed her. When they came back water was already waiting for them. Each one of them had at least 20 toys in their hands. -Uh-uh! Everyone can take at most 7 toys into the bath. - Clarke announced and suddenly she met disappointed growl. -Mamma's right. 7 toys top. - Lexa supported her wife. She was sitting on the toilet, letting herself rest. -But mommy! - Aden started-We need all of them! - Ella protested.-We can't leave them alone! - Jake growled. -Yeah! - Jasmin seemed on her siblings' side. -I'm sure you won't need 10 different kinds of cars in the bath or 5 different Barbie dolls. Choose 7 and then you can go to the bath. - Lexa answered strictly. They did as they were told. And after 20 minutes of splashing each other, Clarke started pulling them out of the bath. -Come on Jake. It's your turn. Let's get you in your dinosaur pajama. - Clarke knew it was the only way to get him out of the bath. Jake obeyed. Lexa took a towel and put it around her son when she felt little human kicking her inside. She groaned quietly but loud enough for Clarke to notice. Blonde immediately kneeled in front of her wife.-Lexa? What is it? Is everything alright? - Lexa only smiled, took Clarke's hand and placed it on her stomach. Clarke gasped as she felt her unborn child's movements. They laughed together.-He's being impatient. - Lexa smirked.-Only 1 more month my little boy. Now rest and let your mommy take care of your super, extra siblings okay? Everyone is waiting for you. I love you so much. We all do. - Clarke whispered against Lexa's stomach. -Mommy is it Mickey? Can I touch him too? - Jasmin looked at their mothers patiently. They only smiled and helped her put her little hand on Lexa's bump. As soon as she felt baby's kickings, she pulled her hand away, crawled into Clarke's arms and buried her face in her mother's neck.-It's okay Jas... You don't have to be scared. He's just excited to meet you. - Blonde whispered against her 2 years old daughter's ear. -Mickey is exited to meet me? - She looked at Lexa with her blue eyes. Lexa nodded in response. -Mickey? That's how you named him? - Jasmin nodded shyly.-Like Mickey Mouse. -I like that. - Clarke looked at Lexa.-Me too. -Guys! How would you like to have your new brother named Mickey? - Clarke turned to face the rest of the Griffin-Woods family. Everyone cheered except Aden. 2 year old groaned loudly.-You don't like it Aden?-I wanted to name him Nemo! Or Dory! - Clarke chuckled, pulling her son out of the bath. -We won't name him after fishes, Aden. - Lexa chuckled-Besides, Dory is girl's name. Stupid! - Ella laughed, still playing with her toy story's toys in the water.-Ella don't call your brother like that. Apologize. - Lexa ordered sharply. -Sorry... - she whispered to herself. -I didn't hear you. - Lexa demanded. Little girl sighed loudly. She was obviously annoyed.-I'M SORRY! - she shouted really loudly. -Good. Now come over here. We have to get you in your pajamas. -But ma! I said sorry! - Her green eyes, stared into Lexa's. You could see very visible dark bags under them. Little warrior was tired, even though she didn't want to admit it.-I know, baby. But it's time to get out of the bath and go to sleep. Your siblings are already clean and ready to go. -Uh-uh! I'm not going anywhere! -Someone's tired and being annoying. - Clarke whispered to her wife. -Come on Ella. You can bathe tomorrow too. - Clarke tried to convince her.-No! - she splashed Lexa with a water. Lexa irritated by the whole situation (and mostly hormones) stood up, showing her daughter that jokes are over.-I'm counting to three. 1... - Ella knew what's going to happen when her mom reaches 3 but she was too stubborn to let go.-2... - Lexa was very pissed at that moment. Wet clothes were making it even worse.-Last chance Ella. - 4 year old was staring at the water.-Thr-...-Okay! Okay... - Ella shouted with annoyance in her voice and went out of the bath. Her dark hair covering her angry face, marched to her mother's arms, who was waiting for her with a towel. Before she could reach her, however, Jake and Aden stood in the doorway pointing at Ella.-Naked! Ha-ha! Ella's Naked! La-la-la-la-la-laaaa! - their sister was at least irritated. She ran towards them, without any clothes on, but boys were faster and took off before she was able to get to them. They were running around the house, when Ella finally got Aden and took his shirt and pants off. -Who's naked now? Huh?! - But Aden wasn't angry at all as he was laying on the ground under his sister's body. He started laughing.-Me! Hahahah! You and me! Naked! Na-ked! - Ella smiled. As Jasmin and Jake saw them being naked, they took their clothes off too and started running around the house, chasing each other. Their screams and laughs were filling the air. Clarke sighed as she saw what her children were doing and looked at Lexa. -Those are savages not children. - She said.-Ella! Come back here! You're still wet! We don't want you to get sick again! - but her daughter seemed to ignore her and kept chasing her siblings. Their clothes were everywhere. They started throwing pillows at each other. -Stay away from the table! - Lexa shouted and pointed at the wooden table with sharp edges. As she approached them, kids took off to not get caught and ran to their parents' bedroom. -Catch us if you can ma! - Jasmin shouted. Lexa looked at Clarke with begging look. -Sit down. I got this. - Clarke pushed Lexa's shoulder to make her sit down on the chair in the kitchen. She took a deep breath and a small laugh escaped her mouth as she heard her wife shouting;-Get out of the bed! Jake take that underwear of your head! Ella don't push your brother! Jasmin! Stop! You can't eat this! Lexa!!! - Lexa chuckled to herself. She can't leave her wife to those monsters alone. When she entered their bedroom, Clarke was barely visible. She was covered in their children bodies' and pillows. -Leave my wife alone, you naked monsters! - She shouted with a smile, grabbed Jasmin and Jake and started tickling them. They couldn't stop laughing. Clarke used the distraction to do the same with Aden and Ella. Now the children were laughing so hard, the tears were escaping their eyes.-Ma! Ma please! - Aden shouted between laughs.-Now 'Ma' huh? - Clarke didn't let go.-Stop! Mommy! - Jasmin started being weak to. -Say you surrender and will put your clothes on! - Lexa didn't stop either. After few minutes of laughing Ella shouted.-We surrender! We surrender! Stop, Mamma! - In the same moment Clarke and Lexa stoped torturing their children and peppered their faces with small kisses. Kids couldn't stop laughing. Finally they pulled back and stepped away, to give their children some space. -Now go put your clothes on and wash your teeth. - Clarke said and the little, naked army followed the order. Clarke turned to Lexa, put her hands on he wife's waist and captured her lips. -Thank you for saving me. - She whispered.-Always. - Lexa smiled. -Momma! Can you brush my hair?! - Ella shouted from the other room. Clarke chuckled against Lexa's lips.-I'll be right there honey! - Clarke looked up into her wife's eyes.-Duty calls. - she whispered as she turned around and exited the room. They're back in the bathroom. Everyone was already clothed. Clarke took the brush from Ella's hands and started brushing her hair. Lexa stared at her family from the doorway. -Jasmin baby, you have your shirt on the left side. - Lexa said. She kneeled down and helped her little girl to change that. Then they all took tooth brushes and brushed their teeth together for exactly 2 minutes. 30 minutes later after Lexa and Clarke gave them goodnight kisses Aden, Jake and Ella were peacefully sleeping in their rooms. Jasmin was still in Clarke's arms, trying to fall asleep. She was only 2 and energy was pumping through her veins. Fortunately Blonde managed to get her to sleep and put her on a bed next to Aden's. Because they were twins, they had room together, but they would often sneak into their parents' room to cuddle when they can't sleep. And 'often' means, at least once a week.-Goodnight my little princess. - She kissed Jasmin's forehead. When Clarke entered her bedroom, Lexa was already sleeping. She quickly moved under the blankets and hugged her pregnant wife from the back. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lexa woke up feeling little hands on her cheeks. She opened her eyes and saw Ella staring at her with her green eyes. She immediately smiled as she saw her mother's eyes open.-Hi ma. - she whispered.-Hi baby. - Lexa loves waking up like this. Only she and her the oldest daughter wake up this early. The rest of the kids are more like Clarke and can sleep all day, every day. -What are you doing here? -I dunno. I woke up here. - Ella answered and then coughed few times, which immediately forced Lexa to pushed herself up. She put her hand to Ella's forehead. It's burning. -How are you feeling? - Lexa stared at Ella with concern. -My neck and head hurts. - She pointed at her throat and head. Lexa wanted to smile, thinking of how her daughter said 'neck' instead of 'throat' but she didn't. She was too focused on Ella's health. -Did mommy give you any medicine in the night? - Lexa asked. She figured that Clarke could hear Ella cough in the middle of the night, give her some medicine and then bring her here to keep and an eye on her.-She gave me yucky syrup. It didn't help. - Ella put her head back on the pillow. She was red and sweating. -Clarke. Clarke. - Lexa woke her wife up.-What is it? - She turned around. Her eyes barely opened. She felt the disturbance in Lexa's voice. Brunette pointed at Ella with her eyes. As soon as Clarke saw her daughter she pushed herself on the elbows.-I heard her coughing later when you fell asleep, gave her syrup and took her here. - They were both staring at their daughter.-Clarke, she's burning. - Clarke quickly put her hand on Ella's forehead and as soon as she touched it, she went to grab a wet towel. She put it on girl's face. -It's probably because of yesterday. She was sick a week ago and yesterday she was running wet without her clothes on. -You want me to call Dr. Jefferson? - Lexa's eyes still focused on her little girl.-Do that. If it's this awful disease as last time, we should know. - Lexa did as she was told, when she heard Ella crying. -No mama! No! I don't like Dr. Jefferson! Please! -We have to check you and see if you're sick at the same disease you were sick last time. -No mommy! Please! Not Dr. Jefferson! Granny is a doctor too! Take her! I want granny! -Granny's in Florida baby. -No! - her cries grew stronger.-No mommy! Not Dr. Jefferson!! No!!-It's okay baby. Shhh. Just lay down. Try to sleep okay? - Clarke pulled little girl into her arms. She hummed song quietly. Ella calmed down. It's not like she doesn't like this particular doctor. She just hates all the doctors. She hates when they tell her what she should and shouldn't do and when they tell her mommies to give her awful medicine. But fortunately she fell asleep quickly. ~~~~~~~~~-I don't think it's back. I think she just got a normal cold. - Dr. Jefferson announced after few minutes of carefully examining Ella. Clarke and Lexa exhaled. Last time when Ella was burning like this, she was vomiting and coughing for two weeks, had diarrhea and sore throat and if that wasn't enough she got Aden and Jasmin sick too. -You should give here the medicine I prescribed and she should be fine in maximum two days. -Thank you Doctor.-No problem. Oh! And I'd keep her away from other kids until she gets better, to not get them sick as well. -Sure we'll do. Thank you again. - Lexa answered and didn't hear his answer as she closed the doors behind his back. She rushed back to her daughter and wife. Ella was laying in Clarke's arms, her forehead pressed to Clarke's breasts. She was staring at them at the doorway when she felt something pulling her shirt. She looked down and saw Jake. Lexa immediately picked him up, took out of the room and closed the door. All four of her children getting sick is the last thing she needs right now. He just woke up and was cutely rubbing his eyes with his little fists.-Where's Ella? She isn't in her room. - He asked curiously.-Ella's in our bedroom. She's sick and needs to rest. - she settled him down on the chair. -Ella's sick? - Lexa nodded.-Can I see her? -No baby. We don't want you to get sick too. -But she must feel lonely. - Lexa smiled at his son. She was proud at how protective he is over his big sister, even though he's only 3. She kneeled in front of him and kissed his forehead.-She's not alone. Mama is with her. She needs to get some sleep and we need to eat something. What do you want? - Lexa asked, smoothly changing topic. -Pancakes! - He cheered and clapped his hands.-Again? - Lexa raised her eyebrow. He nodded.-We had them yesterday. -Pancakes!! - he continued stubbornly. -Okay then. - She moved to the kitchen when she saw her twins, slowly moving toward them. -Hey! Look who decided to show up! We're making pancakes you want some? -Yes! Yes! - Jasmin and Aden shouted at the same time while settling themselves on the chairs next to Jake.-Shhhh! - Jake put his index finger over his mouth.-Ella's sick and she needs to rest! - He whispered. Lexa smiled from the kitchen.-Ella sick? - Jasmin shifted her head curiously to the right and looked at Lexa. -Yes baby. So we need to be quiet to let her recover okay?-Okay - twins answered in choir. ~~~~~~~~~~~30 minutes later they were eating pancakes when Clarke marched out of their bedroom, carefully closing doors behind her and stood next to her wife. -How's she? - Lexa looked at her lover. -She fell asleep. It seems like the fever got down, which is good. - Lexa nodded painfully.-Are you eating pancakes again? I thought I specifically told the three of you yesterday that you're done with them for the next week.- Clarke looked into her children's eyes, who were smiling and quickly started putting as many pancakes inside their little mouths as they could. -Now I understand why Jake was so excited about them. - Lexa smirked. Clarke laughed, then looked at her love's plate, which was empty.-You're not eating? - Lexa shook her head. -I'm not hungry. - Clarke couldn't help but to chuckle. -That's new. - she kissed Lexa's temple and then moved to Aden. She picked him up then put him down on her laps. He was clearly incapable of eating on his own. His face was dirty from whipped cream. -Ha-ha. - Lexa laughed sarcastically. Clarke smirked. -You had one task Lexa. I understand feeding our 2 year old son is hard for you, but look. - she pointed at Aden's face.-This is Santa Claus, not Aden. - It was obviously cream's fault. It made him look like he has a beard. Aden and his siblings laughed with their mouths full. -Mommy can we go on the playground today? - Jasmin asked between chewing pancakes. -I'm sorry baby, but Ella's sick and she can't stay alone in the house. - Clarke answered, whipping the cream out of Aden's face. -So you can stay with her and we'll go with momma. - She answered. That'd be a solution if not the fact that her wife is in 8th month of pregnancy and could start giving birth at any time. Clarke wanted to be with her when that happens. Instead of explaining it all to her 2 year old daughter she just simply answered;-Either we go together or we don't go at all. - Clarke stated forcing Jasmin to groan loudly. -But you can go play in the pool if you want to. It's hot outside today. - Lexa suggested. That's why she was the one who kids were running to when they did something bad. Lexa didn't have a heart to not spoil her precious children. Aden, Jasmin and Jake cheered and ran away from the table. Clarke rolled her eyes and sent Lexa irritated look. -But you have to wash your teeth and change your clothes first! - Clarke shouted, her voice running after her little kids' attention while they were heading to the bathroom.-Okay momma! - Jake shouted while putting toothpaste on his toothbrush. Clarke turned to her wife, kneeled in front of her and placed her forehead on Lexa's stomach. -Hi little buddy. How did you sleep? I hope your older sister didn't wake you up. She's sick, but she'll be fine when you'll be coming out. I promise. Ella will be the first one who will want to hug you and she won't let you go, just like she did with her other siblings. Me and your momma carried them too and they couldn't wait to go out just like you Mickey. We already love you so much and we haven't even met you yet. Your brothers and sisters are awesome and you'll be so happy to be here with them. With us. Once you're out of your momma, we won't let you go. - Then she kissed her wife's stomach.-That's really sweet Clarke. - Lexa looked down at her lover. Clarke looked up and kissed Lexa's red lips.-YOU'RE really sweet. - she whispered after she pulled back from the kiss. Lexa chuckled. They stared at each other when they spotted kids who were standing in front of them, wearing their swimming clothes.-Look mommy! We're ready! Can we go now? - Aden's eyes were shifting between his two moms. -Okay. - Clarke nodded with a smile. Kids followed Jake as he opened the door to their big patio. He jumped right into the shallow pool, buried in the ground. Aden did the same, but Jasmin decided to be more careful and at first touched the water with her toe and then slowly joined her brothers. Lexa and Clarke followed their children. They stopped in the doorway, far enough to have private conversation which kids won't hear, but also close enough to the pool, to quickly react if anything happens. -Ugh. I really don't want to leave you. Maybe I'll just tell them I can't go because of family problems? - Clarke crawled into Lexa's arms, put her head on brunette's shoulder and stared at her children playing in the pool. -You're delaying this meeting for far too long Clarke. I don't want you to leave either, but you'll be gone for only 5 days. - Lexa smirked, her eyes meeting Clarke blues. -Yeah but a lot can happen in 5 days! Ella's sick and your in 8th month of pregnancy. Mickey might want to come out at any moment now and I need to be here when that happens. Besides, I don't want you to stay here alone and take care of those little monsters all by yourself. - Lexa put her hand on Clarke's cheek.-That's why we're going for a checkup on Wednesday to see if he doesn't mind waiting for a little longer. And I'm not going to be alone. Your mom and Kane already bought the tickets for the plane and they'll be here on Friday. It's settled. -Yeah well, we were told Jake won't mind waiting and will be on time, but instead you got into the labor 4 weeks before the date! - Lexa smiled at her wife's conclusion. She was right. Lexa can still remember when on family BBQ she suddenly started giving birth. She can remember how Clarke freaked out, almost as much as she did when Clarke's water broke when she was pregnant with Ella. -They also said that Aden, Ella and Jasmin are going to be on a date and they were. It's three against one. -Actually it's two against one. Aden and Jasmin count as one. They were both inside me at the same time. - Lexa rolled her eyes.-And I won't risk it! No. No, I already decided. I'll wait until Micky is born, then I'll go to finish this stupid project. Yeah. I'll go call my boss and mom and tell them that I'm not going anywhere. That I need to stay here - she took few steps toward the living room to grab her phone when someone grabbed her wrist and forced her to turn around.-When Micky is born you won't let him out of your sight for the next 5 months and we both know it. We've been through it 4 times already. You have to go now. We can handle few days without you. I promise, I won't let them burn the house down. - Lexa kissed Clarke's wet lips. Corner of her eye, still looking at her kids. Clarke twirled her face on the mention of fire. -You're not the best comforter. - She whispered against Lexa's lips. -Hey. I'm the pregnant one here. I am the one who's supposed to be freaking out and YOU are the one who should be comforting ME. - Lexa's hands tightened, squeezing Clarke's waist. Clarke chuckled at her wife's good point.-You know, I have to admit, you're keeping your hormones under control, comparing to when you were pregnant with Jake. - They laughed. Both of them remembered how Lexa was having mental breakdown after breakdown, when she was carrying Jake. She could cry all the time at the things that didn't mattered at all, like their neighbor mowing his lawn. Clarke would often find Lexa, sitting in the chair, staring at their neighbor. Tears would escape her eyes. Usually she was just staring at him, dead serious and cursing something under her nose. -Yeah. Maybe this one will be more peaceful than the others. Taking you for example. You were so emotional and furious and uncontrollable all the time when you were with twins, but so calm when you were with Ella. And now, look at them. - She pointed at Aden who already managed to take his swimming clothes off and his sister splashing him with water, while loud, wild laughs were filling the air. -They're way naughtier and louder and more explosive than Ella is. Although I think she starts stepping into her young rebellious phase. You saw her yesterday. -She's four and they're two. Of course she's more easy-going than them. And my little Ella isn't starting any 'rebellious phases' yet. She's too little and too precious for that. - She smiled and put her hand on Lexa's bump. They stayed like that for a minute, staring at their children, comfortable silence settled between them.-Did you call me uncontrollable and furious? - Clarke finally broke it. She was still processing their conversation. Lexa knew where she was going with this.-Huh? - She pretended like she had no idea what her wife's talking about, her eyes never leaving kids.-You said 'You were so emotional and furious and uncontrollable all the time when you were with twins'. - Lexa faced Clarke. -You were. - She smirked.-Well, you'd be too if you have to carry two little humans inside of you, each one of them of the size of a melon! - Clarke said frustrated but Lexa couldn't help but laugh.-Maybe. Which doesn't change the fact that you were. - Lexa smiled. Clarke rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. -You're an ass.-Careful, kids might hear. - Lexa whispered not concerned at all if they actually heard it. It was more of a tease.-They're too busy with drowning Aden's underwear. - She pointed at Jasmin, Aden and Jake. -Okay then, it's not really nice to say such things at your very pregnant wife who might go into labor any second if she's too stressed. - Clarke looked at her curiously.-Don't steal my lines. - She smirked. She remembered when she was teasing with Lexa when she was pregnant with twins, this line would always shut Lexa up. Brunette smiled knowingly. -Aden put your underwear on! - Lexa finally took her eyes off of her wife and pointed them at Aden. Her son however, seemed to ignore her.-Aden put your underwear on or you'll be done with the pool for the rest of the day! -Lexa threatened. She could only hear her son growl loudly and then putting his panties on. ~~~~~~~~~~~After the lunch and a small ice cream break, kids went back to the pool. Clarke and Lexa would shush them from time to time to make sure they won't wake their older sister. Clarke was laying on the chair, her booty up, relaxing and tasting the sweet taste of peaceful laziness. Lexa was sitting in the shadow, under umbrella, focused on her new book. She was staring at Jasmin who punched Aden in the arm and was going to shout at her and tell her to stop when someone grabbed her hand. -Momma... - Ella started, rubbing her eyes. Lexa immediately dropped her book on the table, picked Ella up and placed her on her lap. -Hi baby! How are you feeling? Is it better now? - Ella nodded. As soon as Clarke heard her wife talking to her little girl, she pushed herself up and settled on the chair next to Lexa's. Her eyes focused on tired 4 year old. -Does your head still hurt? - Clarke asked, while placing her hand on Ella's forehead. Little girl shook her head, denying. -Can I go play with them mommy? - Ella pointed at her siblings in the swimming pool and asked curiously.-No baby, you're still sick. - Clarke said and as soon as she saw tears forming in her daughter's eyes she continued.-But they're coming out already. We can go and play monopoly or watch a movie if you want. - Ella swallowed heavily and nodded as a response.-Where's Jasmin? - she finally asks after a while. As soon as they heard it, Lexa and Clarke in panic turned their faces toward the pool, searching for their youngest child. Clarke spotted a body underwater, under Aden's butt. -Jesus!- she whispered and ran to the pool. -Aden! Let her go!! - She shouted. Her voice was a mix of panic and anger. Aden didn't have a time to move, because his mom was already pushing him aside, picking up Jasmine. Little girl took a deep breath, looked around and in a split of seconds started crying from horror. Clarke tightened her grip around her daughter, let her breath slowly leave her lungs and started shushing her daughter, calming her down, making sure she's okay. -You two! Get out of the water! Now! Your time in the pool is over! - Clarke pointed at Jake and Aden and then at the doors. They were both terrified of this tone of their mother's voice so they obeyed. Lexa was standing next to Clarke, rubbing Jasmin's back and kissing her cheek. -Shhh... It's okay baby. Everything's okay. - Clarke whispered into her daughter ear. Jasmin was sobbing, tears sliding down her red face which was buried in Clarke's neck. -Come on, let's get her inside. - Lexa whispered, but it seemed like little girl heard because her crying became even louder. Nothing bad happened, she just got scared that's all. -You want to watch Tarzan Jasmin? We can all watch it together if you want. - Lexa whispered. Little girl's crying stopped for a moment. She was carefully listening to her mom's offer. Lexa knew she got her.-Okay? And we can make some popcorn as well. Would you like that? - Jasmin nodded her head which was still tightly pressed to Clarke's neck. Clarke's blonde locks were all over 2 year old's face. Lexa managed to take few of them out of the way, so she can stare peacefully into her daughter's blue eyes. Lexa smiled at her daughter, but little blonde didn't like the idea and turned her face around. Lexa looked at Clarke knowingly. Then they turned around and entered the house. Clarke went to the bathroom with Jasmin in her arms to get her dry. Lexa grabbed Ella's hand and pulled her to the kitchen. -Are you hungry baby? Would you like to eat something? - But when she turned around to face her daughter she saw tears streaming down her cheeks. Lexa figured she must've gotten scared too, when she saw Jasmin under the water and then screaming in agony. She kneeled in front of her daughter and hugged her hard but not hard enough to crush little girl's small organs.-Hey, baby. It's okay. Jasmin is fine. She just got a little bit scared but she's okay. Nothing bad happened. I promise. Do you believe me? - She whipped tears away from her warrior's face, staring into her green eyes. Ella nodded, her humor instantly making better as she heard her mother's reassuring words.-Okay now. What would you like to eat? - Ella stared up high at the ceiling, like searching for the answer.-Avocado on toasts. - she finally stated.-That's my girl. - Lexa smiled and moved back to the kitchen. Ella and Lexa were also the only ones in their family who'd prefer to eat something healthy instead of junk food. Well, Lexa's diet changed a little bit since she became pregnant. She was literally eating everything she saw. Lexa made Ella toasts, turned the TV on and left her to eat her breakfast/lunch in the dining room alone as she walked to the Jake's room. She saw him and Aden sitting on the bed all dressed up. They were staring at each other with sadness. Lexa couldn't be mad at them. They're just kids, they didn't know what they were doing and they probably got scared too. She sat on the bed, right next to Jake. None of them dared to look up into her eyes.-Jasmin's alright. Nothing bad happened but you can't do it again okay? - they nodded politely, their faces covered in visible pain. Lexa shifted closer to her sons and hugged them tightly. -You have to be careful when you play in the water. Will you promise me you won't do anything like that again? - She looked down at her boys.-Yes, momma. - they answered in choir. She kissed the top of their heads.-Okay now let's go. We're gonna watch Tarzan and make popcorn. - They sent her sad, small smile and followed her to the living room where they sat in their favorite places. They were awkwardly quiet and it made Lexa feel anxious. She quickly checked on Ella who was slowly eating her toasts and staring at the TV in the kitchen. Then Lexa opened the door to Aden's and Jasmin's bedroom and heard giggles escaping her daughter's mouth. Clarke was tickling her between putting her clothes on. Lexa knocked on the door, forcing two girls to be aware of her presence. -Hey, guys. We're waiting for you. - Clarke and Jasmin looked up at her. Jasmin seemed to already forgot what she was even crying about before. -Jas go join your brothers in the living room okay?- Little blonde passed Lexa and run quickly to her brothers. Clarke stood up and closed the space between the two of them.-I don't know if boys should be watching it. -Clarke mumbled-They need to know that what they did was wrong - She continued.-They already know that Clarke. And they feel really guilty. Let's just go watch the movie together and forget about the whole situation. - Lexa hugged her love. Both of them knew that it could end way worse than that but none of them wanted to think about it. So they moved to the living room finding all 4 of their children laying on the couch cuddling with each other.-Finally! - Jasmin shook her head.-What took you so long? Can we watch it already?! - Ella continued between coughs.-First come here, let's get you your medicine and then we can watch the film.-No! Mama promised there won't be any more yucky stuff. Please! They don't have to take it! Neither will I!! - Ella pointed at her siblings and then buried her face in the pillow. -Well they weren't running naked around the house while still being wet after the bath. Come here princess. It's gonna be super quick and then we'll watch the film okay? Please? - Ella was groaning loudly into her pillow for the good 20 seconds, considering her options. Finally she pushed herself up, marched to the kitchen and quickly took the medicine without any unnecessary comments. Then they marched back to the living room. Because Lexa owned two big lawyer companies and Clarke was a quite famous artist they didn't have any trouble with money. Usually when they were inviting their friends to watch the movie, they'd go to their private, small cinema, but in days like this. When there were only the 6 of them, (Well ... 6 and a half) then they'd just watch the movie all together in their living room. Clarke sat herself on the couch and Jasmin and Jake immediately cuddled to her. Lexa sat on the other couch. Kids knew that they had to be careful with their mommy's stomach so since Lexa got pregnant, they'd watch movies on Clarke's laps because that's what Clarke told them to do. Lexa still remembered that Ella was sick and didn't want to get her other kids sick as well. So when Ella was heading toward her siblings, Lexa grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, so she could lay down next to her mommy.-Come here. You'll lay down with me and Mickey okay?- Ella smiled and kissed Lexa's belly. She felt privileged because she could watch a movie next to her unborn little brother. -That's not fair! I want to watch the movie with Mickey too! - Jasmin growled. -Me and Jake aren't good enough for you? - Clarke laughed, while her fingers were untangling her daughter's blonde hair. -No ma, I like you both but I want to watch it with Mickey and mamma. - There was a smile dancing in the corner of Lexa's lips. -Ella's sick and we don't want you to get sick too so that's why we're so far away. - Lexa tried to explain, pointing at the distance between them. She sat on the further couch on purpose.-Well you'll get sick too! - Jasmin pointed at her mom with confusion. Lexa knew that her immunity system is way better than her kids', so just a cold wouldn't affect her as it would affect Jake and twins. -Mommy has more experience with diseases and it won't attack her as easily as it would attack you. - Clarke tried to explain.-But I want to cuddle to mommy too! - Aden stated with anger from his favorite chair. -I'm sick! When you'll be sick too then you can cuddle to mommy and Mickey but for now it's my turn. Right mommy? - Ella quieted all of them and looked up at Lexa, searching for her support. Lexa couldn't miss the hint of a smile dancing on Ella's lips. She was truly satisfied with having something her siblings can't have. -Ella's right. It's one more month, until your little brother's born and then we can all cuddle together. Okay? - Lexa specifically looked at Jasmin.-Together with Mickey? - Aden asked.-Yes. He'll be part of our family too and we'll treat him as such. After Mickey is born we can all cuddle together and watch films for the whole day. - Lexa stated and could see Clarke roll her eyes.-Whole day?? - Jake picked his head up and asked with excitement. There it is. That's why Clarke rolled her eyes. Lexa said they would and so they'll have too. Both of them are trying to teach their children to keep their promises and to do so, they have to give them an example. Even if Mickey won't be born for another month, kids won't forget Lexa's offer to watch films all day while cuddling on the couch. Lexa bit her tongue at the same moment.-Yes - She finally answered hesitatingly. -Okay. Then I guess we can wait a little longer for Mickey. - Jasmin smiled and put her head back on Clarke's lap. Clarke shook her head at disappointment at Lexa and brunette sent her apologetic look, which was unfortunately ignored by her blonde wife. Clarke pressed play on the pilot and they spent the rest of the day watching 2 parts of Tarzan, 2 parts of Little Mermaid and all 3 parts of Lion King. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- -Mommy can I go with you? Please!! - Ella was pulling Clarke's shirt.-Baby, I'm just going to pick grandma from the airport. - Blonde picked her little daughter up.-Yes, can I please go with you? Please, please, please, please! - Ella looked at her mom with her green puppy eyes. Eyes which were reminding Clarke of her wife's so badly. Lexa who was currently brushing Jasmin's hair laughed at her daughter's excitement.-I'll be gone only for 10 minutes. - Clarke smirked.-Please momma! - Ella wrapped her little hands around Clarke's neck and buried her face in it. -Will you promise to behave? -I promise. - Ella looked back up. Her eyes were instantly filled with joy and hope.-Okay, then you can go with me. -Yeeees! - Ella screamed and squeezed her hands to hug her blonde mom as hard as she could. Then Clarke put her down on the ground. -You've got 10 minutes to get ready. - Clarke warned her and Ella quickly ran to her room to do as her mom told her to. -Okay! - She shouted from the other room. Lexa let out small laugh, still taking care of her younger daughter.-And you're not taking your fairy wings with you! - Clarke's voice was searching for her daughter's attention.-Okay! - Tiny voice responded. -...Or any of your swords! - Clarke added. And that's when she heard disappointed growl.-Ooooh! - Ella appeared back in her sister's and brother's room.-Not even one? - She was confused. Her right hand was holding her favorite plastic, black sword with red decorations which she got on her last birthday from Lexa. Clarke was pretty pissed at the idea of giving her daughter a sword for her 4th birthday but anger faded away when she saw how happy this one, little, stupid thing made Ella. -Not even one. - Clarke stated.-What about my cow suit? Can I wear it? - a hint of hope was dancing inside Ella's eyes.-No. You're going to at least once look like a normal human being without anything that might grab other people's attention, okay? - Clarke's voice was strict. When 4 year old felt it her eyes shifted to her other mom.-Momma?- she was searching for Lexa's approval. Lexa was always letting her children wear and do whatever they wanted to, because she just couldn't say no. Even if it meant everyone staring at them or being kicked out of the mall like last year when she took them on Christmas shopping and somehow Ella and Jasmin were making other kids cry and Aden and Jake who were wearing cowboy and dragon suits, were pushing everything off the shelfs including glasses and vases. Clarke's eyes moved to her wife.-Lexa. - she warned her. And because Lexa was super horny all the time, now that she was in 8th month of pregnancy, she couldn't do anything to upset Clarke because that would mean no sex for her.-I'm sorry baby, but I'm on mommy's side. - Ella's eyes grew bigger with surprise. -Traitor! Traitor! - Ella shouted and pointed at Lexa. Clarke couldn't help but to laugh.-Okay. Okay little warrior. If you still want to go you better hurry. You've got 7 minutes left. If you're not ready I'm leaving without you. - Clarke stopped the shoutings. -Well come on help me. I don't know what to wear now! - Ella huffed. Then she grabbed Clarke's hand and pulled her towards her room, leaving Lexa and 2 year old alone. Clarke rolled her eyes and Lexa's laugh grew even louder. -Ouch! - tiny hands snapped her mother's. -Oh! I'm sorry baby. - Lexa almost totally forgot about another human being. She kissed the top of Jasmin's head and went back to brushing her hair. -Ella and momma are going? - She looked up. -They're just going to pick up grandma and Kane from the airport and they'll be right back. - Lexa was slowly explaining.-Grandma? - her blue eyes immediately opened as she heard her mother's mom coming. For the kids grandma rhymes with presents.-Yes. She's gonna be her in like 30 minutes. -Why? - Jasmin looked at her mom's face. -Mommy needs to go to work for a while and she's afraid Mickey will want to go out while she's gone, so she called grandma to be here if he does. - Lexa tried to explain it as simply as possible so 2 year old's brain won't explode. -Why? - 'There it goes. Series of 'why' questions' Lexa thought to herself. -Because grandma can help. -Why?-So I won't be alone. - Jasmin shifted her head curiously. -You not alone momma. You have me. - Smile danced in the corner of Lexa's lips. -Thanks baby. - She kissed her daughter's forehead. -But I think mommy wants me to be in a company of someone a little bit older and more experienced than you. - Jasmin looked down with confusion.-Mommy doesn't like me? -No! No. That's not what I meant. Mommy loves you. Very, very much. - Lexa kneeled in front of her blonde daughter who was patiently sitting on the chair, waiting for the answer. Lexa was trying to find a response which will help her explain 2 year old what she meant or at least smoothly change topic without hurting her feelings. -She just wants grandma to help us when she's gone. That's all. And I bet granny will be more than happy to help us to make your favorite apple pie tomorrow. - big smile instantly appeared on little girl's face. -Apple pie? - her blue eyes were shining.-Yeah... -Alwight. Then I guess granny can come. - she stated proudly. 'Smooth Lexa. Smooth.' Lexa thought to herself. -Okay. Now go check on your brothers. They're being weirdly quiet. Go and see if they're still alive. - Jasmin jumped from the chair and quickly moved on her chubby, little legs towards her older brother's room. Lexa groaned as she pushed herself up. It was more and more difficult for her to move everyday. Then she followed her daughter for a while but turned right to enter Ella's room, finding her with hands in the air while Clarke was trying to put a shirt on her. Once Clarke did, she could hear her daughter sighed loudly. -I don't like this shirt. - her face was all grumpy. -You just said a second ago, that it's alright! - Clarke was at least irritated.-But I don't like it now! - Ella followed her mother's lead and her voice raised its volume. Lexa laughed and in the same moment Clarke was aware of her presence. -Don't laugh! It's not funny! It's the third time I put a shirt on her and she says she doesn't like it! We should be in the car already Lexa! Help me! - But Lexa laughed even harder seeing her wife and daughter both irritated. Ella was looking like Clarke's smaller version which was making Lexa laugh even harder. -Come one Ella. Give your mommy a break. You look very pretty in this shirt. - She said not moving from the doorframe.-I don't feel pretty. - She huffed. Lexa moved toward her daughter and kneeled in front of her. -But you are. No matter what you're wearing. And... if you agree wearing this shirt now and won't give me or your mommy any reasons to get mad, we can make an apple pie tomorrow with granny if you want. - Ella stretched her face widely. -Apple pie? - her jaw dropped.-Yeah... - Lexa smiled.-Promise? - She asked.-Only if you promise to be a good girl today. - Lexa pulled her pinky finger in front of her daughter with a smirk on her face.-I promise! - Ella didn't hesitate to tangle her mother's finger with hers. -Okay. Now go quickly put your shoes on or you're be late. - Ella didn't waste any second and ran to the doors where her shoes were waiting for her. Lexa looked at Clarke who was already staring at her wife with her eyebrows up. -Apple pie? Seriously Lexa? Why do you always have to buy them with something? -I already promised it to Jasmin so I killed two birds with one stone. - Clarke rolled her eyes then she pushed herself up.-Well... - She grabbed Lexa's hands and helped to get her pregnant wife off the floor. -Tomorrow that's gonna be your problem. I'm taking few days off. - She kissed Lexa's wet lips.-How's that... You're going back to work and yet I'm the one who's gonna be working? -That's called being lucky. - Clarke smirked.-No. That's called 'too many kids'. - They both laughed. Clarke pressed her lips against Lexa's once again. -But they're worth it. - Clarke whispered pulling away from the kiss. -Moooom! Aden and Jake are playing on the play station! - Jasmin shouted from another room.-No, we're not! - Jake answered.-Yes, you are! -No, we're not! - Aden supported his brother.-Yes, you are! - Jasmin continued stubbornly. -Are they really?- Lexa whispered against Clarke's lips. Clarke laughed. -Most of the time they are... - Lexa rolled her eyes and captured Clarke's red lips. Then pushed her tongue inside her wife, ignoring the shoutings in the background. -Okay I gotta go. - Clarke moved back but her wife pressed their lips together again. Lexa only hummed. Her eyes closed.-I really do... - Clarke continued between kissed. Lexa's eyes still closed. -Few more minutes. - Lexa whispered and then forced her tongue's entrance into Clarke's mouth and blonde couldn't complain at all. -In few minutes my mother's gonna be calling me and telling me she's waiting at air... - She didn't get the chance to finish because Lexa didn't let her. They were tasting each other when they heard Jasmin, Aden and Jake shouting in choir;-Moooooom!!! - Clarke started laughing while Lexa rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. -You take care of those monsters and I'll go grab my mom and Kane. - Clarke stated. -I don't think I have a choice. - Lexa stated. -Mooooom! Are you coming? - Jake shouted again. -Please don't be gone for too long. - Lexa's eyes were begging Clarke to not leave her alone. -I won't. I promise. - She quickly kissed Lexa's lips one more, last time and then disappeared. Few seconds later Lexa could hear main doors closing and she knew Clarke and Ella left. Lexa was still standing in her oldest daughter's room. -Mooooom! - Jasmin continued. -I'm coming and you better have a good reason to be shouting so loud that the whole neighborhood can hear you!!! - Lexa turned around and moved to Jake's room.-What is going on here?!? - Lexa shouted as she saw Jasmin laying under her two brother's asses. The whole room was just one big mess. Blankets were all over the floor just like the pillows, toys and the mattress. Jake's clothes were hung on the chandelier or the shelfs. And Aden and Jake were wearing only their underwear, but not where the underwear is supposed to be but they were wearing it on their heads. -Jake Adam Griffin-Woods what the hell happened with your room? - Lexa stated after few minutes of carefully scanning her son's bedroom. -Mommy said a bad word! You have to have 3 minutes of punishment! - Aden stated. -Not now Aden. Mommy can use it when she's carrying Mickey and when you guys are making me feel really, really mad. - she answered. Not shouting but her voice nonetheless scary. -And get off of sister! Now! - Jake and Aden immediately stood up, letting their sister go. -They played on the play station! - Jasmin added. Lexa, seeing her sons getting anxious and sending Jasmin mean looks, knew what she said was true.-After me and mommy told you not to play on it?- Lexa challenged them. -We're sorry. - they answered in choir, staring at the floor. -Granny is going to be here in less than 30 minutes and if you want to see her, you better clean this mess before she gets here. Are we clear?- Lexa's voice was steady and strict. She rarely used it because Clarke was usually the one who was punishing kids... at least that's how it's been since she got pregnant. -Yes, mommy. - they answered and started cleaning up. Lexa's anger faded away a little bit as she saw how obedient the boys were. -Put your clothes on first. - She continued with milder voice. Then she moved toward the desk and grabbed the play station. -And I'm taking this with me. -But momma... - Jake protested.-Don't 'but momma' me here. It's as hard for me as it is for you, but your mom would kill me if I wouldn't do it. I told you to not play on it and you did. Now you have to meet the consequences. Come on Jas... Let's eat some ice creams while they're cleaning up. - Jasmin grabbed her mother's hand with a huge smile.-Ooh! We want ice creams too! - Aden growled while pulling his pants on. -You can have some after you clean up the room. - Then she closed the doors and walked with Jasmin to the kitchen. She grabbed two ice creams. One Vanilla for Jasmin and one strawberry for her.  ~~~~~~~~~~~ -Come one Ella. Granny texted me they're already waiting. We have to hurry. -I'm coming momma! - Ella responded while getting down from her car seat. She grabbed Clarke's hand and they both marched toward the airport. Next to the meeting point Abby and Kane were already waiting. Searching for Abby's daughter. -Granny! - Ella let go of Clarke's hand and ran towards her grandma. As soon as Abby heard tiny voice she spotted little girl and when Ella was close enough, she hugged her and picked her up. -Hi Ella! I haven't seen you in so long. You've gotten so big. How old are you already? - Abby peppered Ella's face with kisses.-Four.-Four? You're sure you're not ten? I could swear you're ten already! - she hugged her granddaughter even tighter.-No granny! I'm four! - Ella laughed while Kane was tickling her. In the same moment Clarke finally approached them.-Hi mom. - she stepped closer and hugged her mother. -Hi baby.-Hi Kane. - she did the same with Kane. -Hello Clarke. - Kane welcomed her warmly in his arms.-Okay Ella, let granny go. - Clarke ordered as she knew for sure, that Abby's age wasn't helping with holding her daughter. She stood on the ground once again and then all four of them moved toward the exit.-How was the flight? -Oh! It was wonderful! Six hours of praying and here I am! - Abby chuckled. Flying was never her thing. It's better than 20 hours of driving though.-I'm sorry mom for dragging you here. It's just Raven and Anya are working, Lincoln and Octavia have their own kids to take care of and Lexa's parents are coming back from Europe in two weeks and I really don't want to leave Lexa alone now. Especially now. - Clarke explained while putting her mom's and Kane's bags into the trunk. -Oh don't apologize! I totally understand. Baby might want to come out any day now and it's dangerous to leave Lexa without anyone who might help her. Besides, Kane and I wanted to take few days off anyway and spending them with my grandchildren and daughter in law? I don't think there's a better way to spend it. -Not with me? Thanks mom. - Clarke chuckled while fasting Ella's seat belts. -Okay. With my grandchildren, daughter and daughter in law. Better?-Better. Although I think you might change your mind in like maximum three days. Those kids of mine started being a little bit annoying and rebellious so... You might wanna be prepared. - Clarke turned the car on. -I am prepared. And I don't think anything can change my mind. -Mommy am I annoying? - Ella asked curiously from her child seat. -No baby, you're an exception. Just don't tell your siblings. - Clarke smirked.-Okay. - Ella responded gladly and went back to eating her lollipop which she got from Kane. -Yeah she is... - Clarke mouthed to her mother and Abby couldn't help but to laugh. -So how's Lexa doing? - Kane asked from the back seat next to Ella. -Like usual. She says everything hurts and she wants Mickey out of her already. - Clarke and the rest laughed. Everyone except Ella. She didn't get the joke.-But on the last check up doctor said everything's fine and that he shouldn't be going anywhere for at least next week. Which honestly made me feel a little bit better, although I still feel terrible for leaving her. - Abby put her reassuring hand on Clarke's right arm. -Oh honey. I talked to Lexa yesterday and she said you're more freaked than she is. She understands why you have to go and while you're gone we're gonna take care of her. - Abby sent Clarke a smile and even though Clarke was looking at the road she saw it.-Yeah, thanks for that once again. - Clarke continued stubbornly.-Oh I told you to stop with this thanking! Better tell me how's she doing with her hormones? - Abby asked while opening the window.-Surprisingly great, you know? Way better than when she was pregnant with Jake. -And mental breakdowns? - Kane cut in.-Almost none. - Clarke answered, almost not believing in what she's saying. Abby and Kane raised their eyebrows.-Wow. -I know... - Clarke stated proudly. -This one is going to be an angel. - Kane laughed.-I hope so. We could really use one. At least one. -Oh come on! They're all angels. Look at her. - Abby turned around and pointed at Ella who was cutely sucking on her lollipop. -There's not a single bad thing about her. - Clarke couldn't help but to laugh.-Oh you'll see. Lexa already promised them apple pie tomorrow so you can call me and say 'You were right Clarke' once your done and once you realized that I was.-Yeah! Mommy promised we will make apple pie tomorrow if I don't do anything to upset momma. - Ella looked at Kane with her big green eyes.-I don't think that'll happen Clarke... - Abby continued.-I don't think that either. You're too stubborn to admit I'm right. - Clarke looked at her mom with a smirk after she parked her car in front of their house. Ella immediately opened the car door and ran towards the house door. She was pulling Abby's hand. Clarke and Kane were taking their cases out of the trunk. -Come one granny! I'll show you my swords! - Clarke could hear her daughter shouting from the distance. Once the door opened Abby's leg was hugged by a little human.-Granny!!! - Jasmin shouted not letting go of Abby's leg. -Hi Jasmin!- She picked her up.-Wow! You're such a pretty girl. Look at you. You have so many teeth already! Last time when I saw you you didn't have those three. - she pointed at her granddaughter's teeth. -I'm big now! - Jasmin smiled proudly. Clarke and Kane entered the house and Jasmin immediately wrapped her arms around Kane's neck. After taking shoes off they moved deeper inside finding Lexa sitting on the chair in the kitchen. -Hi mom! I'm sorry I didn't meet you at the doorway. Honestly I can't even move from this chair. - Abby smiled seeing her daughter's wife and quickly wrapped her arms around her.-Oh don't apologize sweetie. It's nice to see you. - She let go of her grip. -It's nice to see you too mom. - In the same moment Kane and Clarke entered the room. -Hi Lexa. - he moved to hug Lexa too and Lexa welcomed him warmly in her arms. -Hi Kane. Long time no see huh? And please... no comments about how huge I am... I know... Believe me I heard everything from Raven and my annoying older sister. In fact I was on the phone with them right now. Just when I thought I heard every joke about pregnant women... once again... Raven and Anya proved me I was wrong. - Lexa laughed. Abby and Kane followed her lead. -I'm gonna kill them. - Clarke growled before she pressed her lips on Lexa's. -Yes please! - Lexa smirked. But then a silence filled the air. The silence which was usually unwelcomed in their house. Something wasn't right so Abby asked,-Why is it so quiet here? Where are my favorite boys? - she looked at Lexa but the pregnant woman groaned loudly. -What did they do now? - Clarke asked knowingly.-They turned Jake's room into a total mess. When you add their ages, its total won't even be ten and yet they somehow managed to get the mattress of the bed and throw it across the room. Of course as usual they HAD to take their clothes off and put their underwear on their heads. When I entered the room they were trying to shush Jasmin under their butts. We have a serious work to do Clarke. If it's gonna be like this, then we can as well call them Tarzan and Terk instead of Aden and Jake. So they're cleaning the mess now. I told them to not leave the room until it's perfectly clean. Oh! Clarke I also took their play station because they were playing on it again. I hid it in our wardrobe. - Abby laughed. -Don't worry. It's just a phase. It'll pass once they go to school. - she said.-I hope so. If they're like that while they're two and three, then I don't even want to think about how they're going to behave when they're sixteen or seventeen. - Clarke continued while pouring some water into the glass. -Anyone hungry? I mean anyone except Lexa who is obviously hungry as always... I'm sure you want to eat something after the flight. - Clarke's eyes shifted between Kane and her mom.-Oh thanks baby. It's not enough that my sister and her wife are bullying me... you have to too... - Lexa answered from the table where she was sitting. It's not like Clarke's wrong but she doesn't have to say that to everyone. -I'm just kidding! You know I love you no matter how much you eat. -You better. - Lexa raise her eyebrow. -So are you hungry? Pizza? Maybe we can go to the restaurant if you're not tired? - Lexa proposed.-No, we ate in the plane plus I don't think going to the restaurant it's something easy for you now. - Kane suggested. -Oh please. You talk like Clarke. I'm pregnant not disabled. If you want to go to the restaurant, then let's go. I can still do it. - Clarke moved toward her wife.-Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. We can order something here. - Clarke denied.-Actually you heard a doctor. He said I SHOULD be moving around. -Moving around? Yeah? Not going to the fancy restaurants with 4 kids who have no idea how to behave and who are running all over the place making you feel stress. -Now you're using kids as a justification huh? I'm the lawyer here Clarke. Remember? - Lexa smirked.-I don't care. You're not going anywhere. - Clarke warned her.-Okay boss. - Lexa held her hands up in the air as the act of surrender. Abby and Kane started laughing. In the same moment Aden and Jake appeared in the room.-Granny! Kane! - they shouted while wrapping their hands around guests' necks.-Did you finish cleaning your room? - Lexa asked. -Yes momma. - Aden answered from Kane's arms.-Can we have our play station now? - Jake continued.-No. You won't get it back until the end of the month. - Clarke's hands were put on Lexa's shoulders. Her answer was met with furious growl.-But ma! -We did what you asked!-Actually not really. We told you to not use play station and you didn't listen. Now you won't see it for another month. - Aden and Jake only huffed frustratingly. -Granny where are the presents? - Jasmin changed the topic while she quickly sat on Lexa's lap.-Baby it's rude to ask that. Besides, granny coming doesn't always mean you have to get presents. - Brunette mom corrected her daughter. Her green eyes focused on Jasmin's blues. -Actually... - Abby started while opening the cases. -I do have something for you. -Mom. I told you to not get them anything. They're already spoiled enough by Lexa. - Clarke argued and Lexa sent her denying look. -Oh please! I don't get to see them that often so spoiling them from time to time is my duty as a grandmother. - Abby chuckled.-This is for Jake... - She pulled a huge dinosaur which was basically the size of a 3 year old boy. Jake hugged his Velociraptor and didn't say a word as he turned around and showed his new toy to his moms. -Jake... what are you supposed to say? - Clarke asked. Not even surprised at the present. Jake's room is filled with all different kinds of dinosaurs. He has dinosaurs painted on the walls, toy dinosaurs on the shelfs, his bed sheets are decorated with dancing T-Rex's. Even his pajama was covered in extinct species. -Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!- Jake wrapped his hands around Abby's waist and buried his head in her stomach. Abby hugged him back with a huge smile on her face. In the meantime Kane took out the second present.-This one is for Jasmin... - He handed her a purple Furby. They remembered how last time when they saw each other, Jasmin couldn't stop talking about it. 2 year old screamed loudly with her tiny voice. She's been waiting for it for so long. She jumped right into Kane's arms and placed filthy kiss on his cheek.-Thank you!! - her shoutings continued. Kane didn't mind having tons of her saliva on his face after her messy kisses. -This one is for Ella... - and Ella's eyes widened as she heard her name. And then became even twice as big when she saw her grandmother handing her two light sabers from Star Wars, one red and one blue plus a black cape. Abby put the cape on Ella and then handed her the swords. Brunette moved both of them few times, that's when she heard sound coming out of them. It truly sounded like swords in the actual movie. -Woah... - that was the only word that could express Ella's feelings in that moment. -Great. More swords. - Clarke mumbled grumpily. -Thank you granny! Thank you! I love it! - she looked at her grandmother for a second before her eyes went back to scanning her presents.-Me! Me! It's my turn now! - Aden demanded to be taken care of too. His hands in the air to make sure is grandma has noticed him.-Oh yeah! I've got something for you too. I heard you got a little bit into painting, like your momma... So we decided to get you this... - Abby pulled out a book with choral, paints, color pencils and pens and all different kinds of materials in all different kinds of colors which will help him get better in painting. Aden just like his twin sister started screaming. It wasn't like a short scream though. He was screaming for a good 5 minutes until Clarke decided it was enough.-Okay buddy. I think that's enough. Maybe you should open it first. - she chuckled and her son listened. He took a present from Abby and started screaming once again. They all started laughing at Aden's reaction. He hugged his grandma and there was no further need for 'thank you'. -But Aden remember... there's no painting on the walls beside the art room. Understood? - Lexa asked. Aden was only two so his paintings weren't obviously as good as Clarke's but he sure as hell had potential. Last time when Clarke and Lexa bought him coloring materials, the next morning they found him asleep on the floor, covered in paint just like the walls of his room. That was when Clarke and her wife got an idea of creating art room. It was basically a room downstairs next to play room and cinema... which walls weren't decorated with anything but their family's paintings. Its whole floor was covered in paint and paintings just like the couch, table and the few chairs. Clarke and Aden were often guests there but sometimes the whole family would gather and spend whole day just painting... the walls, furniture, floor and even sometimes each other. That was the only room where kids could paint whatever they wanted, wherever they wanted. Every few months, when Lexa and Clarke would decide there's no more space on the walls, they'd cover the walls in wall paint and after it's dry... they'd start from the beginning. They both agreed it was one of their best ideas. In that way kids could express themselves any way they wanted without getting punished. -Yes mommy! - his tiny hands were squishing his present. -You can take this book on the trips with you when the art room isn't available... -Abby explained and Aden's eyes shined brightly. He nodded in response. Then Lexa spotted Jasmin rubbing her eyes and Ella yawning.-Okay guys I think it's time for bed now. -Nooo! - kids responded. -Yeaaaaah! - Clarke mimicked her kids.-Come on. It's 10 pm already. You all should be already sleeping. You can play with your toys tomorrow. - Lexa continued, rolling her eyes at Clarke's behavior. Surprisingly the kids listened and marched to their bedrooms. Whole day on the playground and in the park must have exhausted them.-Ella... let's get you to the bath real quick and then we'll put you to the bed. Okay? - Clarke stopped Ella by grabbing her wrist. While the rest of her siblings were already clean and tidy, Ella decided to go pick grandma and Kane from the airport, never getting a chance of going into the bath.-Can I take my swords with me?-No baby. But you can play with them tomorrow the whole day. - and Ella nodded sadly agreeing to her blonde mother's terms. -Okay. Now go to the bathroom and take your clothes off. I'll be right there. - four year old followed the order. Then Lexa quickly grabbed Clarke's wrist just when she was about to go after her daughter and turned her around. -I'll go wash her. You can go and say goodbyes to the kids. You won't see them for the whole next week. - Lexa pushed herself up the chair. -Thanks baby. - Clarke kissed her wife's lips then turned around to face Abby.-Mom, Kane, we'll put kids to sleep real quick and we'll be right back. -Oh! Take your time! They're gonna miss you for the next week. Don't worry about us. Although... Lexa I think you should just sit down and rest. I can go wash Ella. - She pushed her daughter in law towards the living room.-Thank you mom, but that's not really necessary. I can do it. It's not that big of a deal. - Lexa argued even though all she wanted to do right now was to sit on their comfy couch, place her head on Clarke's shoulder and fall asleep. -Sit. - She pushed Lexa onto the couch.-I'll take care of it. That's why I'm here after all. - she smiled.-Thanks... - that's the best Lexa got. Whole day of playing with her kids exhausted her more than she thought it would. Then Clarke and Abby left to take care of kids, leaving Kane and Lexa alone. -Oh! Would you like something to drink? I can make... - Lexa started but was quickly cut off.-Stop Lexa. I don't need anything. - he laughed.-Just relax. Better tell me how are you doing? You look pretty tired. - Kane asked while pushing a glass of water into Lexa's hands.-I feel pretty tired. Kids have exhausted me today. We were supposed to go on a quick walk just for the ice creams to the park and ended up at the playground for another 4 hours. - Then she chuckled as she realized something.-Oh my God. Clarke really is right. I can't say no to them. - Kane followed her laugh.-Don't worry. Nobody can. That's just how it is with parents and kids. - his smile was warm and full of understanding.-Maybe you want to go to your bedroom. You don't have to stay here with us. Really. Carrying small human inside is more than an enough justification. -No, I'm good thanks. I'm going to enjoy those few hours with you before I go back to the bed, finding Jasmin trying to fight not falling asleep. -She still slips into your bed at night? - Kane asked from where he was sitting in front of the fireplace.-Uh-uh. It's mostly her but sometimes Aden does too. Although it's better than before. It used to happen almost every day and now it's like only one day every week. It's a working progress. - they smiled.-It'll pass. I remember Ontari doing exactly the same thing when she was their age. She got over it once one of her friends told her it was 'childish'. - Kane's eyes instantly shined brighter as he mentioned his daughter.-By the way, how's she doing? She's still with Roan? - Lexa continued the topic.-Yeah. We visited them two weeks ago with Abby. They looked really happy, now that they moved to Florida. I even got the news I'm gonna be a grandpa... - he announced, trying to hide is excitement.-Seriously? Wow! Kane that's great! I'd run for the hug if not the fact that I can't move. That's incredible! Congratulations! Although... you know you're like a grandpa to our children too right? - Kane was Abby's partner but he wasn't Clarke's dad. Her dad died in a car accident when she was 15. Kane had his own daughter, Ontari with whom mother he got divorced before he met Abby. Ontari and Clarke were step sisters, but didn't talk to much since Ontari kissed Lexa and tried to get her while she was engaged with Clarke. -Thank you. You've given me so much love. Even if they don't call me their grandpa, I still feel like one and thank you for that. -You don't have to thank me. You're part of the family. They know it. We all know it. - Lexa held her tears back just like Kane.-We all know what? - Clarke entered the living room, then settled herself next to her wife. Lexa slowly put her head on blonde's shoulder.-That Kane's a part of our family. - Clarke hummed agreeing while drinking water from the glass, which she stole from Lexa's hands.-You are. You are and always will be. Seriously you bought them presents. You got yourself into that mess and now there's no going back. - they laughed. Clarke was 100% right. Once someone earned Griffin-Woods family's trust and love... that can't run away.-I'm not planning on going anywhere... - he answered while his eyes were following Abby who was slowly approaching them. They spent next two hours talking about what they missed in each other's lives. They were talking and talking and talking until Lexa decided that if she doesn't go to the bed right now, she can sleep on the couch as well. That was when they said their goodbyes and Clarke with her pregnant wife marched to their room. On their King size bed, tiny little human was already waiting for them. Lexa and Clarke looked at each other knowingly. They lay down on the bed, separated by their two year old daughter, who was fighting with tiredness.-It's okay baby. You can go to sleep now. We're here. - Lexa kissed Jasmin's forehead, while Clarke was pressing little girl's body to her chest. After few minutes Jasmin was already peacefully sleeping. Clarke couldn't stop admiring her wife's beauty.-You're staring. - Lexa finally broke the silence. Her eyes closed.-I'm gazing. -It's creepy.-It's romantic. - they laughed quietly, trying not to wake up Jasmin. Lexa rolled her eyes and looked at Clarke. -Did you tell kids you have to go tomorrow? - Brunette whispered.-I did. - Clarke whispered back with disappointment. -...And? -Aden started crying. It broke my heart. He said he wanted to paint in the art room with me tomorrow... - there was a tear falling down on Clarke's cheek. Lexa smiled with pity and wiped it away with her thumb.-Hey... It's only five days. They've been longer without you or me... They'll be fine. - Lexa tried to feel her wife better.-I know. I just feel horrible for leaving them. For leaving you. I should be here right now. I want to be here. -I understand. But it's gonna pass by super fast. You'll see. You'll finally finish this project which has been chasing you for the last seven months. Plus you'll get a break away from us. And we'll get a break away from you. - they laughed together. Their foreheads pressed together.-It's pissing me off that you're more calm about this than I am... -One of us has to be. - Lexa kissed the tip of Clarke's nose, trying not to crush Jasmin who was still peacefully sleeping between them.-How did Ella, Jake and Jasmin react? - Lexa changed the topic.-I don't think Jake and Jasmin heard me at all. They were to busy trying not to fall asleep. And Ella made her grumpy face, then only nodded and turned around. I don't know... maybe we should have told them earlier? -No. Remember the last time we told them I had to go on a business trip? They were all mad at me for the whole two days before I left. They barely spoke. Don't worry about it. Ella and Aden together aren't even seven. Tomorrow they'll forget they were even mad. - Clarke was carefully listening to every single word that was coming out of Lexa's mouth. Her eyes never leaving brunette's green.-Now go to sleep. You have to wake up at 5 am to make it for the plane. -Okay. - Clark agreed and closed her eyes. They were laying like that, foreheads pressed together with a little human between them for a few minutes until Clarke broke the silence.-I love you. - Lexa smiled to herself. Her eyes closed.-I love you too.-I'll miss you. - Clarke continued. Brunette opened her eyes and kissed blonde's lips.-I'll miss you too. - then they wrapped arms around each other and fell asleep soon after. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 2 years agoIt was 2pm and Lexa was still at work. She was trying to figure out the case her boss assigned to her weeks ago. She didn't think about anything else but just this stupid case for over a month which irritated especially Clarke who was currently in 4th month of pregnancy with their third baby. Brunette was sitting at her desk when she felt her phone vibrating. She could see it's a message from Clarke. After Lexa unlocked her phone she saw a picture of her 2 year old daughter Ella and 1 year old son Jake sitting on the couch with wide smiles, next to small coyote. Under the picture Clarke sent;  C: We found this cute dog on our way home and brought him to our house with Raven. He doesn't have any tags or anything. What should I do? Lexa's eyes widened immediately. She grabbed her phone and typed;  L: You're kidding me right? L: THAT'S NOT A FUCKING DOG BABY! It's a coyote!  C: Babe, I think I know a dog if I see one... L: OBVIOUSLY FUCKING NOT! PUT IT BACK OUTSIDE! When Clarke didn't answer Lexa grabbed her phone, entered Clarke's phone number and held it next to her ear. -... beep, beep, beep. Hey it's Clarke, apparently I can't talk right now. Leave your message after the signal. - Lexa ends the call. Then she calls again. -...beep, beep, beep. Hey it's Clarke... - Lexa hangs up. She makes the third call but her wife still seems to ignore her.  L: Clarke answer the phone! L: Clarke I swear to God it's a coyote! Get that thing out of my house!  Then her phone vibrates again. Clarke sent a picture of her two year old daughter hugging the wild animal. C: We named it Spot.  L: WHAT THE FUCK CLARKE?! TAKE MY CHILD AWAY FROM THAT ANIMAL! And why the fuck did you name it Spot?! IT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE SPOTS! THAT'S INSANE! TAKE IT BACK OUTSIDE! NOW! C: I'm not taking it back outside. It's scared.  L: OF COURSE IT'S SCARED! IT'S A WILD ANIMAL! I swear Clarke if anything happens to Ella or Jake we're getting divorced.  C: Stop text yelling at me. You're freaking out for no reason.  L: NO REASON?! THERE'S A FUCKING COYOTE IN MY HOUSE, NEXT TO MY CHILDREN AND MY WOMAN IS BEHAVING LIKE IT'S A CHIHUAHUA! YOU'VE LOST YOUR MIND!  C: Calm down, Jeez. Can we keep it?  L: Of course we can't! You can't adopt coyote! Nobody does that! And I don't want you or any of my kids being eaten by it! C: Chill your hormones. I don't even think coyotes eat people... L: SERIOUSLY?! YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT WAS A COYOTE UNTIL I TOLD YOU AND NOW YOU'RE GIVING ME FACTS ABOUT THEM?! I want it out of my house! C: Babe... You said we're gonna talk about having a dog after Christmas and then we never have... It's called faith.  L: IT'S NOT A DOG CLARKE! IT'S A COYOTE! THEY'RE NOT THE SAME! Then suddenly Clarke stopped responding which mad Lexa even more nervous. L: Clarke? L: Baby! Is everything okay?? Answer me!  C: Yeah, yeah... we're fine. It's just... Spot started pacing and making this weird noise. We tried to pet him but it seems like he doesn't like it. Raven already ran away to our bedroom and locked herself up, leaving me and the kids.  Lexa grabbed her coat and left the office. L: Clarke, take kids and follow this fucking coward. I'm on my way home and will be there in 30 minutes. DON'T MOVE FROM OUR BEDROOM!  C: It looks really pissed.  L: Who can blame it? Lock the door and wait for me. Now I gotta walk into my own house with a fucking pissed coyote in there and try to get it out. What the fuck?! You see the shit you get us into with your goddamn animal problems??In the same moment Lexa caught the cab and told the driver her home address.  C: Baby, there's no coyote...  Clarke finally texted. L: Of course there is! I know it's hard for you to get but it IS a coyote! Google dog and then coyote and you'll see I'm right.  C: No, baby. I know it's a coyote... it just wasn't here. Not in our house, not on the couch.  C: It's called photoshop. I'm sorry.  L: ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!? CLARKE I literally left my office and I'm in the cab, driving home!  C: I'm so sorry... Raven forced me to...  L: I fucking hate you.  Lexa told the driver to turn around.  L: You're gonna get me a heart attack one day.  C: Am I in trouble?  L: Guess... C: No? L: Have another guess...  Clarke didn't get sex for another two weeks. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Four and a half years earlier -Can you stop?! Can you just please stop?!? - Clarke shouted at Lexa who stopped the cuddling on their bed and went to the kitchen to put the dirty plates into the washing machine. She looked up confused, hearing her wife shouting.-What did I do? - she asked worried. Her green eyes meeting Clarke's blues.-Can you stop with this glorious walk of yours?- Clarke stated completely serious. Lexa smirked and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.-Do you hate me Lexa? - Clare continued. Her wife closed the washing machine and sat next to her favorite blonde.-Of course not. I love you Clarke. Why do you think that? - She asked. Confused again. -You put your sexy, black pants on today. You're licking your lips every ten seconds and now your walking your glorious walk! What the hell did I do to you?! - Clarke shouted completely serious, while Lexa couldn't help but laugh. She hugged her wife and kissed her forehead. -You know how horny that makes me. - Blonde almost cried. Her face buried in Lexa's chest. -I'm sorry baby. I didn't know. - Lexa was trying to hide her smile. Clarke's face was filled with pain.-You sure we can't do it just this one time? - blonde looked up. Hope shining in her eyes.-You heard the doctor. You can't have sex until the second trimester. - Lexa warned her. Her fingers brushing through the blonde's hair.-But it's one more month. - she grinned like a 3 year old. Lexa understood Clarke's urge of having sex, because she wants it too. She really does. Now that she found out Clarke's pregnant, she just wanted to make love to her all the time and she could only imagine what pregnant Clarke feels. She already read like thousand books about pregnancy and all of them say that women get even more horny when they carry a baby. But after Clarke was puking all the time, passed out and landed in the hospital Lexa wouldn't take the risk. Doctor told them they have to limit their sex life to zero until the second trimester comes. And Lexa was going to do whatever it takes to make sure her wife and baby are safe. -I know. I'm sorry. - She kissed Clarke's forehead once more. -I can't drink, I can't smoke and now I can't even make love to you. I'm slowly starting to regret this whole pregnancy thing. - Lexa chuckled at her wife's childish behavior because she knew what Clarke's saying isn't true.-Just one more month and then I promise we will have the most amazing sex we ever had. With candles and hot bath and... massage maybe? - Clarke's eyes lit up instantly.-Massage huh? - She looked up.-Yeah... - Lexa smiled, kissed the tip of Clarke's nose and licked her lips.-Ugh... You're doing it again. Stop teasing me or I'll force you to sleep on the couch tonight. - Clarke released herself from Lexa's grip and stood up.-I didn't do anything. - Even though she's one of the best lawyers in the country, she somehow can't manage to defend herself from Clarke.-You did this. - Clarke pointed at her tongue smudging her lips with angry blue eyes. Lexa smirked. -Don't laugh at me. - blonde huffed frustrated but it only made Lexa's smile wider. She stood up and put her hands on Clarke's waist.-Does that make you horny? - She smirked. Blonde only rolled her eyes avoiding Lexa's gaze.-Of course it does. Everything you do makes me horny with which I'm usually cool about but right now it's pissing me off. And this lip thing plus heart eyes plus... Oh God do you know how sexy your ass is? Well... it's not helping. - then she pointed at Lexa's ripped trousers.-Those pants are not helping. - she buried her face in crook of Lexa's neck.-Well I won't wear them anymore until we're cleared for sex. Would that make you feel better? - Brunette offered but her wife only shrug sadly.-I guess... What time is it? - Lexa quickly looked at her watch.-7:48. We should get going. Raven said to be at their place at 8. - Lexa pulled Clarke closer to feel blonde's scent better.-Okay... - she answered quietly, still sad at the thought of not being able to get laid for another month. But when Lexa moved away to get her jacket Clarke grabbed her wrist.-But you're not gonna wear those. - She pointed at Lexa's sexy pants. Actually Lexa really like her black pants with holes on her knees and thighs because they were way more comfortable than the rest of her ripped jeans and yet she has to admit her ass looked really sexy in it.-What do you want me to wear then? - She moved to the closet and pulled her leggings out. Her eyebrows went up.-No way. You wear those when you're going to the gym. Every time I see them on you, you're all sweaty and unbearably sexy in my mind. No. Those won't work. - she shook her head and Lexa without arguing put them back into the closet. She couldn't hide the smile which formed on her lips. She had no idea, that's what her wife thought of her every time she wore her grey leggings. Then she pulled her blue, ripped jeans out. They're a little bit too big so maybe Clarke wouldn't think of her 'unbearably sexy' in those.-You kidding me right? Baby every time you wear these pants we have sex. EVERY TIME. That's definitely a no-go. - she decided to lay herself down on the bed. It might take a while. -That's not true. I bet there were times when I've worn those and we didn't have sex. - she huffed.-Name one. - Clarke crossed her hands. Lexa tried to search deep in her mind for a moment when that happened. Minutes passed away. Blonde rolled her eyes.-Like today would be good. - Clarke teased while staring at her wife who only rolled her eyes. After a few minutes of silence she spoke.-I can't. You're right. These won't work either. - then she pulled out her gray sweatpants. -Babe, no. Nothing that involve you being sweaty. - Clarke said dead serious. -I didn't know me being sweaty turns you on. - she turned back to her love to search for something else. She didn't have to look at Clarke to know that a smile appeared on her face. -What if I don't wear pants at all? A skirt or a dress maybe? - her hands touching hangar after hangar. -How would you feel about me wearing a skirt or a dress on my position? - Clarke squeezed the pillow under her head forcing herself to not to look at her wife's butt. -No dresses or skirts then. Duly noted. - Lexa continued. -Hey... what about my black shorts? - she turned around facing her wife. -Yeah sure. 'Cuz your amazing, long legs don't make me horny at all. - Lexa felt the irony in her voice.-Then white trousers? -I can see your underwear when you wear them.-Jogging shorts?-I told you. No to sweaty you. -Normal jeans?-Way too sexy.-What about those awful jeans from '90's? The ones I wore on the Halloween party two years ago?-Those 'awful jeans' made you scream my name for good three hours. -Clarke! I'm out of ideas! I HAVE to wear something! - Lexa was a little bit more than frustrated at this point. They were standing in silence for a while trying to figure out what Lexa might wear that won't make an animal out of Clarke. Then blonde got up from the bed and with a smirk placed her hands on Lexa's waist. -I have an idea. ~~~~~~~~-Hey! You're here! Took you long enough... - Anya opened the door to find her sister and her wife. Clarke was smiling while Lexa felt rather embarrassed. Anya looked at her curiously.-Whoa... Lexa... Umm... I like your style. - she chuckled. Lexa only rolled her eyes pushing her way in and pulling Clarke's hand behind her. Everyone was already sitting in the living room. Bellamy, Echo, Raven, Octavia and Lincoln. They stopped talking and started laughing as they saw Lexa's suit. She was wearing Christmas pajama that their neighbor made for her and Clarke. Lexa and her wife would find it really ugly and hid it deep inside their wardrobe. They decided to never wear it until today. It was all shiny and colorful. It was chaotic and unorganized. Everything that Lexa hated. But if her wearing it would make Clarke feel better in any way, she'd do it no matter how much she disliked it. Bellamy whistled as Lexa and Clarke approached them and everyone laughed. -Well I wasn't expecting THAT! - Raven shouted. -Lexa you DO realize it's April right? - Anya continued tapping her sister's shoulder. Lexa rolled her eyes again in frustration. -Let it go guys. I forced her to wear it. - Clarke announced defensively while sitting on the couch next to her wife. -And why on Earth would you do that? Have you ever even seen Lexa's ass in her white trousers? I mean woah! Dang girl. Don't deny the world simple pleasures. - Octavia laughed. And everyone nodded approvingly which made Lexa blush a little. -Okay first of all... She's MY wife so no one besides me gets to look at her ass. Especially someone who's my best friend and is married... OCTAVIA.... - but Clarke's words didn't make her friend uncomfortable at all. Especially that she was certain Lincoln knew she was joking. -And second of all, I needed her to wear something that wouldn't make me want to screw her all the time. Especially now that I can't. So just be nice. - Clarke explained. -Oh right... How much longer you can't have sex? - Echo asked from Bellamy's chest. -One more month. - Lexa growled. -Ugh... I'm so sorry Clarke. I know how horny you feel right now and I don't know what I'd do on your place. - Raven put her head on Anya's shoulder. -Thanks Rayes. That's really nice. - she answered with irony. -So we were just playing the drinking game. - she continued with a smile. -You can't drink. - Clarke pointed at her stomach. She's pregnant too. -Yeah, I know that's why you and me are drinking apple juices. - she handled Clarke a glass filled with yellow, apple juice. -Ew. That doesn't sound fun at all. Besides I thought we were supposed to watch the movie? Isn't that why we're here? - she took the cup from Raven anyway but didn't even forced herself to smell it. -It's loading. I mean it was already loaded... but certain SOMEONE... - Anya looked directly at Bellamy. -Wanted to play some music and 'accidentally' turned it off. So... yeah... -It was an accident! I'm sorry okay?! - he tried to defend himself. -Okay. Okay. Let's play the stupid game. But I'm drinking apple juice too. - Lexa stopped the shoutings and wrapped her arms around Clarke. Brunette's chest was pinned to blonde's back, her legs spread apart to welcome Clarke between them. -Oh no! You're not gonna make me look like a bad wife here. - Anya tried to push a cup with vodka in it, inside Lexa's hands. But her sister wouldn't take it.-If Clarke doesn't drink, I don't drink. - she shook her head but Clarke took the cup from Anya and gave it to Lexa.-It's okay. At least one of us can have some fun. - she said with a smile.-You're sure? - she asked with a concern but all she got in return was an intense kiss. -Okay you guys are way to cute with each other. You should stop it or I'll puke. Bellamy it was your turn. - Anya moved uncomfortably in Raven's arms. It's still her little sister. -Okay. Umm... Never have I ever had sex in the pool. - and everyone grabbed their cups without hesitation. -Well that was easy. - Echo said. -Never have I ever... screwed someone twice my age... - and her question was followed by Raven taking a drink.-What?! Who?! - Anya asked ridiculously.-Well Lexa you remember your dickhead math teacher back in high school? - she continued proudly.-Don't tell me Reyes you screwed my math teacher! Is that why he hated me so much?! - Lexa was frustrated. She remembers her wasting her time on studying to his stupid exams much harder than the others because he had a problem with her. And even if her answers were exactly the same as others she'd always get the worse grade. -Well we kinda got into fight so maybe.-Raven! I was working my ass off whole second semester because of you! I thought he was such a dick because he was homophobic or something... Seriously?! Why did you even do it? He was really gross.-Can we please stop talking about it? Please? - Anya suggested while closing her eyes. -Sorry babe. That was just one time. You know I love you. -she kissed ~~~~~As they were watching the film Lexa was shifting from time to time uncomfortably. Clarke couldn't hid the annoyance. -Babe. What is it? - she finally asked. -This thing smells weird. - Lexa whispered back, trying to get as little attention of their friends as possible. She pointed at her outfit. Clarke smiled at her dork. -It really does. I've noticed it as soon as you put it on, just didn't want to make you feel even more uncomfortable than you already were. I'm sorry I forced you to wear it. - Clarke kissed Lexa's jaw.-You didn't make me do anything. As long as it makes you less horny and more okay with me being around then I'll wear it. Every day if you want me to. - she kissed Clarke's temple. -Actually I think you look really cute in it. And if I had to choose, I would rather have you look cute in something that doesn't make you smell like an old lady with twenty-three cats and no life. - they chuckles but were quickly shushed by serious Octavia and Echo. Lexa took another sniff of her outfit and grinned. -More like fifty-three cats. - and Clarke couldn't help but to capture Lexa's round lips with her own. She pushed her tongue inside her and placed her hand on Lexa's cheek. Their eyes closed. Kiss after kiss. Then Clarke felt pillow hit her head. -Guys! This was supposed to be the night to keep you AWAY from making out. But if you really feel like licking each other's faces then you can go to the guest room. Just please let us finish the film... - Raven said frustrated and her statement was followed by a laugh. Clarke turned back to her original position, her back pressed to Lexa's hot breasts. -We're good. - she said innocently, even though she considered her friend's offer for a moment. But she quickly shoved it away knowing better that if she and Lexa would go there, there's no way their activities wouldn't go beyond just kissing. -We'll be good. - she repeated kissing Lexa's lips one last time, then turned to the TV and tried to ignore Raven's disgusted groan.
10553256
Little By Little
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Other", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Undertale (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Ravvi", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-06T00:00:00", "words": "1,405", "Additional Tags": "Underfell Sans, Underswap Sans, Cherryberry - Freeform, Soul Sex, Emotional Trauma, Trauma Recovery, an absurd amount of fluff, and an excessively happy ending, self deprecation", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Red woke with a start as a trickle of slick warmth dribbled down the front of his spine.  The lingering heat behind his sternum and the pleasant tingles still rippling across his pelvis made it abundantly clear that he’d been dreaming about something pretty damn exciting.  A wet dream? He’d actually had a wet dream?  What was he, twelve?  Fucking hell, he had to get to the bathroom before he made a mess of Blue’s bed.   Grimacing, he pulled back the covers, then froze, staring down at his bare chest.Holy fuck, his soul had manifested.  Why?!Go away!  He thought desperately to the construct hovering just behind his sternum. His soul cheerfully ignored him, exuding a thin, pale fluid from its rounded surface that slid obscenely down his spine.  Cursing softly, Red walked as carefully as he could to the bathroom, one hand cupped below his disobedient soul in an effort to catch any drips.  He made it to the sink, clumsily draped a towel over the countertop, then leaned forward and turned the spigot on.  The water was almost achingly cold against his hand, and he quailed, knowing how much it was going to suck to make his soul go away like this.  Clenching his teeth, he wet the corner of the towel, then began to bring it up under his ribs to the cracked, dripping surface beneath them.“Hey Red, are you-“Red’s head snapped up to look into the mirror, face burning with embarrassment.  Blue was standing behind him, sleepy face wide with surprise as he stared at the lewd glow painting the inside of Red’s ribs.“I-I-I…” Red swallowed, trying to push down the stutter that he could have sworn he’d finally stomped out.“Red,” Blue breathed, taking a step forward.Something about the tone of his voice made Red’s soul throb needily, brightening until the damn thing looked like a little sun hiding in his chest.   “S-s-sorry,” Red muttered, hands shaking as he ineffectively tried to cover the gaps in his ribs.  “I ju-UST-“ his voice cut off with a squeak as his soul passed through his spine and out of his body.  Blue looked at it with undisguised wonder as it boldly hovered in the air in front of him, completely exposed.  Red buried his face in the towel with mortification, wishing desperately that he could take it back.  Unhidden by his ribs, the cracks that laced its surface were damningly visible, dim and dark bands striping the otherwise pure surface.Ugly, damaged, shitty, broken-“Can I?” Blue asked softly, hands cupped below the essence of Red’s being.Red couldn’t speak.  He couldn’t have heard right, there was no way anyone would ever want to touch his ugly, broken soul, no way he should ever subject anyone to his hellscape of emotional baggage.  Especially not someone as kind and good his stupid little mercy-marshmallow of an interdimensional double.But…His soul quivered, and something inside him cried out at the thought of sending Blue away."Ok,” Red whispered, face still buried in the towel.Blue gently pressed one forefinger into his soul and slowly stroked downward.  “Haaahhh,” Red gasped, fingers and toes curling as a shiver ran through his entire body.  His bones felt light and warm, like he was floating.BeautifulhonouredloveyousomuchspecialwantyouWantToKeepGoing?Red nodded in answer to the unspoken question, overwhelmed by Blue’s positivity.  His eyesockets were wet and his face probably looked all stupid and soft right now, but it felt amazingly good when Blue gently took his soul in both hands and pressed his thumbs into the soft, slippery surface.“Haahhh-B-Bluuuueee,” Red groaned, leaning heavily on the countertop as little shivers of pleasure made his knees feel weak.   Blue’s thoughts kept trickling across the contact, growing stronger and stronger with each gentle rub.  His baffling positivity and unshakable belief that there was good in everyone was never harder to understand, because now Red could feel just how genuine it was, how firmly it was rooted in his personality.  The concept was literally a facet of his being.A sudden wave of despair cut through the blissful haze of pleasure like a knife.  Red gasped with a hard twitch, looking up into the mirror with sudden horror.  Oh fuck, he’d fucked this up somehow, Blue didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve-“Oh...oh stars.  Red I’m so, SO sorry…I,” Blue was holding his soul, looking down at it with concern.  “I touched one of the cracks and…” he trailed off, looking at the construct between his fingers with sudden curiosity.  The cracks had started to glow faintly, throwing jagged lines of light across Blue’s phalanges.Red could tell what Blue wanted to do before he asked. “Can I touch...?”NO.  H-he couldn’t, it didn’t feel good, he would probably die-“S-slowly,” Red heard himself whisper, still staring into the mirror.  Blue leaned forward, pressing his body against the curve of Red’s back as he brought the soul to his mouth and slowly licked along the deepest crack. He couldn’t keep doing this.  Day after day, working so much that he barely had time to fall into bed every night before it was time to do it all over again.  On and on, with no end in sight.  This was going to be his life.  Maybe for another year, maybe forever.  He didn't fucking know.  So…goddamn…tired… Red couldn’t feel Blue’s tongue touching his soul.  He could only see it happening in the mirror.  The scar in the essence of his being was literally numb, a crushing contrast to the beautiful sensitivity of before.  He took a shuddering breath, eyesockets burning as tears began to... What was the point?  There was nothing left to live for.  The second it looked like you had something, you became a goddamn target.  You lived in fear that what you’d worked your ass off for would be taken by someone else.  Not by somebody stronger, but by somebody who was just a little more desperate than you were… Tears welled up in the corners of Blue's eyes as he continued to gently lap at the crack in Red’s soul.   Echoes of the despair, fear, and exhaustion rippled through him, like a nightmare where he'd given up and was waiting for death to end it all.  Hopeless.  Desperately alone.  It was hard to keep going, hard to listen to all that pain and not fall into it himself.  Letting tears roll unchecked down his face, Blue pressed his tongue into the crack again.  It had a strange, scorched taste, like it had been burned. His head was aching.  They’d taken his clothes, his shoes, the little money he’d been carrying, left him broken, violated, and dying.  It was dark...he was cold... Red choked out a sob, and his knees buckled.  Blue eased him to the floor, holding him tightly... “Worthless piece of gutter trash,” the dog snarled, throwing him into a wall.  She lifted a heavy axe above her head, staring into his eyes.   “We were friends,” he whispered.  “I…” “Pathetic,” she slammed the flat of the axe across his face.  Pain slammed through his jaw and he reeled, raw magic dripping down his face. “You don’t deserve to survive.” Blue held Red in his arms as the little skeleton cried softly, pulling the soul away from his mouth.  Wordlessly, moved back to the undamaged parts and continued rubbing them gently, focusing on keeping the motion soothing and reassuring. Needed.  Loved.  Worthwhile. “Look,” he finally said quietly, holding Red’s soul in front of him.  Red sniffed, messily swiping at his eyesockets with the palms of his hands.   The cracks in his soul were glowing so brightly that it almost hurt to look at it, light dancing off the tiled floor and the walls around them as Blue continued his tender massage.  After a moment, the light pulsed, faded, and was gone.One of the cracks had disappeared.It was one of the smaller, lighter cracks, but Red knew the surface of his own soul, could sharply remember every incident that had cut him so deeply that he’d felt as though he was splitting apart.  The difference was startling.  Tentatively, he reached out and touched the newly unblemished surface where the crack had been, sucking in a breath as the construct quivered and a rush of tingles ran up his arm.He could feel it again.
10516824
Proshchieniie
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Kassim | Cassim (Magi), Alibaba Saluja", "Fandom": "Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic", "Language": "Русский", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Laliho", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2013-02-05T00:00:00", "words": "570", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Просто находиться рядом с Алибабой слишком утомительно. Он сомневается, как ребенок, дрожит от холода по ночам и слишком мягок, чтобы выжить в трущобах в одиночку. Он без Кассима пропадет.Кассим думает, что ненавидит Алибабу. За королевскую кровь, за чистоту, к которой не пристает никакая грязь, за улыбки и нежность, которая словно передалась от матери вся, без остатка. Ненавидит за робкое «Прости», которое Алибаба шепчет испуганно в его губы. За то, что Алибабу нельзя перекроить по своим меркам, использовать его, а потом пожертвовать им ради войны. Кассим ненавидит Алибабу за то, что не хочет жертвовать им — просто хочет сделать своим. Иногда — убежать с ним и спрятаться от всего мира. Вернуться в детство. Когда можно было еще обманываться верой, что они одинаковые. Когда не казалось, что несмотря на все свои слабости Алибаба в разы сильнее Кассима. Когда Алибаба был — почти как родной младший брат.Только детство умерло, лучистые глаза Алибабы переполняет тревога и задумчивость, и он изо всех сил старается быть для Банды Тумана хорошим лидером, раз за разом сжигая руки в огне своего джинна. Он сомневается, но все равно идет вперед, держит данное слово и, дрожа по ночам от холода, не жалуется и не требует особого к себе отношения.А Кассим убеждает себя не обращать внимания на его обгоревшие руки, не спрашивать, что его волнует, и курит, курит, курит, пока единственным вкусом на языке не остается горький дым. Кассим тайком ото всех приходит ночью в комнату Алибабы. Алибаба мечется во сне, тяжело дышит, и Кассим ненавидит эту лживую слабость, из-за которой его нестерпимо хочется защищать. Кассим залезает к Алибабе в кровать и изо всех сил обнимает его, чтобы перехватило дыхание, а от пальцев на коже остались следы. Кассим с предвкушением представляет, как его руки сомкнутся на шее Алибабы, как тот захрипит, задыхаясь, как выступят на его глазах слезы. Кассим четко ловит момент, когда Алибаба просыпается, и зажимает ладонью ему рот, но получает локтем под дых, и теряется на секунду, которой достаточно, чтобы Алибаба вырвался, вскочил с кровати и выхватил из-за пояса нож.Когда Алибаба понимает, кто перед ним, он с облегчением опускает руку и вопросительно смотрит на Кассима, пытаясь улыбнуться. Должно быть, думает, что это проверка. Возможно, он и прав. Кассим нужно удостовериться, что Алибаба не готов умереть так просто. Кассим не может находиться с ним рядом слишком долго. Он считает себя достаточно сильным, чтобы начать в стране войну, но не может смотреть в светлые глаза Алибабы или слушать, как тот хочет спасти людей в Балбаде. Кассиму ведь не нужен мир, его тело отравлено темной рух, и его не спасет друг-воспоминание из детства. Кассим пытается ненавидеть Алибабу, когда смеется над его попытками закурить, когда наблюдает, как он веселится с другими членами Банды Тумана, или когда по ночам молча сидит рядом с ним, не желая будить. Кассиму опостылел воздух трущоб. Кажется, что память о них нельзя будет вытравить ничем. Поэтому, когда Кассим как заведенный повторяет Алибабе, что тот больше ему не нужен, он очень хочет поверить в свои слова. Он изо всех сил храбрится, убеждая себя, что ненависть Алибабы сделает его сильнее. Он уже не может остановиться и сойти с выбранного пути. Даже если больше всего на свете он хотел бы стать достойным Алибабы, перестать быть трущобным отбросом.И все же иногда, осушив в одиночестве бутылку-другую отвратительно кислого вина, Кассим позволяет себе потешаться мыслью, что, сколько бы раз он ни выкинул Алибабу из своей жизни, как слишком дорогой и нервирующий мусор, тот все равно его простит. Вот только стоит ли Кассим прощения?
10529196
Sunset on M
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Alessio \"Alex\" Iodice, Gennaro Raia | Genn Butch", "Fandom": null, "Language": "Italiano", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by firecat_robotboy", "chapters": "3/3", "completed": "2017-04-24", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "39,055", "Additional Tags": "Gennex - Freeform, Lingerie, pink stuff, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Modeling, Fashion & Couture, Slash, Fluff and Smut, Urban Boyfriends", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Alessio Iodice & Gennaro Raia, Alessio Iodice/Gennaro Raia", "Series": "#FuckRiccanza", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Urban Strangers (Band), X Factor (Italy) RPF", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Eravamo insieme. Mi sono dimenticato il resto.  Walt Whitman       Genn.Uno due treGenn.Uno due tre"Genn ti levi i miei tacchi un attimo?"Shhh.Uno due tre"Genn guai a te se mi allarghi la pianta e non ci posso più camminare.""La smetti Amè? Mi sto esercitando.""Lo so che ti stai esercitando. Ma quelle sono le mie Loubotin blu polvere e ho solo quelle di quella sfumatura. Poi ho quelle cerulee e quelle turchesi. Le blu notte me le hai già rovinate, guai a te se mi rovini anche queste."Genn sbuffa e se le toglie. Ha passato il turno per Fendi, lo show sarà la prossima settimana, e sente già l'ansia salire. Non gli piace essere impreparato. Cerca di indossare i tacchi il più possibile a casa, per migliorare la postura e l'equilibrio. Gestisce anche il dolore con più sicurezza, e sa anche cosa fare quando le scarpe gli vanno grandi. Nelle runaways le scarpe in dotazione non sono mai della misura giusta, sempre qualche numero di più o di meno, devi imparare a giostrarti con disinvoltura anche in quei casi.Si esercita sempre a casa, con l'equilibrio, la postura, i vestiti stretti, tutto. Sta pensando anche di comprarsi un corpetto per imparare a trattenere il fiato o comunque respirare il minimo. Due settimane fa allo show di Saint Laurent ha avuto diversi giramenti di testa, i modelli erano tutti più magri di lui ma comunque gestivano la respirazione meglio."Ma perché non ti compri un paio di tacchi per te?" Amelia si sporge verso l'angolo beauty affianco al letto e si passa le dita sotto il trucco sbavato degli occhi. Non sa il perché. In effetti dovrebbe. "Quattordici centimetri, per essere tranquillo." "Hai ragione." Sua sorella si volta verso di lui con un sorriso. "Nervoso per Fendi?"Genn sbuffa. Ovvio che è nervoso. Sente di non aver fatto abbastanza a Saint Laurent, il photocall è stato strano, i suoi colleghi l'hanno guardato male per tutto il tempo perché i pantaloni di pelle aderentissimi erano stretti in vita. Non riesce a smaltire il baby fat sullo stomaco. Ha provato di tutto davvero.Ma non ha voglia di prendere farmaci né di cominciare i lassativi, è davvero uno schifo e non vuole. L'unica sarebbe cominciare la palestra, ma il solo pensiero lo stanca."Gè!" Gennaro sbatte gli occhi e si volta verso la sorella. "Il tuo telefono sta esplodendo, lo controlli un po'?" Genn sbuffa e raggiunge il telefono sul letto. Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Grindr, Instagram, Alex... Aggrotta le sopracciglia. Perché ha ancora Grindr installato? Sblocca l'iPhone e apre l'applicazione. Più di mille messaggi e notifiche. Sgrana gli occhi mentre ne apre uno a caso.  Mio dio come sei carino, vorrei tanto prenderti e sbatterti-  No ok.  Ma tu sei Genn? Genn Raia?  No ok no.  Cristo, dovresti essere il re dei twink, con quelle labbra e gli occhioni... Vorrei tanto venirt-  Woah.  Ti ho visto a Saint Laurent, sono un fotografo, ti andrebbe di-  Genn sbuffa.  Ma lo sai che ho sedici anni?  Scrive. Ridacchia e chiude l'applicazione. Clicca sull'icona fino a farci comparire sopra la X e la elimina del tutto.Il telefono gli vibra fra le mani. Alex. Sorride in automatico mentre apre i messaggi. Ce ne sono altri non letti, l'agenzia, il suo manager, il parrucchiere, Ivan e Sheen. Ignora tutti e va direttamente ai messaggi non letti di Alex.  Gè ti stai esercitando coi tacchi?   Come va la postura?   Gè, vuoi che ti prendo un bustino per il respiro????  Genn comincia a ridere mentre sente sua sorella sbuffare. "È Alex?" "Amè sei ancora qui? Non eri venuta solo per le Christian?" Forza le lettere finali per imitare alla perfezione l'accento francese. Amelia sorride e raccoglie le sue Loubotin da terra "Le ho prese le Christian, grazie tante. Fammi sapere se te ne serve un paio, domani sono a Parigi, te le porto da lì." Genn mugugna e torna al telefono. Clicca sull'icona dei messaggi vocali e comincia a parlare."Alè mi sto esercitando ok? Ma mia sorella non mi vuole più dare le sue Loubotin, domani mattina vieni con me e andiamo a rubare un paio di tacchi da Tod's!"Poco dopo che ha inviato il messaggio, gli compare sullo schermo la foto di lui e Alex con le labbra a papera. È un selfie che si sono fatti due settimane fa mentre imitavano la duckface perenne di un'attrice.Sorride in automatico mentre scorre il dito sullo schermo e sospira. "Alè..." "Non andiamo a rubare niente, Gè, col cazzo. Non ci tengo a finire in galera, grazie tante. Se tua madre ti ha bloccato di nuovo la carta usiamo la mia, mio padre ci ha sbloccato i conti del nonno, almeno." "Ma Alè così mi smonti! Era un'avventura!" Genn mette su il broncio e si butta indietro sul materasso. La seta rosata delle lenzuola emette un fruscio dolce mentre Genn si rilassa completamente."Gè. Ti ricordi l'ultima avventura al cocktail party Campari? Mio padre non mi ha rivolto la parola per tre giorni." "Vabbè ma è stato l'anno scorso!" "Sì e tu la settimana prossima hai Fendi. Come si fa?"Il biondo si rigira fra le lenzuola e raccoglie le ginocchia al petto. Le gambe gli pizzicano da morire, dall'ultima ceretta completa è passata una settimana abbondante e i peli già lottano sottopelle per uscire. "Allora niente bravate. Fendi è importante non me la gioco per così poco. Andiamo da Tod's e compriamo un paio di tacchi. Paghi tu."Sente Alex ridacchiare è un sorriso gli nasce spontaneo."Ti hanno davvero bloccato di nuovo la carta, eh?"    •   La settimana della moda lo sta letteralmente uccidendo.È continuamente a un passo dal crollo nervoso.Non riesce a mangiare più di due forchettate di verdura, lo stomaco gli si chiude subito, e pensa costantemente agli ampi pantaloni che Alessandro ha fatto vedere a tutti loro in riunione.Ha visto Alessandro Michele solo tre volte in vita sua e ha sempre provato un'ammirazione profondissima per lui. Giovane ed estremamente dotato, ha rinnovato un brand storico come Gucci in men che non si dica, ha destrutturato lo stile un po' rigido e classico fino ad alleggerirlo quasi del tutto. Sceglie modelli molto eterei, quando si è presentato ai casting non sperava davvero di essere preso, ma questo è già il secondo call e sta morendo di ansia. Ci sono solo due ragazzi più piccoli di lui, gli altri sono di poco più grandi ma sembrano già navigati, fieri e dritti nelle posture e Genn avrebbe tanto voluto esercitarsi di più con il corsetto cazzo...Spera che non sarà davvero come Saint Laurent, non riesce ancora a gestire il respiro a lungo, se ci si mette anche l'ansia da passerella allora..."Voglio che andiate dalle sarte, vi daranno alcuni abiti della collezione, e che sfiliate davanti a me. I book che avere portato sono inutili, non mi importa dei vostri vecchi lavori, ingaggi, photoshoots, ragazzi immagine, PR, non me ne frega un cazzo. Mettete i vestiti e fatevi vedere da me."Il suo inglese è ruvido, si tocca la barba e si risiede sulla poltrona coi braccioli su cui era sistemato. Alza la mano destra inanellata e fa segno a tutti i modelli di spostarsi sulla sinistra, dove c'è un angolo del grande salone spoglio che al contrario è un tripudio di colore. Ci sono tre sarte, la grande scrivania davanti a loro è piena di bozzetti e misure, metri e spilloni, affianco a loro delle strutture in metallo reggono tantissimi abiti appesi fra pantaloni e camicie varie.Genn aspetta il suo turno, il ragazzo davanti a lui lo supera di almeno quindici centimetri, sono tutti più alti di lui, tira su le spalle e tiene il mento in alto mentre cammina verso le sarte. Prendono le sue misure, appuntano tutto, gli passano quelli che sembrano a tutti gli effetti dei sandali francescani e grazie al cielo sono solo di un numero più grandi."Penso che il rosso sia il tuo colore."Genn salta sul posto le tre sarte spalancano gli occhi e li puntano alle sue spalle. Si gira e Alessandro Michele è a meno di mezzo metro da lui. Il direttore creativo di Gucci È a meno Di Mezzo Metro Da lui. Stringe i denti e cerca di rimanere calmo. I suoi occhi scuri lo scandagliano, si aggiusta la blusa slargata e continua a osservarlo mentre scuote di nuovo la mano, gli anelli grossolani tintinnano e le sarte prendono a trafficare alle sue spalle."Tu sei il ragazzo di Alessio, vero? L'ho incontrato nella hall. Non è la prima volta che lo vedo con te." Genn chiude gli occhi e sospira sommessamente. Non mi dire che ho ottenuto questo ingaggio per Alex non dirmelo non dirlo ok anche se è vero non dirl- "È un ragazzo molto riservato eh? Mi saluta a stento. Quando sta con te, poi... non esiste altro." Genn apre gli occhi. Lo stilista si fa passare delle camicie rosse con dei pantaloni chiari e glieli spinge contro il petto. "A quanto pare sei molto riservato anche tu. Mettiteli un attimo, vediamo come stai."Genn si sfila il maglione chiaro in dotazione e fa lo stesso coi pantaloni. Nello stanzone ci sono altri venti ragazzi più le sarte e quelli che pensa i manager di Michele, poco oltre la porta c'è la security e stanno tutti con gli occhi puntati su di loro.Ha smesso di importarsene davvero della nudità da quando ha cominciato a sfilare, a quattordici anni. Fra i cambi veloci e l'ammontare d'ansia ha capito che la pelle è solo pelle e i corpi nudi sono solo corpi nudi. Per gli stilisti sono dei manichini che camminano, la tela su cui dipingono la loro arte. Se esistessero manichini meccanici che sfilassero al posto loro, li avrebbero già licenziati tutti.Si infila la blusa rossa attento a non strappare niente e poi tira su i pantaloni. Fissa il tutto con una cinta, mentre posa il secondo cambio sul tavolo già stracolmo. Il pantalone gli va decisamente largo. Ma tanto."Uhm... forse i pantaloni servono di una misura inferiore." "Tre." Appena apre bocca si morde subito la lingua. Michele si limita a sorridergli serafico. "Ma senti un po'. L'angioletto di Alessio parla." "Non sono l'angioletto di Alex. Non è il mio ragazzo, è il mio migliore amico." "Ah ecco si spiega... in effetti mi sembrava assurdo che ti guardasse con quegli occhi e poi ti tradisse così spudoratamente."La mascella di Genn si chiude con uno scatto. Tradisse?"Ma se è così si spiega! Girati un attimo per favore. - Genn si gira piano su se stesso, si fa osservare da ogni lato, per poi tornare con il corpo di fronte al designer - Decisamente una taglia. Questo pantalone si porta slargato. Provvedete." Scuote la mano di nuovo e sente le mani delle sarte strattonarlo e spingerlo a cambiarsi. Alessandro si sposta verso gli altri modelli dispensando consigli o chissà che altro, mentre avverte un sussurro alle sue spalle.Raccomandato.Si ritrova di nuovo nudo, la pelle pizzica per il freddo e improvvisamente sente che le sue ossa possano perforare la pelle del bacino per quanto le sente tremare."Non sono raccomandato. Mi sono fatto il culo come tutti voi." Parla con la schiena rivolta alle voci e i pugni stretti. Se tiene lo sguardo fisso sulle sarte, magari loro si sbrigano."Hai dato il culo, vorrai dire. Come se non lo abbiamo riconosciuto tutti il nipote di Frida Giannini nella hall.""Alex è il mio migliore amico da anni. Non c'entra niente con questo." Mastica le parole perché in realtà non lo sa.Non lo sa, non sa se Alex gli ha fatto avere l'ingaggio, non sa niente, sa solo che è fottutamente strano che lo abbiano preso praticamente subito per Gucci. Ultimamente stava posando perlopiù in photoshoots per i magazines, Ivan non riusciva a procurargli un ingaggio grosso manco a pagarlo, cosa che fra l'altro faceva. Profumatamente. L'unica era stata una passerella minore per uno stilista emergente, dove era solo uno dei tanti volti tutti simili.Ma Gucci. Gucci cazzo. Era così contento e quando gli è arrivata la lettera per il secondo call Alex si è messo a saltare sul letto con lui e sembrava così felice.Felice e sorpreso quanto lui. Lo ha abbracciato fortissimo, in piedi sul materasso, ancora col fiatone. Gli ha detto che se lo meritava, che era sorpreso ma se lo meritava, che si sta impegnando più di tutti, che è bellissimo e se lo merita, si merita tutto...Ma... Gucci. Guccigucciguccigucci Alessandro era il secondo di Frida. E ora è direttore creativo al posto suo."Anche io mi scopo il mio migliore amico, ma hey! A ciascuno il suo." A quel punto Genn si gira di scatto. Il suo interlocutore tanto per cambiare è più alto di lui e ha uno sguardo ghiacciato che gli fa sentire i brividi. "Non parlare di Alex così. Lui non le fa queste cose." "Queste cose! Ma sentilo, come sei virgineo. Alessio Iodice si è fatto un terzo dei ragazzi qui. Non l'hai sentito? La cosa è talmente evidente che anche Alessandro Michele in persona se n'è accorto."Genn spalanca gli occhi mentre sente lo stomaco stringersi dolorosamente. Il modello davanti a lui sorride tranquillo, come se non gli avesse appena rovesciato il mondo addosso.Alex spariva ogni tanto durante i party. Mai per troppo tempo, Genn era preso dagli invitati, i colleghi, le chiacchiere, il bar, la musica. Quando tornava non era mai perfettamente sistemato, spesso era Genn che gli aggiustava il papillon o la cravatta o la camicia leggermente sgualcita. Alex in genere sorrideva e lo ringraziava con un bacio sulla guancia, o una stretta un po' più forte al fianco, tutto con molta naturalezza come se... Come se non si fosse scopato qualcuno fino a due minuti prima."Biondino, ecco il completo, infilatelo di nuovo, ora dovremmo esserci. Poi vai a sistemarti vicino agli altri così sfili per Alessandro e lui deciderà se prenderti o no. - La sarta coi capelli rosso fuoco gli spinge blusa e pantaloni sul petto e gli lascia la cinta con il marchio della casa di moda - Tutto chiaro?" Genn annuisce e si sposta leggermente dalla fila per potersi vestire. I pantaloni gli vanno ancora incredibilmente larghi, ma se Alessandro Michele dice che vanno così, vanno così.Si sposta verso la fila dei modelli vestiti in attesa di sfilare di fronte al designer e inghiotte sabbia.Mente vuota. Equilibrio interno, prima. Dai il massimo.      Gucci Milan f/w 2016 Quando scende le scale della hall, il suono dei lacci delle sue creepers rimbalza fra le pareti vuote tanto da attirare l'attenzione di Alessio, che si alza dall'unica poltrona che c'è e gli sorride."Ti scopi i miei colleghi, Alè?"Il sorriso di Alex si spegne lentamente. "Cosa?""Ti scopi i miei colleghi, eh? Ti scopi le persone con cui lavoro."Alex aggrotta le sopracciglia scure e stringe le labbra. Vuole fottutamente picchiarlo. "Ti scopi i miei colleghi alle mie spalle. Quanti te ne sei fatti in quel salotto?" "Genn..." Gli tira uno spintone che per la verità non fa molto, non lo smuove affatto, ma lo sguardo di Alex è spaventato.È tutto il giorno che non mangia niente, è quasi sicuro che se prova a tirargli un altro spintone cadrà per terra lui, perciò neanche ci prova, ma vorrebbe davvero, davvero farlo."L'hai fatto alle mie spalle, anzi no... davanti a me! Durante i party e poi quando? Durante i call? Quando insisti sempre per accompagnarmi anche quando sono cose stupide, é per quello? Per trovare un modello carino da piegare a novanta? Tanto chi dice di no al nipote di Frida, eh?"La hall è vuota, la sua voce riecheggia dal vaso bianco all'angolo allo spigolo del soppalco. Alex ha le sopracciglia aggrottate e la mascella dura. "Perché ti interessa tanto cosa faccio quando non ci sei?" Genn stringe le labbra colto alla sprovvista.Non è che... Non è che Alex fa qualcosa di male.In effetti... Non fa niente... di male?"Io... tu... lo fai alle mie spalle. - rafforza la voce e lo guarda con occhi di sfida - Coi miei colleghi! Senza dirmi niente, tu mi dici tutto, come fai a nascondere una cosa del genere, io non lo avrei mai fatto!" Quello che doveva essere una sorta di schiaffo al petto di Alex viene intercettato subito dalle dita del moro che gli stringono il polso e lo avvicinano a sé. "Fammi capire. Vorresti che io ti dicessi quando vado a letto con qualcuno? Tutte le volte?" "Sì! Anzi no. - stringe il suo pugno nella presa di Alex e fissa gli occhi su quello - non voglio. Non voglio saperlo non me lo dire, non mi dire niente, inventati scuse stupide, preferisco pensare che devi assolutamente uscire e chiamare Zurigo per un investimento che sapere che ti allontani da me per scopare."La sua voce ha progressivamente assunto un tono lamentoso non in programma, ma ha chiuso gli occhi preventivamente, per non vedere l'espressione di pena assoluta che Alex avrà sul viso."Gè." Sente la stretta al polso intensificarsi e poi scivolare, sostituita dalle sue mani sui fianchi. "Genn, non li vuoi aprire gli occhi per me?" Scuote la testa, mentre sente il corpo di Alex scontrarsi col suo, gli stringe le braccia intorno alla schiena e appoggia dolcemente la testa sulla sua spalla."Io non ti lascio. Non ti lascio mai." Genn sistema la testa sulla spalla di Alex, ancora ad occhi chiusi, mani distese sul suo petto. "Mi lasci per andare a-" Alex lo stringe più forte, manca quasi il respiro a entrambi, non allenta la presa finché non gli preme le labbra all'orecchio e gli sussurra di nuovo. "Sei con me, sempre. Io non ti lascio mai."Genn socchiude gli occhi e gli lascia un piccolo bacio sulla porzione di pelle lasciata scoperta dal colletto della camicia.Non è la prima volta che glielo dice. Gli ha detto che è spesso nei suoi pensieri quando sono lontani, che lo sente vicino, e Genn ci crede. Solo, dubita che Alex lo pensi mentre..."Come è andato il call oggi?"Quando apre del tutto gli occhi Alex si è staccato da lui e gli sorride, non sa come ma sono finiti contro un muro, cioè Alex continua a tenerlo per i fianchi mentre lui ha la schiena contro la parete chiara e spoglia della hall. "Mi hanno preso." "Ma è fantastico Gè, io lo sapev-" "Lo sapevi perché hai fiducia in me o perché mi hai raccomandato? Dimmi la verità." Alex si incupisce subito ma non risponde."Alessandro Michele si è riferito a me in italiano. Non poteva saperlo, non ha visto i nostri book, non sapeva i nostri nomi, né le nazionalità. Ma mi ha parlato direttamente in italiano. Solo a me, agli altri in inglese." "Magari..." "Ha detto che ti ha visto insieme a me. Ha detto che sono il tuo angioletto davanti a tutti. Grazie al cielo c'erano solo due o tre modelli italiani oltre me, ma credimi, ti conoscono tutti qui. Questa è casa tua.""Non più ormai. Non ci metto piede da un anno, da prima che Frida mandasse tutto a quel paese. Non conosco Alessandro, l'ho incrociato e basta, ne so quanto te su di lui. E di certo non avrei potuto raccomandarti. Te l'ho detto, non è più casa mia questa.""È che... non ero così fortunato da un bel po', mi sembra ancora assurdo." Alex si allontana ancora solo per premere indice e medio contro la sua fronte e spingere. "Stupido. Non è fortuna, è talento. Sono felice per te. Da morire."Sentono un vociare leggero provenire dalle scale principali, il resto dei modelli, tra scelti e scartati, scende i gradini; appena li vedono, Genn ancora appoggiato alla parete e Alex a una ventina di centimetri da lui, cominciano a sussurrare e a mandargli occhiatacce. Mentre gli passano affianco, Genn abbassa lo sguardo, al contrario Alex li squadra a uno a uno finché sono loro a doversi zittire e proseguire oltre.Una volta soli, Genn tira un sospiro di sollievo, mentre Alex si limita a prendergli la mano e a portarlo fuori dal portone. Tira un vento forte, Genn sente i brividi sulle gambe coperte solo da dei collant scuri, mettersi quelli con dei pantaloncini in eco-pelle era sembrata un ottima idea stamattina, ma adesso se ne sta pentendo davvero.Alex si sistema la camicia bluette sul collo e cerca di camminare sempre avanti a Genn, per proteggerlo il più possibile dal vento. Superato il primo angolo Genn alza gli occhi e riconosce la Jaguar di Alex, un sorriso gli nasce spontaneo e comincia a tirare Alex per la mano fino a raggiungerla.Appena sistemati sui sedili posteriori, l'autista di Alex, Christopher, parte senza chiedere nulla, probabilmente gli ha dato istruzioni già prima. Spera davvero che Alex lo porti a mangiare qualcosa. "Non ti preoccupare, stiamo andando a casa mia, Dolores sta preparando la verdura e il pesce come piace a te." Genn geme leggermente chiudendo gli occhi.Sono stretti l'uno all'altro, Alex premuto contro la portella con Genn quasi in braccio a lui, il lato sinistro dei sedili totalmente ignorato."Vorrei tanto mangiare un po' di pane! Oh, una focaccia addirittura! Alè come sarebbe bello..." Struscia leggermente il viso contro la spalla di Alex, mentre gli stringe più forte il braccio sinistro. Alex gli accarezza piano le cosce, riesce a sentire le sue gambe ghiacciate oltre i collant, se le porta meglio in grembo mentre alza il riscaldamento.Nel momento in cui superano il cancello in ferro battuto di casa Iodice e Christopher parcheggia sulla ghiaia del vialetto, Alex non deve neanche chiedere.Quando Genn ha un call o un provino di qualsiasi tipo finisce per non mangiare a causa dell'ansia, una volta smaltita l'adrenalina del risultato si sgonfia totalmente. Cerca di non fagli battere la testa al tettuccio della macchina quando lo prende in braccio, Christopher gli tiene la portella aperta mentre fa qualche passo indietro e poi si avvia verso Dolores. La cuoca gli apre meglio la porta e si scosta, Genn è un manichino spigoloso, le sue scarpe pesano più di lui al momento.Alex ignora la sala da pranzo e il suo grande tavolo, invece tira dritto verso la cucina, dove trova un tavolo più modesto già apparecchiato per due. Genn non ha aperto bocca fino ad ora, lascia che Alex lo faccia scivolare sulla sedia in policarbonato e solo allora, alza lo sguardo lucido su di lui."Ho fame."Alex sorride e gli poggia una mano sul capo. "Dolores ci sta scaldando tutto. Appena le ho detto che sei stato preso ti ha addirittura panato il pesce." Genn sorride mentre chiude gli occhi e abbandona la testa al suo tocco. "Buono..."Alex aggrotta le sopracciglia. Si china fino a mettersi sui talloni davanti a lui e gli posa le mani sulle ginocchia fredde nonostante le calze.Il fatto è questo. Genn è freddo, ghiacciato. Ha la pelle d'oca e batte leggermente i denti, a parte essere esausto. E allora... "Da quanto non mangi, Gè?"Genn aggrotta le sopracciglia e socchiude gli occhi. Sente Alex in lontananza, anche se può distinguere i suoi tratti nel mondo fuori fuoco tutto intorno a lui. "Non mangio - ha la bocca totalmente impastata, la lingua si appiccica al palato e la mascella si muove a rallentatore - non mangio... dall'altro ieri.""Gè..." Alex gli stringe le mani più forte intorno alle ginocchia, ignora i pantaloni di sartoria e si inginocchia all'indiana davanti a lui. Gli sfila le creepers e gli massaggia un po' i polpacci e le cosce, sperando di scaldarlo. Ignora il fastidio dell'attrito della sua palle con i collant finché non sente un po' più di calore sulla sua pelle."Li leviamo un po'? Collant e shorts, ti vado a prendere un pantalone del pigiama, così stai caldo. Anche un paio di calzettoni. Che dici?" Genn lo guarda ancora con gli occhi socchiusi, ma un broncio si forma subito sulle sue labbra. "Ma mi piacciono." Alex ridacchia perché, anche se un po' abbacchiato, Genn è sempre Genn e in casa, come fuori, non vuole rinunciare a indossare le cose che ama. "Piacciono anche a me... però sono freddi. Ti trovo qualcosa su, va bene? Vedo anche se trovo un uno dei tuoi maglioni."Appena si tira su li raggiunge Dolores con le teglie di pesce e spinaci, vede che Genn si sente meglio anche solo sentendone il profumo. Ridacchia e gli scompiglia i capelli mentre si avvia verso la grande scalinata che porta ai piani di sopra. Man mano che sale i gradini si slaccia i primi bottoni della camicia e la cintura di cuoio, ha cominciato a vestirsi più formale anche nelle giornate prive di qualsivoglia evento, perché con la vita che fanno non si può mai sapere. Non sta comodo. Odia ogni fruscio, ogni sfregamento irritante del tessuto in mezzo alle cosce, ma stringe i denti.La verità è che la moda non è comoda, non deve esserlo, non è il suo scopo. Il suo scopo è trasporre la nostra interiorità al di fuori. E se la nostra interiorità è traballante sottile e dolorosa, un paio di stiletto ci aiutano solo a portarla fuori. Così almeno pensava Frida.Apre la porta della sua stanza e si sfila del tutto la camicia. Cammina coi pantaloni sbottonati fino alla grande cabina armadio. Gli salgono un po' i brividi su per la schiena, ma prima di tutto cerca qualcosa per Genn. Scosta un po' di maglioni scuri finché non vede qualcosa che si distacca totalmente dal resto. Sorride mentre tira fuori uno dei maglioni di Genn, non sapeva neanche di averlo lui, Dolores avrà pensato bene di lavarlo e conservarlo fra le sue cose. È rosa cipria, con una scritta bianca sul petto, cry baby.Questa va bene. Mette via il maglione e comincia a cercare qualcosa di più comodo. Gli capita in mano una vecchia felpa di Galliano e miracolosamente anche due paia di pantaloni morbidi, recupera le calze in cotone per entrambi e si veste prima di andare giù con le robe di Genn.Lo trova con le guance, in genere incavate, totalmente piene e gonfie, mentre mastica un abbondante forchettata di verdure. Gli sorride e inghiotte, prima di saltar giù dalla sedia alta e raggiungerlo."Alè, hai trovato la mia felpa! Non la vedevo da un sacco!" "Ma se ne hai altre venti tutte uguali!" "Non sono tutte uguali, la cromatura è diversa! E anche il tessuto e eventuali scritte, le cuciture, le marche!" "Sì hai ragione." Ridacchia mentre lo aiuta a sistemare la felpa sopra la blusa nera, ma quando fa per sbottonargli gli shorts Genn gli scaccia le mani."Alè! Non si chiede il permesso?" "Ma se ti vedo sempre mezzo nudo, in casa giri così ventiquattr'ore al giorno!" "Beh, ciò non significa che non devi chiedere il permesso prima di mettermi le mani nei pantaloni." Genn lo guarda con un sorriso altezzoso, Alex rotea gli occhi e sussurra un principino che fa ridacchiare il biondo nel suo collo.Lo tira più vicino per i passanti degli shorts e gli chiede all'orecchio: "Ora posso metterti le mani nei pantaloni?" Scoppiano a ridere l'uno nel collo dell'altro, Genn annuisce vigorosamente e Alex gli slaccia alla cieca i pantaloncini, l'ecopelle fa un rumore sordo quando scivola per terra, Alex è costretto a staccarsi per chiedergli se volesse tenere o no i collant."No, mi stanno dando fastidio, levameli." Comincia a sfilarseli e poi si siede e allarga le gambe. "Dì un po'. Sei davvero troppo stanco per farlo da solo o vuoi solo essere servito?" Genn sorride serafico e piega la testa mentre Alex si inginocchia davanti a lui "Chi lo sa?"Alex sbuffa e comincia a sfilargli i collant facendoglieli scivolare lungo le gambe lisce. Alla luce delle lampade sopra di loro nota due lividi, uno poco sopra il ginocchio e l'altro sulla coscia. "Che è successo qui?" "Ma niente... ho sbattuto al tavolo della sartoria al call. È stato solo qualche ora fa, è strano che già ci sia il segno..." Alex torna a sfiorarglieli. Sono scuri anche se non molto grandi, gli sembra assurdo che Genn se li sia fatti così dal nulla, certo è che lui ha la pelle molto delicata."Alè... che c'è?" Genn gli passa le dita fra i capelli, attirando i suoi occhi. Adora quando sono in casa di uno o dell'altro, Genn decostruisce la facciata dura e seria delle passerelle e dei photoshoot per essere semplicemente se stesso. Con le felpe rosa e le calze alte o le gambe nude, gli occhi stanchi ma dolci concentrati totalmente su di lui. Lascia un piccolo bacio al livido sopra il suo ginocchio e si alza dalla sua posizione accovacciata. "Niente, tranquillo." Gli tende la mano e aspetta che Genn si alzi e la prenda. "I pantaloni?" "Non ho più freddo, sto bene così, grazie." Alex sbuffa mentre raccatta i pantaloni e le calze in più e porta su Genn che zampetta tranquillo su per le scale con lui."Passata tutta la stanchezza?" "Ora che ho mangiato sì." Alex si gira verso di lui mentre apre nuovamente la porta della sua camera. Genn sorride consapevole quando Alex sussurra ti ho proprio viziato più a se stesso che a lui.In effetti da quando si conoscono Alex ha sviluppato questo atteggiamento verso di lui che Genn ama con tutto se stesso. Si rende conto che non è una cosa tanto normale, ma spesso si è ritrovato a fare qualcosa di strano o pericoloso per poter vedere se Alex lo avrebbe salvato oppure no.Ma Alex l'ha salvato, lo salva sempre, si prende addirittura la colpa per lui anche se i casini li combinano insieme. Il party Campari l'anno scorso è stata la prova del nove."Che c'è?" Sono ancora per mano, ma Genn si è fermato al centro della camera di Alex e lo trattiene a sé."È davvero così bello avermi nella tua vita?""Che vuoi dire?" Alex si volta nuovamente verso di lui ma non gli lascia la mano. Si concentra sui suoi occhi e sospira. "Ti metto sempre nei casini. Oggi da Gucci... Malibu quest'estate... Campari l'anno scorso... quando cominciano le fashion weeks ti faccio sbattere da una parte all'altra, le nostre case diventano gli alberghi, il sonno svanisce ma la stanchezza rimane." "Cosa c'entra quest-" "Hai lasciato la scuola con me." Alex aggrotta le sopracciglia ma tace."Hai lasciato la scuola per me. Appena ho capito che volevo fare il modello a tempo pieno io l'ho lasciata. Non potevo lavorare e studiare con quei ritmi. Quando gli ingaggi sono diventati più frequenti mancavo in continuazione dalle lezioni. Non potevo continuare così. Ma tu l'hai lasciata con me. Non ho dovuto neanche chiedertelo, lo hai fatto e basta." Alex sorride vagamente triste. "Non potevo abbandonarti. Sapevo che saresti morto d'ansia senza di me. Senza presunzione eh!" Ridacchia ma Genn rimane serissimo."Infatti. Senza presunzione, perché è proprio così. Sarei morto d'ansia o mi sarebbe venuto un esaurimento entro i quindici, o avrei cominciato a prendere le pillole adesso o a vomitare fra un anno o a non mangiare proprio fra due. Le hai viste anche tu queste cose. È così che va il nostro mondo." "Non è più il mio mondo Genn, te l'ho detto. Non vedo Frida da tanto." "Ora però hai me. Quindi volente o nolente è di nuovo anche il tuo mondo." Alex gli sorride e annuisce, mentre posa la mano destra libera sul suo fianco."Hai me. E ti prendi cura di me sempre, ti assicuri che mangi ogni volta, mi fai preparare piatti sani cucinati tutte le volte in modo diverso, cosicché io non me ne stanchi. Mangi con me. Anche se in realtà penso che poi mangi di nuovo quando non ti vedo. - Alex ridacchia con le guance rosse, mentre Genn gli passa la mano libera sulle spalle - Guarda là eh! Saresti magro quanto me adesso e invece! Sembri più maturo ogni giorno che passa." "Gè, quest'anno compiamo diciassette anni eh, è normale, anche tu sei maturato molto." "Sicuramente vivere in questo mondo da quando ho quattordici anni ha contribuito a darmi una svegliata. Oltre le cose belle c'è sempre qualcos'altro."Alex gli stringe il fianco richiamando la sua attenzione. "Non avevi mai voluto affrontare un discorso simile fino ad ora. Che è successo in quella testolina?" Genn sorride e lascia che Alex gli baci velocemente la fronte prima di scostarsi di nuovo.Non hanno mai parlato davvero di tutto quello che sta succedendo nelle loro vite. Quella di oggi è stata una giornata importante per lui, è arrivato da Alessandro Michele senza nessun aiuto, è stato preso per quella che verosimilmente sarà la sfilata dell'anno e il suo sogno di lavorare nella haute couture di livello diventa sempre più tangibile. Nonostante la sua statura non proprio da gigante e quella pancetta che lo ossessiona, è riuscito a farsi apprezzare lavorando sodo come tutti.Ma quello che ci sta guadagnando in tutto questo... è solo Genn. Alex ci perde e basta. Ha lasciato la scuola per sostenerlo in ogni passo del suo cammino, non lo ha mai lasciato solo o dato in pasto ai lupi, nonostante le innumerevoli occasioni.Alex non ha niente in tasca, non un diploma, non un sogno che lo prenda davvero. Se sposta lo sguardo riesce a vedere le quattro chitarre di Alex all'angolo della stanza. Cantano nelle stanze d'albergo, a casa e qualche volta anche in ascensore. Ma per Alex è un hobby, niente di più. Non gli ha mai fatto sentire neanche nulla di suo."Genn. - il biondo sobbalza sul posto mentre riporta l'attenzione sul ragazzo davanti a lui - Mi vuoi dire che c'è?""Forse dovresti finire gli studi. Andare all'università, pendere Finanza. Fare come i tuoi fratelli. Non ne vale la pena, stai perdendo un anno inutilmente. E per cosa?" "Per stare con te."Ecco. Eccoeccoeccoecco. Alex lo dice con una semplicità tale, con una verità negli occhi assoluta. Ecco. Di nuovo allora. "È davvero così bello avermi nella tua vita?"Ora Alex sembra capire. Spalanca gli occhi e fa un leggero passo indietro. Genn gli trattiene comunque le dita, non può scappare da questo, non ora, nella sua casa enorme e vuota, dove sono soli, semplicemente loro, vecchie felpe e gambe nude.Alex abbassa lo sguardo anche se non si scosta troppo da Genn. "E per te? È divertente sapere che sei sempre nella mia testa?"Genn serra le dita intorno alle sue e stringe. "Ti fa ridere sapere che sei nella mia mente ogni giorno, uhm? Anche quando non sei con me, sopratutto quando non sei con me. Lo sai che è così. Perciò non mi puoi chiedere se è bello averti nella mia vita. Perché non è divertente."No. Non è divertente.Genn si avvicina finché i suoi piedi scalzi non sono in mezzo a quelli coperti dai calzini di Alex. Solleva gli occhi e incontra quelli scuri dell'altro. Sono tristi o arrabbiati o forse un mix di tutti e due. Sente le labbra pizzicare, vuole davvero, davvero tanto...Alza un po' la testa e lo bacia sulla guancia un po' sopra la mascella. Sente la durezza della struttura ossea, la carne e la pelle la coprono malamente, è così forte che la sente sulle labbra anche ora che si limita a respirarci contro.Solleva le mani e le poggia sul petto di Alex, continua a respirargli addosso finché non sente le mani dell'altro posarsi sui suoi fianchi e stringere. Alex si volta e gli lascia un bacio sull'occhio, deve chiudere la palpebra ma sente i brividi comunque."Va bene così."Sì. Va bene così. • Gli sembra di impazzire.Forse è già impazzito.Sta sudando, è già la seconda volta che gli rifanno il trucco, si è dovuto togliere la t-shirt bianca per evitare di bagnarla. Lo hanno riempito di profumo, almeno è sicuro di non puzzare. Il problema Il vero problema, quello vero È che"Genn, cazzo mi sembra di impazzire." Alex è andato più di lui. Stringe i denti e smette di camminare per un secondo. Sente i brividi lungo la schiena nuda, fra quindici minuti comincerà la sfilata e sente il cuore in gola, ma Alex non lo sta aiutando.È sempre con lui dietro le quinte, in genere riesce a calmarlo come nessuno, ma da quando sono entrati nel capannone che ospita la runaway di Gucci, non ha smesso un attimo di straparlare e strofinarsi le mani e gli occhi. Non lo sta aiutando. Per niente."Genn vieni alla luce." Alex lo tira per il polso schivando un tecnico del suono affannato e lo porta vicino a un telo nero dove c'è un faretto. Il backstage è generalmente scuro a parte la zona wardrobe dove ci sono anche i parrucchieri e i make up artists, Alex si slaccia la giacca e lo tira per le spalle alla luce. Genn ha la fronte imperlata, gli occhi iniettati di sangue per la stanchezza e l'insonnia accumulata, il balsamo per le labbra è andato via del tutto anche se miracolosamente, il fondotinta è rimasto."Gè. Ora stai calmo. Andrà tutto bene. È la seconda volta a Gucci, ok? Sei tantissimo maturato quest'anno e pensa un po'? Anche Alessandro a questo giro è andato alla grande. Niente scarpe da francescano." Genn ridacchia ma quello che esce è un mezzo singhiozzo tremante, chiude la bocca subito, facendo cozzare i denti."Domani abbiamo Bottega Veneta. Tomas ci ha fatti chiamare già oggi, vuole che sia tutto perfetto." "Bottega è facile. È la terza volta per loro, ce l'abbiamo fatta sempre." Genn annuisce e poggia le mani sul petto di Alex. Sospira quando le sue dita entrano a contatto col tessuto lavorato della giacca. Alessandro ha regalato ad Alex la variante di uno dei completi che sfilerà oggi in passerella. Un inedito totale, appena usciranno da lì verranno sommersi di domande dalle TV e dagli ospiti stessi."Secondo te Alessandro sta cominciando a prenderci a cuore o è solo un cazzo di narcisista?" Stavolta ridacchia sul serio, mentre continua a passare le dita sul petto e sulle spalle di Alex seguendo le linee del design sul tessuto. "Secondo me - si avvicina prendendolo per i fianchi nudi, quando il suo stomaco entra a contatto con la ruvidezza della giacca, Genn non sente più i rumori frenetici del backstage - è un narcisista del cazzo. L'unico pezzo della collezione che non sfilerà? Come faceva a tenerlo chiuso in maison?"Genn ride e annuisce, fa scivolare le mani dalle sue spalle alla nuca. Gli accarezza i capelli corti, per poi semplicemente incrociare le braccia dietro di essa. "Però. - sente il cuore che gli batte a mille, solo quello, nient'altro, mentre spinge il naso contro la guancia di Alex e sussurra - Secondo me ha visto qualcosa che noi non vediamo.""Magari invece... anche noi abbiamo visto la stessa cosa." Alex gli stringe i fianchi più forte, mentre Genn sospira contro il suo mento."Cinque minuti! Cinque minuti! Oh mio dio Sasha, questi stanno limonando mezzi nudi." Genn ignora i due tecnici che sono andati a chiamarli urlando e serra le mani sulle spalle di Alex. "Cinque minuti..."Alex gli stringe un'ultima volta i fianchi mentre gli lascia un bacio forte sulla fronte. "Vatti a mettere t-shirt e giacca. Veloce. Passa anche dal trucco, abbiamo lasciato gli occhiali lì." "Gli occhiali, il trucco, la giacca, sisisi." Genn si stacca e cerca nella penombra la maglietta e il blazer.Quando raggiungono il trucco per una passata veloce, Alex gli mette gli occhiali da vista non graduati e sussurra: "Andrà fottutamente alla grande."       Gucci Milan f/w 2017 Sinistra Alex (una variante in blu) Destra Genn, i due look da passerella.     Questo è l'ultimo giro per Bottega.Genn è seduto in sala trucco per la seconda volta nel giro di due minuti, continua a aggrottare le sopracciglia nonostante i rimproveri della make-up artist, che non riesce a distendere bene il fondotinta col pennello spesso.Alex gli tiene le mani sulle spalle, mentre lui gliele stringe guardandolo negli occhi attraverso lo specchio illuminato. Si limitano a scrutarsi nella parete riflettente per qualche altro secondo, finché Alex sorride e spinge le mani contro le sue spalle, facendogli rilassare le sopracciglia, per la gioia della truccatrice, e piegare gli angoli della bocca."Genn basta, tocca a te, dai forza forza!" Uno dei tecnici li ha raggiunti e si sbraccia cercando di tirarlo via dalla sedia di peso, mentre la truccatrice continua a spennellarlo fino all'ultimo. La mano di Alex che Genn tiene saldamente, allenta la stretta e il biondo si volta col terrore negli occhi."Alè..."Alex gli sorride e lascia che le dita di Genn scivolino via dalla sua presa."Ti aspetto proprio qui." Genn vuole andare via.Quando ha finito il giro della passerella è rientrato nel backstage e si è letteralmente buttato fra le braccia di Alex che lo hanno accolto come sempre. Ha sentito tutta la tensione scivolare via, ma li hanno separati per il giro finale e quando sono rientrati Alex non si vedeva.Riusciva solo a vedere la folla composta da tutto lo staff che si abbracciava e dava poderose pacche sulla spalla, Tomas che intimava tutti i modelli a non spogliarsi, ma a farsi intervistare con gli abiti dalla stampa dalle televisioni e dai blogger di tutto il mondo. Solita tiritera. Ha sceso le scale con un sorriso spento e ha cominciato a rispondere. Sì, Tomas Maier è incredibile, ha fatto un lavoro preciso e pieno di charme, come lo stesso marchio, difatti. Questa è la mia terza esperienza con Bottega Veneta, il suo stile classico e contemporaneo insieme, è sempre stato il marchio di fabbrica per chi ricerca la classe in modo spontaneo. Sì, sono Genn Raia, figlio di Vendela Kirsebom, mia madre ha difficoltà a seguirmi nella mia carriera, ma è stata una modella anche lei, sa perfettamente cosa vuol dire il nostro lavoro. È stata un'ispirazione per me. Penso che la sua collaborazione con Victoria's Secret sia stata l'emozione più grande. Già allora si diceva che una volta che diventi un Angelo puoi anche ritirati dalle passerelle, il picco della tua carriera l'hai raggiunto. Vorrei tanto poter provare la stessa emozione, ma credo che finché VS non svilupperà una collezione genderless non potrà succedere!"Genn! - Alex lo raggiunge velocemente con sguardo preoccupato, ignora la telecamera e la ragazza che regge il microfono e lo prende per un fianco.  -Hanno mandato tutti fuori, mi dispiace, ti aspettavo alla console ma non c'eri e ho pensato...""Genn allora, lui chi è?" Entrambi si voltano verso la voce cantilenante, ricordandosi improvvisamente di non essere soli. "È uno dei modelli? - Alex arrossisce prepotentemente sulle guance, probabilmente è una presa per il culo. - O è il tuo ragazzo?" I due intervistatori gli puntano i microfoni in faccia e Alex si ritrova a mugolare un ehm poco intelligente, finché Genn non sopraggiunge in suo soccorso."Lui... è Alessio, il figlio di Bruno Iodice l'Amministratore delegato della Fineco Bank. - I sorrisi sorpresi e compiaciuti sui volti delle persone accanto a loro non sono niente di nuovo. È abituato. Sospira ma viene interrotto da Genn. - Nonché mio migliore amico e mio fidatissimo consigliere. La mia spada."Alex sussulta mente Genn fa un passo avanti che serve a portarlo quasi davanti al suo petto, nascondendolo per metà ai loro sguardi da avvoltoi. "Quindi cosa fa essenzialmente dietro le quinte?" Lo scetticismo velato viene scacciato nuovamente da Genn che si poggia al petto di Alex con la schiena e catalizza gli sguardi su di sé deviandoli dal moro. "Mi aiuta. Supporta. Mi sostiene come ha fatto sempre, in tutta la nostra vita insieme. Senza di lui non sarei niente. La sua forza è l'unica cosa che mi impedisce di affondare. È per questo che l'ho scelto."Quando quelle parole lasciano le sue labbra la sicurezza sparisce, si rende conto di ciò che è successo e spalanca gli occhi. Non è una serie di frasi fatte tutte uguali a favore di quello o quell'altro brand, non un glissare veloce sulle motivazioni dell'assenza sistematica della sua intera famiglia alle sfilate, sembra tanto..."Sembra tanto una dichiarazione d'amore."Alex glielo sussurra contro l'orecchio, mentre spinge la mano destra contro il suo stomaco, fino a fargli scontrare la schiena con il suo petto.Il sorriso sporco di rosso della ragazza con la voce a cantilena si allarga, dice loro che sono bellissimi esteticamente, come coppia, come affiatamento. Affila gli occhi a mandorla quando li saluta, Genn rimane con lo sguardo nel vuoto mentre Alex saluta per tutti e due.   Bottega Veneta, Milan f/w 2017 "Genn. Abbiamo lezione fra un quarto d'ora, sei bellissimo, ora ti sbrighi?""Un attimo, un attimo."Alex sbuffa, e chiude il Libération con forza. Menomale che fra i corsi online hanno scelto anche il francese insieme all'inglese. Passano molto tempo in Francia, e nessuno qui parla inglese manco a pagarlo. Mentre si liscia la vestaglia di seta dà un'altra occhiata al giornale. Doveva comprarsene altri, considerando quanto tempo ci mette Genn a prepararsi, si annoia a morte.Finalmente Genn esce dal bagno con i capelli ancora semi umidi ma addosso ha già un maglione rosa intrecciato che gli arriva abbondantemente fin sotto il sedere. Si siede ai piedi del letto e comincia a infilarsi le calze bianche, le fa scorrere lungo il polpaccio fino alla coscia alta e poi lascia che lo avvolgano con uno schiocco. Alex aggrotta le sopracciglia. "E il reggicalze?""Queste sono autoreggenti, Alè. Non per forza devo usare il reggicalze." "Ah." Ha sempre visto Genn indossare calze di tutti i generi quando sono soli, ma ha ancora difficoltà a distinguere le parigine dalle autoreggenti.Genn si allaccia abilmente un girocollo nero e si siede davanti alla specchiera della camera, dove ha sistemato tutti i suoi trucchi e creme. Alex si alza dal letto e lo raggiunge, sedendosi sulla sedia affianco alla sua. Genn gli sorride attraverso lo specchio e continua a passarsi una cremina viscosa su collo e viso.A causa del suo lavoro ha cominciato a prendersi cura del suo corpo fino all'inverosimile, a parte l'attività fisica, quello mai, ma per il resto... Il cibo ovviamente sotto controllo massimo, anche se Genn spesso gli confessa di sognare quella o quell'altra torta ogni tanto, purtroppo nessuno ci può fare niente, i dolci sono severamente banditi. La ceretta totale malgrado tutto gli tocca, non tutti gli stylist la richiedono, sono di più quelli a cui non importa più di tanto, ma ormai Genn non riesce più a vedersi con il corpo "sporco" come dice lui, si sente molto più tranquillo e curato così.Mentre Genn stende velocemente il fondotinta chiarissimo con un pennello, Alex lo blocca subito. "Niente contouring, non abbiamo tempo!" Genn sbuffa ma non dice nulla. Da quando glielo fecero l'anno scorso per un photoshoot di Balenciaga ne è rimasto talmente stupito che ha imparato a farlo da solo, perché: mi leva il nasone, Alè!"Dobbiamo solo fare lezione. Il professor Spina ci ha visti anche mezzi addormentati a Tokyo, non è che si fa problemi se hai i punti neri o no.""Ma non lo faccio mica per gli altri! Cioè un po' sì, ma in realtà lo faccio per me stesso. Sono più tranquillo, mi sento più bello." Parla male perché nel frattempo  si passa un rossetto che rende le sue labbra di poco più scure, ma Genn ha delle labbra talmente belle che potrebbe anche non mettersi niente. Il biondo si volta con un sorriso maligno e gli lascia un bacio sulla guancia alla velocità della luce."Genn! - si guarda subito allo specchio per constatare i danni - avevamo detto no!" "Lo sai che il primo bacio dopo il rossetto è per te." "Ma avevamo detto niente baci col matt che ci metto una vita a levarlo!" Infatti si passa le dita sulla guancia e il segno delle due labbra rimane lì."Così anche il professor Spina saprà che sei mio." Incrocia le braccia fiero del suo ragionamento, mentre Alex si alza per prendere il pc che si portano sempre dietro e lo sistema sulla scrivania. "Al massimo può pensare che avevamo una ragazza in camera a fare chissà cosa, Gè."Genn si alza e lo raggiunge stringendolo da dietro e poggiando la guancia sulla seta della sua schiena. "Invece tu sei solo mio. Non c'è nessuna ragazza o ragazzo in mezzo. Me lo hai promesso." Sente Alex sospirare mentre si scosta leggermente per prenderlo lungo i fianchi.Genn sa che lui va a letto con delle persone. Quando capita insomma, non dice di no a una scopata interessante. Ma sa anche che non ci sono coinvolgimenti di alcun tipo. Nessun legame, nessun sentimento.Perché lui è già legato a qualcuno. E quando gli accarezza il collo con le dita, pensa che quello che hanno gli basta."Sono solo tuo."Genn sorride e si rilassa sotto il suo tocco, la chiamata sul pc li coglie di sorpresa entrambi, si girano di scatto verso lo schermo. Il professor Spina li sta già salutando, così Alex prende velocemente l'altra sedia dall'angolo beauty di Genn e ce lo fa sedere sopra, poi inserisce le cuffiette bianche e ne passa una a Genn. Lui gli sorride e mentre condividono le cuffie si stringono anche le mani sotto il tavolo, lontano dagli occhi di un professore che sta a 900 km da loro. "Alex, oh mio dio! Finalmente! Sto bussando da almeno due minuti!"Ivan, il PR di Genn, si precipita con l'affanno nella loro camera d'albergo."Abbiamo un'altra lezione online tra mezz'ora, fai presto."Ivan storce la bocca. Genn si sta mettendo lo smalto rosa sulle unghia curate, porta delle autoreggenti bianche e un maglione rosa. Piega leggermente il collo e scopre un choker nero.Oddio. Ivan chiude un attimo gli occhi e sospira."Genn. Ti è andata bene che sono io. Non puoi vestirti così, ok? E se entrava qualcun altro? Sei un ragazzo, non una principessina. Va bene a casa tua, sono cose tue, io non le voglio sapere. Ma qui sei a Parigi cazzo, sei esposto! Non ti posso controllare in continuazione."Genn respira pesantemente. Riavvita il cappuccio dello smalto e scende dalla sedia con un salto."Oh misericordia. Sembri uscito da un porno."Genn sorride mentre Alex lo raggiunge con un cipiglio scuro."Ma che razza di porno guardi eh, Ivan?""Non è divertente. Hai capito almeno una parola di quello che ho detto?""Sì, sì. Sono cose che mi dici tutte le volte che ci vediamo a casa o in albergo. Ma posso stare come mi pare almeno qui? Cioè io non capisco questa tua fissa. Non mi vede nessuno, e poi se anche fosse che entra il servizio in camera? Al massimo mi scambiano con una ragazza che ha il pixie cut. Non sono abbastanza famoso perché mi rompano i coglioni per quello che faccio nella mia intimità.""Forse questo sta per cambiare. - il volto di Ivan si indurisce, mentre apre la ventiquattr'ore che porta sempre con sé e sfila l'iPad. - Quello che hai detto a Bottega... ha risuonato ovunque. Non apri il tuo Instagram dallo show ma ti assicuro che è esploso.""Di che stai parlando?" Alex si siede sul loro letto matrimoniale e si trascina Genn con lui. Il biondo non ha detto neanche una parola, ma fissa Ivan con le labbra strette. Se è a un passo dall'esplodere o dallo svenire, almeno lo tiene lui."Quello che hai detto su Victoria's Secret. È rimbalzato ovunque. Dalle associazioni gay friendly ai grandi sociologi, fino alla politica e al resto del mondo della moda. Ho parlato con l'assistente del PR di Tomas, lui comunque è contento perché si sta parlando di Bottega, quindi menomale ci siamo risparmiati un grattacapo enorme perché hai citato un altro brand alla sua sfilata.""Che stai dicendo?" Finalmente Genn prende la parola. Ha stretto la mano di Alex è lui l'ha ricambiata con più forza, non si guardano, ma sentono che sta succedendo qualcosa di grosso sotto il loro naso."Sto dicendo che ci siamo evitati una multa salata solo perché Tomas è contento comunque di tutta la pubblicità che Bottega ha avuto. Ma sto anche dicendo...- ignora gli skinny jeans e faticosamente si siede per terra col tablet ancora in mano. - Che abbiamo attirato l'attenzione di Victoria's Secrets."Alex ispira improvvisamente, mentre sente Genn stringergli la mano fino a quasi fermargli la circolazione. "Che hanno detto?" Dato che Genn sembra impossibilitato a spiccicare parola, ma del tutto intenzionato a staccargli la mano, interviene Alex, allentando una a una le dita del biondo sul suo dorso.Ivan vedendo lo sguardo vacuo di Genn si rivolge direttamente ad Alex."Vuol dire che non rimaniamo solo per Alessandro Dell'Acqua e Paul Smith. Yoji Yamamoto ti vuole. Così come Vivienne. Genn, Vivienne.""Vivienne. L'anno scorso ha fatto truccare i modelli. Rossetto, ombretto, matita, mascara. Tutto. Sulla sua runaway ufficiale." Genn parla a un punto imprecisato della parete dietro la testa di Ivan. Il PR scuote il suo scalato scuro e dice: "Speriamo davvero che non ti obblighino a farlo." Finalmente Genn si gira verso di lui con uno scatto e lo guarda con occhi stralunati."Esattamente il contrario. Speriamo proprio che mi obblighino a farlo. Che mi trucchino, che Vivienne usi il rosa, il fucsia, l'arancio, il giallo. Speriamo che abbia dei kilt o delle gonne. - Scatta in piedi facendo sobbalzare tutti. - Non capisci? Questa potrebbe essere una svolta! Non solo per la mia carriera, ma per la vita di moltissime persone!""Genn. Ecco vedi? Questa è la cosa che mi dà fastidio di te. - Si alza in piedi a fatica a causa dei jeans incredibilmente aderenti e guarda il suo cliente con disapprovazione. - Tu non hai la minima idea di cosa stai facendo. Ti stai invischiando in qualcosa di grosso e non hai neanche le basi! Vuoi entrare in una guerra contro i costrutti sociali così, dal nulla? Sulla base di cosa? Stai seguendo dei corsi online con Alex, per Dio! Di certo non ne sai niente di quello che sta succedendo!""Ci informeremo."Si voltano tutti e due verso Alex.È calmo, mentre Ivan e Genn hanno il fiatone e sono rossi in viso."Ci faremo un giro su internet. Vediamo cosa dice la gente. Vediamo cosa dicono i designer, gli altri modelli, i politici i sociologi, i fan, i buyer. Vediamo che succede. Genn ha parlato senza pensarci troppo, lui è così. Siamo cresciuti così. A Genn sono sempre piaciute le cose belle secondo il suo gusto e a me altrettanto.""Ma c'è un significato in tutto quello che indossate che non conoscete." Alex fissa lo sguardo sulla vena pulsante di Ivan. "Ci informeremo."Sente addosso lo sguardo ammirato di Genn, ma Alex tiene gli occhi su Ivan e il suo sguardo ostinato."Alex. So che tu sei l'unico che ragiona fra voi due. - Ivan ignora il lamento soffocato di Genn e si rivolge direttamente a lui. - Siete stati fuori dal web per troppo tempo, in vostra assenza è successo il finimondo. Un modello che parla di una possibile collezione genderless del marchio d'intimo femminile più famoso al mondo... Cosa vi aspettavate?""L'ho detto così, tanto per dire! Cioè a me piacerebbe, starei più comodo. La lingerie normale non abbraccia il mio corpo come dovrebbe. Io sarei felice. E sono sicuro che anche molti altri ragazzi sarebbero felici! Sarebbe una cosa genuinamente bella."Genn sorride tranquillo sotto lo sguardo sconvolto del suo PR. Alex sente che è arrivato il momento di riprendere la situazione in mano, visto che Genn sembra non capire bene il punto. Neanche lui ce l'ha chiaro. Sa solo che devono un attimo ragionare con il tablet che Ivan ha ancora in mano e decidere cosa fare."Hanno chiesto un'intervista con te, Another Man. Hanno sempre avuto un occhio particolare loro. Secondo me potrebbero tirar fuori qualcosa da quella zucca. Ma non ti ci posso mandare così. Ti distruggerebbero."Finalmente lo sguardo di Ivan si scioglie.Lavora con quella testolina pazza da quando Genn aveva quindici anni. Hanno tutti faticato duramente, il mondo della moda non perdona ogni minima imperfezione o debolezza.Hanno lavorato, Genn con le sue insicurezze e lui con le mille porte chiuse in faccia. Questo mezzo casino potrebbe essere la svolta definitiva per la sua carriera o la conclusione nel fango. Ha paura della seconda come poche cose al mondo. Per se stesso ma anche per Genn."Non posso andare così. Lo so. Ci informiamo. Lasciaci il tablet, il computer lo usiamo solo per le lezioni, dobbiamo anche mandare una mail al professore per dire che anche se non possiamo saltare una lezione, dobbiamo." "Va bene." Ivan gli lascia l'iPad e si avvia verso la porta con Genn. "Non mi accompagnare, cavolo. E se ti vede qualcuno?" "Non ho niente di cui vergognarmi, è tutto perfettamente normale."Genn incornicia le braccia al petto sollevando il maglione rosa il giusto da mostrare il bordo rinforzato delle autoreggenti. "Oh Cielo, aiutami." Ivan si spalma la mano in fronte mentre esce dalla porta.Quando il legno sbatte contro lo stipite, Alex parla di nuovo. "Sai cosa penso? Hai fatto bene a non dirgli che hai anche il rossetto. Sarebbe morto sul colpo."Genn si volta verso di lui e porta l'indice alle labbra. "Avere le labbra naturalmente così gonfie aiuta!" Scoppiano entrambi a ridere fortissimo, la tensione delle ultime notizie scala, finché Genn non recupera il tablet e si sistema di nuovo sul letto. Manda una mail veloce al professore che li segue tramite e-learning dopodiché apre il suo profilo Instagram. 8.756 notifiche. Tantissimi like, nuovi followers e commenti. Sopratutto quelli.Alcuni sono insulti più o meno coloriti, sopratutto sotto le sue foto personali, e non quelle collegate ai brand.Stinge le labbra perché molte di quelle foto gliele ha fatte Alex e sono belle.Foto sue labbra socchiuse ricoperte di lucida labbra, oppure sdraiato su uno dei tanti letti di lusso che condividevano durante le fashion weeks... Beh sono momenti personali ma comunque belli.Questi sconosciuti glieli stanno facendo pesare. Li stanno rovinando. Perfino sotto la foto in tank top e skinny. Solo perché il top è della collezione Barbie Girl di Moschino.Gli esce una risata strozzata."Non sono abituato a tutto questo odio."Non lotta neanche quando sente che Alex gli strappa via il tablet dalle mani."Hai 5.000 nuovi followers. E... tutti questi like..." "E tutti quei commenti..." "Non sono tutti negativi."Alex deve scorrere oltre la barriera di odio per trovare quelli belli.Complimenti per le foto, per la sua bellezza, il suo stile, il suo fisico qui mi stanno prendendo di sicuro per il culo, Alè! perfino per il trucco. Ragazze e ragazzi che si complimentano per l'uso leggero del make up che abbraccia e non soffoca i suoi lineamenti.Uhm. Anche altri commenti. Alex li fa scorrere verso sinistra fino a far comparire l'icona del cestino in rosso.Era molto fiero di quella foto. Genn indossava dei jeans stretti fiorati di Dolce & Gabbana. L'ha preso contro luce, di spalle, le mani alzate quasi a stiracchiarsi, la schiena nuda. Il balcone è così luminoso che lo fa apparire quasi una visione.Oh man, look at that tiny little ass I just wan- Cancella Gawd wat a twink, i'm imagining now how it would feel to- Cancella Wanna fuck? Cancella Nice ass-et! Ma davvero? "A-lex ma che fai!" Il moro scosta le mani di Genn che si erano allungate a levargli l'iPad, e rimane concentrato sullo schermo. "Non puoi cancellare tutti i commenti degli haters, sono quasi tutti così." "Non sto cancellando quelli, altri." "Quali altri?" "Quelli dei ragazzi arrapati che ti vogliono scopare."La stretta delle mani di Genn intorno i suoi polsi si allenta fino a scivolare. Alex segue le sue mani che gli ritornano in grembo fino a risalire con gli occhi al suo viso.Genn ha le guance rosse ma sorride incredulo."Mi vogliono scopare?"Alex sente un fastidio alla bocca dello stomaco, molla il tablet da qualche parte sul materasso dietro di lui e lo guarda con una smorfia."Tutti ti vorrebbero scopare. Non è una novità."Le guance di Genn raggiungono il rosa del suo maglione e lo superano, ma il suo sguardo rimane lucido, il sorriso incredulo più ampio."Tutti?""Certo che sì. Sei bellissimo, Genn."Alex gli prende le mani e se la porta alla bocca lasciandoci piccoli baci.Genn si alza all'improvviso, come spinto da una molla, sfila le mani dalla sua presa dolce e gli da le spalle. Incrocia le dita dietro la schiena e solleva il piede destro. La calza bianca è opaca sotto la pianta del piede, i posti costosi sono puliti sì, ma non pulitissimi."Mi vogliono..." L'attenzione di Alex viene nuovamente attirata dalla voce di Genn. Fissa lo sguardo sul girocollo intorno alla sua nuca. "Ma non possono avermi."La frangia gli scivola, mentre volta leggermente la testa fino a incrociare il suo sguardo.Alex vede il sorriso timido e malizioso insieme di Genn e sente una stretta allo stomaco più forte di altre. Si ritrova in piedi, scioglie il nodo delle mani di Genn e gli tiene fermi i polsi ai lati del corpo. Genn rimane rigido, non si rilassa nella sua presa come al solito, tiene lo sguardo dritto e la nuca piegata leggermente.Alex segue il suo sguardo fino allo specchio a mezza figura della scrivania. Genn si morde il sorriso mentre lo osserva attraverso il riflesso. Li osserva.Alex con addosso la vestaglia di seta blu e le mani intorno ai suoi polsi e Genn in rosa e bianco, col collo piegato e il sorriso mal trattenuto dai denti.  "Nessuno può. Nessuno di loro può." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Voglio una personache abbia bisogno di me.Che senza di me non possa vivere.Che senza di me non trovi il coraggio di dire 'mi manchi' a nessuno perché,manco solo io alla sua pelle. Chuck Palahniuk        In realtà il tweet di Victoria's Secret non diceva nulla di che.Cioè sì.Ma era molto sibillino. Victoria's Secret @VictoriasSecret@gennraia A genderless collection? How forward! #thinkingaboutit #bottegaveneta #gennraia Davvero Tomas non ha avuto di che lamentarsi, visto che il brand è stato citato, un sacco di persone sono andate a guardarsi i video della runaway e hanno anche comprato.Ha passato la nottata prima di Yoji a leggere tutti i commenti degli hater, non sa perché.Gli è scappata una lacrima, ma questo non lo sa nemmeno Alessio che dormiva accanto a lui.Poi si è sentito meglio.E ha capito perché ha avuto bisogno di leggerli.Yoji è andato bene.È stato fra gli ultimi a sfilare, crede che anche con Vivienne sarà lo stesso, è stato chiamato all'ultimo, ma spera che andrà un po' meglio di così.I modelli lo hanno guardato male da quando è entrato in sala trucco.Alex aveva un posto a sedere fra il pubblico ai lati, perciò non era con lui per la prima volta dopo tanto.Un ragazzo con una lunga treccia e le labbra grandi gli si era avvicinato per chiacchierare, doveva essere di poco più grande di lui, la pelle lucida dal trucco e gli occhi blu.Il suo accento dell'est non aiutava la conversazione, ma quando è andato via, con una matita per gli occhi, gli ha lasciato il suo numero sulla mano.Genn si era limitato a chiudere le palpebre sotto le pennellate vigorose del truccatore e a cancellarlo con dita e saliva.Ora che ci ripensa, al party di Vogue France, quel ragazzo aveva la stessa mascella di Alex.Forse la sta fissando troppo.Alex sta parlando con chissà chi, un completo di Michael Kors che gli fascia tutto il corpo.Il suo sguardo viene calamitato di nuovo sulla sua mascella, perché ora ha smesso di parlare, il suo interlocutore sconosciuto è andato via e Alex sta prendendo un sorso generoso di Martini.Quando lo poggia al bancone dietro di loro, Genn gliela sfiora con la punta delle dita fino a farle scivolare al collo alto della maglia interna."Genn... che c'è?"Alex finalmente si volta e gli dà attenzione, è tutta la sera che gli si avvicinano imprenditori, economisti, finanziatori e che gli chiedono della società degli Iodice.Alex annuisce, sorride, è sempre diplomatico, posato, non lascia trasparire niente.A Genn dopo il quarto Martini è venuto da ridere perché Alex non capisce nulla di quello che gli dicono.Adesso che lui lo guarda però, non gli viene più da ridere."Hai rinunciato all'università per me. Tua madre vuole farmi a pezzi.""Matrigna." lo corregge subito Alex.La nuova compagna di Bruno è più giovane di vent'anni e molto più stupida.Già il fatto che volesse mandarlo a studiare in Norvegia solo per tenerlo lontano dalle influenze negative di Genn la dice lunga."Voleva mandarti via perché aveva paura cominciassi a vestirti da ragazza anche tu."Genn ha gli occhi lucidi e le guance rosse, se non fosse così vicino, con le dita ancora allacciate al suo dolcevita, non l'avrebbe sentito."Tu non ti vesti da ragazza.Ti vesti con le cose che ti piacciono.C'è differenza."Genn lascia il collo alto di Alex e si guarda i vestiti.La giacca che indossa è Balenciaga e va bene è maschile.Gli shorts sono ancora quelli in eco pelle e i collant... no quelli non sono maschili.E le Dr. Martens... ah quelle non hanno genere effettivamente, unisexxxx-"Genn?"Il biondo fa scattare la testa in alto e perde un po' l'equilibrio."Basta Martini per noi eh?Che dici se torniamo al The Peninsula e ci riposiamo un po'?Domani pomeriggio c'è Vivienne.""Vivienne, sisisisi. Speriamo mi trucchino. Sono stanco di truccarmi da solo."Il moro rotea gli occhi e gli prende la mano.Riescono a superare i fotografi velocemente e a infilarsi nel primo taxi disponibile.L'hotel lo individuano già a distanza.È il loro preferito, recentemente restaurato, è tappa fissa in tutte le loro andate a Parigi.Il bianco e il nero all'interno sono così splendenti che gli feriscono gli occhi, dopo una serata di semioscurità.Genn tiene gli occhi socchiusi puntati ai loro piedi, lascia che Alex lo conduca fino alla porta della loro stanza e regoli le luci fino al minimo."Domani c'è Vivienne e io ho bevuto. Mi si gonfia la pancia."Si posa la mano sullo stomaco perfettamente piatto, mentre si butta a peso morto sul letto."Forse non sto tanto bene perché non ho mangiato...""Genn. Devi mangiare. O perlomeno non bere se poi non mangi! Poi finisce che vomiti come in Malaysia ti ricordi?""Il photoshoot per August Man.Che nottataccia.""Menomale che non ci dobbiamo tornare più.""Menomale."Quando Alex entra nel suo campo visivo è in boxer.Genn si ritrova a sbarrare gli occhi e a voltare velocemente la testa senza un apparente motivo."Gè, oh! Ti viene da vomitare?""No..." la voce gli esce soffocata mentre ingoia sabbia."Ce la fai a spogliarti da solo?"Genn annuisce e si alza.La testa gli gira ma si costringe a stare dritto e a levarsi piano la giacca e la t-shirt col collo slargato."Vado a farmi un bagno. Magari sto meglio."Non aspetta la risposta di Alex, continua a dargli le spalle e non lo guarda mentre chiude la porta.Il bagno è fin troppo grande per entrambi, c'è una vasca che potrebbe far entrare tre persone e una doccia altrettanto capiente.I due lavandini ampi e la vasca sono l'unico punto bianco insieme agli asciugamani nel mare di marmo nero che è il resto.Ha i brividi lungo il petto e la schiena pallida.Apre i tre rubinetti della vasca e la riempie con tutto il bagnoschiuma al pino che trova.Evita lo specchio quando si cala shorts e collant, sfila via gli anfibi e non ci pensa due volte a calciare via tutto e a entrare nella vasca.Quando è piena chiude il flusso dell'acqua e scivola giù.Sott'acqua tutto diventa chiaro.Quasi riesce a sentire l'alcol che scivola via dai suoi vasi sanguigni e si mescola ai turbinii che crea col suo corpo.I suoni sono lontani da lui.Lui è su un altro pianeta. Se chiude gli occhi... Sente la stretta di Alex sulle dita.Vede il sole.La strada arroventata.Non sono a Milano.Non a Parigi, non a New York, non Londra o Tokyo.Non sono lì per il suo lavoro.Alex lo tira e ride e a Genn manca il fiato...Alex si ferma finalmente si volta ed è... bellissimo?Sì che lo è.Anche se ha i capelli che sono un vero disastro è una t-shirt terribilmente sdrucita che non indosserebbe mai, ma ride e lo prende per i fianchi, sfrega il naso contro la sua guancia e sussurra: "Mi stai facendo impazzire.""Cosa?"Genn sente la sua voce leggera, acquosa, ma si concentra sulle sue labbra che gli sfiorano l'arco di cupido."Sto diventando pazzo.Per te." Quando riemerge si aggrappa con tutte le forze ai bordi della vasca, le gambe ancora scalpitano sott'acqua, i suoi respiri corti e scostanti.Chiude gli occhi e cerca di controllarli, mentre stringe le dita ai bordi fino a sentire male alle falangi."Genn?"Inghiotte a vuoto, Alex bussa alla porta e lo chiama, non ha voglia di parlare con lui, non ha voglia di parlare di niente, non di domani, non della prossima mossa del suo team, non della sua inaspettata popolarità, non di quello che ha appena visto dietro le palpebre."Genn, io entro."Spalanca gli occhi e si tira indietro il ciuffo zuppo, non ha chiuso la porta, non la chiude mai, in genere rispettano i loro spazi senza che ci sia il bisogno di mettere confini."Che succede?"Genn segue lo sguardo stralunato del moro, c'è un piccolo lago d'acqua intorno alla vasca, deve aver scalciato troppo forte per tirarsi su."Uhm."Non sa bene che dire in realtà.Si sente le guance avvampare però quando Alex prende un paio di teli e asciuga alla bell'e meglio il pavimento, ne stende uno pulito e ci si siede sopra.Ha messo il pigiama, è di sartoria, naturalmente gli sta a pennello, e lui che invece dorme in..."Ti ho tirato fuori il baby-doll.""Quello cipria? La Perla?""Sì."Alex sorride e Genn si avvicina col viso al bordo della vasca poggiandoci la guancia e la mano destra."Ti prendi così cura di me.""In realtà sto con te solo per la fama.""Dai!"Scoppia a ridere fino a strusciare la guancia contro la ceramica, ha i brividi sulle spalle, l'unica parte fuori dall'acqua.Alex gli poggia una mano sulla guancia e Genn chiude gli occhi immediatamente."A cosa pensavi?"Genn non vuole dire quello che pensa, o meglio, quello che ha visto.Invece dice un'altra cosa che pensa comunque."Secondo te sono normale?Quello che faccio è normale?Come mi vesto, come mi nuovo.È normale che io dorma con un baby-doll?"Non apre gli occhi, ma sente la mano di Alex passare dalla sua guancia alle spalle, fino al braccio e ritorno.I brividi ora li sente per un altro motivo."È normale, se ti piace.Se stai comodo e ti senti tranquillo. Devi dormire come vuoi, altrimenti non riesci a riposare bene."Alex è calmo.Ora che ha aperto gli occhi può vedere il suo sorriso leggero che gli scalda il cuore."Ok. Ma è normale che io faccia quello che faccio?Non so... ci penso da quando quei commenti su Instagram me lo hanno fatto notare... cioè è stato tutto naturale per me, ma forse non lo è per gli altri?"Le dita di Alex si fermano e si stringono intorno al suo braccio."È normale. Genn, è normale.È sempre stato normale.Solo perché la cosa stranisce qualcuno non vuol dire che non sia normale.""E... se tu... se tu mi trovassi in un bar... o per strada o all'aeroporto... penseresti che sono normale? Vorresti parlare con me? Anche se magari ho i miei collant scuri e gli shorts?Anche se ho i pantaloni fiorati e un maglione rosa?""Certo che parlerei con te. Subito. Saresti la persona più interessante nel raggio di un chilometro.""E se... - chiude gli occhi di nuovo, premendo forte la guancia contro la ceramica - e se ti piacessi... vorresti stare con me?"Alex sta in silenzio.Genn non lo vede, preme più forte la guancia contro la ceramica fino a sentire male, quasi a punirsi per essere andato troppo oltre, il loro equilibrio è sempre stato così perfetto, mai troppo, mai troppo poco. È andato oltre? Ma lui lo vuole sapere.Vuole sapere se Alex lo sostiene solo perché gli vuole bene o perché è sincero.Vuole sapere se Alex lo accetterebbe lo stesso in condizioni diverse, se lo troverebbe ancora interessante, se vorrebbe essere suo amico, se vorrebbe... baciarlo? Perché Genn lo vuole fare da sempre, da quando ha conosciuto il calore delle sue braccia, i brividi leggeri dei suoi baci casti, la sua voce calma che sopisce le sue ansie, il suo tono felice che gli alimenta il sorriso.In effetti vorrebbe che Alex lo baciasse adesso.Perché ha freddo, le spalle gli tremano, l'acqua è diventata ghiacciata e se Alex lo baciasse è sicuro che si scalderebbe.Si scalderebbe subito.Alex è il suo Sole personale."Genn..."Sente le sue dita ruvide stringersi intorno alla pelle delicata del polso ma si aggrappa al bordo della vasca e non si muove."Gè, stai congelando. Vieni fuori dai, andiamo a letto, non vorrai star male, domani-""Vivienne, lo so."Solleva finalmente le palpebre e punta gli occhi su di Alex che non lo guarda.Fissa la sua mano intorno al polso di Genn e rimane fermo.Alex non gli vuole rispondere quindi.Va bene.Va beni- strattona il polso via dalla presa del moro -ssimo."Esci? Devo mettermi l'accappatoio."Alex si alza ma rimane fermo di fronte a lui."D'accordo."Genn si tira su dalla vasca da bagno e lo fissa.Alex tiene gli occhi nei suoi, spalancati, non lo guarda, non lo guarda davvero.Genn fa una smorfia e esce completamente gocciolante, gli passa affianco e recupera un accappatoio nero morbido e ci si seppellisce subito.Alex è ancora fermo, con lo sguardo fisso alla vasca ormai vuota e priva di bolle."Fai bene a non guardarmi.Sono ingrassato, lo so.Me lo hanno detto anche ieri, i miei colleghi."Alex vuole trovare la forza di girarsi e guardarlo, dirgli che non è vero che è ingrassato, che le sue scapole sono così sporgenti che sembrano i resti di ali recise, che è bellissimo e non deve ascoltarli sono solo invidiosi perché non sono belli come lui, ma non può dirlo perché non sa cosa sia successo, era tutto perfettamente normale prima che Genn tirasse fuori il-"Ma tanto loro hanno ragione.Sono perfetti. Tu... tu li preferisci.Fai bene a preferirli, fai bene ad andare a letto con loro, divertiti, sono contento se lo fai."A quel punto Alex sente montare la rabbia, si gira ma Genn è già uscito, ha spalancato le porte della cabina armadio dove hanno sistemato tutte le loro cose, rovista frenetico finché non trova un maglione slavato di Armani e un paio di... boxer? Non pensava neanche che Genn li possedesse, non li ha mai messi in questi anni, lo ha visto spesso quando erano a casa e la maglia gli si alzava o apriva un po' le gambe, lui ha sempre preferito...Quando finalmente si gira, non sembra nemmeno lui.Il maglione lo inghiotte sembra più piccolo di quanto effettivamente è, il grigio gli spegne il blu degli occhi, i boxer sono larghi, sembra un bambino che gioca a fare il grande coi vestiti del padre."Io vado a dormire."Genn lo supera senza guardarlo, ignora il baby-doll e solleva le coperte, facendolo cadere a terra, con una noncuranza così assurda, così..."Che stai facendo?"La voce non sarebbe dovuta uscirgli così dura.È solo confuso, Genn non può pretendere niente, non ha le risposte che cerca, le sicurezze che brama.È così instabile, Gennaro.Ha bisogno di lui, lo sente, lo vede.Lui c'è, ci sarà sempre.Non può fare altrimenti, non ci riesce.Però...Genn fa domande scomode, tira fuori discorsi strani, e vuole delle risposte, che Alex non può dargli.Sa solo che non può far a meno di Genn come, e forse di più di quanto Genn non può far a meno di lui.ForseForse...In effetti.Genn potrebbe trovarne a centinaia di Alex.Persone che lo supportano e lo sostengono e lo apprezzano davvero.Ma lui?Lui non può far a meno di Genn.Pasquale gli ha detto una volta che lui ha la sindrome da crocerossina, ma non è vero.Genn non ha bisogno di essere salvato.È così forte.Il suo spirito è più forte di qualsiasi cosa.Alex vuole solo che Genn stia bene, tranquillo, felice.Ha bisogno di prendersi cura di lui, specificatamente.Non gli importa di nessun altro.Anzi a dir la verità..."Non li preferisco.Non preferisco loro a te."Il cumulo di coperte che è Gennaro, non si muove.Alex sospira piano e raccoglie il baby-doll dal pavimento, poggiandolo delicatamente su una poltroncina.Cammina fino alla testata del letto e lo guarda.Il ciuffo biondo gli cade lungo sugli occhi, ma le labbra strette sono il segno che sta scoppiando di nervosismo."Genn, hai capito? Non vado a letto con qualcuno da una vita."Come una molla, Genn scatta seduto e lo guarda con gli occhi arrabbiati."Quanto? Un giorno? Una settimana? Due?"Alex aggrotta le sopracciglia."Non lo so. Non è che tengo il conto.""Allora non lo dire. Non lo dire neanche, non lo voglio sapere.""Hai detto che preferisco gli altri a te, ma non è vero, ci sei solo tu, come te lo spiego?"Alex rotea gli occhi scocciato.A Genn viene da piangere.Perché Alex dice le parole più belle del mondo ma con l'intenzione sbagliata.Ci sei solo tu, perché tu sei il mio migliore amico, nessun ragazzo o ragazza si metterà in mezzo alla nostra amicizia.Se solo Alex non sbuffasse, incrociando le braccia come davanti a un bambino capriccioso, se solo...Già.Che belle parole.Bellissime.Si sente un ingrato.La verità è che Genn vuole tutto.Ogni cosa da Alex.Vuole la sua amicizia, vuole la sua fedeltà, il suo corpo, il suo cuore, la sua mente.Vuole tutto.Ingordo, parassita, ingrato, lui vuole tutto.E invece non si merita un briciolo delle attenzioni che Alex gli dona."Allora, lo vogliamo levare quel maglione orribile, uhm?Non dormi neanche dieci minuti così."No.Non se lo merita Alex.Alex che recupera il baby-doll dalla sedia, lo aiuta a sfilarsi il maglione, e volta la testa quando si leva i boxer a favore delle coulotte abbinate, che spariscono subito sotto la canotta di raso lunga.Alex che quando lui gli stringe il braccio in un muto sono pronto si volta e gli sorride, aspetta che si stendano entrambi per abbracciarlo da dietro, incastrare le ginocchia con le sue, stringergli la mano sul suo stomaco.Alex che gli sussurra la buonanotte sulla nuca e poi ci lascia un bacio leggero, che si addormenta praticamente subito, senza lasciare la sua mano.E allora Genn sente scendergli una lacrima, veloce e nascosta, una sola.Perché non si merita neanche una stretta di mano da Alex.Ma lui la vuole.La sua mano, il suo cuore.Lui vuole tutto.    Alex a sinistra: Michael Kors Genn: giacca Balenciaga w/collant e creepers Baby-doll La Perla   È da quando si sono svegliati che Alex lo guarda.Cioè è normale, stanno facendo colazione in camera l'uno di fronte all'altro, è normale che Alex lo guardi, ma Genn non può far a meno di muoversi a disagio sulle sedia, mentre taglia la fragola nel suo piatto e ne inghiotte una parte a fatica."Mangia."Sussulta quando finalmente sente la sua voce, ma quando alza lo sguardo Alex è impassibile.Le spalle dritte fasciate dalla camicia nera, i gomiti sul tavolo, le mani intrecciate davanti alla bocca."No, non mi va Alè, sai che quando ho una sfilata mi si chiude lo stomac-""Ho detto: mangia."Genn sgrana gli occhi e li abbassa immediatamente sul suo piatto.Il pancake è tagliato a minuscoli pezzettini, ma non ne ha mangiato neanche una forchettata.Le fragole sono tutte ancora lì, tranne quella che ha tagliato.Prende un pezzo di pancake di malavoglia e lo mette in bocca.Subito lo stomaco gli si stringe, un sapore di acido gli invade la bocca e si affretta a buttare tutto giù con un sorso d'acqua."Bravo, Gè."Finalmente Alex scioglie l'intreccio delle sue dita fino a mostrare il sorriso leggero delle labbra.Genn si ritrova a sorridergli di rimando e a prendere distrattamente un'altra forchettata di pancake senza lasciare il suo sguardo.Stavolta il sapore di acido in bocca è meno sconvolgente, inghiotte velocemente e vede di nuovo Alex annuire e addolcire lo sguardo.Quando mette in bocca due fragole Alex gli stringe la mano sopra il tavolo e Genn si sente già meglio.La sfilata è di pomeriggio, ma come spesso accade, il team dello stylist chiama tutti i modelli a raccolta anche molte ore prima, per le prove generali.Fa scattare l'elastico alle sue autoreggenti bianche mentre si allaccia le Rocking Horse Golf nere.La camiciona nera scende a coprire l'elastico e si guarda velocemente allo specchio.Si aggiusta la frangia alla bell'e meglio e non si preoccupa di uniformare la pelle del viso con il fondotinta o di levare lo smalto dalle unghie.Con un po' di fortuna glielo faranno tenere."Gè sei pronto?"Alex è rimasto seduto alla scrivania con le gambe aperte, la testa poggiata sul pugno.Un'unica macchia nera sullo sfondo bianco dei suppellettili.Anche lui è in Vivienne, non torneranno al The Peninsula perciò sono già pronti per dopo."Ci sono, andiamo."     Genn a sinistra e Alex a destra Vivienne Westwood   Attraversano la hall mano nella mano, Genn guarda Alex con la coda dell'occhio, da quando sono usciti dalla hall non lo ha lasciato un secondo, con la scusa delle Rocking.In realtà le scarpe sono comodissime e lui è abituato a esercitarsi coi tacchi, Alex lo sa meglio di chiunque, è una scusa che non regge.Però è contento, perché quando le mette può guardarlo direttamente negli occhi e stando così vicini può vederli ancora meglio."Prendiamo il primo taxi che troviamo."Genn abbassa la testa e incassa le spalle, non smette di sorridere da stamattina, da quando Alex finalmente si è sciolto dopo la serataccia di ieri.Era nervoso appena sveglio, ma adesso che Alex gli mette la mano sulla schiena quando sale sul taxi e gli riprende la mano, si sente tranquillissimo.Non sa cosa gli faccia Alex.Sa solo che non potrebbe fare a meno di tutto questo.   Genn, oh... Genn respira. Ohi, guardami. Guardami. Respira. "Ho paura." Lo so, lo so, ma non preoccuparti. Ora vai là fuori e spacchi tutto. Poi torniamo in stanza va bene? "Stai qui?"Prende dei respiri profondi e finalmente solleva le palpebre.Alex ha le mani sulle sue ginocchia coperte dal tessuto verde.Ha freddo ma avverte distintamente una gocciolina di sudore scendergli dietro la nuca."Sto qui.""Forza tocca a te!"Un ragazzo dello staff lo tira per il polso, quasi lo fa cadere, fa in tempo a vedere Alex annuire serio verso la sua direzione prima di essere spinto fra due altri modelli che lo guardano malissimo.Stringe gli occhi e cerca di calmare lo stomaco in subbuglio, conosce la runaway, conosce i suoi vestiti, si tira la blusa e si sfiora il cuore tagliato sul petto.Okokokok ci sono.Guarda dritto, la luce è fortissima, lo sbalzo luminoso col backstage è pazzesco ma è abituato, come è abituato a camminare sulla superficie bianca lucida, senza paura di scivolare, di cadere, sguardo in avanti, denti stretti.Giro.Ci sono.Il ritorno è il più facile sempre, sente già il peso sul petto affievolirsi leggermente, vuole solo correre da Alex, così tanto.Ma non può.Non può perché quando rientra lo tirano di nuovo verso il guardaroba, la costumista lo spoglia, gli cala il vestito, rassetta, lo spinge verso il trucco, ripassata veloce, non sta capendo niente, respira piano, Alex Alex sisisi pensa a lui pensa alla calma che..."Un minuto, vai, vai!"Scatta in piedi, prende la pochette, respira a fatica ma sì grazie al cielo questa è l'ultima, domani tornano a Milano, andrà tutto bene. È calmo. Forse gli ultimi metri della runaway li ha percorsi praticamente correndo ma non è colpa sua, vuole solo trovare..."Alex! Alè, dove...""Gè."Alex è illuminato a malapena, ma riconosce la sua figura nel buio, è a pochi metri, ma Genn corre, ringraziando gli spacchi ai lati del vestito, li ringrazia doppiamente, perché Alex gli sorride e lui gli salta in braccio e lo stringe fortissimo.Gli scivolano via le scarpe e molla la pochette quando Alex lo spinge contro il muro per poterlo reggere meglio.Genn ride contro il suo orecchio, sente la tensione scivolare via ogni secondo che passa a contatto con il suo corpo."Sei stato bravissimo."Genn chiude gli occhi e sussurra: "Non ti ringrazierò mai abbastanza per tutto il sostegno che mi dai. Sempre."Alex gli lascia le gambe, e Genn scende di malavoglia.Quando riesce a scorgere il suo viso nella penombra, sente distintamente le sue parole sopra il brusio del backstage."Ti voglio bene."Genn sorride."Anch'i-""No Genn. Non hai idea di quanto te ne voglia." Sì invece. Sente il cuore in gola, vuole andare via con Alex subito, ora."Vatti a cambiare, andiamocene adesso."Genn annuisce con gli occhi lucidi, anche se sa che non è così che funziona, deve rimanere, deve fare le foto, deve rispondere alle domande di chiunque abbia un microfono o un invito ufficiale allo show...Ma Alex lo guarda serio e gli stringe la mano fin troppo forte, sta succedendo qualcosa, lo sente, devono andare via subito."Io... io vado... vado. Mi sbrigo."Alex gli stringe un'ultima volta la mano e annuisce, Genn praticamente corre nello spogliatoio, si leva il vestito a fatica, recupera la sua borsa, le chiavi, l'armadietto, gli tremano le mani quando infila la camiciona nera, riesce a tirar su solo una calza, l'altra rimane ferma alla caviglia, si allaccia velocemente le scarpe e traballa sul posto.Ha il fiatone, le guance rosse, non succede niente, la sfilata è andata bene, probabilmente Alex vuole solo portarlo in albergo, farlo mangiare, magari si riposano, fanno le valige, magari... magari...Alex lo aspetta fuori dallo spogliatoio, lo prende per mano senza una parola e si fa largo fra la gente.Naturalmente non riescono a evitare i fotografi, tengono la testa bassa e ignorano le urla, Genn sente distintamente il suo nome e il nome di Frida, non ha il tempo di stupirsi perché hanno capito chi sono, stringe più forte la mano di Alex e insieme percorrono a fatica il marciapiede fino a trovare un taxi libero.Il viaggio fino al The Peninsula sembra durare un'infinità, Alex ha tenuto la mano destra sulla sua coscia, finché Genn non l'ha ingabbiata con l'altra, fermando le carezze distrattamente mirate al suo interno coscia.Neanche salutano il concierge, Genn continua a tenere il capo chino e la mano stretta in quella bollente di Alex.Arrivano al quinto piano, ma quando entrano in stanza, Genn viene spinto contro il mogano nero della porta.Fa in tempo a sospirare sorpreso, che Alex gli prende una coscia sollevandogliela, si spinge contro di lui e Genn riesce a sentire la sua durezza attraverso i pantaloni."Mi stai facendo impazzire."Spalanca gli occhi e cerca disperatamente i suoi, ma sono al buio, non vede niente, sente solo il suo respiro contro il collo e lo strusciare continuo dei loro fianchi.Sì, perché anche lui ha cominciato a seguire le spinte lente di Alex, sente la stoffa intorno al suo membro tirare, in un folle sprazzo di lucidità pensa che dovrebbe smettere, dovrebbe fermarsi, accendere le luci chiedere ad Alex che sta facendo, che succede, erano alla sfilata e ora che cazzo sta succedendo...Tutto quello che gli esce dalle labbra però è un ansito contro l'orecchio del moro, spinge il ginocchio contro la sua gamba e Alex gli tira su anche l'altra coscia, Genn incrocia le caviglie dietro la sua schiena, in una posa molto simile a quella di mezz'ora prima.Solo con un'intenzione del tutto diversa.Si aggrappa alla sua schiena solida, mentre Alex continua a spingere e a strusciarsi contro di lui, i tonfi del suo corpo sbattuto contro il legno al ritmo delle loro spinte.Genn spalanca gli occhi nel buio assoluto e trova la forza di sussurrare un no vago, la bocca arida e i muscoli delle gambe che tirano.Alex si ferma subito ma non lo lascia, gli appoggia con più delicatezza la schiena al mogano e aspetta.Genn non sa con quale forza riesce a sussurrare letto, sembra più un rantolo, ma ha difficoltà a esprimere concetti più complessi.Alex sembra comunque capirlo, visto che lo porta di peso al letto, le luci di emergenza come unica guida nella stanza buia.Quando Alex lo stende e si posiziona fra le sue cosce, sente i suoi pantaloni grattare l'interno della sua coscia nuda l'altra è abbandonata di lato, Genn si sente privo di forze, svuotato, spera davvero che Alex voglia prendersi tutto da solo, non riesce ad assecondarlo ora.In effetti quando il moro gli morde la mascella ci pensa, se è il caso di assecondarlo o no, e al perché di entrambe le risposte, sa solo che lui adesso ha bisogno che Alex faccia qualcosa che non sia solo stringergli le cosce e strusciarsi dolorosamente contro di lui."La luce..."Lo sussurra contro l'orecchio del moro.Lui sussulta e gli soffia un no contro l'orecchio che gli fa venire i brividi e gli fa anche stringere lo stomaco in una morsa."Non vuoi... vedermi?"Non vuole vederti preferisce immaginare che tu sia chiunque altro ma non tu, sei il suo migliore amico e se non ti vede non si pentirà domani.Chiude gli occhi e lascia le spalle di Alex, abbandonando le braccia sul materasso.Sente Alex allontanarsi, chiude le cosce immediatamente, per colmare il vuoto del suo corpo.Spera che almeno Alex non lo giudichi quando andrà a farsi una sega nel bagno, e se gli sfuggirà una lacrima non lo saprà nessuno."Genn... apri gli occhi."Lui li apre perché non riesce a negargli niente.Neanche adesso.Alex ha poggiato il suo telefono sul comodino, ha acceso la torcia e ha in mano un preservativo e un piccolo lubrificante.La luce della torcia non è abbastanza da illuminare tutta la stanza, ma le loro figure si distinguono perfettamente.Non la stessa cosa di un'abat jour, ma..."Non ho bisogno di vederti in realtà."Alex si risiede sul letto, libera le mani lasciando tutto sul materasso e gli accarezza piano il ginocchio coperto dalla calza."Conosco ogni centimetro di te."Ed è vero.È vero.Alex non ha il piacere della scoperta col suo corpo, ma lui..."Ma io no. Io voglio vederti."Alex gli sorride mentre si alza in piedi, stavolta per rimanere affianco a lui e sbottonarsi piano la camicia nera.Genn lo vede poco lo stesso, ma si morde il labbro forte, perché non è... come lo aveva immaginato.La pancetta che lo aveva sempre caratterizzato non c'è.Non c'è più almeno, perché prima la sentiva, la vedeva, era sempre poca ma c'era.E le sue spalle... le braccia... ok la palestra negli alberghi, ok la palestra a casa, ma i vestiti nascondevano tutto.Non è che... Alex abbia la tartaruga o i bicipiti super sviluppati, però visto così, in piedi affianco al letto...Alex è enorme.Quando si slaccia i pantaloni, Genn si concentra subito su quelli.Li lascia scivolare piano, insieme agli slip e...Ok.Alex è enorme davvero.Sente la bocca diventare un deserto, sfrega le cosce l'una contro l'altra, vorrebbe tantissimo toccarsi, ma forse ad Alex non piacerebbe.Rimane fermo, con le cosce strette fra loro, ancora completamente vestito, si sente a disagio, mentre Alex si siede tranquillo sul materasso e comincia ad accarezzargli le gambe, piano, rilassante, finché Genn non le apre per lui naturalmente, gli occhi lucidi e le labbra gonfie.Gli solletica la coscia nuda, le dita passano leggere sulla pelle e Genn ha i brividi, ma cerca di rimanere con gli occhi aperti mentre Alex gli raggiunge il colletto della camicia.Gliela sbottona piano, quando finalmente gli passa la mano sul petto e sullo stomaco è tentato di scappare.Alex è stato con tanti altri modelli e modelle e anche altre persone su cui non ha voluto indagare, sicuramente più belli e interessanti di lui, che è ingrassato nonostante il regime alimentare ferreo, che è pieno di difetti che continuano a fargli notare."Vorrei tanto dirti che sei bellissimo... - Genn apre le labbra ma Alex lo interrompe subito - ma so che non ti farebbe piacere, perciò non te lo dico. Ma lo penso."Digrigna i denti quando Alex fa scendere la sua mano fino al pizzo nero delle sue mutandine e spinge.Vuole solo che Alex faccia qualcosa, qualsiasi cosa, piuttosto che rimanere lì nudo con un'imponente mezza erezione in mezzo alle gambe a sfiorarlo senza fare effettivamente nulla.La luce della torcia del telefono di Alex rende tutto un po' vacuo, gli mette addosso un senso di claustrofobia, comincia a respirare pesantemente, si rende conto dopo che è perché Alex ha cominciato a toccarlo per davvero.Lo prende facilmente nel palmo, gli ha solo scostato il tessuto senza spogliarlo, così come non lo ha spogliato delle calze e della camicia dopo averla sbottonata.È in ginocchio sul materasso, rilassato nella sua nudità, con un sorriso soddisfatto lo guarda contorcersi sotto le sue carezze, Genn tiene gli occhi aperti finché-"Ah!"Alex lo ha preso in bocca senza neanche rifletterci, Genn chiude gli occhi e apre di più le cosce, Alex è veloce, morbido, la sua bocca è caldissima, non riesce..."Alè no, ora vengo."Gli tira i capelli alla cieca, si deve spostare, perché questa è la loro prima volta insieme, nonvuolenonvuolenonvuole"Non voglio venire così."Alex si scosta, ma riprende a masturbarlo, col mento sporco di saliva gli chiede: "Due volte? Ce la fai?"Genn geme, non riesce a pensarci, la mano di Alex scivola più facilmente intorno a lui adesso, sente i denti scricchiolare tanto li stringe."Sono... stanco..."Gli esce solo quello, non riesce ad articolare un discorso completo con tutte le ragioni per cui è stanco, la carenza di cibo, di sonno, l'ansia per Vivienne, lo stress, Alex non so neanche se riesco ad avere un orgasmo una volta senza svenire!Il moro sembra capire comunque, finalmente ferma le sue carezze e Genn si ritrova a sospirare.Quando apre gli occhi lo vede srotolarsi un preservativo sull'erezione perfettamente formata e piena.In un altro momento gli avrebbe detto che il pompino è servito più a lui che a se stesso, ma ha la bocca secchissima, perché Alex si sta già scaldando il lubrificante fra le dita.Si affretta a sfilarsi la camicia, fa troppo caldo, fa in tempo a abbassarsi le mutandine, rimangono incastrate intorno al ginocchio, prima che Alex gli apra le gambe e spinga l'indice dentro di lui.Si ritrova a ispirare all'improvviso perché non se lo aspettava, non riesce a pensarci troppo che le dita divengono due e Alex ha le mani grandi, non riesce a-Quando le dita diventano tre, Genn sente gli occhi rivoltarsi nelle orbite e i muscoli stringersi intorno alle falangi di Alex."Aspetta, aspetta."Finalmente il movimento impietoso delle dita del moro si ferma, si sente scoppiare già così, come farà poi-Sospira.Allunga le mani alla cieca fino a incontrare le spalle di Alex."Alè - la voce gli esce più roca di prima, se la schiarisce e ci riprova. - devi fare piano. Ti prego, sennò mi fai male."Alex si china e gli lascia un bacio a bocca aperta sul collo."Scusa, non... non sono più abituato."Genn non gli chiede il motivo.Non gli chiede se è perché le ultime persone che sono state con lui erano donne o se erano ragazzi che sono sempre pronti, a prescindere.Non lo vuole- gli morde una guancia un po' più forte del necessario -sapere.Quando Alex si sposta con un lamento, Genn lo guarda alla luce offuscata della torcia."Con me... devi fare piano.""Scusami."Gli lascia un bacio affianco alla narice, e si sposta subito, prima che Genn possa avere il tempo di chiedergli un bacio vero.Alex tira fuori le dita piano, ci spreme sopra altro lubrificante e ne approfitta per accarezzarsi l'erezione coperta dal profilattico.Genn non ha modo di dispiacersi per tutto il tempo in cui Alex si sta trascurando in suo favore, perché il moro ricomincia, inserisce l'indice con più facilità adesso, ma rimane di più, scava meglio, più a fondo, Genn sente le pareti piegarsi al tocco dell'altro.Quando unisce il medio e l'anulare Genn urla, una scarica di piacere lo colpisce, stringe le dita intorno alle spalle di Alex, allarga di più le gambe, il moro continua a colpire quel punto finché non unisce anche il mignolo.Gli tremano le cosce e respira affannosamente, sente il sudore  scivolargli intorno al collo e sulla schiena, riesce a sussurrare un sono pronto solo perché se Alex insiste rischia di..."No, non sei pronto."Nonononono sono pronto, sono "Ah!"Alex gli colpisce la prostata con tutte e quattro le dita e Genn gli infila le unghia nelle spalle."Se tu continui - digrigna i denti - io vengo. Smettila."Alex sospira, sfila le dita e si ripassa l'erezione ormai al limite con il lubrificante."Alessio." Sputa arrabbiato."Solo per essere sicuro, Gennà.Non voglio farti male."Genn si abbandona sul cuscino con uno sbuffo e allarga le gambe quando Alex si posiziona contro di lui.Appena si spinge fra le sue pareti, si sente soffocare.Alex è troppo, troppo, neanche con una preparazione così lunga, non...Piano piano piano pianoSi accorge di sussurrarlo contro la sua guancia al ritmo delle sue spinte, sempre più forte, sempre più dentro...Si aggrappa alle sue spalle mentre Alex gli stringe le cosce fino a fargli male."Sei - ansima il moro contro il suo orecchio - strettissimo. Non ce la faccio.""Neanch'io."Alex gli colpisce la prostata più volte, mentre la sua erezione si strofina contro i loro stomachi."Vieni... con... me..."Come se stesse aspettando solo quello, Alex spinge fino a seppellirsi completamente dentro di lui e viene, con un rantolo, seguito subito da Genn che viene senza essere toccato.Sente le cosce afflosciarsi sul materasso, continua a tenere le braccia intorno alla nuca di Alex solo per inezia, in un abbraccio stanco.La testa gli pulsa, sta sudando e gli manca un po' il respiro con Alex completamente abbandonato su di lui.Vuole solo andarsi a lavare, e poi dormire, dormire tantissimo, i muscoli gli fanno male e sente delle fitte al sedere continue.Ma continua a tenere Alex abbracciato, su di lui, dentro di lui, non vuole che vada mai via, perché se succede allora Alex potrebbe rendersi conto di quello che hanno fatto e allontanarsi da lui, senza neanche avergli dato un bacio.Le lacrime che ha trattenuto fino ad ora, scorrono sulle sue guance, per il dolore ai muscoli, la stanchezza, la forza con cui Alex l'ha preso, e il bacio che non gli ha dato.Sente le labbra pizzicare, ma quando si gira Alex si è già spostato, esce da lui piano, le sue pareti non si richiudono subito, le sente ancora morbide e slargate, serra le cosce e si tira il lenzuolo addosso.Avverte Alex affianco a lui levarsi il preservativo ma chiude gli occhi e cerca di nascondersi sotto il cotone, sperando che le guance gli si asciughino presto."Ci andiamo a sciacquare, vuoi?"Dice Alex con una carezza scomposta ai suoi capelli sudati.Ha lo stomaco sporco di sperma, lubrificante ovunque, ma è abbastanza sicuro che se provasse ad alzarsi, si ritroverebbe per terra subito.Scuote la testa e si stringe più forte nel lenzuolo, Alex sospira e si alza.Sente rumori dal bagno, dura poco e l'altro è già di ritorno, nonostante le proteste gli scosta il cotone di dosso e gli passa un asciugamano sullo stomaco e in mezzo alle gambe.Lo ripiega e spinge con troppa forza il telo bagnato contro la sua apertura, Genn sibila per il dolore e il fastidio, ma Alex continua a ripulirlo, più piano, ma con forza."Scusami. Non sono abituato.""Lo hai già detto.""Eh ma è vero. Dopo... si faceva una doccia, insieme qualche volta, o... non so. Non le so fare queste cose.""Allora mi sa che hai sempre sbagliato tutto." Genn digrigna i denti, non lo vuole sapere, e Alex continua a forzare l'asciugamano-"Mi sa di sì."Quando allontana il telo dalla sua pelle Genn sospira sollevato.Va meglio ora che Alex lo ha aiutato, socchiude gli occhi e sussurra grazie, mentre il moro stende una coperta più pesante e si sistema dietro di lui.Raccatta il telefono, spegne la torcia e non pretende di avere il lenzuolo anche per sé.Lascia che la coperta ruvida gli graffi la pelle, lo abbraccia da dietro, ma comunque gli lascia il lenzuolo tutto per lui.Quando Alex lo bacia leggero dietro al collo, Genn pensa al fatto che l'altro non era abituato.Lo ha detto più volte.Non era abituato ad andare piano, non a preoccuparsi troppo dell'altra persona, non all'occuparsi del dopo.Ma con lui lo ha fatto.E se anche Alex domani si pentirà di tutto, Genn non si è pentito.Prima di chiudere gli occhi si concede il lusso di sentirsi un po' più speciale, un gradino sopra, sopra tutti gli altri.Quando si era svegliato quella mattina, Alex era già in piedi, aveva chiamato il servizio in camera e gli aveva augurato il buongiorno con un bacio sulla fronte.Ora che sono sull'aereo per tornare a casa, Genn lo osserva sonnecchiare tranquillo.Dopo dieci minuti di volo, Alex aveva chiesto per lui un cuscino extra, avendolo visto muoversi scomodo sul sedile.Genn gli sorride adesso, mentre giochicchia con le sue dita inermi.Alex non sembra pentito di quello che è successo.Le cose non sono strane oggi, non sono cambiate e non c'è imbarazzo.Sono solo loro due insieme, come è sempre stato.Il viaggio in auto è stato più doloroso per Genn, Alex gli ha tenuto la mano tutto il tempo, e quando sono arrivati a casa Iodice, lo ha preso in braccio e lo ha portato nella sua stanza senza una parola.Hanno dormito insieme come sempre.Non è cambiato nulla davvero."Genn." Grazie molte per "Genn, davvero." i complimenti! "La smetti con quel telefono un attimo?" Vi farò sapere quali saranno i prossimi impegni a brev- "Hey!"Alex gli ha levato il telefono dalle mani proprio quando stava avvisando i suoi nuovi, sgargianti diecimila followers su Instagram che che li avrebbe avvisati a breve riguardo i prossimi eventi in programma."Devono sapere quali sono i miei impegni, no? A cosa lavorerò in futuro.""Credimi, Genn, vivono tranquillamente anche se non lo sanno."Genn prova a riprenderglielo dalle mani, ma Alex è più veloce."Io invece non vivo senza la tua attenzione, quindi vedi di fare qualcosa al riguardo."Si girano un po' intorno, Alex tiene l'iPhone sempre fuori dalla sua portata, Genn rischia di cadere più volte mentre lo rincorre ridendo, le calze scivolano sul pavimento di marmo della cucina.Finalmente Alex si ferma.La camicia azzurra che gli fascia il torace si tende mentre porta le mani dietro la schiena, il suo telefono stretto fra le dita.Genn gli è di fronte con un broncio, gli occhi ancora luminosi e il ciuffo scompigliato.Si è svegliato poco fa, Alex invece è in piedi da chissà quanto, già vestito di tutto punto, i tacchetti delle sue scarpe lucide ancora risuonano nella stanza."Prima..."Genn si avvicina ulteriormente, la camicia di Alex che indossa fruscia a ogni falcata, le parigine che coprono le sue gambe gli attutiscono i passi."Voglio che mi dai qualcosa in cambio."Genn sorride già, adora i giochi."Una cosa importante. Che ti appartiene ma non mi hai mai dato."Il suo è un sorriso confuso, non ha idea di cosa stia parlando Alex, ma dev'essere qualcosa di bello e imbarazzante insieme visto che il moro non riesce a controllare né il sorriso né il rossore del collo."Vuoi che ti presto un paio di calze?Le mutandine no perché mi servono e comunque non ti entrerebbero. Dobbiamo trovarne di più larghe."Genn adora sviare i discorsi, esattamente come adora mettere in difficoltà Alex.Ultimamente, ci riesce spesso."No, no. - infatti. Il rossore aumenta, il sorriso anche, ma le sopracciglia gli si aggrottano. - È una cosa che puoi anche rifiutarmi. Ma la vorrei. Davvero."Genn fa un altro passo in avanti e gli sfiora la guancia col naso.Un bacio.Anche lui lo vuole.Davvero.Prende un respiro e posa le labbra delicate su quelle di Alex.Rimangono entrambi così.Fermi.Dopo qualche lungo attimo Genn inspira dal naso e si stacca.Stringe le mani intorno ai fianchi di Alex e solleva le palpebre.Alex ha ancora gli occhi chiusi.Apre leggermente le labbra e sospira piano.Genn è curioso adesso.Non è stato un vero e proprio bacio, uno di quelli spinti, lingue e passione, ma neanche un bacio da fuochi d'artificio e romanticismo.È stato un bacio leggero, quasi... infantile?Come uno di quei baci da cartone Disney.Il bacio del Risveglio.Come la Bella Addormentata, Alex apre gli occhi.Sorride, poggia il suo telefono vicino al piano cottura e si sporge, facendo scontrare di nuovo le loro labbra insieme.È più uno scoprirsi, saggiarsi, conoscersi.Alex gli guida il viso con la mano, finché non riescono a trovare un ritmo, le lingue da timide diventano più audaci e Genn cerca di spingere più in avanti il viso, ma Alex lo blocca subito, pollice sulla gola e dita stese sulla guancia.Detta lui il ritmo e Genn è tranquillo nelle sue mani.Si ritrova spinto contro al lungo piano cucina, poggia i palmi all'indietro e Alex ride, mentre lo solleva dai fianchi e lo fa sedere sul granito."In realtà - sussurra contro il suo collo sottile - volevo chiederti in prestito la tua sciarpa Hermés. Ma se proprio non vuoi..."Genn scoppia a ridere contro la sua tempia, gli stringe le braccia intorno al collo e apre le cosce per fargli spazio.Alex gli lascia una serie di baci dal collo al mento, fino a tornare alle sue labbra, Genn sente che riprende a respirare solo quando ha di nuovo la lingua di Alex in bocca.In realtà... in realtà vorrebbe avere anche qualcos'altro in bocca.Geme contro le labbra di Alex, gli stringe più forte le spalle, il pensiero di avere il suo membro sulla lingua è bastato a farlo eccitare e adesso incrocia le gambe dietro la schiena del moro, spera che lui capisca, spera che...Alex si stacca da Genn e apre gli occhi.Gli salta il cuore in gola perché Genn ha la bocca ancora aperta, la lingua gonfia e rossa visibile all'interno, le labbra sporche delle loro salive.Gli viene spontaneo posare due dita all'angolo di quelle labbra lucide, così come viene spontaneo a Genn girare leggermente il viso e prenderle in bocca.Genn stringe la mano di Alex e si spinge le sue dita fra le labbra, continua a tenere gli occhi chiusi, ma se il respiro affannato dell'altro è un qualche segnale, nessuno può biasimarlo se sorride e ingloba anche l'anulare, spingendo il bacino contro di lui, Alè fai qualcosa cazzo.Genn spalanca gli occhi quando Alex gli sfila bruscamente le dita dalla bocca e gli stringe la coscia con la mano sinistra."Ora spiegami cosa mi impedisce di scoparti con la mano bagnata dalla tua saliva."Genn sorride."Nulla. Anzi vorrei tanto che tu lo facessi."Alex gli geme fra le labbra, gli sbottona la sua stessa camicia, e lo spinge indietro, facendolo stendere contro la pietra fredda.Genn lo asseconda, quando l'altro gli accarezza le gambe coperte dalle calze gli vengono i brividi.In questo massaggio segue gli spostamenti imposti da Alex e si ritrova con le gambe schiuse, la lingerie borgogna in bella mostra, l'erezione mal trattenuta che tira il tessuto e Genn non si vergogna.Non si vergogna di essere un disastro tremante davanti ad Alex, non si vergogna se magari non è sexy o non si muove al momento giusto, non teme il confronto con gli altri, e non ha paura.Non ha paura.E non si vergogna."Vorrei poterti guardare così sempre."Alex continua a massaggiargli le cosce e Genn le allarga inconsciamente, si sposta in avanti con la schiena fino a scontrarsi contro il rigonfiamento del moro.Ha i brividi e sta sudando, non riesce a... a... "Alex..."Questa è la quarta volta per loro.La quarta volta da Parigi.Ed ogni volta è diversa, ogni volta è più bella, continuano a conoscersi in ogni istante che passano in quel modo, Alex è troppo, ma è anche troppo poco, perché quando si ritrovano così, Genn si chiede perché Alex non sia tutto il tempo dentro di lui.Perché perdano tempo a mangiare, dormire, fare cose, quando potrebbero stare così sempre."Sbrigati."Appunto.Alex si slaccia solo i pantaloni, tira fuori un preservativo dal portafogli ma poi si blocca."Non ho il lubrificante. Sta in camera."Genn sbuffa e volta la testa.Non possono davvero fare senza.La cosa della saliva era sexy ma non possono davvero fare senza."Olio. Prendi l'olio."Alex si scosta perplesso, ma Genn riprende."È naturale, no? Siamo in cucina, non mi vengono in mente altre soluzioni.""Vado sopra a prendere il lubrificante, no?""Col cavolo che ti sposti da qui."Genn lo tira giù per un bacio più spinto, geme nella sua bocca quando Alex si spinge contro di lui, gli morde il labbro e lo fa staccare."Trova l'olio."Soffia fra i denti.Alex spalanca gli occhi e poi sorride malizioso."Questa mi sembra una delle nostre cazzate, stile party Campari."Genn gli ride praticamente in bocca, il petto vibra scosso dall'ilarità, facendo tremare entrambi."Allora stai fermo qui, ok?"Gli soffia tra le labbra, mentre Genn sussurra un e chi si muove tranquillo.Alex si sposta verso gli armadietti della cucina, deve fermarsi più volte dal rovistare, le mani gli tremano, e sente l'erezione spingere fin troppo forte contro i boxer.Quando finalmente trova la boccetta dell'olio sospira pesantemente, si gira verso Genn e si blocca.Il biondo tiene le gambe serrate, il borgogna delle calze risalta sul granito, indossa ancora la camicia che gli ha rubato dall'armadio, completamente aperta a scoprire il suo petto chiaro, liscio, delicato.Genn respira con gli occhi chiusi, lo stomaco gli si incava mostrando le costole, sfrega le cosce insieme e stringe i pugni a vuoto.Alex lo vede che sta scoppiando anche lui.La camicia lo sta facendo sudare, anche se il termostato è regolato e la casa è perfettamente fresca.Non ha modo di sbottonarsi perché appena mette una mano sul ginocchio di Genn, lui schiude le gambe e apre gli occhi."Alè...""Sì. Sisisi ci sono."La foga è passata.Accarezza piano le cosce di Genn fino a raggiungere le sue mutandine, vorrebbe davvero che Genn le tenesse, ma gli stanno talmente bene che non vuole rischiare di rovinarle, gli fa alzare il bacino mentre le sfila, Genn lo ingabbia nuovamente fra le sue gambe e Alex si infila con difficoltà il preservativo.Genn in realtà non ha bisogno di tanta preparazione adesso, le sue pareti cedono più velocemente, gli ultimi cinque giorni hanno lasciato il segno sul suo corpo.Comunque infila le dita dentro di lui, le sforbicia, allarga la sua apertura il più possibile, l'olio effettivamente aiuta, non era poi un'idiozia così grossa."Ci metterai una vita a lavare via l'olio." Dice però."Lo so."Genn ridacchia e sospira quando Alex spinge di più le dita e aggiunge anche il mignolo."A-lex. Basta così."Alex annuisce, Genn è pronto, era pronto anche due minuti fa, ma voleva essere sicuro che non si facesse male."Se mi faccio male te lo dico."Ah.Mica si era accorto di averlo detto ad alta voce.Genn ride."Non l'hai detto ad alta voce, ma l'ho letto - gli passa le dita sulla sopracciglia aggrottate -...qui."Alex sente una morsa al petto, si spinge in avanti fino a far scontrare le loro labbra, Genn è così...È così Genn.Così tanto.Si stacca dalle sue labbra e chiede.Chiede con gli occhi, chiede il permesso, lo chiede sempre.Non è abituato a comportarsi così, ma è bastata una volta con Genn e tutto poi gli è venuto naturale.Genn annuisce, e Alex spinge.Incontra resistenza, forse sarà così sempre, anche dopo la preparazione, anche se passano il resto della vita a fare questo.Ma va bene.Perché Alex ha imparato ad aspettare, ad andare piano, a guardare sempre Genn, osservare l'angolo della sua bocca arricciato, la fronte contratta.E poi...Genn apre gli occhi e lo guarda. Non deve parlare, annuire, non serve.Alex scende a baciargli il collo fino ad entrare del tutto dentro di lui."Allora, Genn... preferisci essere chiamato Genn, vero?"Edmund Aerts lo guarda al di sopra della montatura geometrica.Ha un bel sorriso, l'accento neozelandese non di poco conto, anche se ho il papà belga, pensa! e una sfilza di anelli.Genn è nervoso.Questa intervista potrebbe essere il mezzo principale per farsi conoscere, magari spiegarsi, spiegare cosa è successo a Bottega, spiegare i suoi improvvisi novantaquattro mila followers su Instagram, spiegare...In realtà non lo sa.Per lui non c'è niente da spiegare.Ma a quanto pare deve.E se una fra le più influenti riviste maschili ti offre un'intervista e un photoshoot il minimo che puoi fare è spiegare.Il cosa poi è secondario."Puoi chiamarmi Genn. Mi chiamano tutti così, lo preferisco."Sorride, si passa le mani sui jeans fiorati di Gucci e sospira.Vestirsi per l'intervista di Another Man è stata un'altra impresa.Ha escluso a priori tutti i suoi shorts e le calze, niente maglioni rosa o shirt-dress.In realtà non c'è niente di male.Non ci trova niente di male in metà del suo armadio.Così alla fine ha sbuffato e si è preso un maglione crema e uno dei suoi jeans fiorati.Stanno facendo un brunch ma Genn non può mangiare praticamente nulla, non ricorda neanche il sapore della torta fragola e panna che trangugia di gusto Edmund."In realtà ti trovo molto bene, non ti preoccupare troppo dei vestiti, siamo qui anche per passare del tempo insieme!"Scuote i ricci scuri e si gratta vagamente il lato della testa rasato."So che non puoi mangiare niente.Ti ho ordinato una tisana e della robiola con la bresaola.Alex si è molto raccomandato."Genn sussulta e finalmente alza lo sguardo verso il giornalista."Alex?"Gli esce più spaventato del dovuto, Edmund scriverà di lui che è solo un cerbiatto tremante, che non ha idea neanche di dove si trova."Ah, sai io lo conosco. Ci siamo incrociati più di qualche volta.Però devo ammettere... chi se lo scorda quello che avete combinato al party della Campari?"Genn si sente morire."C'eri anche tu?""E chi non c'era? Mr. Iodice ha tirato su un teatro che probabilmente l'hanno sentito anche ad Auckland."Ridacchia mentre butta giù un sorso di tea.Mette in bocca del pane e caviale e Genn storce la bocca, grazie al cielo non ha mangiato niente."Dicevo, Alex si è raccomandato che mangiassi qualcosa, qualcosa di sano, sai? E quindi appena ti viene voglia, chiedi pure a Camilla, la ragazza bruna che vedi gironzolare."Genn annuisce, ma dubita che mangerà.Probabilmente Alex si arrabbierà ma non ha voglia e non se la sente.La saliva gli si inacidisce in bocca e prende un sorso d'acqua cercando di non farsi scivolare il bicchiere dalle mani sudate."Uhm allora. Genn. Genn Raia.Genn Genn Genn. Figlio di Vendela Kirsebom. Modella, ora impegnata fortemente nel sociale e nelle attività benefiche. Lodevole. Ma sai, non l'ho mai vista alle tue sfilate.Mi sono informato prima di questa intervista, è il mio lavoro.- Sorride mentre si rilassa contro la poltrona, il cibo viene piano piano tolto dal tavolo dai camerieri, lasciandogli il tavolo in pietra lavica del tutto libero. - Dov'è tua madre quando lavori, Genn?"Genn stringe i braccioli della sedia e fissa lo sguardo sulla camicia a pois di Edmund.Burberry. Collezione femminile.Shhh.Respira, Genn."Mia madre è molto impegnata. Seguirmi nel mio lavoro è difficile per lei. Lo sa perché è stata al mio posto prima. Lo so anch'io. È a casa nostra, in Svezia. Io sto qui tutto l'anno però, tranne quando devo lavorare."Bravo.Bravo, Genn."Mi piacerebbe vedere i tuoi occhi quando mi parli, sai? Sono così belli, sarebbe un peccato passare le prossime due ore senza osservarli."Stringe i denti.Bravo un cazzo, Genn."Eccoli. Stai tranquillo. C'è qualcosa in te, me lo sento. Dobbiamo solo tirarlo fuori. Ma non andiamo da nessuna parte se non ti rilassi. - Tira fuori una pipa in legno, sistema il tabacco con le dita e la accende. - Vuoi una boccata?"Genn scuote la testa, mentre Edmund gli sorride in una coltre di fumo."Perché allora non parliamo di tua sorella Amelia? Il suo Instagram ha il verified accanto al suo nome."Genn storce la bocca.Non ha voglia di parlare dei milioni di followers di sua sorella, dei viaggi continui pagati dagli sponsor e delle bevande energetiche che spaccia sul suo profilo.Nel loro mondo odiano i blogger.Li odia anche lui, perché è divertente farlo.Instag-"Instagrammer del cazzo."Genn strabuzza gli occhi e Edmund sorride."Questi giovani influencer che levano il lavoro a tutti noi..."A Genn scappa una risata talmente forte e improvvisa che fa voltare il resto del locale.Non gliene frega niente.Quando si interrompe si asciuga gli occhi e guarda con un sorriso aperto il giornalista che lo ricambia preso alla sprovvista.Genn raddrizza la schiena e piega le labbra in un sorriso mal trattenuto."Che odio questi imbecilli.Non possono trovarsi un lavoro vero?"Edmund quasi si affoga con il fumo mentre ride, la tensione scema e i due rimangono a osservarsi divertiti e rilassati."Mi devo vedere con Amelia domani, sta tornando dalla Malaysia, mi deve parlare dice, ma io scommetto che il suo manager le ha chiesto di postare una foto con me.Forse la prima insieme da quando ha il verified al suo account."Edmund annuisce ma sospira."Questo non lo scrivo però."Genn mugugna vago, ma e molto più tranquillo ora.Forse quello che serviva a entrambi era una bella risata."Perché fumi la pipa?""Perché voglio fare il fighetto hipster. Mio fratello gemello Edwin fuma le sigarette con il bocchino.Fa molto bohémien a dirla tutta.""Immaginavo. Che ridere."Genn ridacchia, ma Edmund assottiglia gli occhi."Sai che non possiamo rimandare l'argomento a lungo, no?Mi devi dire cosa è successo a Bottega. Ed è strano anche che Tomas non abbia dato di matto, lo conosco, ne sarebbe stato capace. A meno che...""Esatto, ha avuto un sacco di pubblicità a Bottega per quello che ho detto. Perché Victoria's Secret ha citato anche il suo brand.""Uhm... non possiamo scrivere neanche questo. Vedrai che porto l'intervista vuota in redazione.""Almeno hai un bel photoshoot, eh? Alasdair è sempre bravo.""Già già. Vedremo cosa ne uscirà. Comunque...""Comunque... Ho tirato fuori quel discorso dal nulla. Non lo so neanch'io - Genn sospira - non so neanch'io perché. Insomma non ci vedo niente di male, io la lingerie la uso normalmente, è solo intimo... e non fare nessuna faccia, lo so che la camicia Burberry che hai addosso è della collezione femminile, perché c'è l'ho uguale a casa."Edmund sorride."Nel nostro mondo queste convenzioni ci sono poco. Tu che hai sfilato per Alessandro, per Vivienne e Yoji... Tomas nel suo piccolo ha fatto sfilare collezione femminile e maschile contemporaneamente, insomma.Ma lingerie maschile...""Non maschile. Genderless. Per tutti. Un marchio come VS dovrebbe avere qualcosa del genere. Sarebbe anche ora. Starei più comodo."Genn incrocia le braccia e sbuffa.Questo discorso l'ha affrontato almeno dieci volte da Bottega, e ancora non comprende il senso di tanto sgomento."Quindi tu indossi lingerie sempre?"Genn annuisce."Anche ora?"Di nuovo."E quando sei a casa ti vesti con abiti prettamente femminili?"Di nuov- anzi no.Aggrotta le sopracciglia."Non metto gonne o cose del genere. Non mi piacciono. Neanche gioielli o accessori di quel tipo. Ogni tanto qualche choker, prettamente calze di ogni tipo. Parigine, autoreggenti, calze coi reggicalze, collant e... mi piace il rosa. E qualche volta mi trucco. Niente di che, solo per esaltare i lineamenti.""Forse è il discorso più lungo che hai fatto finora. È particolare il tuo punto di vista. Non fraintendermi, penso che tu abbia pienamente ragione, le divisioni di genere nell'abbigliamento mi annoiano, come hai notato tu stesso. - si indica la camicia a pois bianca e nera e sorride. - Sono contento che questa cosa sia saltata fuori, perché l'opinione che hanno tutti di te è di ben altra natura.""Lo so. Con Alex ci siamo fatti un giro sui social."Edmund lancia velocemente un'occhiata alle sue spalle e poi torna su di lui."Pensano che sei una delle nuove gay icon - Genn sospira e chiude gli occhi, mentre il giornalista continua - e che sfilerai al gay pride contro i muri di genere e invece no.Hai semplicemente vissuto come ti sembrava giusto e messo ciò che ti piaceva. Immagino che tra tua madre e le tue sorelle nessuno, giustamente, ti abbia mai ostacolato.Ma noi siamo privilegiati, Genn. Non tutti sono nati fortunati come noi.""Lo so... e mi si spezza il cuore sapere che la maggior parte delle persone non ha la nostra stessa fortuna, la nostra stessa libertà, neanche nella moda, uno dei modi più immediati per esprimere noi stessi... per portare fuori la nostra interiorità, come diceva Frida."Edmund sorride e guarda di guarda di nuovo alle sue spalle.Genn sta per girarsi e chiedergli che cavolo c'è da guardare, ma l'altro parla di nuovo."Frida mi manca, sai? Mi manca entrare in maison e mi manca anche vedere un Alex paffuto che suona la chitarra seduto sulle stoffe scartate.""Conoscevi Alex quando c'era Frida?"Genn si sente un po' offeso.No, non offeso, uhm. Cioè hanno tutti conosciuto Alex prima di lui, quando c'era Frida, quando era tutto perfetto nella sua vita, quando Alex era più felice e tranquillo, senza preoccupazioni riguardo il suo futuro prossimo, senza il peso che è Genn sulle spalle.Genn che gli ha fatto lasciare la scuola cazzo."Genn?"Edmund si scompiglia i ricci mentre gli occhiali gli scivolano."Mi fai le domande e poi non ascolti.In teoria le domande le dovrei fare io sai? È la volta buona che mi licenziano."Genn stringe i denti.Sa che Edmund scherza.Ma si conoscono da poco più di un'ora, ci manca solo che rovina il futuro di un'altra persona in così poco tempo."A proposito di Alex - Genn si concentra di nuovo sull'uomo davanti a lui, come sempre accade quando sente il nome del suo migliore amico - è qui da almeno un quarto d'ora.Ogni tanto lancia qualche occhiata per assicurarsi che io non ti stia maltrattando, probabilmente.No, non ti girare."Gli ferma il polso prima che Genn possa voltarsi."Oops. Meglio che smetto di toccarti."Genn non lo può vedere ma immagina che faccia abbia fatto Alex.Sorride mentre sente le guance accaldarsi."Lui è molto protettivo verso di me, lo è sempre stato.""Mi ricordo. Sai... Campari."Genn si copre il viso con le mani, e mugugna un nessuno si dimenticherà di Campari, eh?Il giornalista ridacchia."No, non credo che nessuno potrebbe mai dimenticarsi di Campari.E da quello che ho capito vi conoscevate da tipo... quattro mesi?""Sei.""Sei mesi. E lui si è immolato per te con suo padre davanti a tutti dopo così poco tempo... è pazzesco.""Noi... ci siamo trovati subito.""Immagino... aspetta, finalmente si è deciso a venire a salutare, fai finta di parlare con me.""Ma io sto parlando con te! - ride, ma cerca di darsi un contegno e comincia una frase dal nulla - Allora, sì dicevo, ovviamente se i designer di Victoria's Secret vorranno invitarmi a partecipare come modello per una futura possibile collezione genderless per me sarà un grande onore partecipare, come sicuramente saprai fra noi modelli si dice che una volta che lavori per VS, puoi anche ritirar- oh, Alè! Stai qui!"Alex li ha raggiunti con la mano sinistra nella tasca del pantalone blu notte, che gli fascia perfettamente le gambe, il suo Patek Philippe scintilla oltre il polsino della camicia chiara, la giacca del completo gli avvolge le spalle forti e Genn rimane un attimo imbambolato.Alex scioglie il cipiglio e addolcisce lo sguardo mentre gli sorride."Hey, Gè.""Hey..." Alex gli scosta delicatamente un ciuffo dagli occhi e Genn li socchiude tranquillo.Ora che lo vede si accorge che gli era mancato un po'.Non tanto lui di per sé, quanto la sua essenza, l'essenza di Alex.Il suo tocco leggero, il suo profumo, la sua voce, il suo sguardo dolce."Ciao Alex, eh. Buongiorno!"Genn sbatte le palpebre stordito, mentre Alex mette giù la mano e si rivolge a Edmund."Signor Aerts. Buongiorno a lei.Come procede?""Alex te l'ho detto, chiamami Edmund. Tutto bene, anche se Genn non si sta sforzando di darmi molto materiale su cui scrivere, ma scommetto che se rimani un po' con noi..."Si voltano entrambi verso Genn che ha piegato la testa fino a poggiarla lungo il fianco di Alex.Ora tiene gli occhi chiusi, un sorriso mesto sulle labbra, come se stesse dormendo, o fosse particolarmente tranquillo."Che ha?""Gè...? Hai mangiato qualcosa come ti avevo detto?"Genn aggrotta le sopracciglia ma non apre gli occhi."Uhm... no..."Alex sospira, gli passa le mani fra i capelli piano, immagina che Genn stia congelando, succede sempre così, quando non mangia per il nervosismo di qualcosa, l'adrenalina lo tiene su e poi lo tira giù.Ringrazia il cielo che Genn si sgonfi solo quando è presente lui."E se mangiassimo qualcosa insieme? Ti va?""No... l'intervista..."La bolla scoppia e improvvisamente Alex si ricorda.Si volta verso Edmund che li guarda divertito."Continuate, pure, siete uno spettacolo.""Non siamo uno spettacolo. - Alex lo fulmina prima di spostare delicatamente Genn dalle spalle e fargli aprire gli occhi - Al signor Aerts non importa se mangiamo, ok? Così siamo più tranquilli. E se vuoi posso anche rimanere per la prossima ora, finché non finisci. Poi ti porto a casa."Genn annuisce piano e Alex sospira."Le dispiace se rimango? Prometto che non interferirò.""Per me puoi anche interferire quanto ti pare."Edmund ridacchia ma Alex è di nuovo concentrato su Genn.Gli tiene il viso fra le mani, lo chiama, piano."Gè... sono qui adesso, va bene?"Genn alza gli angoli della bocca, volta il capo di poco e gli lascia un bacio veloce al palmo. Va bene. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Ci amavamo di un amore che era molto piùche amore.Edgar Allan Poe            "Sono venute bene, dai."Amelia scorre l'indice sullo schermo dell'iPhone di Genn, Alasdair McLellan si è occupato del suo photoshoot per Another Man quella mattina, in realtà sono solo tre look, ma sono belli lo stesso.Il tutto doveva durare molto di più, invece li hanno tenuti solo una decina di ore in studio, Edmund era presente e gli ha dato parziale libertà di scelta per gli outfit dello shooting. Ha detto che doveva scegliere anche in base a quello che aveva dichiarato nell'intervista, perciò Genn ha scelto un paio di collant lavorati di Gucci e degli shorts di jeans. Lo stylist gli ha coperto il petto nudo con un felpone incredibilmente oversize di Vetements e un foulard Louis Vuitton. Alasdair è stato bravo, perché ha usato sin da subito un filtro particolare alle sue macchine o un gioco di luci, qualcosa di simile, Genn non sembra troppo magro o femminile. Gli altri look li ha scelti lo stylist, ma Genn comunque si è prestato. Amelia restituisce il telefono a Genn."Queste foto le ha fatte Alex? Era un po' più di lato..." "Sì... non ce la facevo ad aspettare l'uscita del servizio, Alex mi ha scattato qualche foto, anche se ho promesso di cancellarle presto." "Con Edmund è andata meglio oggi?" "Non lo so." Genn giochicchia col cellulare mentre si sistema meglio con la schiena contro la testiera del letto."Si è avvicinato quando prendevo un sorso d'acqua, e mi ha chiesto se era tutto apposto, sai perché continuavo a guardare Alex mentre parlava con i truccatori. Non so, non riuscivo a concentrarmi su di lui, che mi chiedeva se era tutto ok." "Ah il solito." Genn si gira a sinistra, sua sorella lo guarda tranquilla. "Ma sì, no? Fate sempre così voi. Prima lo guardi tu, poi ti guarda lui, e poi vi guardate e sorridete come degli idioti.""Non so di cosa tu stia parlando." Genn aggrotta le sopracciglia, ma sposta lo sguardo di nuovo sul telefono che ha fra le mani. "Comunque Edmund mi ha chiesto se mi piace qualcuno. Non ho idea del perché. Sono stato salvato dallo stylist che mi ha spinto di nuovo nei camerini." "Perché in realtà a te piace Alex, no?"Genn stringe le labbra. No, non gli piace Alex, che discorsi sono... loro sono amici, amici intimi, che si vogliono un gran bene e provano una fiducia incondizionata l'uno per l'altro. Questo da sempre, fin dal loro primo incontro a casa Iodice, quando Alex gli ha fatto i complimenti per il maglione rosa intrecciato che indossava."Avete cominciato a scopare, no? Era solo questione di tempo. Mi sono salvata la tua mail delirante per futuri ricatti - Genn sbuffa, ma lei ride a crepapelle - Gli hai detto che ti piace?" "Non mi piace. Cioè sì, ma fra noi... non è come pensi." "Allora siete cosa, scopamici?" "Amè." "No sai, per capire. Perché se non vi piacete, siete amici e fate sesso, mi spiace ma siete diventati scopamici."Genn stringe il lenzuolo di seta crema fra le dita e non la guarda mentre risponde. "Noi non siamo così. Non ci sminuire. Lui... adesso... beh, adesso ci baciamo anche." Arrossisce ma continua a tenere lo sguardo basso. Meglio così, perché si evita l'espressione sarcastica della sorella quando sussurra ah questo cambia tutto!"Noi non siamo così. Alex mi aiuta sempre. Con il lavoro, ma anche nelle pubbliche relazioni, riesce a incantare tutti quando parla. Mi aiuta a mangiare per bene, a scegliere i vestiti in base all'occasione... Lui... lo sai. Lo sai." Amelia sorride mentre prende il suo iPhone e scorre le tante notifiche su Instagram. "Lo so. È proprio un bravo fidanzato.""Non è così fra noi." Genn stringe i denti mentre la sorella ridacchia. La verità è che neanche lui sa com'è fra loro. Sono migliori amici che da poco hanno cominciato a donarsi l'un l'altro, ma scopamici è un termine troppo grezzo e duro, freddo, lontano da quello che sono. Però se ci pensa... Non è che ci siano altri termini per definirli.Perché di certo non stanno insieme, possono vedere altre persone, anche se Alex dice che non va a letto con altri da molto e Genn... beh Genn non li ha mai neanche visti gli altri. In effetti non è che ne abbiano mai parlato davvero, di cosa sono. Non è che sia importante, poi."Lasciamo stare, va. Piuttosto... il mio team si è accordato col tuo per una foto insieme sul mio profilo." Genn sbuffa mentre si gratta via dalle unghia i resti dello smalto rovinato, lo sapeva, figurarsi se non ne approfittavano tutti. Mutual promo. Spera di venire male in foto, così il team di Amelia ci impiegherà un sacco a photoshoparlo, è distrutto dalla mattinata e dai pensieri, scommette che neanche deve sforzarsi di fare le boccacce per sembrare uno schifo. "Genn, non ti vuoi fare una passata di trucco, prima? Sei abbastanza sfatto." Infatti."No, Amè. Facciamo così e basta, tanto il tuo team deve lavorare comunque su di te, il mio viso a confronto è più facile da gestire." Ridacchia, mentre la sorella gli fa la linguaccia, fintamente offesa. La foto viene, niente di che da parte di entrambi, davvero. Già immagina il team di Amelia con le mani nei capelli, poverini."Alè lo vedi, prima di andare dalla mamma?" "No, purtroppo. Prima della Svezia domani ho un evento a Roma, una sorta di meeting con altri influencer. È una palla, ma devo mantenere un minimo di contatto anche fisico con i miei followers, altrimenti sembro troppo irraggiungibile. Devo tenere in loro viva l'illusione che potrebbero incontrarmi anche al supermercato, un giorno." Genn fa una smorfia. "Noi non siamo mai entrati in un supermercato." "Esatto.""Magari posso chiedere ad Alex se andiamo in un supermercato, una volta. Può essere un'avventura!" Amelia rimette il telefono nella sua Prada ridacchiando, le vostre "avventure" non finiscono mai bene! dice, mentre gli scompiglia il ciuffo e lo saluta.Quando la porta si chiude, Genn preme il pulsante della Home del telefono finché- "Siri, chiama Alè in vivavoce." Chiamo Alè... Siri risponde gracchiante. Ridacchia mentre si stende e pensa che non sa come farebbe senza Siri ad assecondare la sua pigrizia. Dopo un paio di squilli sente la voce ansante di Alex rispondere velocemente pronto? Genn mette su un broncio. "Alè, ti stavi facendo una sega senza di me?"Sente la risata spezzata di Alex, un grugnito e un rumore forte. "Gè - ansima - sono in palestra e sono distrutto. Letteralmente." "Palestra aka la palestra nel seminterrato di casa tua o una vera e propria palestra? Perché io non ci sono entrato mai neanche in una di quelle." "Tu non entreresti a prescindere in un luogo che ha lo scopo di farti stancare. E comunque palestra aka quella del seminterrato. Perché dovrei andare altrove a respirare il sudore degli altri, scusami." "Uhm... sudore..."Genn sta per scoppiare a ridere, ma si morde il labbro e si struscia sulle lenzuola, creando attrito fra la seta della sua vestaglia e quella che ricopre il letto. "Già già, torniamo all'argomento principale. Le seghe. Io sono troppo distrutto, ma se vuoi ti posso dare una mano. In senso figurato, non proprio letteralmente." Sente che anche Alex è lì lì per cedere e ridere, ma riescono a trattenersi abbastanza entrambi. Almeno finché... "Che cosa indossi?"Genn quasi si strozza con la saliva mentre ride, forte e improvviso, è costretto a tirarsi su a sedere per non soffocare davvero, sente Alex ridere forte quanto lui, mentre leva il vivavoce e mette il telefono all'orecchio."No dai seriamente, sta cosa la voglio fare!" "Vuoi farmi venire al telefono?" Genn ride ancora, è tranquillo e rilassato, non c'è ansia fra loro, neanche adesso. Forse perché si conoscono da così tanto e così a fondo, forse perché... "Sì, voglio farti venire. Che c'è di male? Non abbiamo mai provato niente del genere. Io sono solo, tu... tu sei solo, no?" "Sì. E io povero ingenuo che volevo proporti un'avventura. Pensi sempre a scopare." "Ora che ho assaggiato il cioccolato non puoi biasimarmi se ne sono diventato dipendente. L'avventura me la proponi dopo. Promesso."Genn scioglie il broncio quando avverte la dolcezza nelle parole di Alex. "Fai sembrare dolce anche il sesso telefonico." "Che secondo te, come mi portavo a letto la gente?" No, non lo vuole sapere. Storce la bocca e non risponde."Non fare quella faccia, Gè. Non ti vedo ma la immagino. Lo sai che ora non succede più. Non mi va, sinceramente. Non mi attira più come prima." "Perché sono il cioccolato? La tua cosa preferitissima?" Alex ridacchia al suo tono allegro. "Perché sei il cioccolato. Sei la mia cosa preferita, sì." "Se sono il cioccolato me lo merito di venire, no?" "Assolutamente. Allora rispondi alla mia domanda." Genn sospira, chiude gli occhi e cerca di concentrarsi."Indosso la vestaglia lilla che mi hai regalato. Uhm... quella che arriva a metà coscia, con gli inserti in pizzo." Si passa le dita sul petto sentendo la seta frusciare sotto il suo tocco. "E... e delle francesine lavanda. Uhm... delle culotte semplici, oggi sono comodo, anche perché non ti aspettavo. Ma sono - si slaccia piano la vestaglia fino a scoprire la spalla - sono di una collezione bridal."Sente Alex sussultare al telefono, apre piano gli occhi e sussurra che c'è? che risuona nella stanza vuota."Mi fa impazzire questa cosa. Anche l'altro giorno indossavi della lingerie da sposa. Riesco a immaginarti perfettamente per la prima notte di nozze." "Sì?" Sussurra Genn mentre allarga le gambe e si appoggia meglio alla testiera del letto, la mano sinistra a tracciare ghirigori sul suo stomaco."Sì, perché ti immagino... non lo so. Saresti bellissimo. Con le guance rosse e la lingerie bianca, pura. Penso... che quel giorno saresti più stretto, più del solito, solo perché magari non hai voluto fare sesso per più di una settimana. Per arrivare più integro possibile a quel momento." Genn socchiude gli occhi mentre osserva la sua erezione tirare contro il pizzo grigio delle coulotte, una piccola macchia biancastra in corrispondenza della punta."Saresti strettissimo, ma comunque rifiuteresti una preparazione troppo prolungata, vorresti sentire ogni cosa, ogni millimetro, ogni spinta un po' più dolorosa. Come una vera e propria prima notte di nozze." Genn ansima, ha cominciato a toccarsi senza neanche accorgersene, il pizzo delle mutandine scostato di lato mentre le dita lavorano frenetiche sulla sua erezione."Avresti un Harry Winston al dito, il diamante chiaro con taglio squadrato, che luccica al buio insieme alla fede d'oro bianco, mentre tocchi, graffi, afferri." Genn geme, l'attrito è insopportabile, vorrebbe tantissimo avere Alex con lui, non gli basta sentire solo la sua voce, vuole anche... "Sarebbe la prima volta che qualcuno ti viene dentro. Prima sempre e solo con il preservativo, per sicurezza, per comodità, perché poi non c'è bisogno di tutta quella pulizia che ti fa stancare..." Genn ride e poi sussulta, mentre il suo pollice accarezza frenetico la punta della sua durezza."Ma sarebbe la prima volta. La prima volta in cui ti senti pieno, pieno davvero, anche dopo essere venuti, anche quando le tue pareti si stringono a vuoto, ti senti pieno perché una parte di lui, è ancora dentro di te."Genn allarga le gambe, vorrebbe tanto usare le dita, provare anche solo a raggiungere quel punto dentro di lui che gli fa venire le lacrime, ma è troppo tardi, le lacrime le ha già, perché con un sussulto viene nella sua mano e i tremori gli si alleviano.Sospira mentre si passa il polso sugli occhi, si schiarisce la vista il minimo che gli consente di recuperare un pacchetto di fazzoletti dal comodino e pulirsi alla meglio, il necessario per tornare a tenere il telefono in mano senza rischiare di sporcarlo o farlo scivolare."Ti ho sentito venire." La voce di Alex è dolce, calmante, con quella frase sembra lodarlo, per aver seguito la sua fantasia, la sua voce, il suo ritmo. Per non averlo mai perso attraverso i mille cavi elettronici."Alè..." La voce gli esce più roca di quanto si aspettasse, spalanca gli occhi mentre pensa che forse dovrebbe vergognarsi, Alex lo ha sentito venire, lo ha guidato verso l'orgasmo con una fantasia da matrimonio, che razza di kink sarebbe, chi si masturba pensando a... "Mi sono segato anch'io. Non sono riuscito a trattenermi. Però ammettilo, sono stato bravo a non farmi sentire, rovinando il racconto."Ora che Alex ridacchia, riesce a sentire la sua voce roca, il respiro spezzato, la leggerezza post orgasmo fra le sue corde vocali.Vorrebbe tantissimo vederlo, vedere il suo viso rilassato, gli occhi semichiusi, ma sempre dolci, dolci come quando lo guarda, gli parla, lo abbraccia, lo bacia. Dolci come quando fanno l'amore."Ti prego non facciamolo mai più. Voglio vederti, voglio toccarti, non mi piace così, non voglio farlo così. Non se possiamo evitarlo. Non se sei a pochi isolati da me. Adesso ho freddo e mi manchi troppo."Si stringe la vestaglia leggera intorno al corpo e raccoglie le ginocchia al petto."Mi manchi. Quando non ci sei mi manchi. Potremmo anche non fare niente, sai? Potremmo rimanere a letto tutto il giorno senza fare niente. Mangiare fra le coperte cercando di non fare briciole, alzandoci solo per andare in bagno. Mi piacerebbe una giornata così. Senza fare niente." "Sarebbe molto bello - Alex sospira - ma come faccio io a non divorarti se ti ho su un letto tutto per me?" "Ti devi trattenere!" Ridono entrambi mentre Genn poggia la fronte sulle ginocchia."Se chiedi a un ragazzo di trattenersi con te, lui dovrebbe essere un pazzo o davvero, davvero innamorato per assecondarti." Genn chiude gli occhi e sospira. "E siccome entrambi sappiamo che sei pazzo, mi devi assecondare."Alex ridacchia attraverso il microfono, per poi sussurrare: "Sono le sette e sei appena venuto. Sei stanco?"Sì. Genn è stanco. Il photoshoot, Amelia, Alex, la sega. Sopratutto quella. Gli viene sempre sonno dopo un orgasmo, Alex lo sa."Se io cerco di rimanere sveglio... vieni qui il più in fretta possibile? Dormiamo insieme." Ha gli occhi semichiusi, sente dei rumori dal lato di Alex, ma stringe il telefono. "Prendi la Maserati di Ciro. E sbrigati." "Sono già a bordo, baby. Menomale che loro sono a Ginevra. In garage ci sono sia la Ghibli che la Levante. Arrivo presto."La linea cade e Genn getta il telefono bollente sul letto. Decide che per combattere la stanchezza deve fare qualcosa, tipo magari lavarsi. Grugnisce scocciato all'idea di alzarsi dal letto e percorrere quei pochi metri che lo separano dal bagno, ma forza le gambe e si alza. La testa gli gira, le gambe tremano, ma cerca di stabilizzarsi mentre recupera il cavetto e mette l'iPhone a caricare.Barcolla fino al bagno, si sfila le mutandine e si sciacqua velocemente. Ora che sa che sta arrivando Alex, recupera un paio di culotte più carine dal cassettone, le infila a fatica fra uno sbadiglio e l'altro, mentre scende lento le scale fino ad arrivare in cucina per un succo di frutta.Lo recupera al mirtillo, si siede sul tavolo con un salto e lo beve piano. Si liscia il tessuto della vestaglia e pensa che magari l'avventura gliela può proporre stasera ad Alex. Possono andarci domani. Fare tutte le cose che fanno nei film, tipo andare al supermercato o dal fruttivendolo, come la gente comune, potrebbe essere divertente, una cosa da persone normali.Suona il campanello e Genn sente il cuore balzare nel petto, posa la bottiglietta di vetro e scende dal tavolo, attento a non scivolare sul marmo del pavimento mentre corre ad aprire la porta. "Alè!"Alex gli sorride, fa un passo avanti e si getta sulle sue labbra, Genn ridacchia mentre ricambia il bacio con altrettanta foga. Lo solleva dai fianchi e Genn ride sulle sue labbra, mentre lo stringe forte intorno alle spalle.Quando Alex con uno schiocco di labbra, si stacca da lui e lo rimette a terra, aprono gli occhi per osservarsi.Alex è ancora vestito da palestra, t-shirt, treggins e pantaloncini neri tutti della NikeLab, Genn sfiora con le dita il suo petto, dove risaltano bianche le iniziali di Riccardo Tisci.Anche Genn ha dei completi NikeLab firmati dal direttore creativo di Givenchy, solo per bellezza, non per fare sport davvero. Genn fa una smorfia. Niente sport.Però magari domani possono vestirsi entrambi in NikeLab così da confondersi con le persone normali.Alex sorride, lascia che Genn lo osservi in silenzio. Gli passa le mani su e giù lungo i fianchi, i polpastrelli scivolano docili lungo la seta lilla, mentre guarda il suo viso. Genn è concentrato, passa le dita sul baffo, marchio di fabbrica della Nike, un broncio inconsapevole sulle labbra ancora umide delle loro salive.Indossa le francesine lavanda che gli aveva accennato al telefono, Alex si sporge in avanti stringendolo per i fianchi e bloccandogli le mani col suo petto. Posa il naso sui suoi capelli e inspira. Sì. Genn profuma anche di lavanda.Rimangono un po' così. Alex con gli occhi chiusi e il naso fra i capelli di Genn, e Genn con le braccia ingabbiate fra i loro petti. "Alè..." "Uhm...?" "Io sono stanco..."Alex si scosta e lo guarda bene alla luce calda del corridoio. Genn ha gli occhi lucidi, le labbra socchiuse, come se temesse di aver rovinato qualcosa, spezzato un momento, con la sua stanchezza. Alex gli poggia una mano sulla guancia mentre gli lascia un bacio sulla fronte."Andiamo a dormire."   Genn quella mattina si sveglia perché sente il suono di una chitarra.All'inizio pensava di star sognando, e ha cercato di serrare bene gli occhi sotto la mascherina da notte e lasciar perdere.Quando il suono però è diventato insistente, Genn si è levato la mascherina e ha aperto gli occhi scocciato. Le tende pesanti coprono la sua finestra, ma un ampio fascio di luce gli colpisce comunque gli occhi. Grugnisce mentre si tira su a sedere.Il lato del letto di Alex è vuoto, ma ora che si è svegliato riconosce il suono della sua chitarra. Sorride mentre barcolla, ha tenuto le calze sotto al baby-doll che usa per dormire, gli attutiscono i passi quando si sposta verso la camera degli ospiti.Alex lascia spesso qualcosa di suo lì, vestiti, un iPhone e un pc di riserva, biglietti e contatti di chiunque, qualche volta ci lascia anche una delle sue chitarre. Tanto casa sua è vuota per la maggior parte del tempo, Amelia ha la sua stanza, ma è raro che passi più di due mesi l'anno a Milano. Anche casa di Alex è così. Sono un po' soli entrambi.Apre piano la porta, Alex è seduto per terra, chitarra in grembo, le gambe incrociate lasciate scoperte dai pantaloncini blu e le mezze maniche che tirano intorno alle sue braccia mentre suona.Ha gli occhi chiusi, strimpella alla cieca una melodia un po' triste e un po' dolce. Qualcosa di mai sentito sicuramente. Ma Alex a distanza di anni non gli ha mai fatto sentire davvero nulla di suo, questo potrebbe essere qualcosa di nuovo o qualcosa di vecchio. Un po' gli dispiace interromperlo."Scrivi di me?"Alex sorride, ma continua a tenere gli occhi chiusi, la melodia continua, dolce e triste, anche quando Genn si avvicina fino a sedersi in un fruscio di stoffa davanti a lui."Scrivo sempre di te."Alex ridacchia rilassato, il pizzicare delle corde si ferma e apre gli occhi."Speriamo di no, ma... puta caso la tua carriera non decolli e... va tutto male..." "Abbiamo un ripiego, dici?" Genn sorride, subito imitato da Alex. "Abbiamo un ripiego. Dovremo pure mantenerci in qualche modo, no?" "Alè... non è che abbiamo tanto bisogno di mantenerci noi eh." "Per adesso. Ma non si può mai sapere. Bisogna essere preparati. E se va tutto male..." "Scrivi canzoni su di me." Genn sorride mentre si mette in ginocchio e posa le mani sulle gambe incrociate di Alex, sporgendosi oltre la chitarra per un bacio.Nessuno dei due ha lavato i denti, ma dopo anni di risvegli insieme e alito mattutino, gli importa poco. Genn lascia un piccolo morso al labbro superiore di Alex mentre lui gli accarezza la guancia piano."Scrivo di te. Ti metterò in tutte le mie canzoni. E quando morirò... la gente dirà che ero ossessionato - ridacchia mentre si sporge per un altro bacio, leggero, a bocca aperta - ma che non importava, andava bene lo stesso."Ha il naso schiacciato contro la guancia di Alex, mentre sussurra un non voglio che muori sulla sua pelle calda. "Non ti lascio solo, non preoccuparti."Genn allora sorride e si alza. Le ginocchia scricchiolano per essere state forzate così tanto, tende la mano ad Alex che sposta alla chitarra e la prende. Genn non fa davvero molto per aiutarlo a tirarsi su, ma ridacchia e apprezza lo sforzo minimo. Alex è stato ben lieto di partecipare alla sua avventura. Genn ride, perché ora sono passati da un bancomat per prelevare dei contati dalla carta di Alex, non sono sicuri che i supermercati accettino carte di credito, tanto meno la Oro che il nonno di Alex gli rifonde ogni mese. "Metti anche il caso che hanno il lettore per le carte, potremmo mandarglielo in corto circuito." Genn ha riso ma Alex è rimasto serio.Ah. Si rabbuia anche lui di conseguenza.Si sono vestiti in NikeLab entrambi, Alex aveva messo i suoi vestiti sul balcone di Genn a prendere aria, non aveva portato nessun cambio, così stamattina li ha rimessi e Genn di conseguenza ha tirato i suoi fuori dalla cabina armadio. Ha fatto loro una foto davanti allo specchio, perché sembravano tantissimo dei modelli di un commercial.      Alex  Genn Entrambi in Riccardo Tisci + NikeLab   Ora mentre si tira il tank top poggiato accanto alla colonnina del bancomat, apre l'icon di Twitter, ci sono tantissimi like e menzioni, ignora tutto e twitta la foto."Alè." "Uhm?" Alex non si gira, continua a pigiare sul bancomat, avrà impostato diverse restrizioni alla sua American Express. "Alè, ho twittato il nostro selfie allo specchio a Riccardo Tisci."Alex si interrompe e lo guarda di sbieco. "Genn ma stavo uno schifo! Cosa twitti roba ai designer dove stai bene solo tu?" Il bancomat comincia a emettere un fischio sordo e Alex torna a toccare lo schermo per continuare la procedura. Borbotta un che cazzo, mi servono solo cento euro, che fa ridere Genn, lui è tranquillo, almeno così si è fatto vivo anche su Twitter, ormai era solo su Instagram, ma poi figuriamoci se Riccardo va a vedere le menzioni.Procedimento completato con successo. "Finalmente, cazzo. Con tutta questa fatica potevo prenderne anche diecimila e andare a via Montenapoleone." "Mi portavi a La Perla?" Alex gli schiaccia delicatamente il naso con l'indice. "Ti portavo a La Perla."Genn ridacchia, gli prende la mano mentre Alex si intasca il portafogli, cercano di giostrarsi per il marciapiede, sollevano ridendo le mani intrecciate per far passare un bambino che corre, e si scostano quando devono passare tre uomini d'affari con le ventiquattr'ore lucide. Non si lasciano mai e a Genn questa sensazione piace, non è niente di nuovo o di diverso rispetto a come camminavano prima, capitava che Alex lo tenesse per mano o sottobraccio quando si sentiva particolarmente stanco, ma adesso si sente in perfetta forma. E Alex lo tiene per mano lo stesso, si volta ogni tanto per sorridergli, comunque attento più di lui che alla strada.Quello che cercano è un supermercato di media grandezza, dopo averne scartati alcuni troppo piccoli e uno davvero grande, entrano in quello che sembra più adatto. Li investe un odore particolare, un mix di detersivi e carne, Genn storce il naso e si stringe ad Alex per lasciar passare un vecchietto con un grande cestino rosso. La scritta blu Esselunga capeggia sopra le loro teste, Alex inghiotte a vuoto, improvvisamente nervoso, e prende la mano di Genn oltre i tornelli d'ingresso.C'è davvero tanta gente. Cioè non tantissima, ma è mattina, non che sappia quando sia più pieno un supermercato, forse di sera? Pomeriggio? fattosta che c'è gente. Mamme con bimbi piccoli, anziani, uomini con le valigette o vestiti sportivi. Gli scaffali sono ricolmi di qualsiasi cosa, Alex stringe la mano di Genn mentre camminano, naso in aria e sorriso stampato.Sente Genn ridacchiare, quando si volta il biondo ha gli occhi che gli brillano, si stringe a lui e sussurra è proprio un'avventura, piano. Probabilmente sembrano degli idioti, in diciannove anni di vita non hanno mai messo piede in un supermercato, e ora ridacchiano e passeggiano tranquilli fra gli scaffali senza prendere nulla, le uniche due persone non affannate della struttura.Si fermano alla sezione dove si trovano anche biscotti, dolci, cioccolato e caramelle, Genn si è bloccato di fronte a una colonnina di Chupa-Chups e la osserva con un broncio. "Gè... lo sai che non ne puoi mangiare..." "Lo so..." Alex sospira, gli prende il viso fra le mani e lo fa voltare, prima di distrarlo con un bacio.Genn sorride, dopo aver spinto le labbra asciutte contro le sue, gli lascia un piccolo bacio sulla linea del collo e si allontana. "Meglio che ci spostiamo da qui, prima che io decida che è meglio essere felice che magro." Alex annuisce e lo porta verso il reparto frutta e verdura.C'è davvero di tutto, anche i frutti esotici e fuori stagione, l'ultima volta che hanno visto così tanta varietà è stato al brunch vegano organizzato dalla Peta l'anno scorso, Vendela era una delle madrine, così hanno partecipato anche loro.Si rigira delle fragole rosse fra le mani, e guarda distratto Genn che ne annusa una e poi la rimette in una delle cassettine trasparenti. "Non so se sono buone, forse no, credo non sia stagione."Alex onestamente non riesce a pensarci troppo mentre spinge una delle fragole contro le sue labbra e sussurra un assaggiale, allora soprappensiero. È più concentrato sul contrasto minimo fra le labbra di Genn e il frutto, per cogliere la luce maliziosa negli occhi del biondo, che non pensa ai microbi sulla fragola non lavata, non pensa a niente, la morde, piano e scompostamente, attento a far uscire quanto più succo possibile, che gli scivola fino al mento."Ragazzini." Saltano entrambi sul posto, Genn si sposta subito e si pulisce il viso velocemente cercando di non arrossire troppo. "Lo sapere che la dovete pagare la roba o no?" Sembra una delle guardie giurate che hanno visto anche all'ingresso, li squadra mentre Alex regge stupidamente il picciolo della fragola in mano."Ehhh... uhm. Certo che... lo sappiamo." Quando Alex parla gli trema un po' la voce, ora sono in due ad arrossire, e a tenere lo sguardo basso. "Beh forza, venite con me a pagare e basta, vi voglio fuori di qui." Genn non protesta, non fa una piega, anche se la loro avventura è durata decisamente meno di quanto si aspettasse. Segue la guardia in silenzio, vedendo Alex fare lo stesso.Appena li sistema in fila in una delle casse, la guardia se ne va con un'occhiataccia verso di loro, Genn stringe il cestello trasparente fra le dita sudate e sospira. "La nostra avventura è stata più breve del previsto, eh?" Alex glielo sussurra all'orecchio, e Genn annuisce scontento, l'ha pensato anche lui allora. Uff. "Però pensavo... uhm... aspetta qui, Gè, devo prendere un'altra cosa, torno fra un secondo."Genn annuisce distrattamente, ma la fila scorre velocemente e si ritrova alla cassa con le fragole imbustate e un "Fanno sei e trenta, grazie" della cassiera."Ma io... non li ho..." Sgrana gli occhi stupidamente, mentre la cassiera solleva le sopracciglia scettica. "Il mio... Alex, lui... ha lui i soldi per pagare, io..." Sente le guance scottare, le persone dietro di lui già protestano a voce alta scocciati."È andato a prendere una cosa, torna subito. Nel frattempo... - lo sguardo viene calamitato dalla sua parure di quattro braccialetti in oro bianco che gli ha portato Amelia dalla Cina. Se ne slaccia uno e lo porge alla cassiera stralunata. - È oro bianco. Vale molto più di una cassetta di fragole." "Ragazzino, ma sei impazzito?" "Genn!"Alex si fa largo fra la piccola folla incredula e ridacchiante della fila, spinge via la mano di Genn portandosi davanti a lui. "Li ho io i soldi. Prendiamo le fragole e... questo." Poggia sulla cassa un Chupa-Chups, mentre la cassiera rotea gli occhi e sussurra qualcosa come ragazzini stramboidi, tutti a me capitano, insaccando anche il lecca-lecca.Alex paga e si tira via Genn verso l'uscita, quando sono fuori tirano un sospiro di sollievo entrambi. "Mai più, guarda." "Ecco perché non siamo mai andati in un supermercato." "E perché dovremmo andarci? Sono luoghi demoniaci!" "Tanto ci sono le domestiche." "Le colazioni in hotel." "I brunch." "Le cene." "I cocktail party!" Si guardano e scoppiano a ridere, la gente che esce mano mano dal supermercato li guarda male, ma a loro non importa."Quasi dimenticavo, mi sono allontanato perché ti ho preso comunque un Chupa-Chups." Alex lo tira fuori, l'involucro è bianco e rosa, Genn si lecca le labbra, ma poi scuote la testa. "Perché me lo hai preso se non posso mangiarlo?" Alex lo rimette nella busta e prende nuovamente la mano di Genn."Così lo conservi. E quando lo guardi, ti ricordi dell'ennesima avventura insieme." Alex lo osserva con la coda dell'occhio mentre camminano, Genn si sente più tranquillo ora.Sorride e annuisce.   "Oh Alè guarda, un'email di Edmund!"Genn stava scrollando pigramente la timeline di Twitter, Riccardo Tisci ha notato la menzione, eccome se l'ha notata, li ha retwittati e ha risposto gentilmente, dopo il mezzo infarto da parte di entrambi si sono ripromessi di controllare Twitter più spesso e di non sottovalutarlo come prima. Quindi. Genn stava scrollando la timeline quando gli era comparsa la notifica di una nuova mail da parte del giornalista."Vediamo che dice." Alex posa il suo telefono affianco a lui e si sporge verso quello di Genn, il materasso su cui sono semi sdraiati trema un po' sotto di loro. 'Genn, questa è la prima bozza dell'intervista, non so se passerà così o apporranno delle modifiche, nel dubbio te la mando perché sono troppo contento!' "Aspetta allora." Alex recupera il pc dalla borsa che si portano sempre dietro per le lezioni online, lo accende ed entra con la mail di Genn.Quando apre la bozza, Genn si rannicchia, stringendosi le ginocchia al petto. L'intervista tutto sommato non era tutto questo granché, Genn si era limitato a rispondere alle domande senza far uscire nessun dettaglio piccante o chissà quanto sconvolgente, si è parlato di moda, musica, sfilate, gender theory, designer. Quando era subentrato Alex, Edmund ha posto qualche domanda anche a lui, ma pensa per mera cortesia di conversazione, piuttosto che per interesse."Alè leggi tu, io non ci riesco." Alex aggrotta le sopracciglia. "Ad alta voce?" Genn annuisce, affonda il viso nelle gambe mentre se le stringe con le braccia. Bene così. Sospira e comincia. Per l'intervista a Genn Raia l'ho dovuto raggiungere a Milano. Ero nervoso e un po' contento di conoscerlo, non sapevo bene cosa aspettarmi, l'ho invitato per un brunch a cui ha partecipato solo spiritualmente, ovvio. Almeno dalla sua bocca non è uscito il "no, no, io mangio di tutto!" che piace molto alle modelle taglia 38, anzi. Dalla sua bocca non è uscita neanche il briciolo di una falsità. Sono bravo in queste cose, l'avrei notato.Invece il nostro Gennaro ("chiamami Genn, mi chiamano tutti così!") preferisce non rispondere affatto alle domande scomode, rimanendo in silenzio. Ammirevole, ma mi ha dato un bel po' di filo da torcere, in questo modo rischiavo di lavorare sul nulla assoluto. Grazie al cielo non è successo, per un motivo che vi svelerò più tardi, ma facciamo un passo indietro.Sembra che ultimamente non si parli altro di questo modello, giovane, biondo, bello nella sua imperfezione, un mix di dolcezza e durezza nei tratti. In lui sembrano convivere la mascolinità e la femminilità, la delicatezza e la passione, tutto in un'armonia insospettabile. Merito dei suoi genitori senza dubbio, Vendela Kirsebom, ex modella svedese e Pasquale Raia, imprenditore italiano di origini campane, che lo hanno- "Ehm... non mi ricordo questa parola... cioè me la ricordo ma non mi ricordo come si traduce." "Alè!" "Che c'è! Vabbè io la traduco come credo significhi, tu capisci lo stesso tanto." Genn sbuffa e stende le gambe, poggiando la schiena alla testiera del letto. "Dicevo..."-imprenditore italiano di origini campane, che lo hanno graziato, in questo melting pot esplosivo. Quando l'ho visto, ho capito perché sul web gli hanno dato anche il soprannome Dollface. Genn è- "Com'è che mi chiamano sul web?" "Gè, questa cosa la so perfino io, ma li leggi i commenti sotto i post?" "Eh ma pensavo che fosse una cosa così, tipo un inside joke fra i followers... mica il mio soprannome!" Alex ridacchia e lo spinge di nuovo delicatamente contro la testiera, ora non mi interrompere più dice con ancora la mano sul petto del biondo. -Genn è un mix interessante di chiusura, imbarazzo, bronci e sguardi aspri, ma anche di sicurezza, orgoglio, apertura e risate sincere. Quando l'ho visto camminare verso di me, evitando con cura i tavoli vuoti, non sembrava affatto che calpestasse le passerelle da quando aveva quattordici anni. Porta un maglione anonimo e slargato che gli arriva quasi a metà coscia, potrebbe averlo preso da un thrift shop come anche da qualche stilista indipendente, e dei jeans, così spudoratamente fiorati, che sarebbero potuti uscire solo dalla matita di Alessandro Michele. Sorride, è nervoso, ma profuma, e mi rifiuto di pensare che abbia fatto iniezioni di botulino per evitare di sudare alla sua giovane età. Già, perché Genn ha soli diciannove anni, un fisico minuto e la pelle così perfettamente amalgamata dal trucco da sembrare finta. Ha proprio il viso di una bambola.Alex prosegue con la lettura, legge della sorella di Genn Amelia, del loro legame, i vaghi accenni a Vendela, la questione dei vestiti, le barriere di genere, "Andrai al gay pride?" "Se non lavoro penso di sì, è una festa sempre bella e divertente, ma anche impegnata, dove si celebrano i diritti di tutti, perché no? Ma se vado, vado da semplice partecipante!", Alex è tranquillo, Genn è stato bravo, non si è sbottonato e ha raccontato la sua verità, pura e semplice. Tutto ciò, sotto lo sguardo vigile della sua metà perfetta, Alessio Iodice, uno dei golden boys del CEO della Fineco Bank, Bruno Iodice- Alex si blocca nella lettura. Si volta stralunato verso Genn che spalanca la bocca e arrossisce. Nessuno dei due dice nulla quando Alex riprende a leggere.Ho capito subito che erano connessi in un legame spirituale fuori dal comune, appena Alessio (detto "Alex" A/N) ci raggiunge, Genn si rilassa naturalmente, ogni suo muscolo si tende verso quello del compagno, ogni sua cellula anela le cellule dell'altro. Vi assicuro, uno spettacolo incredibile.Quella mattina Alex mi aveva chiamato, pregandomi di far preparare per Genn qualcosa da mangiare durante il nostro brunch, ma lui non ha voluto e io non ho insistito. Con Alex però Genn mangia d'appetito anche dei semplici fagiolini bolliti, sorride, ride, specialmente con lui, mi guarda, ma per poco, il suo sguardo è completamente attirato dal suo centro naturale, il ragazzo moro col completo di sartoria e la postura fiera.Dicono di conoscersi da sempre, quando in realtà sono quattro anni e mezzo scarsi, ma quello che conta, quello che salta all'occhio, è che i loro corpi respirano insieme. Proprio così. Cari lettori, lo sapete che sono un visionario, ma quando dico che sono uno spettacolo, è perché lo sono. Respirano insieme, si muovono insieme, abbassano e alzano lo sguardo allo stesso momento e si sorridono. Si sorridono sempre.Mi avete scritto in tanti su Twitter e per email di chiedere a Genn del coming out, se avesse voglia di farlo oppure no, se fosse un semplice crossdresser o gay, bisessuale, transgender, etero-curioso, etero e basta, beh non l'ho chiesto. Dopo averlo visto con Alex ho perso ogni curiosità sull'argomento.Perché una cosa è certa. Qualunque sia la natura profonda e personale di Genn Raia, la sua anima gemella gli cammina al fianco. Edmund Aerts  "Noi..." Alex sospira e si ammutolisce."Siamo così davvero?" Genn sembra leggergli dentro, gli rivolge lo sguardo così velocemente che sente il collo scricchiolare. Spalancano gli occhi prima di socchiudere leggermente le labbra. Insieme. Nello stesso Identico Istante.Genn si copre la bocca con una mano, Alex allontana lo sguardo da lui e osserva il vuoto.Loro sono così. Sono così davvero. Come... Come hanno fatto a non accorgersene, come..."Ho i brividi." "Non siamo normali."Rimangono in silenzio per un po'. Fissano il vuoto davanti a loro, finché- "Alè." Genn scavalca le sue gambe distese e si mette a cavalcioni su di lui. Non lo tocca, e Alex non lo tocca di conseguenza, si guardano straniti, come qualcuno che ha ricevuto uno schiaffo in piena faccia senza averlo realizzato a pieno."Secondo te... È vero quello che hai letto? Che siamo anime affini o che so." Genn ha la fronte corrucciata, ma è serio e determinato, stavolta la risposta la vuole. Ma lui... "Non lo so."Genn gli si avvicina ulteriormente e gli prende il viso fra le mani. Ha le guance rosse ma tiene lo sguardo fisso su di lui."Tu mi ami?"Alex si sente mancare l'aria. Genn lo tiene fermo, bloccato. Potrebbe andarsene, scappare di nuovo da questa situazione. Ma non può. Perché la persona di fronte a lui è Genn. Genn rimarrebbe col cuore spezzato per i motivi sbagliati, lui non potrebbe mai maimaimaimai fargli male, mai. Però...Gli vuole bene. Gli vuole bene così tanto, morirebbe per lui. Si fida di lui quasi più della sua stessa famiglia. Vorrebbe che fosse sempre al sicuro da tutto, e al contempo lo vorrebbe esposto, ammirato, invidiato, sotto gli occhi di tutti, per la sua bellezza e per la sua personalità. Però poi... Lo vorrebbe nel suo letto, sempre. Vorrebbe essere l'unico con la possibilità di vederlo dormire, scalciare e muoversi nel sonno. Vorrebbe essere l'unico a sentire i suoi gemiti. L'unico a essere accolto dal calore del suo corpo, piano però. Con lui deve fare piano. E lo fa. Non lo ha mai fatto, ma lo fa per lui, perché così sa che le lacrime che gli escono dagli occhi sono di piacere e non di dolore. Ma tutto questo... Non significa che- cioè. Lui non sa..."Io non so cos'è l'amore. Non l'ho mai provato fino ad ora, non saprei riconoscerlo. - sente il corpo di Genn irrigidirsi contro di lui, nonono aspetta fammi finire. - Però se vuoi... possiamo provare a riconoscerlo insieme."Quando apre gli occhi, che non si era accorto di aver chiuso, Genn ha l'affanno. Anche Alex lo ha. Ha il cuore che gli batte velocissimo e il fiato corto, e Genn, lui, loro... respirano davvero insieme. Non ha voglia di pensarci adesso. Perché Genn inspira profondamente e espira come a scaricare tutta la tensione che sentivano di aver accumulato."Va bene... io... sono felice. Sono felice così. Sono felice con quello che abbiamo ogni giorno." Gli lascia un bacio accanto al naso e si allontana. "Lo sai che... quello che abbiamo è tantissimo... nessuno ha quello che abbiamo noi." Alex lo trattiene per un polso, non vuole che Genn sia triste, vuole fargli capire anzi che quello che hanno, sembra- "Quello che abbiamo sembra quasi..." Alex gli sorride, mentre gli sfiora la guancia con i polpastrelli."Lo so. Lo so, Gè." Quando esce il numero di Another Man a ottobre sono a Londra per un'intervista di Genn a GQ. Alex se n'è tirato fuori, lo aspetta in camera loro al One Aldwych, Genn ha cercato di essere molto più professionale e posato, Ivan e Sheen gli hanno preparato una lista con le domande che gli avrebbero fatto, e insieme hanno tirato fuori delle risposte serie ma quirky come piace ai lettori della rivista.Trova la copia del magazine fresca di stampa sulla scrivania della loro camera, un biglietto di Alex in cui dice di essere in piscina e di dare uno sguardo all'articolo. Genn si siede e va dritto all'indice in cerca del suo nome.L'intervista è stata effettivamente ripulita. È un po' più impersonale, meno confidenziale ma senza perdere lo stile originale di Edmund, ci sono meno riferimenti a lui e Alex e più lasciati intendere sulla sua sessualità. Non lo sorprende affatto.La cosa che lo coglie un po' di sorpresa invece, è la spinta più o meno intenzionale verso la collezione genderless di VS. Insomma è ancora tutto nelle loro teste, il brand non si è espresso minimamente al riguardo, e anche se fosse non è detto che scelga lui come testimonial o come modello semplice, perfino. Forse i redattori di Another Man sanno qualcosa che i più non sanno e stanno preparando il terreno. Gli sembra un po' assurdo ma potrebbe essere.Decide di smettere di pensarci e raggiungere Alex in piscina.È decisamente il suo luogo preferito dell'hotel, non vengono spesso al One Aldwych, ma quando lo fanno passano più tempo lì o in sala da tea che altrove.Quando apre la porta viene investito dalle luci soffuse blu, lo schermo in fondo alla piscina proietta un documentario sulle specie marine, nota subito Alex fare lunghe bracciate in acqua, l'unico ospite presente a quell'ora.      One Aldwych swmming pool   Si arrotola i pantaloni fino al ginocchio e si siede a bordo vasca con le gambe ammollo. Alex, come a percepire la presenza di qualcuno oltre lui, si blocca e si passa insistentemente le mani sugli occhi e il viso mentre respira pesantemente. "Genn, hey." Nuota velocemente verso di lui, lo scrosciare dell'acqua come unico rumore della sala vuota."Com'è andata?" Poggia i gomiti al lato delle sue cosce, mentre gli prende la mano e ci lascia un bacio veloce. "Uhm... bene credo? Mi sono attenuto ai piani. Niente cazzate o colpi di testa, l'intervistatore nel suo e io nel mio. Non ti ho messo in imbarazzo, tranquillo." "Non è quello, lo sai. Però la scorsa volta non ci siamo trattenuti, non posso venire alle tue interviste, ho sbagliato in primis a farlo con Edmund, non avrei dovuto." Alex parla con ancora il fiato che gli manca, forse nuotava da un bel po' prima del suo arrivo.Ha le braccia tese, il blu della sala fa sembrare i suoi muscoli ancora più tirati, si accorge di stargli stringendo le braccia bagnate solo quando sente la risata di Alex. "Vuoi andare in camera?" Lo sente ridacchiare ancora più forte quando annuisce velocemente e si alza gocciolante. Recuperano gli asciugamani dai lettini cercando di tamponarsi la pelle alla bell'e meglio, infilano le ciabatte morbide col logo dell'hotel e tornano correndo in camera.Un cameriere scuote la testa quando quella coppia di ragazzini gli passa a fianco di corsa, ridendo per chissà cosa, mano nella mano.    Genn svegliati Ugh Genn No Ti devi svegliare Lasciami stare Svegliati ora NoÈ fottutamente importante Genn, non scherzo Solleva piano le palpebre, e improvvisamente lo coglie il dolcissimo desiderio di morire."Uh." Ha la lingua secca e sente la saliva raggrumarsi in bocca densa e appiccicosa. Il tamburo che ha in testa dalle tre di quella notte riprende a battere più forte di prima, apre gli occhi a fatica e spalanca la bocca. "Oh.""Sì vabbè ho capito. Siamo tornati all'Età della Pietra. Mi sono fatto portare da Dolores Oki e acqua già da ieri pomeriggio, in previsione. Prova ad alzarti dai, così bevi e va meglio." Guidato dalla voce di Alex si tira su a fatica, ha la lucidità mentale di un panda, rimane comunque seduto con la schiena ricurva, la testiera del matrimoniale di Alex totalmente ignorata.Ieri è stato il suo compleanno. Cioè oggi in realtà. Hanno cominciato a festeggiare alle dieci di ieri e hanno finito- guarda l'orologio digitale sul comodino -letteralmente tre ore fa."Ti ammazzo."Alex ride della sua voce monotono e della sua bocca impastata, non riesce neanche a fare la faccia offesa, rimane apatica e vuota."No, baby mi devi assolutamente ascoltare. Ora bevi questo - gli porge il bicchiere pieno d'acqua con la polverina bianca che ancora vortica al suo interno - e mi ascolti." Genn prende il bicchiere, ingurgita il liquido vagamente mentoso, e sbatte piano gli occhi. "I miei vent'anni sono cominciati già di merda." "Smettila." Alex ride di nuovo, le tende sono leggermente aperte e Genn riesce a vedere la felicità cucita su ogni centimetro del suo viso."È arrivata questa stamattina. Il postino ha l'ordine di consegnartela personalmente, tu ovviamente sei qui e l'hanno lasciata a Sheen che l'ha mandata da noi."Alex gli porge una busta color crema in carta lavorata e spessa. Sul retro c'è il suo nome e davanti porta un sigillo con una V e una S in rosa scuro. "Alè oggi è il mio compleanno, forse mi hanno mandato un buono sconto, capita ai clienti affezionati." "No, Gè. Mi dispiace, non avremmo dovuto senza di te, ma l'abbiamo aperta, eravamo curiosi da morire."Genn aggrotta le sopracciglia e si tira su meglio, contro la testiera del letto. Sente l'ansia salire e non osa neanche pensare... Dear Mr. Raia No. No. No no no no. Non può essere. Nonononononononono."Genn... è una convocazione ufficiale. Non è un call, non un provino, devi andare, fai qualche prova, dai il massimo e o la va o la spacca. È una fottuta convocazione!"Alex gli stringe la gamba che non è coperta dal lenzuolo e lui... Lui... Come...?"Alè..."Solleva lo sguardo dal foglio e il sorriso di Alex si appanna, i contorni del suo corpo si sfocano e lui..."No, Gè non piangere..."Afferra le mani di Alex e gli sale a cavalcioni, lo stringe fortissimo, lascia che Alex gli baci le guance bagnate, prima di sporgersi in un bacio profondo, gli manca un po' il respiro, ma si ritrova a ridere fra le lacrime."Alè..." "Lo so, Gè. Lo so.""Io..." "Non ti preoccupare.""Però non so se..." "Andrai alla grande e io mi godrò ogni singolo momento della tua incredibile, meritatissima nuova fama.""Alè." "Gè."Scoppiano a ridere l'uno nel collo dell'altro e riprendono a stringersi, i loro corpi interamente a contatto."Cazzo, ma che significa? Cosa devo fare ora?"Genn si scosta bruscamente, con le lacrime ormai secche sulle guance, è un concentrato di emozioni contrapposte. Incredulità, sorpresa, felicità, insicurezza, sorride con gli occhi lucidi e le sopracciglia aggrottate."Uhm, secondo me non devi fare niente di particolare. In fondo se andrai alla convocazione avranno bisogno di parlare con te della collezione. Magari ti vorranno vedere sfilare brevemente, forse ti fanno provare qualche costume per vedere se sei a tuo agio. Ti immagini... le ali?" Alex gli accarezza la schiena e sente salirgli i brividi.Le ali. Che emozione grandissima sarebbe."Morirei. Le ali sono... un qualcosa di puro e bellissimo. L'attrazione principale dello show di Victoria's Secret. E avere il privilegio di indossarle..." Stringe le spalle di Alex, gli occhi del moro sono concentrati su di lui, le guance un po' rosate, e la bocca socchiusa. "Saresti davvero stupendo. Una visione."Genn torna ad accasciarsi contro Alex e a stringerlo fortissimo, ridacchiando eccitato. "Morirò! Morirò per la felicità!" Alex sospira mentre continua ad accarezzargli la schiena, giù fino al fianco e alle cosce e ritorno. "E ti immagini... la lingerie?"Genn sospira contro il suo orecchio. "Perché se solo ci penso... se solo ci penso adesso..." Sputa fuori l'aria e si ammutolisce. Già. Se solo ci pensa anche lui... "Sarebbe stupendo. Il sogno di una vita." Perlomeno della sua vita adolescente. E la cosa non è cambiata a distanza di anni."Ora facciamo rispondere Sheen, ok? Vediamo cosa bisogna fare. Nel frattempo - slaccia delicatamente le braccia del biondo da lui - secondo me bisogna mettersi al lavoro. Non sappiamo proprio nulla su che cosa abbia in mente di metter su VS, secondo me devi tornare a esercitarti sui tacchi come prima, non si sa mai." Genn annuisce convinto, se è una convocazione o la va o la spacca vuole essere al cento per cento in forma."Magari provo a studiare un trucco leggero da mettere, ancora più naturale del solito, ma che serva a mostrare la mia luce migliore." "Sì, anche questo. E magari devi esercitarti a camminare in lingerie, insomma un conto è a casa in cui puoi stare tranquillo anche se cammini un po' gobbo e hai le calze una su e l'altra giù, un conto è davanti a un pubblico e alle telecamere!" Genn annuisce sempre più convinto. "Devo imparare a essere seducente. Come Irina o Karlie o Gigi. Insomma sembrare spigliato come loro.""Sul seducente non credo tu ti debba esercitare più di tanto, ti viene naturale." Alex gli spinge dietro l'orecchio la frangia lunga e gli sorride. "Questo lo dici tu, sappiamo entrambi che hai dei gusti strani." Ridono insieme, mentre Alex sussurra questo lo vedremo, continuando a passare delicato le mani fra i suoi capelli."Sono contento, sai? Che tu sia al mio fianco anche in questo. Da solo... non sarebbe stata la stressa cosa, l'avrei affrontato male, sarei stato divorato dall'ansia. Invece sono tranquillo sapendoti con me. Poi magari l'ansia mi consumerà dopo - ridacchia mentre gli accarezza distratto il collo col pollice - ma al momento... sono tranquillo. Felice. Anche se andrà tutto a puttane, sono contento di questa possibilità. E sono contento che tu sia con me.""Sempre."Alex lo tiene per la nuca mentre gli lascia un bacio sulla fronte."Lo sai. Io non ti lascio mai."   Todd Thomas non è come se lo aspettava. No affatto.Ride molto. Ride davvero tanto. Però è divertente, e fa ridere anche lui.Sono nel suo ufficio, da soli. Todd parla da dieci minuti delle due correnti artistiche diverse di quest'anno. Di come sia stato particolarmente ispirato dalle nuvole, dal cielo in ogni sfumatura. Ma anche e soprattutto dal Gay Pride, dai colori, dai visi. Parla della voglia di fare genuinamente qualcosa di innovativo, brillante, divertente, over the top, più del solito."Quello che hai detto a Bottega Veneta, Genn... l'ho visto come un'occasione imperdibile. È stata dura da far mandar giù al team finanziario eh, non te lo nego. L'immagine del brand è solida, gli azionisti maggioritari sono uomini conservatori, non sono artisti come noi, Genn tu lo sai."Genn annuisce serio e apre la bocca per intervenire, prima che Todd riprenda la parola facendogli chiudere la mascella di scatto."Beh ma sai, se davo a Behati le ali rainbow potevano significare qualsiasi cosa, l'arcobaleno come significato di rinascita, gioia dopo un momento buio, o anche la pace, Dio solo sa di quanto ne abbiamo bisogno in questi tempi oscuri. Ma poi è uscita la tua intervista. Un tomboy dal viso da cherubino che parla di sua madre ex Angelo e del suo desiderio di far parte del brand. Ti confesso che la prima cosa che ho fatto è vedere il tuo Instagram. - Genn ride ad alta voce, ma Todd si posa la mano sul petto spalancando gli occhi. - Ti giuro! Ed eri così bello e sinuoso, in qualche foto riuscivo a intravedere perfino del pizzo sotto le felpe."Genn arrossisce, e si tira il maglione rosa chiaro di Moschino a coprire meglio gli skinny jeans pieni di zip. Voleva mostrare la sua personalità per la convocazione da Todd perché Victoria's Secret è questo. Non è una semplice runway in cui il suo corpo è un manichino che cammina, le creazioni di Todd e il suo team sono cucite perfettamente addosso alla personalità e alla fisicità della modella, rendendo gli Angeli dei pari rispetto alle creazioni."Dopodiché sono diventato ossessionato da te! Ti ho seguito alle fashion weeks e poi, oh, Another Man! Che tocco di classe. Ho semplicemente adorato la tua intervista! Mi sono fatto mandare da Edwin il pezzo completo, lo sapevo che la versione sulla rivista era ripulita, ho occhio per queste cose." Si indica l'occhio sinistro, evitando di scontrare con l'indice la montatura spessa. "Ma a proposito, la tua dolce metà?"Genn sorride e abbassa un po' lo sguardo. "Ha detto che voleva che questo momento fosse solo per me. Che mi concentrassi solo su me stesso e sul fare bene, evitando di pensare ad altro, quindi è in hotel, nella nostra stanza, qui a New York."Todd sospira dolce e Genn alza di nuovo lo sguardo su di lui. "Che rottura conoscere solo il gemello Aerts scontroso, avrei tanto voluto parlare con Edmund, per capire bene le dinamiche di tutto ciò. - lo indica vagamente prima di sbattere piano il pugno sul tavolo - Ah, ma io non mi accontento. Pretendo che chiami Alex Iodice e lo convochi immediatamente qui.""Davvero?" Genn sente le guance dolergli per quanto sta sorridendo. "Assolutamente. Scommetto che neanche tu ti senti tranquillo senza di lui, vero?" Genn scuote la testa. "Però-" "Eccellente, non so come gli sia venuto in mente di lasciarti qui da solo in un covo di milf e gay assatanati. Se fossi stato il mio ragazzo, non ti avrei mai mollato un secondo, giuro su Dio." "Noi veram-" "Perfetto ora chiamalo subito o ti licenzio in tronco."Genn scatta in piedi e trova subito il numero di Alex fra i preferiti. Guarda le pareti di Todd tappezzate da immagini di angeli bellissimi, riconosce Adriana, Barbara, Irina, Kendall- "Alex!" "Gè che succede?! Pensavo che fossi da Todd Thomas!"Sente la voce preoccupata di Alex, sorride al designer e corruga le sopracciglia."Alè vieni ti prego... è andata malissimo, sono caduto, mi hanno tutti riso addosso, sto male..." Sente Todd ridacchiare, così si posa l'indice sulle labbra e lui fa segno di cucirsi le sue. "Gè mi dispiace tantissimo... dove sei? Prendo un taxi e ti vengo a prendere." "Alè..." Tira su col naso mentre sente un cazzo sussurrato dall'altro lato della cornetta."Gè ti prego non piangere, mi stai spezzando il cuore. Ti prometto che andrà tutto bene, ora dimmi dove sei ok? Prendo al volo una macchina dall'Empire e ti vengo a prendere." "Sono ancora nell'ufficio di Thomas. Mi stanno fasciando la caviglia, non posso più neanche camminare!" La voce gli esce più lamentosa e tremolante di quanto si aspettasse, sente Alex chiudere una porta e dire velocemente: "Arrivo, non ti muovere."Quando chiude il telefono si volta verso la scrivania e trova Todd con le guancia gonfie. Scoppiano a ridere entrambi fortissimo, il designer riesce a riprendersi solo dopo un minuto buono, sputa fuori un "Ti ucciderà!" allegro, mentre Genn scrolla le spalle e incrocia le braccia."Mi ama troppo per farlo." Sorride fiero. "Non ne dubito neanche per un secondo!"Una donna bruna entra di punto in bianco senza bussare e si volta verso di lui presa in contro piede. "Adeschi di nuovo minorenni, Thomas?" "No, mia cara, ho perso il vizio. Ti presento Genn Raia."La mora realizza improvvisamente qualcosa e sorride. "Ahh, sei tu! Sono Charlotte Stockdale, lavoro con questo rincitrullito per un mondo più bello, donne più felici e le nostre tasche più piene. Da ora in poi anche per rendere gli uomini più felici. Chissà se... Todd?"Si voltano entrambi verso il designer che scatta in piedi e sbatte nuovamente il pugno al tavolo. "È fottutamente preso!"Genn ride con le guance rosse, si mette le mani davanti alla bocca incredulo. "Dì un po', cretino. Gli hai fatto provare almeno un pezzo della collezione genderless? Un paio di ali? Una camminata su e giù le scale?" "No, mia cara, stiamo aspettando il suo futuro sposo. Gli abbiamo fatto uno scherzo e ora si sta precipitando qui pensando che Genn abbia fatto un disastro, e invece!"Ridacchia estasiato, Genn ha aperto le labbra per dire che Alex non è proprio il futuro sposo di nessuno, ma viene interrotto nuovamente. "Invece gli farò venire l'erezione più dura della sua vita. Ora portiamo Genn da Sonya, hair and make up veloce, un completino, un paio di ali, leggere per la prima volta, e poi lo mandiamo dritto davanti a lui. Voglio vedere i suoi pantaloni scoppiare!"Genn ride con le guance rosse, sta adorando ogni minuto passato con Todd e Charlotte. Lo hanno portato da Sonya, la make up artist, gli fa un trucco leggero e dolce, la sua pelle sembra fatta di borotalco morbidissimo, palpebre e labbra rosate, sembra che abbia passato qualche ora a mordersele e a stropicciarsi gli occhi. Nessuna traccia di occhiaie date dalla preoccupazione di oggi, il naso è morbido e sembra più sottile grazie al contouring accennato, sorride allo specchio genuinamente felice."Forza, forza, Alex è arrivato, fatti passare da Mark un po' di pettine e spazzola... Mark! Voglio che abbia i capelli un po' scompigliati, come se si fosse appena svegliato da una notte d'amore eh, mi raccomando!" Genn ringrazia il fondotinta copioso che gli copre la pelle, perché non si intravede neanche il minimo rossore sulle sue guance.È tutto molto veloce e frenetico, sembra in tutto e per tutto una runway, se non fosse che lui è l'unico modello, e Alex beh... l'unico spettatore.A quanto pare lo hanno fatto accomodare in sala d'attesa, glielo dicono mentre lo aiutano a sistemarsi le calze ai reggicalze, una ragazza gli allaccia i Dr. Martens bianchi fino al ginocchio e gli tira su una giarrettiera in pizzo rosa pallido. Si liscia la vestaglia in tessuto velato della stessa tonalità e sospira. Ha un paio di ali bianche sulla schiena, piccole, leggere, sei chili massimo. Sono aperte verso l'alto, come se potessero aiutarlo a spiccare il volo."Punterò le due telecamere a circuito chiuso tutte sul cavallo dei suoi pantaloni. Vedrai." Sussurra Todd affianco a lui. Genn quasi si affoga con la saliva, ma si mette la mano davanti alla bocca ridacchiando in silenzio, attento a non rovinarsi il trucco."Sei pronto?" Genn annuisce fissando intensamente la porta bianca che sbocca su sette metri di corridoio fino alle sedie dove è seduto Alex, solo, proprio di fronte alla porta. "Allora vai! Vai dal tuo Re." Genn sorride ma si sforza di impostare una faccia dolce, rilassata, accondiscendente quasi. Come se ti faresti fare di tutto.Sì. Da Alex sì.Gli aprono la porta e fa un passo in avanti, fuori da essa. Ha visto più volte tutti gli show di VS, durante gli anni, sa perfettamente cosa fare. Piega un po' la testa, il choker di pizzo bianco gli stringe piacevolmente il collo nel movimento. Alex finalmente alza lo sguardo e spalanca gli occhi.Genn è fermo, un ginocchio leggermente piegato, il pizzo delle mutandine candide gli avvolge i fianchi, è comodo, lui è rilassato, ogni parte del suo corpo è morbida, piena, pronta per essere stretta, presa. Sbatte le palpebre e comincia a camminare. Il sorriso dolce e la camminata leggera. Gli occhi fissi, sull'unica, bellissima macchia nera della stanza.Alex. Alexalexalexalexalexalex. Sente le cosce tremargli passo dopo passo, i muscoli tirare pronti allo scatto, a un secondo dal portarlo dritto tra le braccia del moro. Ma... no.No no.Todd non l'ha messo in ghingheri per niente. Questa è la prova. C'è l'intero team dietro la porta, le telecamere accese e non saranno puntate solo sul cavallo dei pantaloni di Alex. Sono puntate su di lui, su di loro.Finalmente.È a un metro da Alex che non si è mosso di un centimetro, i pugni stretti sulle cosce come unico segnale di vita, gli occhi vitrei e il respiro pesante. Si ferma a un metro da lui. Sente i brividi lungo tutto il corpo, vuole tantissimo stringerlo, aggrapparsi alle sue spalle e non lasciarlo per il resto della sua vita.No. No Genn non adesso, ricorda. Piega di nuovo la testa, stringe i lembi della vestaglia allarga un po' le gambe e sorride. Dolce. Morbido. Rilassato completamente.Dopodiché gira e torna indietro, percorre il corridoio al contrario, attento a rimare dritto  per mostrare il suo lato migliore, le ali, naturalmente. Gli fa male lo stomaco perché vuole ridere fortissimo, ma non può. Serietà sul lavoro. Sempre.Raggiunge la porta e si volta nuovamente. Alex sembra essersi ripreso dal suo stato semi-catatonico, ha gli occhi che gli brillano, i palmi giunti davanti alla bocca e il sorriso stampato.Sorride anche lui, quando sente un lieve mi fai impazzire uscirgli dalle labbra coperte, raggiunge a tentoni la maniglia della porta e la apre. Ad attenderlo c'è Charlotte, Todd non si vede, ma lei sorride vittoriosa. "Se dopo questo show privato non ti chiude in stanza e ti scopa a sangue per due giorni è un fottuto idiota."Genn ride finalmente, sincero e liberatorio, sente tutta la tensione scivolare via da lui, mentre lo liberano dalle ali e dalla vestaglia, si siede sulla prima sedia che gli capita per slacciarsi gli anfibi e levarsi le calze bianche. Todd torna alla fine, con un sorriso da paralisi facciale e i suoi vestiti fra le mani."Ho cercato ovunque gli slip fra le tue cose, ma non li ho trovati. Poi ho guardato i jeans. Hanno una zip proprio sul sedere. E allora ho realizzato. Chi metterebbe degli slip sotto dei jeans che hanno zip ovunque, sopratutto sul sedere?"Genn ride di nuovo, si mette le mani davanti alla bocca, fra lui e Charlotte non si è mai sentito così a suo agio con dei designer di fama mondiale conosciuti da un paio d'ore. Non ci sono filtri fra loro, Genn pensa che questa collaborazione possa davvero essere qualcosa di bello.Si cala l'hoodie Moschino e si infila i jeans. Si allaccia le Vans e si tira sulla punte, girando il collo, per accertarsi che tutte le cerniere siano al loro posto, quando sente il rumore di uno scatto.Todd tiene il suo iPhone fra le mani deliziato. "La posto sul mio Instagram e taggo Jeremy. Mi sembra assurdo che ancora non ti abbia fatto sfilare per lui, vedrai che lo faccio rinsavire.""No dai..." Si poggia le mani sulle guance, le sente bollenti, ma spera che il trucco sia rimasto saldo al suo posto. "Tu scherzi - Todd finisce di postare la foto con chissà quale caption e alza lo sguardo - ma dopo questo show, ti vorranno tutti nelle proprie campagne e per le sfilate. La runway di quest'anno entrerà nella storia.""Ha ragione."Genn si immobilizza. Todd gli guarda alle spalle e sorride. "Ah! La tua dolce metà!" Genn non ci bada. Si è congelato sul posto. Non ha riflettuto più di tanto su quello che è successo, sotto gli occhi di tutti, si era concentrato sul fare bene, sul provino che non era un provino, su di Alex, certo. Ma su di lui in quanto persona da ammaliare, da sedurre, non in quanto Alex. Senza contare che sarà arrabbiato perché gli ha fatto uno scherzo stupido, lo ha fatto spaventare, gli ha fatto credere so essersi fatto seriamente male a una caviglia, di aver fatto una figuraccia davanti a tutti... E adesso?"Avete fatto davvero un ottimo lavoro. I vestiti sono eccezionali, la lingerie calza a pennello e i colori delle stoffe sono vibranti. Davvero complimenti." Alex parla con Todd. È giusto che si congratuli, quelle cose le pensa anche lui, solo che non ha la stessa parlantina, lo stesso charme con cui ammalia tutti..."Oh, Alex, come sei gentile! Grazie davvero, sono felice ti sia piaciuto il piccolo show che abbiamo messo su!" "Mi è piaciuto molto." Alex è calmo, la sua voce è composta, posata, le buone maniere prima di tutto. Perché non mi parli però?"Uhm... magari vi lascio soli. Dico agli altri di liberare la stanza dieci minuti per voi. Mi spiace, non di più. Per altri... chiarimenti, vi chiamo un taxi che vi riporta in hotel." Ridacchia sornione, ma Alex non lo asseconda. Ringrazia di nuovo e lascia che Todd chiuda la porta alle sue spalle."Genn." "Mi dispiace per lo scherzo, non avrei dovuto farlo, so quanto ti preoccupi per me, è stato stupido." "Genn ti giri un attimo?" "Alla fine mi hanno preso. Sarò il volto di punta per la campagna genderless, chiameranno altri quattro modelli allo show, due ragazze transgender e un altro ragazzo come me." "Lo so, mi ha aggiornato Charlotte Stockdale mentre tu eri con Todd a cambiarti, sono molto felice per te. Ma mi sono stancato di parlare alle tue spalle, ti giri per favore?"Genn sospira e si volta. Percepisce Alex a pochi metri da lui, forse un paio, forse meno. Tiene comunque gli occhi chiusi, la frangia scivola in avanti e non fa nulla per scostarla. "Mi dispiace." "Per cosa?" Non sa cosa pensa Alex. Si è concentrato solo su se stesso, sul provino, su quello che doveva fare, proprio come gli aveva consigliato il moro prima di lasciare la loro camera d'albergo. E lui l'ha fatto.Si è concentrato solo su se stesso. E non ha pensato a come dev'essersi sentito Alex. Lo ha praticamente... "Mi dispiace per averti usato così. Non... non ero lucido... e i designer, sai loro... continuavano a incitarmi, mi dicevano di lasciarmi andare, sporgere il sedere, aprire più le gambe, ma io... tu non sei un cliente da far eccitare per poi fargli comprare mezza collezione. Tu... sei tu. Mi dispiace.""Gè."Scuote la testa e apre gli occhi. Si fissa le Vans rosate e stringe nei pugni le maniche della felpa."Non è successo niente. Certo il mezzo infarto me lo hai fatto venire, se ti fossi slogato la caviglia ti avrei dovuto portare in braccio per chissà quanto con la scusa, mi sono venuti i sudori freddi, lo ammetto." Ridacchia e fa qualche passo in avanti, Genn riesce a vedere le Air Force nere a qualche centimetro dalle sue Vans."Però nonostante lo scherzo di cattivo gusto, la prossima volta ti ammazzo davvero, non potrai fermarmi, è stato bello! Cioè ovvio che è stato bello. Eh." Tossisce leggermente e Genn alza finalmente lo sguardo. "Davvero?" Alex si gratta la guancia a disagio, ma sorride guardandolo negli occhi."È stato stupendo. E non mi hai fatto sentire usato. Cioè è stato strano, perché non sembravi neanche tu, sembravi davvero uno di quei modelli bellissimi e inavvicinabili, ma è stato diverso. Non come a casa quando ti eserciti con me, concentrato a rimanere dritto e impassibile, qui sembravi concentrato su te stesso, sul tuo corpo. E io mi sono sentito fortunato. Ti sei trasformato in un Angelo davanti ai miei occhi."Genn sorride. Stavolta è lui a colmare la distanza fra loro. Gli poggia una mano sul petto e gli stringe la camicia all'altezza del cuore. "Potresti dirmi le migliori stronzate - sussurra con un sorriso sul suo mento - e io sarei sempre creta, nelle tue mani."Alex ride mentre gli stringe i fianchi e scontra la fronte contro la sua. "È il fascino degli Iodice!" Genn sfrega il naso contro la sua guancia e porta il braccio sinistro intorno alle sue spalle. "No. Sei solo tu."Alex sorride e inspira. Genn apre la bocca.Quando una stagista entra per chiedere loro di liberare la sala, li trova ansanti, Genn ha la felpa sollevata e i jeans slacciati lungo le zip, le mani di Alex sono l'unica cosa che le impediscono di vedere i glutei pieni di Genn.     Genn: hoodie Moschino Vans Vetements x Levi's jeans   È qualche settimana che Alex è inquieto.A causa di questo, da quando è stato scritturato a Victoria's Secret, Genn ha passato molto tempo da solo. Cioè stare da solo va bene, ecco, solo che non è abituato. Alex gli ha detto che è giusto che ora rimanga concentrato, che si eserciti, questa non è una passerella qualunque, lo sanno entrambi. Però. Lui si concentrava anche con Alex. Si concentrava meglio con Alex. Con Alex che suonava la chitarra al ritmo dei suoi passi su e giù il corridoio e le scale, che canticchiava parole sconosciute ma dolcissime guardando un po' la chitarra e un po' lui.Il moro però ha insistito e quindi è spesso solo in casa sua. Certi giorni Alex non gli rispondeva neanche ai messaggi e alle chiamate gli chiedeva solo se si stesse esercitando o meno in vista delle prove il prossimo mese. Quando Genn gli chiedeva di andare da lui perché non riusciva a concentrarsi, Alex sviava sempre, con scuse assurde.Genn ha semplicemente capito di non essere gradito intorno al moro in quel momento e ha lasciato perdere. Ma è spesso da solo. E va bene. Ma non gli piace. Non gli piace, perché è stato sempre solo-con-Alex, adesso è semplicemente solo.Si tira giù il maglione rosso natalizio, mentre porta le ginocchia al petto. La casa è spoglia come sempre. Non usano addobbare per Natale, sarebbe stupido farlo per due persone che sono in casa. Però i maglioni natalizi sono talmente orribili che gli piacciono. Piega il collo leggermente e fa tintinnare il campanellino tondo che è cucito sul nastro rosso che porta intorno al collo. Gli piace comunque mettere le cose di Natale.Il telefono vibra sul tavolino da caffè, di fronte al divano su cui è seduto, si fa una forza immane per alzarsi e recuperarlo, per poi ributtarsi a peso morto sulla copertura di pelle bianca.Il cuore gli batte un po' più forte, quando vede il nome di Alex sul display e la loro foto in cui si baciano divisi dal vetro sottile di una finestra hi-tech che hanno visto a una fiera del mobile. Ha un po' di paura a rispondere, sono due giorni che non si parlano, Genn l'ha presa come un lasciami stare, voglio un po' di spazio e nonostante la solitudine non l'ha mai contattato. Due giorni per loro sono tanti."Pronto?" "Hey."Alex è nervoso in qualche modo. Genn sente i brividi alle gambe, le parigine gli lasciano scoperte le cosce, si tira le ginocchia ancora più sotto il mento e sospira."Tutto bene?" "Eh. Sì, credo." "Cosa fai?" "Niente in realtà. Sono un paio di giorni che non faccio niente. Mi alzo dal letto e mi siedo sul divano, mi alzo dal divano e mi siedo sulla sedia. Per poi mollarla e stendermi sul letto di nuovo. In quest'ordine." "Ah." "Già." Genn ridacchia, probabilmente la sua pigrizia lo sta consumando e presto avrà bisogno di una gluteoplastica di quelle potenti. Ridacchia solo al pensiero."Che c'è?" Alex ride solo a sentirlo ridere, così Genn lo mette a parte dei suoi pensieri. "Sto troppo tempo seduto, presto mi dovrò rifare il sedere." "No, Gè, dai no." "Non mi vorrai più se avrò il sedere piatto!" Stavolta non si trattiene e ride forte, l'imbarazzo sparisce, i due giorni di lontananza annullati totalmente."Ma cosa dici!" Anche Alex ride ma Genn lo interrompe ancora col sorriso sulle labbra. "E poi ti pare che un Angelo può avere il sedere piatto? Hai visto quello di Josephine? Che figura ci faccio... e che figura ci fai tu! Stai con l'unico Angelo col sedere piatto!" Genn si morde la coscia per non ridere quando Alex comincia la sua arringa con: "Allora, innanzi tutto questa è un'eventualità, non puoi saperlo se succederà davvero..."Quando poi però le rassicurazioni si spengono, Genn sorride. "Tutto questo per dirmi che mi vorrai lo stesso? Anche col sedere piatto?" Alex sbuffa. "Ma si può sapere cosa parlo a fare se poi ascolti solo quello che vuoi dell'intero discorso?" "Rispondi, stronzo.""Sì che ti vorrei comunque, è ovvio, no?" "No che non è ovvio. Non è meglio avere il sedere come quello di Josephine?" "Se avessi voluto qualcuno come Josephine o Elsa o chiunque altro, non avrei scelto te no? Avete in comune solo gli occhi e i capelli." Alex ridacchia, ma Genn gonfia le guance. "Bravo, svia il discorso." "Non sto sviando niente! Infatti... - sente il rumore di qualcosa che sbatte e Alex che scende le scale - ti va di venire da me? A Dolores manchi. Peter non vede l'ora di scarrozzarti di nuovo, ma lo sa che se ci prova con te gli spezzo le gambe e gli tolgo il lavoro.""E magari fai terra bruciata intorno a lui così non trova lavoro come autista neanche per le limo in affitto!" "Esattamente, baby." Sente Alex ghignare fiero, e rotea gli occhi. "Guarda che gliel'ho detto che sono impegnato. Mi ha chiesto anche con chi, e io gli ho detto che sono la tua trophy wife. Stai con un Angelo di Victoria's Secret, l'invidia di tutti!"Alex non risponde."Alè?" "Ora lo licenzio."Genn scoppia a ridere così forte che rieschia di scivolargli l'iPhone dalle mani. "Se mi passa a prendere tra poco mi metterò le autoreggenti nere e gli shorts inguinali, solo per lui." "Non mi provocare, Gennaro."La voce gli esce scura e seria, Genn si stende sul divano e fa tintinnare il campanellino del suo choker. "Lo sai che se lo faccio, lo faccio solo per te. Perché tu non smetta mai di guardarmi." "Nessuno potrebbe mai toglierti gli occhi di dosso, Gè." Alex ha quietato la voce, sembra un sussurro. "Però come mi guardi tu... anche da struccato o quando ti sbavo addosso quando dormiamo... come mi guardi tu, non mi guarda nessuno.""Mi sei mancato." "Anche tu." Genn sorride mentre si alza di scatto dal divano."Manda Peter a prendermi.- si avvia velocemente su per le scale in una spinta di adrenalina. - Io non lo so come ti è saltato in mente di lasciarmi solo per due giorni." "Dovevo fare una cosa." Genn mette il vivavoce mentre apre il guardaroba della sua stanza. "Senza di me?" "Stavolta sì. Ma non preoccupare, se va tutto bene non ricapiterà più."Genn alza la voce mentre si immerge letteralmente nella cabina armadio. "Non ricapiterà più, cosa?" Alex ridacchia. "Di stare separati così per due giorni, no?" "La colpa è tua, sei tu che sei sparito." "Scusami. Se anche andasse male, non ricapiterà più, se tu lo vorrai." Genn tira fuori la testa dall'armadio e sbuffa affannato. "Eh?""Niente. Ora sbrigati a vestirti, ti ho mandato a prendere, non farmi aspettare un'ora come al solito." "Ricevuto!" Si mette sull'attenti, anche se sa di non poter essere visto, ma forse Alex sente il rumore dei suoi talloni che si scontrano sul parquet, perché prima di chiudere la chiamata, ridacchia. "Ciao, baby."Genn prende un respiro profondo e si ri-immerge nell'armadio guardaroba. Ha tantissimi vestiti, ma solo quelli a cui è più affezionato. Gli altri hanno una stanza tutta loro che funge da scarpiera e da armadio. Alcuni abiti non li ha mai messi in vita sua.Si ferma osservando una blusa rosa cipria appesa proprio sopra la sua testa. Si guarda le unghia, lo smalto è leggermente sbeccato, ma è dello stesso rosa della blusa. Sorride. Magari gli shorts inguinali e le autoreggenti le metto lo stesso.Miracolosamente trova un paio di vecchi Levi's rimodernati con inserti in pizzo bianco e se li infila velocemente, recupera un paio di autoreggenti chiare semplici e mette le Vans rosa. Si siede davanti allo specchio e si blocca. Ha delle macchie più scure sulla pelle, forse gli sta venendo di nuovo la dermatite a causa dello stress, recupera il fondotinta semi compatto e... Uhm...? Tutto... tutto sommato le labbra stanno bene, sono rosate già così. E il mascara non serve necessariamente, ecco. Magari... Magari ad Alex piace anche così? Con la pelle non uniforme e pieno di imperfezioni?Per la prima volta dopo settimane si ritrova a sorridere alla sua immagine senza artifici. Magari ad Alex piaccio lo stesso. Scatta in piedi per evitare di soffermarsi troppo sul calore che sente alle guance, si prende il cappotto bianco Burberry e esce dal suo appartamento.Fa un freddo assurdo. Magari gli shorts e le autoreggenti a dicembre a Milano no, eh.La Volvo di Alex è parcheggiata alla parallela, corre velocemente verso Peter che gli tiene aperta la portiera."Genn, quanto tempo!" Gli sorride l'uomo, il suo accento ucraino è ancora forte nonostante i numerosi anni trascorsi in Italia. "Sono ancora impegnato con Alex, Peter." Ridacchia mentre guarda dal finestrino le persone che corrono a cercare dei regali natalizi o semplicemente corrono e basta. In quella città corrono tutti. Ti senti in colpa quasi se non corri anche tu. "-to vuol dire tante cose. Ciò non significa che non vi potete lasciare. Quando succederà...?"Genn recupera la conversazione che Peter ha portato avanti da solo, sorride e socchiude gli occhi. "Quando Alex mi lascerà, perderò definitivamente interesse in chicchessia. Mi concentrerò sul mio lavoro e sul cosa fare della mia vita dopo i trenta. Purtroppo la maggior parte di noi non è Naomi che continua a sfilare ai quaranta." "Ok, ma perché non lo lasci tu Alex?"Sembra che l'autista si sia concentrato solo su quello e non sui suoi drammi esistenziali. Stavolta Genn ride, perché davvero, gli altri non capiscono, no? Non possono capire. Vede gli occhi verdi di Peter stringersi nello specchietto. "Non potrei mai lasciarlo. Non potrei mai lasciare Alex, lui... lui è tutto per me."Peter si ferma al semaforo poco prima l'incrocio della tenuta Iodice. Lo osserva meglio girandosi verso di lui e aggrotta le sopracciglia. "Non ti sei aggiustato oggi? Il trucco? Sei strano, non ti ho mai visto senza." Genn stringe le labbra. "Ad Alex piaccio lo stesso." In realtà non lo sa. Ma ci spera."Sì certo, non dico che..." "Vado a piedi, tanto siamo arrivati." "Ma..." "Vado. Grazie per il passaggio."Sta attento alle macchine quando corre fino al marciapiede, intravede presto il cancello nero in ferro battuto, che si apre autonomamente appena le telecamere lo inquadrano. Percorre il vialetto con un sorriso, Dolores gli apre la porta salutandolo con una stretta alla spalla. "Alex è in doccia, ma ha detto di aspettarlo nella sua camera, ormai qualche minuto e dovrebbe aver finito." Genn annuisce e sale le scale fino alla camera di Alex.La stanza di Alex lo rappresenta come poche cose. Le quattro chitarre all'angolo destro sono state spostate nella stanza-ripostiglio di Alex alla fine del corridoio, per fare più largo a una cassettiera alta bianca, tutta per Genn, per quando si ferma a dormire. Ci sono anche molti vestiti, completini per dormire e completini... beh per stare svegli ecco.Vicino al comodino c'è solo la sua classica, Alex suona prevalentemente quella ormai, gli dispiaceva tenere le altre fuori a fare polvere. Sfiora le corde piano. Gli sarebbe piaciuto imparare a suonare. Si sente stranamente in difetto rispetto al moro, lui è sempre stato il più dotato fra i due, l'unica cosa che sa fare Genn è camminare sulle passerelle. Quando diventerà troppo vecchio anche per quello... Scuote la testa e punta gli occhi sulla foto che Alex tiene sul comodino.Sono loro due, al Planet Hollywood a Las Vegas. Alex lo tiene in braccio appena fuori dall'acqua della piscina, mentre Genn gli ride contro il collo, le luci notturne della città a fare loro da sfondo.Sono andati con Ciro e Pasquale, Nando aveva preferito il Lexus e li aveva mollati di punto in bianco. La cosa che ancora li fa ridere è che il casinò aveva come croupier soltanto donne. Donne bellissime. In lingerie. Nando li aveva raggiunti il giorno dopo lasciando il Lexus precipitosamente.Alex e Genn non potendo giocare, e avendo anche paura a farlo, erano rimasti affianco ai fratelli Iodice sorseggiando di nascosto dai loro bicchieri. La cosa dei ventun'anni è stata una vera scocciatura in America. Lui non se lo ricorda, ma a quanto pare domandò dove poteva trovare un corsetto a ogni croupier e a ogni cameriera in lingerie che trovava, perché voleva anche lui essere bello come loro.Genn sa che negli album di Alex c'è anche la foto di lui in corsetto blu notte abbarbicato a un Alex sbronzo, che gli chiede in continuazione se è bello come le croupier o no. Nessuno si ricorda la risposta, ma Pasquale racconta che il responso di Alex lo ha soddisfatto talmente tanto da convincerlo a slacciarsi il corsetto, e tirarselo (ancora a petto nudo) alle ascensori, fino alla loro stanza d'hotel. Cosa lo abbia convinto a mollare il corsetto blu per terra dopo tanta fatica a trovarlo, non lo sa nessuno.Non hanno fatto niente quella notte, lo sa per certo. Probabilmente erano anche talmente andati da non riuscire neanche a farsi venire un'erezione. Si era svegliato con Alex che lo abbracciava da dietro e un mal di testa da manuale, ma stava bene ecco... non aveva dolore, diciamo. Però...Ricorda che in quell'occasione in particolare aveva pensato a quanto Alex fosse bello. Si era rigirato nel letto e aveva sistemato il braccio di Alex di nuovo intorno ai suoi fianchi. E guardandolo così, con le labbra sottili socchiuse e le sopracciglia leggermente aggrottate...Si era sporcato le dita con un bacio e gli aveva sfiorato le palpebre. Poi aveva fatto scendere i polpastrelli lungo la sua guancia fino al mento. Dopo qualche tentennamento aveva posato l'indice sulle labbra di Alex e aveva pensato... che era come lasciargli dei baci indiretti. Poi si era addormentato. E non ci ha più pensato alla vacanza di Las Vegas dell'estate scorsa. Ma se ci pensa adesso, immobile nella stanza di Alex davanti alla foto di un anno fa, probabilmente avrebbe dovuto capirlo già da allora.Che c'era qualcosa. Attrazione forse, che covava da chissà quanto. O magari no. Magari era altro.Si passa le mani su e giù per il viso, mentre si butta a peso morto sulle lenzuola nere di seta. È contento di non essersi truccato, si sarebbe stropicciato via il trucco subito. Stende le braccia, amando il fruscio e la morbidezza delle lenzuola di Alex, finché le sue dita incontrano la durezza di qualcosa.Si tira su a sedere stranito, e capisce perché non l'ha vista prima.È una busta di carta rigida, completamente nera, mollata sul letto in maniera quasi incurante. Ma con la luce invernale delle quattro di pomeriggio riesce a vedere anche una piccola bustina da lettere, sempre nera. A Genn viene un po' da ridere. Le loro stanze li rappresentano davvero, la sua rosa e bianca e quella di Alex nera in ogni dettaglio, con qualche sprazzo chiaro.Forse Alex si è dimenticato di mettere via la busta quando è entrato in doccia.Decide di aprire il messaggio comunque, sorride quando legge una piccola G scritta sopra a sinistra. È un regalo per lui. "In ricordo della sega più bella e soddisfacente della mia vita." Scoppia a ridere forte, già si immagina un bel completino bianco di pizzo, o qualcosa di simile, ma quando apre la busta le dita incontrano qualcosa di duro.Uhm.Tira fuori una scatolina squadrata, spessa. È legata con un fiocco grigio che ha qualcosa ricamato sopra, ma la sera sta già prendendo il posto del pomeriggio, e lui ha dimenticato di accendere le luci. Non se ne cura, troppo curioso adesso, in una scatola così può entrarci al massimo una giarrettiera o un choker.Slaccia il nastro e legge l'incisione argentata sulla scatolina. H e W.No.Apre anche quella e ci ritrova una scatolina più piccola. No. Adesso si distingue perfettamente. Gli tremano le dita mentre solleva anche quest'ultima. Nononononono Sente gli occhi pizzicare. La scritta in lungo sul cuscinetto nero recita Harry Winston in argento e accoglie il più bell'anello che Genn abbia mai visto. Un diamante squadrato circondato da tanti piccoli diamantini, incapsulato in oro bianco."Non deve significare niente, se non vuoi."Alza la testa così velocemente che sente male al collo. Alex è scalzo, t-shirt e pantalone morbido, ha ancora i capelli umidi e un sorriso mesto, un po' triste."Puoi considerarlo un costosissimo regalo da parte mia, per i traguardi che hai raggiunto. O magari un portafortuna, per i tuoi prossimi successi."Genn accartoccia il viso in una smorfia. Ha la gola stretta in un nodo e gli occhi hanno iniziato a lacrimare, sospira, ma gli esce più un singhiozzo."Gè no, non piangere."Alex cammina verso il letto, fino a sederglisi di fronte. Non lo tocca. Genn vorrebbe che lo toccasse. Che lo stringesse in un abbraccio o almeno gli scacciasse via quelle lacrime fastidiose con una carezza. Lo guarda sempre con gli occhi dolci e la pazienza nella voce."Se non vuoi, non significherà nulla. Ma se vuoi... potrebbe significare qualcosa."Genn si passa la manica della blusa sugli occhi, poggia la scatolina sul materasso affianco a lui e gli si mette a cavalcioni, abbracciandolo fortissimo. Alex lo accoglie e lo stringe, ma poi lo scosta e finalmente gli accarezza le guance con i pollici, asciugandole piano. Lo guarda e basta come in attesa. Ma Genn non lo farà aspettare ancora."Sì."Sussurra."Sì?"Alex sorride, mentre Genn gli prende una mano, ancora appoggiata alla sua guancia e ne bacia il palmo e il polso. Annuisce più convinto, quando fa scontrare il naso con quello di Alex prima di sussurrare sì di nuovo contro le sue labbra.Nessuno dei due si interroga sul che cosa quel sì possa significare.L'uno non specifica e l'altro non chiede.Va bene così.     Harry Winston The One, Cushion-Cut Diamond Micropavé  "Ecco qui. Il tuo primo paio di ali."Genn si mette una mano sulla bocca e ripete oh mio dio due-tre volte prima di voltarsi e stringere in un'abbraccio Todd. Il suo primo paio di ali. "Per tradizione, il primo paio di ali va regalato all'Angelo che lo indossa. Le ali sono strutture quasi ingegneristiche, studiate a tavolino e cucite a mano dai nostri sarti, una piuma per volta. Voglio che ti avvicini e la guardi per bene."Genn si avvicina al manichino con reverenza quasi, sfiora l'ala destra staccando subito le dita a contatto con la morbidezza estrema."Non le voglio rovinare." Si scusa con un sorriso. Todd annuisce, e Genn le guarda più da vicino, come il designer gli ha consigliato. La stanza è piena, ci sono due sarte e tre stagiste, un collaboratore di Todd Thomas e anche Charlotte, in un angolo."Queste sono..." "Perle di fiume. Rosa, come la tua interiorità." "Lo sai che - Genn sorride un po' in imbarazzo - danno tutti per scontato che il mio colore preferito sia il rosa o il bianco, ma non è così, è il blu. Come anche il colore preferito di Alex, è il borgogna. Anche se tutti pensano che sia il nero.""Oh ma infatti io non ho detto il tuo colore preferito. Ho detto il colore della tua interiorità. Come porti fuori questa tua interiorità, in maniera esplicita e perfetta per te. Lo stesso vale per Alex. - Todd piega la testa interrogativo - Frida non te lo ha detto?"Genn sospira. "Non ho mai incontrato Frida purtroppo. Date tutti per scontato che io l'abbia fatto, ma non è così. Alex è andato a trovarla qualche mese fa, ma... sentivo che era un qualcosa che lui aveva necessità di fare, una cosa di famiglia, ecco. Non mi ha invitato e io non ho chiesto di andare con lui. Però sì, lo so. Frida dice che la moda serve a portar fuori la nostra interiorità, quindi forse hai ragione. La mia interiorità è rosa."Ridacchia mentre torna a osservare le piccole perle levigate. Sono di un rosa talmente chiaro che se non ci si avvicina non si riesce a coglierne la presenza. "Sono davvero stupende. Davvero. Grazie." Todd annuisce e gli apre la porta. "Ora andiamo a vedere i tuoi due costumi."Lo porta in una stanza simile alla prima, solo che qui sono soli.I suoi costumi sono su due manichini separati. Non riesce a concentrarsi troppo sull'outfit chiaro che il secondo attira completamente la sua attenzione, perché ha anche un paio di ali aperte sulla schiena. Ali arcobaleno."No Todd. C'è Lea, ok? Facciamo sfilare Lea con queste. O Andreja. Loro potrebbero rappresentare la comunità decisamente meglio di me." "Genn... non capisci? - Todd ignora il suo sguardo preoccupato e lo prende per le spalle - Ho parlato con Lea e Andreja ok? Loro sono d'accordo con me. Prima di essere delle modelle transgender, sono donne. Donne bellissime, sicure, forti. Ma la comunità LGBTQIA è anche debole. Vulnerabile. Insicura, lontana dalle definizioni statiche, lontana da qualsiasi cosa. Che vuole solo essere libera di amare ed essere se stessa. Tu sei perfetto per rappresentare questa contrapposizione.""No... loro... loro hanno lottato tutta la vita. Con gli altri, con loro stesse, con le convenzioni, con i rifiuti, gli insulti, loro... io... io ho vissuto nella bambagia. Nel mio nido sicuro e felice. Insomma non so neanche come definirmi! Mi chiedono sui social se sono un crossdresser gay o bisessuale o se mi sento transgender, se metto le gonne, e i vestitini, se sono solo un attention whore che finge, se ho bisogno di uno sugar daddy."Ride allucinato mentre fa un passo indietro."Non sapevo neanche cosa volessero dire metà delle cose. Non sono uno sugar baby, non sono transgender, non faccio crossdressing, non metto le gonne perché non mi piace come mi stanno e non le sento comode. Non sono gay o bisessuale, non credo insomma, non ci ho pensato. Voglio solo stare con Alex e mettere i vestiti che mi piacciono."Storce la bocca davanti al sorriso comprensivo dello stilista."Ecco. Non vedi? Tu sei un ragazzo come gli altri. Solo con delle particolarità. Genn, devi impersonare la comunità. Le ragazze e i ragazzi nella grey area che non si identificano nelle aree canoniche, devono sentirsi rappresentati. Sapere che c'è qualcuno nell'ambiente mainstream che è come loro.""Ma io non sono come loro. Non sono come gli altri ragazzi nelle grey areas. Sono solo me stesso. Non potrei rappresentarli, non saprei come...""Ok. Ok Genn calmati." Todd gli stringe il braccio leggermente e Genn sospira, si accorge di avere il fiatone, il cuore a mille e il collo in fiamme. "Ho capito che la cosa ti mette a disagio ok? L'ho capito. Ma è solo una sfilata, non un comizio. Non devi rispondere a nessuna domanda se non vuoi, puoi semplicemente dire loro di leggere le tue interviste a GQ e Another Man, se le faranno bastare. Ma per me è importante che tu metta quelle ali. Che metta quelle autoreggenti rosse e il corsetto blu. Voglio che cammini con quei plateau da dieci centimetri come se fossi il principe della runway. E se non lo vuoi fare da solo - Todd alza l'indice pronto a zittire le proteste di Genn - sfilerai mano nella mano con Lea. L'hai conosciuta, sei a tuo agio con lei ed è anche la più grande fra di voi, mentre tu sei fra i più giovani. Sarebbe significativo, e tu saresti più tranquillo."Genn annuisce. Così forse può andare. Todd finalmente gli sorride. "Perfetto. Lo sapevo che avrei potuto convincerti. L'arma segreta era chiamare Alex e convincerlo a convincerti, ma non ce n'è stato bisogno. Mi conserverò quell'asso nella manica nei momenti di sconforto." Sbuffa triste, e Genn ridacchia."Bravo, così ti voglio. Luminoso come la Luna, sorridente e tranquillo. Un vero Angelo. Ora andiamo a provare gli abiti e improvvisiamo una piccola sfilata insieme al resto del mio team. Spostare lo show a febbraio è stata una benedizione, non è pronto nulla. Ti ricordi cosa devi fare?""Sì. Cammino, se mi va e la situazione lo consente posso interagire con Lorde che canta altrimenti la aggiro e continuo a camminare. Sorrido, ammicco, bacio volante alla telecamera, torno indietro. Se riesco sorrido e saluto il prossimo collega che si appresta a fare il mio stesso giro. Volo a cambiarmi, stessa cosa coi Twenty One Pilots, devo stare attento alla batteria che sarà posizionata alla mia sinistra e passare fra il batterista e il cantante."Todd applaude brevemente. "Bravo. È proprio così, perfetto. Domani chiamerò Lea per informarla, mi dispiace per Lucky Blue, lo oscurerete tutti." Ridacchia ma Genn sbuffa scocciato. "Sarebbe la prima volta. Non mi dispiace neanche un po'.""Ovvio che no. - sorride Todd e poi gli prende la mano sinistra. - Ho cercato di ignorare questo enorme brillocco per tutto il pomeriggio sperando di essere ormai entrato nelle tue grazie almeno il giusto da sapere che ti sei fidanzato ufficialmente. Alex ha fatto il grande passo, e tu non dici niente a zio Todd?" Sporge il labbro e Genn sfila gentilmente la mano portandosela al petto e coprendola con l'altra."Uhm, no, niente del genere. Non ci stiamo per sposare, siamo ancora giovani non ci abbiamo pensato minimamente." "Beh ma quello è senza dubbio un anello di fidanzamento. Il solo fermanello costerà quanto il secondo piano di casa mia. E casa mia è grande." Sfarfalla le sopracciglia e Genn arrossisce."Lo so... cosa vuol dire. Ma noi non gli attribuiamo quel significato, il significato canonico. Per noi vuol dire qualcosa. Qualcosa di importante. E io vorrei chiederti se posso tenerlo allo show. - Si stringe la mano sinistra più forte al petto, il peso dolce dell'anello diventa sempre più suo ogni giorno che passa - So che fate giustamente togliere tutto ai modelli e siamo obbligati a indossare gli accessori degli sponsor, però... l'ho appena avuto. E voglio tenerlo. Voglio che Alex sorrida vedendolo. E vorrei che lo vedessero tutti."Todd sorride. "Vuoi proprio farti invidiare da tutti eh? Ti sei accaparrato l'ultimo dei ragazzi d'oro di Bruno Iodice. Il nipote prediletto di Frida. Ti invidieranno tutti. Ma dopo lo show, vedrai che invidieranno tutti anche lui.""Dovrebbero invidiarci. - Genn sorride - Ma non per quello. Non perché il nostro patrimonio sommato sarebbe cospicuo. Dovrebbero invidiarci perché ci siamo trovati. Sì. Questo sì."   Cazzo. Gli viene da vomitare. Nononononono Ha visto Elsa rimettere prima in un cestino dell'immondizia, l'odore di succhi gastrici gli ha invaso le narici e ha paura di farlo anche lui. No cazzo. Non ha voglia di passare per la seconda volta al trucco, già sta sudando copiosamente nonostante non indossi praticamente nulla.Si sente estraniato quasi, quando Josephine e Barbara passano ridacchiando davanti a lui, perfettamente stabili su quattordici centimetri di tacco. Si stringe di più le ginocchia al petto scosso dai brividi. Ha paura di rovinare la blusa velata rosa cipria che gli avvolge il torso, ma non può levarsela, perché manca un quarto d'ora, Alex non c'è e lui è fermo su una poltroncina rossa in un angolo del backstage."Hey!" Salta sul posto prima di tranquillizzarsi appena la riconosce. "Lea!" Lei gli sorride, e gli indica di farle spazio sulla poltroncina. "Sono rimasta cinque minuti a parlare con Irina e Gigi di là, ma ho dovuto lasciar perdere dopo poco. Andreja è chissà dove e Lucky Blue è assediato, essendo forse l'unico ragazzo dichiaratamente etero qui."Ridacchia e Genn si ritrova a sorriderle nervoso. La sua voce scura e cadenzata lo tranquillizza, non si sente in soggezione come con Lucky Blue e Andreja, impeccabili e perfetti sempre, con Lea è diverso. Forse perché ha qualche imperfezione simile alla sua, come il naso importante e il sorriso raro. Gli accarezza piano la testa e Genn sospira."Devi stare calmo. Il primo look è facile, sei bellissimo, sembri nato con questi vestiti. Hai anche la fortuna di avere le Dr. Martens altroché noi coi tacchi!" Genn sorride scalciando i suoi anfibi bianchi alti fino al ginocchio. "Almeno..." "Dai su, fammi vedere come sei."Lea lo spinge in piedi e Genn ridacchia, facendo una piroetta per lei. Le autoreggenti bianche sono fermate da dei reggicalze legati intorno alla vita, le mutandine rosa cipria sono morbide, abbracciano piacevolmente il suo corpo senza stringere minimamente, e la blusa sembra più una nuvola impalpabile intorno al suo petto. Si tocca distrattamente il choker in pizzo bianco e sospira. "Che te ne pare?" "Dico che sei bellissimo, baby."Genn arrossisce, e intreccia le mani davanti a lui. "Anche Alex ha cominciato a chiamarmi così, qualche volta."Lea si alza, lo supera di una ventina di centimetri a causa dei tacchi, solleva la testa per vederla sorridere e prendergli la mano. "Anche se Alex non è qui... è comunque con te nello spirito. Lo senti bruciare, attraverso questo." Gli sfiora l'anello con le dita e Genn si ritrova ad annuire.Alex è seduto in prima fila, sul lato sinistro della passerella. Appena arrivati li hanno separati subito, Alex ha avuto il tempo di stringergli la mano e lasciargli un bacio sulla fronte, prima che lo allontanassero dal backstage, sono due ore che non si vedono. Mezz'ora fa gli ha mandato un messaggio. Mi manchi tantissimo cazzo Genn per poco non è scoppiato a piangere in piedi davanti al telefono e a un centinaio di persone, sente il petto bruciare ancora per il vuoto di non avere Alex vicino, con lui nel backstage, in questo momento così fottutamente importante. Espira forte. Si porta l'anello alle labbra e lo bacia leggero. "Ecco così."Solleva lo sguardo su Lea che gli sorride tranquilla. "Non lo sentì più vicino ora? Più vicino al tuo cuore?"Genn si guarda l'anello alla luce fioca del del backstage e sussulta leggermente. In genere segue la temperatura delle sue mani, ora ha le mani ghiacciate, ma il metallo è rimasto caldo. Annuisce fissando la pietra bianca al centro prima di sentire urlare."Sette minuti, tutti in postazione!"Sussulta e sgrana gli occhi voltandosi verso Lea che lo precede sicura. Fa in tempo a raggiungere la borsa col telefono e a scrivere un veloce Ti sento vicino Qualche secondo dopo il telefono gli vibra fra le dita. Sono proprio qui. Gli tremano le dita, ma ripone tutto nella borsa e corre verso i camerini. Schiva corpi, piume, costumi ingombranti e finalmente trova il camerino con le sue ali. "Mi serve aiuto qui!" Grida, una stagista accorre subito, lo aiuta ad allacciare saldamente le ali bianche con le perle di fiume e si ritrova a piegare le spalle sotto tredici chili di struttura.Va tutto bene. Ha fatto le prove tante volte. Lo può sopportare, riesce a camminare dritto, a essere sexy, sciolto, spedito. È tutto apposto."Genn.- Andreja si affaccia alla porta, il corsetto ceruleo ha una piccola coda arricciata dietro, i guanti lunghi e lo stile vittoriano in ogni bottone - Sei dopo di me, ricordi? Vieni."Genn annuisce e la raggiunge velocemente, intravvedendo Lea fra Kendall e Bella. Ok. Ok. Ci sono. Green Light parte e comincia il gruppo capitanato da Irina.Strizza gli occhi quando i make up artist passano a uno a uno da tutti loro, a rifinirli, con lui ci hanno impiegato più olio di gomito e versi scocciati, Genn cerca di non badarci mentre il gruppo di Gigi entra in scena, la voce di Lorde risuona roca mentre saluta e da il benvenuto a tutti con un mashup fra Love Club e Royals.Cazzo."Stai fottutamente calmo, Genn, mi stai ansimando sulla spalla, sembri un'allupato." Andreja neanche si gira, la sua voce forte vibra fino alle sue ali blu elettrico.Genn ride senza fiato, vorrebbe tantissimo stropicciarsi gli occhi, ma sa che il suo meraviglioso trucco pastello andrebbe definitivamente a puttane davanti a tutto il mondo. Dietro di lui ci sono una modella cinese e una caraibica a chiudere il loro gruppo, Behati si volta verso di loro e li fulmina."Tutti ai posti cazzo. Non voglio imputtanamenti proprio nel mio gruppo." Dopodiché rilassa i muscoli facciali e in men che non si dica si è già ritrasformata nell'Angelo perfetto. Che paura fottuta. Si strofina l'anello con le dita, quando sente partire Team ha il cuore in gola. Behati esce, dopodiché tocca a Barbara e Andreja prima di lui. Stringe i pugni e si concentra sul respiro.Le ali cominciano a pesare, la blusa gli fa pizzicare la pelle ma lui pensa a quello che ha pensato durante tutte le prove. Per essere perfetto. Un Angelo perfetto. Remissivo, dolce, lascivo, tenero, bellissimo."Tocca a te! Venti secondi!"Sisisisi, ci sono. Conosce la passerella, conosce la posizione della cantante, sa cosa deve fare."Vai!"Le luci rosate della runaway lo sommergono, cammina spedito, fissando un punto imprecisato di fronte a lui, sa cosa deve fare. Deve mandare un bacio alla telecamera, a tutti gli spettatori. Saluta Lorde con un sorriso e continua il suo percorso, dritto, fiero, il principe che gli ha chiesto di essere Todd. Sposta lo sguardo lungo tutta la prima fila di sinistra finché non lo vede a tre metri da lui.Alex applaude felice, orgoglioso, incantato. Sa cosa deve fare. Oh, sì che lo sa.Incrocia il suo sguardo, solleva la mano sinistra, l'anello brilla per un secondo al suo anulare mentre posa le dita sulle labbra e manda un bacio ad Alex.Fa in tempo a cogliere il suo stupore che ha raggiunto la fine della runway, si limita a un sorriso ammiccante alla telecamera e torna indietro. Con una risata mal trattenuta.Appena rientra nel backstage lo tirano via, socchiude gli occhi mentre lo spingono a rischio di farlo inciampare, fino al punto make up.Due truccatori gli sfregano via il trucco su palpebre e labbra e cominciano a colorargli di nuovo la pelle, stavolta con colori forti, accesi, le labbra rosse e gli smoky eyes verdi e blu con un tocco dorato. Sono veloci, frenetici, si spostano dopo poco per far passare il parrucchiere che gli scompiglia ad arte la frangia e poi lo fa alzare, spingendolo verso i camerini. Barcolla leggermente, la schiena gli fa male, fortunatamente le rainbow wings pesano solo otto chili, il problema è portarle su dieci centimetri. No. Gli slacciano la blusa, i reggicalze, gli anfibi e lo aiutano a sfilarsi le autoreggenti. Nessun problema. Si sfila le mutandine e indossa quelle che gli porgono, solleva le braccia e si lascia avvolgere dal corsetto blu di Prussia. Sente il fiato mancare quando glielo stringono, ma no.Non c'è nessun problema. L'ha già fatto abbondantemente nelle prove, può sopportarlo, le ali sono più leggere, andrà bene.Si siede sulla sedia che gli indicano e si lascia infilare le autoreggenti rosso fuoco. Indossa gli stivaletti rossi col plateau e si alza. Gli allacciano le ali arcobaleno e Genn geme piano per il dolore.No. Va tutto alla grande. Ce la fa.Cammina fuori dalla stanza, lo sguardo offuscato e il fiato corto, cerca il suo gruppo, Andreja, Lucky Blue e Lea, continua a girarsi ma non li vede da nessuna parte, nonono dove sono dove- "Genn!" La stessa ragazza con gli occhiali che l'ha spinto dai truccatori lo prende per un polso. "Dove stai andando? Vieni di qua!" Non lo sa dove stava andando, cercava il suo gruppo, cercava- "Lea!" "Genn cazzo, devi stare vicino a me, dov'eri?" "Non lo so non lo so vi cercavo!" "Che idiota." Lucky Blue sbuffa annoiato, ma Lea gli prende la mano destra e attira la sua attenzione."Ti ricordi?" Genn guarda i suoi occhi scuri e si concentra. Sì, si ricorda. "Dobbiamo camminare insieme, allo stesso passo. Devo stare attento alla batteria sulla sinistra e tu al cantante sulla destra. Ci passiamo in mezzo. Dietro di noi rientrano tutti gli altri e ci fermiamo sulla runway ad aspettare Todd. Dopodiché possiamo rientrare." La mora annuisce stringendogli le dita.Sentono i Twenty One Pilots annunciare l'ultimo brano e salutare, parte l'attacco di Heathens e si abbassano le luci. La musica risuona intervallata da luci stroboscopiche blu e verdi, si riaccende la runway stavolta illuminata di giallo, mentre il telo di proiezione diventa rosso. Andreja è già rientrata, corre a stringerli in un abbraccio veloce e augura loro buona fortuna. Quando rientra anche Lucky Blue, Genn riapre gli occhi. Sospira e stringe la mano di Lea. Ci siamo. Quando calcano la runway sente il sorriso nascergli spontaneo perché vede le persone in piedi, applaudono, in una standing ovation totale. Si fermano e si lasciano osservare qualche secondo, passano affianco al batterista attenti, il cantante alza il braccio a indicarli e Lea gli sorride. Genn è concentrato, tiene i muscoli del viso rilassati e un sorriso sereno. La mente vuota.Sollevano le mani intrecciate e aspettano di essere raggiunti dagli altri Angeli e da Todd, che si inchina e saluta.Si abbracciano tutti come possono cercando di non rovinare le ali, Genn si stringe a Lea e la ringrazia mentre una pioggia di coriandoli li invade.Tyler Joseph annuncia un finale all'insegna dell'amore libero e spontaneo e attacca Can't Help Falling in Love, e Genn si scosta piano da Lea. Cerca Alex con gli occhi, lo trova in piedi come tutti gli altri invitati, con gli occhi lucidi e un sorriso fiero, sembra brillare in mezzo a tutte le star e personaggi illustri tra le fila dello show."Lea..." "No, Genn, dobbiamo rientrare nel backstage." Scuote la testa, ma non la guarda. "Io vado." "No, Genn! Genn-" Sfugge dalla sua presa e si fa largo fra i modelli che ancora occupano la runway.Si slaccia gli stivali reggendosi al cartongesso della parete che nasconde il backstage, sospirando quando raggiunge la sua altezza naturale. Si leva malamente il corsetto riprendendo a respirare piano, e posa le ali delicatamente vicino alle sue cose. Sa che ha gli occhi di tutti addosso, la gente si chiederà che cosa sta combinando Genn Raia, ma a lui non importa, si siede sul gradone e scende con un balzo dalla passerella. Punta gli occhi su una persona sola, corre, trattiene il fiato, finché-Alex lo accoglie in un abbraccio fortissimo, gli sussurra all'orecchio frasi che non riesce neanche a udire, sente le lacrime di sollievo bruciargli le guance, mentre riprende a respirare normalmente. Genn Sente tutto ovattato, non vede niente a causa delle lacrime, non può stropicciarsi gli occhi per il trucco, ma non riesce fisicamente a staccarsi da Alex. Hai capito? Alex gli forza il viso lontano dalla sua spalla, lo guarda negli occhi, con un sorriso, mentre coi pollici gli scaccia piano le lacrime dalle guance."Hai capito, Gè?"Scuote la testa, ridacchia mentre continua a lacrimare, la tensione che scivola via, ogni secondo che sta con Alex."Va bene." Alex ride e si slaccia la giacca nera del tux, aiutandolo a infilarsela, coprendogli il petto nudo. Genn torna a respirare contro la guancia del moro, le mani a stringergli la camicia sul petto.Alex gli prende la mano e lascia un bacio proprio sull'anello, prima di stringerlo nuovamente per i fianchi e sussurrargli qualcosa.Nel caos dei coriandoli, dei fotografi che immortalano ogni loro respiro, di piume e modelli, Genn si concentra solo sulle parole che Alex gli soffia contro la guancia.Sono proprio qui.      Si limitò a guardarmi.Quello sguardo mi disse tutto quello che c'era da dire. Charles Bukowski
10518987
A Supernatural Love
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Sandra McCoy, Nicki Aycox, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Megan Padalecki, Sharon Padalecki, Jim Beaver", "Fandom": "Supernatural RPF", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by MsImpala67", "chapters": "27/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-01T00:00:00", "words": "68,541", "Additional Tags": "Slow Burn, J2, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, love story of jensen and jared, Pining, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Bottom Jared, Top Jensen, Shower Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Threesome, lovesick boys can't get their shit together, Boys In Love, non-au, 69 (Sex Position), Semi-Public Sex, Unprotected Sex", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles & Jared Padalecki, Sandra McCoy/Jared Padalecki", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "M/M, F/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“Alright, we’re ready to go again.”Again?Jared cringes and moves to his mark, trying hard not to let his frustration show. The scene goes exactly the same way it has the last six takes, and Jensen is on top of him again before he’s ready for it. This time, when Jensen says his line, there’s just a touch too much melodrama in his “Easy, tiger,” and they’re both instantly laughing, Jensen letting his head drop down almost to Jared’s shoulder as he pushes himself off and sits in the floor.“Sorry,” he smiles to the crew. Jared jumps up quickly, shrugging his whole body in an attempt to look like he’s just working out the kinks of fighting Jensen all day, while actually trying to hide his erection. He’s had it the past few takes, the result of Jensen’s hips against his one too many times. If Jensen felt it, he’s doing a good job of hiding his reaction, but Jared isn’t too worried about that. He’s more worried about the massive crush he’s developing. They’d hit it off from the first meeting, and are already abnormally close for the short amount of time they’ve worked together. It’s bad enough to have a crush on a co-worker, but this is a male co-worker. He’s never been attracted to a man before, and this whole situation couldn’t be more complicated if they added brain surgery to his contract. Jared shrugs the thoughts away and keeps working. And it’s actually pretty easy to forget about everything but Sam Winchester for a while. He’s already in love with the character he’s portraying, already in love with the story. There’s an excitement in the air, like everyone knows they are doing something special, even if the future of this pilot isn’t certain yet. Jared lets himself focus on that instead of Jensen’s body heat, and the rest of the day is a tiny bit easier. And then they leave set for the day. “You wanna go grab some dinner?” Jensen asks him. Who is Jared to turn down a polite offer?The restaurant is decently crowded, and they have to wait a few minutes before they’re seated. Jensen watches the fish in the huge decorative tank by the door, probably too tired from their long day to keep up a conversation, but Jared is aware enough to notice how those damn green eyes keep glancing in his direction. Great. Now there’s actual tension. Jared ignores it.“This way, please,” the hostess finally says, and they follow her to a tiny booth in the back.They are almost too big to fit, but they fold their bodies in anyway and thank her.Suddenly, Jared is starving. “Man, I could eat everything on this menu,” he comments, mouth starting to water a little. “Right? The craft services department is awesome, but I don’t think they realize how much we eat. I’ve left hungry this entire week.”They order quickly, and then Jared opens his mouth to say...nothing. He closes it again and tries to think of something witty, but now he feels self conscious, and Jensen is just looking around the room with that self-assured expression it feels like he personally invented.Jared blurts out his actual thoughts instead. “You’ll have to teach me that look.”Jensen furrows his brow in confusion. “What look?”“That I’m a picture perfect model and I’m also having deep and profound thoughts right now look.”A bright smile lights up Jensen’s face as he laughs, tossing his head back and letting his shoulders shake with it. God, he’s beautiful. Jared’s chest hurts with how good it feels to have made him laugh like that. They laugh the rest of the meal, tension forgotten, feeling a little high from their exhaustion and from finally feeding their hunger. It’s just the ease between them. Jared decides that’s all his crush is. He’s never met anyone that he clicked with so instantly, and there’s a lot of closeness involved in creating something like this television show. That doesn’t mean it’s sexual or romantic. Except that he can’t stop staring at Jensen’s lips. But honestly, who’d be able to, straight gay or otherwise?“So, really.” Jared leans forward and makes a skeptical face. “Dawson’s Creek?”Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Gilmore Girls?”“Fair enough,” Jared grins. “Both odd roles for two born and raised Texas boys, don’t you think?”Jensen only shrugs. “Nah. There were plenty of good fishin’ holes in North Carolina when I was filming Dawson’s Creek.”“You fish?”Jensen nods enthusiastically. “I love anything to do with the water.”“Oh man.” Jared’s louder now, bouncing a tiny bit in his seat. “The next time we’re both back in Texas, we gotta meet up and go out on a lake. Rent some jet skis or something.”“That’d be awesome,” Jensen agrees. “I’m game.”The topic changes and drifts easily as they talk, never running out of things to say and never falling into anything awkward. Time passes so quickly that Jared is honestly surprised to look down and find an empty plate. He could have sworn their food just arrived. “I think this is gonna be good,” Jensen says as they wait for their check, making Jared freeze for just a second. “Supernatural, I mean. It’s gonna be good.”Jared smiles, thinking that at the very least, it’s going to be a hell of a lot of fun. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jared drops his arms to set Jensen’s feet back on the ground, and they both let their serious faces break into the laughter they’ve been holding back. “Gotta give them somethin’ for the gag reel,” Jensen teases and Jared nods his agreement. Somehow, it’s been a little over three months since they were hired. Three months of filming and press, three months of wondering if they were going to have jobs for the rest of the year, and three months of Jared being this close to Jensen every fucking day. Things are going well and there’s a bit of weight off their shoulders. They can just focus on making a good show, on doing what they love and doing it to the best of their ability. But Jared’s focus is split between that, and the man standing next to him. “You ready for some lunch?” Jensen asks. The sun hits his face and makes his skin fucking glow, and Jared ignores the freckles sprinkled across his nose. “We should definitely get some food while we can. It’s gonna be a long day once they start filming us in the water.”In the water. Jensen, shirt dripping wet and sticking to every muscle.Fuck.Somehow, through sheer force of will, Jared speaks coherently through the dirty thoughts in his brain. “You know I’m always ready for lunch.”He resists the urge to reach out and touch Jensen somehow. Maybe throw an arm around him. Maybe jokingly smack his ass. Maybe wind their fingers together. But he can’t. He already touches Jensen more than he should, and the pictures from the Whatever It Was Called Press Event the other night prove it. Jared is still half-laughing and half-cringing at the picture of him hugging Jensen while curling his leg around him, like a koala climbing a tree. The thing is, Jensen is always right there to accept the touches, to lean into them, to reciprocate them every now and then. And the moments where Jensen actually initiates them? Those are the moments Jared lives for. He’ll be high off of Jensen jokingly jumping into his arms in that goofy take for the next couple of hours at least. Unfortunately, Jensen is impossible to read. Jared’s at the point where, if he was given the green light from Jensen, they’d be making out in front of everyone with no shame, but he just isn’t one hundred percent sure. There are plenty of looks, plenty of shy smiles and winks and laughs that are a little too loud. And there’s plenty of sexual tension. Every physical scene turns into torture as they sweat and move together. And that’s as far as it goes. Probably because you’re an idiot and making this all up in your head, Jared thinks to himself.They grab lunch, and to Jared’s relief, the rest of the day is too busy for him to torture himself with Jensen. By the time he gets to the tiny apartment he’s rented, he’s bruised and exhausted, and happier about his job and his life than he can remember being in...well, ever.The hot water of his shower is exactly what he needs, and he stands underneath it, lets it pound the soreness out of his muscles and wash away the grime of that lake. And now he has time to think. Without the crew around him, without the distractions, without the professional obligations, Jared lets his thoughts drift. He had watched the dailies along with everyone else, and he still wasn’t over the way Jensen dove into that lake. He was so athletic, body forming one sleek line, angled exactly the right way, looking as if it were all completely effortless. And once they were in the water, there was take after take, Jensen’s hair dripping, shirt clinging to his flat stomach exactly the way Jared had imagined. At one point, he had pulled himself out of the water and up onto the dock in one easy pull of his muscular arms. It’s that memory that makes Jared’s cock twitch as he reaches for his body wash. He takes his time, smooths the fresh-smelling soap all over his skin, avoiding his erection until his chest and arms are completely covered. And then he gives in, rubs his hand over his cock as the image of Jensen fills his head. He starts with the memory of Jensen coming up out of the lake for air, mouth open and back arched. He lets his fingers trail down to his balls for a moment, gently massaging, then moves up to stroke his dick again, harder this time. The memory of today fades into other memories.He sees Jensen in Dean’s leather jacket and rubs his thumb over the head of his cock. He pictures Jensen in a tight t-shirt, laughing at a joke Jared told, and groans as his fingers squeeze tighter. He fantasizes about the exact pink shade of Jensen’s lip, of the fucking sinful shape of them, of how they would feel pressed against his own, of how they would look stretched around his cock…Jared forgets about dragging this out and starts stroking himself fast, fast enough that he’s coming in no time, one hand flat against the shower wall as he spills over his fingers. He groans through it, eyes squeezed shut as he still sees only Jensen’s face behind his eyelids. It’s the kind of release that makes him feel like jelly afterward, muscles a little shaky and useless as he lets the water rinse away the soap. He’ll wash his hair tomorrow morning. As he falls in bed naked, he stares at the cell phone on his night stand. He could just call him. He could call him and tell him that he likes him. That he can’t stop thinking about him. That he wants to shout to anyone who will listen about how lucky he is that they work together every day. He could tell him everything. Because it’s the middle of the night, and everything is dark and quiet and surreal, Jared actually picks up the phone and dials. He doesn’t even panic until he actually hears Jensen’s voice.“Hey, everything okay?” His voice is sleepy, and Jared immediately regrets calling.“Fine,” he assures him. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”“That’s okay, I was only half-asleep on my couch anyway. I need to shower and get in an actual bed. What’s up?”All the words that were on the tip of his tongue five seconds ago have disappeared. “I, uh. Well, I was just. Do you know what time we have to be on set tomorrow?” Jared cringes at his own weak excuse as it comes out of his mouth. They both know their schedules like the back of their hand, and if they didn’t, they both have about a million copies of it. On the off chance that Jared isn’t sure about the time, he doesn’t need to call Jensen to figure it out. Jensen pauses for just a moment before answering. “Call time is noon.”Again, Jared struggles for something to say. “Cool. Guess they wanted to give us time to actually sleep for a few hours.”“Well, seeing as how it’s already after three in the morning, I’m not sure about actual sleep. But it’s better than nothing.”The next few seconds drag on as neither of them speak. “So, uh,” Jensen starts, and Jared’s certain he’s about to awkwardly get off the phone and leave Jared to lie in bed mortified until it’s time to get up and face him again. “Are you as sore as I am from all that swimming today?”“Oh my God, it was awful,” Jared breathes, grateful for the excuse to keep talking. “I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” Jensen laughs, “and I didn’t even get sore the fun way.”Jared’s caught off guard by that brazen statement and lets out a laugh that’s a little more flirty than simply appreciative of the joke. “Well, we’ve got a solid eight hours before we’re due back at work. Plenty of time for you to find some action.”Jensen snorts. “I don’t have it in me to move right now, so unless there’s someone ready and willing to come to me and do all the work, I’m shit outta luck, man.”“Then I guess you’re just stuck talking to me.” It’s a risky thing to say, and Jared’s heart is hammering into his ribs. “I could do worse,” Jensen says, and there’s a serious tone beneath the words.Jared smiles into his dark bedroom and lets the adrenaline flow through him until he knows he won’t sleep tonight. It won’t make a difference. With just four words, Jensen has guaranteed he’ll be in a good mood tomorrow.They talk for a few more minutes about nothing, and get off the phone as easily as if they were just hanging out during a break at work, rather than having a hushed conversation in the middle of the night. Jared manages to drift off eventually, the quiet desperation he’d been feeling suddenly melting into that sweet excitement of anticipation. He doesn't need to make some big confession or demand that decisions be made. This is good enough to let it play out on its own. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The bar is crowded, which means that Jared has an excuse to lean into Jensen when he talks, close enough to smell the cologne as he speaks right into his ear. “Here’s to a good premiere and getting a full season.”Jensen gets just as close when he answers, his breath tickling the skin of Jared’s neck. “We won’t know for at least another month. Don’t count your chickens.” But he’s smiling when he pulls away, and they clink their beer bottles together before drinking them down.It’s late, Jared’s drunk, and Jensen is gorgeous. All night, Jared has watched Jensen smile and laugh, drink until his cheeks are flushed, move around the crowd with the ease of a man who knows he’s worth something. And all night, Jared has had to bite his tongue, to hold his arms still, to make sure he doesn’t give himself away.Jensen’s drunk too, Jared knows, because he keeps bumping into him, and his hands are lingering a little too long when he touches Jared’s arm. The alcohol is the reason why they never saw the fight coming. “I think those two girls over there recognize us,” Jensen smiles indulgently. “They keep staring and whispering. Should we go say hi?”Jared grins, knowing that Jensen genuinely wants to please his fans and finding it adorable. “Nah,” Jared says. “They’ll come over eventually and I don’t know if walking is a great idea for me at the moment.”Jensen laughs. “Then maybe we should get you home.”Home. Home with Jensen. Jared would do anything for Jensen to take him home. He’ll take the drunken sex, of course, but honestly, he just wants to feel Jensen’s weight in bed next to him, wants to talk to him in the morning, wants to openly stare at him without feeling guilty about it later.His legs wobble underneath him as he stands up, and he throws an arm around Jensen’s shoulders to keep himself upright as they laugh and stumble their way to the door. The women are still staring as they get closer, and one of them cries out “Oh my God, it’s them!”The guy is in Jared’s face before he can even turn around to smile at the woman who spoke. “You messing with these girls?”He’s tall, but not nearly as tall as Jared, appearing out of nowhere. Still, his fists are clenched and his chin is raised, a clear challenge. It’s all bluster, just some drunk guy looking for trouble, but it hits a nerve.“Shut the fuck up,” Jared huffs, more amused and irritated than angry, which pisses the guy off even more. He raises his fist for the punch as the women shrink back away from the trouble, and there’s no way Jared’s drunk body is going to be able to move away in time. He just braces himself for the blow.It doesn’t come.Suddenly, Jensen isn’t at Jared’s side anymore. He’s in front of him, lunging at the man’s waist and tackling him to the ground. “Shit,” Jared shouts, reaching down to grab at the back of Jensen’s shirt. The last thing they need is bad publicity, or worse, an arrest.The man’s friends jump in, one of them pushing at Jared, but he easily deflects and yanks Jensen to his feet. Everyone is too drunk to do any real damage, and as Jared and Jensen make their way out of the bar, there’s only harsh words being thrown rather fists.Jared manages to get them both into a cab on the street, and gives the driver the address to his apartment. It’s only then that he turns and peers at Jensen in the dim light, who has a bloody nose and an eye that’s already starting to swell.“Looks like he got a good punch in,” he says, clumsily reaching out to touch Jensen’s face. Jensen nods into the touch for just a second, then winces away, leaning against the opposite door to put some distance between them. Jared just faces forward and stays quiet the rest of the ride.“You both getting out here?” the driver asks, pulling the car to a stop in front of Jared’s apartment building.“Uh.” Jared glances over at Jensen, whose eye is almost swollen shut now, and raises his eyebrows. “Want to crash on my couch? It’s better than the hotel you stay in.”Jensen nods without saying anything, and climbs out of the cab as Jared pays, body moving slow and heavily as he drags his feet to the sidewalk. Jared isn’t much better, groaning as he pulls himself to his feet and starts the long walk to the door of the building. Somehow, they end up kind of leaning into one another, arms pressed together and supporting each other’s weight. It isn’t until they are in the fluorescent light of the elevator that Jared gets a good look at Jensen, and bursts out laughing.“Dude, you look like shit.”“You don’t look much better,” Jensen grunts, then starts laughing too. Jared can see himself in the reflection of the metal elevator door, and Jensen is right. He isn’t beaten up, but his hair is everywhere, his clothes are disheveled, and his face looks haggard with his buzz.They make it inside and head straight for the kitchen, where Jared gets a dishtowel and some ice while Jensen cleans off the blood in the sink. It’s not the first time Jensen has hung out at Jared’s apartment, and they move around each other easily, with a rhythm they've quickly cultivated. Jared’s right there when Jensen straightens up and turns around, holding the homemade ice pack up and gently pressing it to Jensen’s eye. He expects Jensen to reach up and hold it there himself, but he just lays his hand over Jared’s instead, makes them both hold it. His hand is warm and solid, and Jared does his best not to stare at Jensen’s face too hard.“Good thing we have a few days off. They’d have to reschedule shooting for this.”Jensen nods. “Thanks for letting me crash here tonight.”The alcohol is wearing off, settling into just a fuzzy warmth, just enough to make everything feel a little dreamy. Just enough to make Jared a little more open than he should be. “Why’d you do it?”Jensen furrows his brow. “Why’d I do what?”“Go after that guy. He was coming after me. Not you.”Jensen shrugs and looks away, his hand still on top of Jared’s. There’s only moonlight in the apartment, only barely allowing Jared to see his face, pale and young. “That’s why. He was askin’ for it. You’d have done the same for me.” His voice rises at the end like he’s asking a question.“Yeah,” Jared nods. “I would have.”The mood grows serious as they look at each other, and Jared squirms his hand away from Jensen’s. It’s too much. He’s too drunk. He’s going to say or do something and fuck everything up.“I’ll, uh, I’ll get you a blanket.”The apartment is small enough that there’s only one bathroom, and Jensen has to go through Jared’s bedroom to get to it. Jared’s already collapsed on his bed when Jensen comes out, but they grin as their eyes meet. Jensen sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. “So. Tonight was fun, not counting my black eye.”“We should blow off steam more often,” Jared agrees. “I don’t remember the last time I got into a bar brawl.”Jensen laughed. “I don’t make a habit of it.”The conversation shifts easily, and they spend another hour talking about everything. They talk about the show, about what they want to do with their few days of freedom before they go back to set, and even a little about their families back in Texas. Jared drifts to sleep in the middle of a sentence.And he wakes up with Jensen.He’s on top of the covers, horizontal at the foot of the bed, like he just scooted back from where he was sitting and plopped down, and Jared’s body is aching from being unable to stretch out all night. It’s worth it.Jensen’s mouth has fallen open and he’s snoring just a little, and it’s the most endearing sound Jared’s ever heard. He watches him for a minute, watches his chest rise and fall, watches the glow of his skin in the morning sunlight. With a pretty intense effort, given his headache, he pushes himself up to sitting and shakes his head to clear it, then stands all the way up on the bed. Grabbing a pillow, he grins before dropping himself onto Jensen in an impromptu wrestling move. “What the fu-,” Jensen growls, eyes shooting open. He stares at Jared for a moment, one eye perfect and the other heavily bruised but open, then returns Jared’s smile. “You asshole,” he laughs, them grabs another pillow and slams it against Jared’s head. Neither of them have the energy to do more than that, and they just lie side by side, staring at the ceiling. This is what Jared’s wanted. A morning with Jensen. He wants to touch him, wants to feel his body heat, wants Jensen to know how hard his heart is beating right now.Instead, they get up and have breakfast.********It’s been a long day, and all Jared wants is to talk to Jensen. He’s been waiting in Jensen’s trailer, twisting his body back and forth on the stool, watching the tiny television on the counter. If the show gets picked up for a whole season, maybe the two of them can get nicer trailers. Not that he’s unappreciative of the ones they have now, but if they’re gonna spend all day every day in them, he’d like to be able to stand up straight without hitting his head on the ceiling. 0In the month since the bar fight, which is now ‘the night Jensen slept in my bed’ to Jared, all they’ve done is work and wonder about the future of the show. It seems promising, but absolutely nothing in television is certain until papers have been signed. Sometimes not even then. It’s getting to Jared. He’s never handled these moments well. He feels drained and emotional, two minutes away from smashing something simply because he’s scared and doesn’t know how to say it.Jensen finally opens the door of the trailer, smiles at Jared, and it’s like a rush of air straight into his suffocating lungs. He’s pretty used to that feeling now. Pretty used to hiding it, too. “Hey,” he says. “You’re out of potato chips. You’re always out of potato chips.”Jensen rolls his eyes. “That’s because you eat them. Better watch it. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to those cut abs. What if you have to film a shirtless scene?”Jared watches Jensen’s eyes flash as he raises a suggestive eyebrow, and that’s a fucking flirty look if Jared ever saw one.“So, I guess we find out tonight?”All the teasing leaves Jensen’s expression as he flops down in the only real chair, his long legs stretching out in front of him. “Yep. We’re supposed to be there in a few minutes, actually.”The silence is heavy.“Okay,” Jared finally says. “Let’s go find out if we get a full season.”“And if we don’t?” Jensen’s voice is light, but he’s looking at the floor, and Jared can hear the undercurrent of worry. “Then I guess we’ll just have to find another show to do,” Jared says.He says it on purpose, throws the ‘we’ out there and lets it fall between them.Jensen pushes his lips out in that funny, sexy little way he has, then looks up and meets Jared’s eyes as he nods. “Okay.”They stand up and head toward their fate, Jensen squeezing Jared’s shoulder every now and then like he’s comforting himself as much as Jared. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jared’s quiet today, and he knows it’s bothering Jensen. He’s been hovering since they got on set, trying to find out what’s wrong with him, but Jared hasn’t told him.He wouldn’t know where to even start.There’s nothing bothering him, really. Nothing happened, there wasn’t a fight or a bad day at work. Jared’s just drained. Home has been an intense episode to film. They have a chance to play around, now that the show has a full season, and this episode is digging into Sam and Dean. Jared knows that it’s the right move to start exploring their relationship. But it’s hard. It’s a lot of emotion to throw at Jensen all day, and a lot to take in when Jensen throws it right back. So no, nothing’s wrong. But Jared’s tired and quiet. And no wonder Jensen is confused about it. They’ve become inseparable. They joke and play and tease, they drive the crew crazy, they spend their off hours exploring Vancouver together. Jensen is the best friend Jared has, and it happened so quickly Jared never saw it coming. He expected his crush to run its course. He didn’t expect it to deepen and grow into something tight in his chest that threatens to explode every time Jensen’s in the same room. “Dude. Are you gonna tell me what you’re pissed about or what?” Jensen finally asks as they’re wrapping things up.Jared shrugs his hair out of his eyes and clears his throat. “Not pissed. Just tired.” He manages a small smile and Jensen’s shoulders relax a little. Almost like he’s relieved that Jared isn’t mad. Or relieved that Jared isn’t mad at him. Or maybe that’s just what Jared wants to believe. He’s talking before he means to, because Jensen is looking at him with those green eyes and Jared’s safe there. He can say what he’s thinking. “This episode’s intense. Don’t you think?”“Yeah,” Jensen agrees. “And they’ve got us working long days. I think it’s good, though. It’s the kind of story you hope you get to tell, you know?”“Definitely. But I need a full night’s sleep,” Jared grins. Jensen nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow, man.”Jared goes into Jensen’s arms when he opens them, the hug so normal that he doesn’t think twice until he realizes that Jensen’s squeezing a little tighter than normal, holding on for a few extra seconds. “Take care of yourself,” he mumbles, and Jared just nods at him, not sure what’s happening here. Jensen walks away on legs that Jared can’t help but grin at, somehow feeling more energized than he’s felt all week.******** Sandy calls the next morning.“Hello?” Jared tries to hide the surprise in his voice, or make it pleasant surprise at the least. “Hey!” she chirps, as sweet and cheerful as always. “How are you, babe?”That does make him smile, so achingly familiar that he swallows hard before answering. “I’m good. Really good. How are you?”“I’m in town,” she tells him. “I was thinking that Mr. I’m the Lead in a Hit TV Show could take me out to dinner and catch up?”He can hear the flirtation in her voice as well as the sincerity, and he means it when he tells her he’d love that.As soon as they’ve made arrangements and hung up, he calls Jensen.“Hey,” Jensen answers.“Hey. What’s up?”“Just enjoying not leaving my couch.” Jared listens to the muffled tone of his voice, then hears the gentle twang of Jensen’s guitar. It’s yet another thing about Jensen that makes Jared smile. “Yeah, well, don’t worry about leaving it tonight to entertain me. I know we had big plans to sit and watch television tonight, but an old friend of mine is in town and I’m going to dinner with her.”“Her?”“Yeah. Her name’s Sandy McCoy. We worked together about a year ago.” That’s all Jared says. Something’s a little off in Jensen’s tone, so he doesn’t add that he and Sandy have been casually dating on and off since they met. “Well, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Again, something sounds different, and Jared doesn’t quite know what to do with that. So he settles for just saying “Yep.”Now he’s got all day to sit around, wait to go out with Sandy, and overthink absolutely everything. Was Jensen...was Jensen jealous? It isn’t like him to get annoyed at canceling plans that weren’t real plans in the first place, so was it the fact that he was canceling to go out with a girl? Part of Jared feels weird about that. And part of him desperately hopes it’s true. He wants Jensen to tell him that he’s jealous so he can reassure him. So he can tell him that he has nothing to worry about. Or maybe Jensen just sounded weird because he was trying to talk and play guitar at the same time. What the fuck does Jared know?********Sandy is as beautiful as ever. Maybe more beautiful. Her face all but radiates in the light of the table’s candle, and Jared is glad he came tonight. It feels like him, an old version of him he’s almost forgotten. One that has nothing to do with Jensen or how tangled up he’s felt inside ever since he met that man.They catch up on life in general, asking about each other’s friends and family, talking about what work she’s been doing. And then she gets to the big news between them.“So, Supernatural. I love it.”“You watched the pilot?”She nods. “And the two episodes after that. It’s fantastic.”“You think?” He can feel himself blushing, but he asks anyway, wanting to know what someone outside his immediate circle thinks. “Absolutely. There’s a great dynamic between the brothers. It’s going to be intense, isn’t it?”Jared takes a drink of his wine and clears his throat. “Yes.”“It’s so much fun, too. I love the horror aspect. It’s about time there was another good horror show.” She leans forward, the swell of her breasts pushing over the neckline of her tight dress. “What’s the set like? And Jensen? Is it a good job?”Jared’s mouth goes dry, and he takes another long drink. “He’s great. They’re all great. Definitely a fun place to go every day. I think I’m gonna be there as long as the show runs.”“Well, cheers to that.” As she holds up her glass to toast, her foot slides up his leg under the table. Jared grins at her, clinking his glass against hers and thinking that he deserves to blow off a little steam. He’s been wound too tight and she’s great, pretty and funny and exactly the distraction he needs. The conversation changes then, turns to subtle flirting, then not so subtle flirting, Jared drinking more and more wine as the night goes on. By the time the check comes, she’s sitting on his side of the booth, hand more in his lap than on his thigh, breathing against his neck when she talks.She smells delicious, and Jared remembers exactly how good she feels.Only the more he drinks, the worse he feels. He likes Sandy. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve been together. It wouldn’t even be the first time they’ve fucked and said their goodbyes afterward. But he just can’t get into it tonight. By the time they are walking out the door, her clinging to his arm to keep her balance, he knows he’s going home alone. “Well,” she grins eagerly, leaning up on her tiptoes, “your place?”He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. But he can’t do this. Not tonight. “Actually, I have an early day tomorrow. I, uh, I really shouldn’t…”Her face goes from shock to annoyance as her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Oh. Right. Okay, then.”“I’m sorry.” And he is. He would give almost anything to want to take her home, to feel her underneath him again. But that isn’t what he wants anymore. The alcohol in his brain is very sure of that. So he just leans down and kisses her cheek, then puts her in a cab. As he gets into his own cab, anger bubbles over, amplified by the wine. He should be able to date a beautiful girl. He shouldn’t be such a baby, pining after someone who will never feel the same, letting it mess up his life this way. And he definitely shouldn’t be going home alone tonight. The whole thing was stupid. Stupid and wrong. Stupid and wrong and ridiculous.When the driver asks for his address, he gives him the name of Jensen’s hotel.********“Jared?” Jensen’s surprised, obviously, but he still has a small smile when he opens the door. “You okay?”“I’m good.” He wobbles a little as he says it and catches himself on the doorway. “Had some wine at dinner.”“Obviously. You comin’ in?” Jensen watches him closely, feeling the situation out, and Jared moves his hips a little more than necessary as he passes him. Let Jensen stare at his ass for once.The couch must rise up to meet him or something, because he’s suddenly sitting on it, but he can’t remember lowering himself. Jensen’s right there, peering at him with a frown. “You want some water?”“Sure. Thanks.”Jensen heads to the small kitchen area in his hotel suite, and when he speaks, he kind of throws the question over his shoulder, like it isn’t the most important question he’s ever asked. “What happened to your date?”Jared laughs loudly, but there’s no humor behind it. “My date? Wasn’t a date.”“Oh, please,” Jensen calls back. “Old friend? That’s a date.”“Well then. My date...I sent my date home.” His words are slurred and slow.“Not into her?” Jensen’s back and handing Jared a water bottle, fingers brushing together and sending tingles up Jared’s already shaky arm. He takes a long drink before he answers, head swimming with a million sentences he isn’t sure make any sense. “She’s actually kind of perfect.”“Yeah?” Jensen sits down and their knees brush. Neither of them pull away. “Yeah. She’s smart. And sexy. We always have a good time together. S’easy with her.”“Then what’s the problem?”It takes Jared a few seconds longer than usual to turn his head, and even longer for his eyes to focus. When they do, he’s staring at Jensen, at that strong nose and cut jaw, at everything he wants and everything he can’t have.And Jensen’s staring right back.He’s definitely too drunk for this. “The problem...s’that I don’t want perfect.”Yep. Definitely too drunk.Jensen smirks. “Perfect a little boring for you?”He’s so right, and of course he is. Of course Jensen understands exactly how Jared feels. Jared’s woozy, whole body tilting forward. He should stop. He’s getting too close...so close he could…And then they’re kissing.It happens so easily and suddenly that Jared isn’t even freaked out by it. It’s natural, exactly what should be happening. God, it’s every bit as good as the fantasies Jared has had.It’s too sloppy, and Jared can’t get his lips to stop kissing Jensen’s chin as well as his mouth, but it’s warm and rough, and he can smell Jensen’s skin, and fuck. He wants to do just this forever. He’s never kissed a guy before, so he doesn’t know if it’s guys in general or just Jensen, but he is absolutely going to be let down by any and all women after this.He’s already ruined.As soon as Jared gets his mouth in the right place and sighs a little, Jensen decides to ruin it by pulling away. “Hey, man, we can’t...you’re really drunk.”“Don’t care,” Jared says, leaning back in and reaching out this time. Jensen traps his hands with his own and stops him. “Look. We really shouldn’t do this.”“Because you don’t want to? Or because you think you shouldn’t want to?” It’s a convoluted question and Jared fumbles the words, but Jensen knows what he’s asking. Those green eyes close for a minute and Jensen takes a couple of deep breaths. Jared watches, heart pounding with anticipation.It’s Jensen that reaches out this time, cups Jared’s face in his hands and looks at him like he’s burning up with it, like he’s as desperate and angry as Jared. Their mouths meet correctly this time, Jared’s bottom lip caught between Jensen’s, swelling as Jensen gently sucks at it. They kiss forever, slow and lingering and lazy, not even noticing how they end up lying down, Jensen half on top of Jared, fingers tangling through his shaggy hair. Jared’s head is still too fuzzy to make sense of any of this. All he knows is that it feels good.“Jensen,” he finally moans, hands running up Jensen’s arms.It’s like saying his name sets off an alarm, and Jensen’s pulling away again.“We can’t do this,” Jensen says, more emphatically this time, and Jared freezes, horrified as the reality of what’s happening sinks through his drunken haze.“I’m sorry,” Jared starts, hot and drunken tears forming in his eyes.“No! That’s not it. It’s just. You’re really drunk. And I’m really out of it. Not the best time to make decisions.”Jared sits up, everything spinning in the bad way now, turning his stomach. “Yeah. Okay.” If only he could disappear into the back of this couch. If only he was at his own apartment, pretending to be as into Sandy as he used to be.“Stay. Sleep out here on the couch.” It feels like Jensen means that, and Jared knows he’s only going to be conscious for a few more minutes anyway, so he nods. Neither of them speak again as Jensen gets him an extra blanket and pillow. Jensen is almost out of the room, and Jared is almost asleep, but he can’t help but say one last thing. Put a bookend on this massive mistake. “M’sorry, Jen.”“What for?”“Comin’ here tonight. Shoulda gone home.”“Yeah, well. I’m not sorry.”Those three words are the only reason Jared rests easy that night. ********The sunlight is barely glowing through the curtains and it’s too much for Jared. He wants to sleep forever. Not because he’s hungover. Oh, he would gladly take a pounding headache and a queasy stomach over this. This is so much worse.He can still feel Jensen’s lips, only the clarity of being sober shows the true story of last night. Jared was clumsy and sloppy, and has made a total fool of himself. He drags the blanket up over his face and stifles a groan, caught somewhere between cringing and rolling his eyes at himself. “Mornin’, tiger.” Jensen’s voice rings loud and clear from the kitchenette, and Jared can’t hide on the couch forever.Tiger.“Shut up, Dean,” he teases, biting the bullet and tossing the blanket to the floor. Jensen smirks, then turns from the refrigerator to meet Jared’s eyes. “You feeling okay this morning?”Jared nods. “I’m good.” He gets a good look at Jensen then, sweatpants only, bare chest exposed and toes curling into the floor, and swallows. “Yeah. Good.”Jensen lifts an eyebrow and looks him up and down, expression greedy, like he’s seeing something better than last night’s wrinkled clothes and wine stained teeth. “I, uh. I shouldn’t have dropped by like that last night. I’m sorry.”“You already apologized last night.” Jensen pours a little milk into a coffee mug, then thrusts it at Jared, who grins at the fact that they can make each other’s coffee the right way. “And I told you it wasn’t necessary.”“But we kissed.” There. Put it all out there and hope for the best. The muscles in that gorgeous back go rigid as Jensen takes a little longer than necessary to return the milk to the fridge. “We did,” he finally says, tone perfectly and carefully neutral.“And?”“And what? You kissed me, you know. Maybe you should be the one talking.”Jared shrugs. “What do you want me to say?”“Was that just a totally random fluke?” Jared can feel Jensen’s walls go up. Those are the walls Jared spent weeks breaking down. The walls that no one else is allowed through. The walls that are not going to go up between them again if he can help it.“No. It wasn’t a random fluke. It’s, um, something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, actually.” He takes a chance and steps closer to Jensen, encouraged by the fact that Jensen wants to talk about this, that he isn’t just pretending it didn’t happen or laughing about it like it was just some drunk story they’ll reminisce about someday.“We. Uh. We have work today. We better get going.”Jared sighs loudly, curling back in on himself and preparing for the most awkward work day he’s ever had. “Okay. I’m gonna catch a cab home and change, and I’ll see you there.”“And not that I need to tell you this, but, uh, can we not tell anyone about last night?”Jared’s stomach drops and his throat tightens so that his voice comes out too stretched and high. “Right.”Jensen reaches out, but stops halfway and lets his hand drop back down. “It’s just that. I don’t want anyone talking when we don’t even know what’s going on here.”“Is there something going on here?” Jared doesn’t have anything else to lose, and he might as well hear it straight from Jensen that he’s an idiot for thinking otherwise.Jensen takes a minute, glances around the room, licks his lips and pushes them out the way he does when he’s nervous. “Of course there is,” he says quietly. Jared meets Jensen halfway when he leans in, and this kiss, this one is perfect. It’s soft and sweet and simple. Over as soon as it starts. Fucking magical. “Let’s just get through today, and then we can come back here and talk. Okay?”Jared grins. “Okay.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They’re both nervous. Jensen is quieter than usual, gruffer, hand rubbing at his jaw every now and then. Jared’s felt jittery all day, and now his stomach is rolling with the idea that maybe this conversation isn’t going to turn out like he’d hoped.“So,” Jensen finally says, but he stops there, adjusts his long legs in front of the couch and sighs.“So.” Jared’s sitting next to him, looking around as his own apartment like there’s something new for him to see. They came back here after work, almost without discussing it, just naturally heading in the same direction as is their habit. Jensen came right in and made himself at home like always, which had Jared feeling mostly okay. Until Jensen went all silent. Now he's losing confidence fast.“Maybe you should tell me what happened last night.” Jensen keeps his eyes on his hands. What happened? I got drunk and we made out. That’s what happened . But Jensen probably wants more of an explanation than that. “I. Um. Sandy and I went out, and I had a lot of wine. When she went home, I just ended up at your place. You were there for the rest.”Jensen finally looks over and rolls his eyes, but the edges of his lips are turned up in an almost-smile. “Yes, I know what happened. But what happened? Where did that come from?”Jared feels his face flush, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he juts his chin out. “You kissed me back. Where did that come from?”Jensen does smile then. “Fair enough.”“It was just...I don’t know...something I’ve been thinking about.” That’s the understatement of the year.“For how long?”“A while.” He lets Jensen make what he wants out of that. He can’t tell him the whole truth. There would be a Jensen-shaped hole in the door if he told him that he’s wanted him from day one, that it’s not just a crush and it’s not just sexual, that he is deep in this and can’t dig his way out. So he sticks with “a while”.“And Sandy?”“We’ve gone out before. But she’s just a friend.” Jared wants that to be very clear. Jensen nods, then leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. Jared gives him a minute, knows that he has to work through this. He pushes his hair out of his face, clears his throat, adjusts his position a couple of times, tries his best to be patient, but it’s not one of his stronger suits. “You gotta say something, man. Or would you rather I just tell you I was totally wasted and had no idea what I was doing?”“No,” Jensen says, quickly enough that Jared believes him. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about, too.”“For how long?”Jensen leans over a little, all bedroom eyes and pouty lips. “A while.”They’re inches away from another kiss, and Jared feels drunk all over again just from the smell of Jensen’s cologne. “Is this a good idea?” And just like that, Jensen sobers him up. “You tell me.”“We work together. And it looks like we’re going to work together for a long time. What if…”Jared hears the hesitation as Jensen speaks, and narrows his eyes at him. “Are you really that concerned about work?”Jensen hangs his shoulders and looks away for a second, then turns to look Jared straight in the eye. “Honestly?”“Honestly,” Jared nods.“Honestly, this whole thing makes me nervous.”“Why?”“Well, you’re a guy, for one. That’s new to me. And, just. You’re my best friend.” He doesn’t add a buddy punch to the shoulder or a “man” to the end of the sentence to lighten the words. He lets them have the serious meaning they should, and Jared understands.And while Jared understands, he can’t help his grin. This is really happening. His heart is pounding in his ears, his whole body is buzzing with the need to move, because Jensen feels the same way. Carefully, he leans in just a little bit more, Jensen’s hot breath washing over his lips. “Then how about we just go slow? We don’t have to make any decisions or tell anyone right now or anything. We’ve got time.”Jensen grins a little and doesn’t pull away, and now Jared’s soaring.“We can just leave it at ‘we like each other’. And see what happens,” he continues.Jensen nods. “I like that plan.”When their lips finally touch, it’s intentional this time, completely sober and on purpose, a decision they’re making together rather than an impulse.Jensen isn’t caught off guard or shy now, and his hands find Jared’s face to pull him closer as he leans back, until Jared’s practically in his lap. Jared slides his hands up Jensen’s arms, over his biceps, pushes between the couch and around to his back where he can dig his fingers in. They’re panting before they even really open their mouths.Jensen makes a low sound in the back of his throat, runs his hands up into Jared’s hair and tugs a little, makes Jared shiver against him as their tongues finally come together. Jared’s smiling when Jensen pulls away a few minutes later. Those lips are begging to be kissed again, red and swollen and perfect, sitting beneath flushed cheeks and mussed hair.“I should probably go.”Jared nods. He's disappointed, but only a little. They did say they were going to take things slow, and after a kiss like that, he’s not worried. “Okay.”He walks Jensen to the door, and they just smile at each other silently, no need for goodbye or any other awkward attempts at conversation. The shy look Jensen’s giving him is enough. ******** *You keep staring at me* Jared reads the text, then glances up to see if anyone is paying him any attention. When he sees the crew just going about their job setting up the shot, totally oblivious to him, he texts Jensen back. *’Cause you look hot today.* Jensen is only standing a couple of feet away, and Jared hears the buzz of his phone. He looks everywhere else as Jensen reads the message and types out a response. *Yeah? You got a thing for Dean Winchester?* Jared grins. *I have a thing for your ass in those jeans.* It’s been two weeks of this, of stolen glances and sneaky texts, of dinners where Jared’s never quite sure if he’s supposed to act like it’s a date or not, and it’s been incredible. It’s still a complete rush to be able to say these things, so much freedom in letting the words roll off his lips instead of swallowing them down. He feels lighter than he has in months. Filming is going well, and soon they’ll be nearing sweeps, then the end of the first season. He goes home most days with his stomach muscles sore from laughing, tired but with a full heart, and he doesn’t even care that they have to keep whatever this is a secret for now. It makes sense for them. Jensen doesn’t get a chance to respond before the scene starts and they have to work again, but Jared doesn’t mind. He caught the look on Jensen’s face when he read it, surprised and more than a little flustered, and Jared has that expression in his mind the rest of the day. But work comes first, and they don’t get a chance to be alone again. Jared wraps earlier than Jensen and heads back to his own apartment to crash, wondering if Jensen will call him when he’s finished.That doesn’t take long. His phone is ringing the exact second he’s stepping out of the shower, dripping everywhere. He should grab a towel first, but it might be Jensen, so his priorities shift and he just tries not to get to much water on the phone as he hastily answers.“Hey.” He can hear the dorky cheer in his own voice from Jensen’s name across the screen, but he doesn’t care.“Hey. You sound like you’re in a good mood.”“Yeah, well, I got off early today and had time to relax.”“Ass,” Jensen snorts. “What are you up to?”“Just got out of the shower. You headed home?”“Just walked in my room. The shower, huh?”Jared walks to his bedroom naked, dripping water everywhere, and drops down on the bed. The sheets will dry before he goes to sleep later. “Yeah.”Neither of them speak for a moment, and Jared wonders if Jensen regrets what he said, but then he speaks again, voice low and warm. “Shame you had to go home and shower all alone.”That certainly jolts Jared out of his laziness and gets his blood pumping. “Is it?” he teases.“Definitely.”God, it’s so good, this teetering right on the edge, daring each other to be the first to jump, knowing that it doesn’t matter. They’re going down together. “And you would have made my shower better?”Jensen laughs. “Of course.”“Tell me how.” The teasing is over and Jared is serious. A little needy, even. “Someday,” Jensen starts, voice now matching Jared’s tone, “I’ll tell you all the things I would do if I had you pressed up against a shower wall, all wet and slippery. I’ll tell you all the things I want to do to you outside the shower, too.”“Why ‘someday’? What’s wrong with right now?” Jared asks. “Because right now, I need to get some sleep. We have to be on set early in the morning.”Jared frowns at the empty room and runs a hand over his stomach, his cock half-hard just from the conversation. “Yeah, okay. Night, Jen.”“G’night.”Jared knows that sleep isn’t the reason Jensen held himself back. But he can be patient. He can wait until Jensen’s ready. He’ll just get in bed and drive himself crazy reliving every single thing that’s happened between them like he’s a smitten teenager.********Jared’s voice comes out rough and thick when he finally gets the phone answered, closing his eyes against the harsh blue light of it cutting through his dark bedroom. “Hello?”“Sorry!” Sandy chirps loudly. “I thought you’d still be awake.”“Early day tomorrow,” Jared mumbles, then sits up in bed and tries to force his voice to sound more alert. “Went to bed early. What’s up?”“Well,” she drags the word out, and Jared can see her hand pulling at the necklace she always wears, the way she does when she’s nervous. “I wanted to ask you if anything was wrong. With us.”“What?”“You know, a couple weeks ago when I visited? The way you just said goodnight. Did I do something wrong?”Jared immediately feels a pang of guilt. “No, of course not!” He can’t tell her about Jensen. But he can reassure her about herself. It’s not like they live in the same city or anything, and he has no responsibility to her. He can make her feel better without her thinking it might lead to something more. He makes his voice as sincere and apologetic as possible, which isn’t too hard because he honestly never meant to hurt her feelings. “Work has kind of taken over my life. This show is turning into a big deal, you know? And I was just under a lot of stress.”“And that’s it?”“That’s it,” he promises.“You know, there was a time when I would have been good for stress relief,” she jokes, still a little nervous insecurity in her voice.Jared laughs. “You absolutely were,” he agrees. “And I appreciate the hell out of you. I didn’t mean to act weird. It’s just. You know.”There. That was nice and vague, and maybe she would understand that it had nothing to do with her. “Alright, well. I’ll let you go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you up with my crazy.”Jared still doesn’t know what he did to deserve her or how cool she always is about everything. “Wake me up any time you want,” he smirks.She giggles and hangs up the phone. He’s asleep and dreaming about Jensen in no time. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Jay!”Jensen’s voice rings out across the parking lot, loud and booming even though they’re outside and there’s at least six cars between them to absorb the sound. “Hey, Jen!” he calls back.They fall into a big hug as soon as they're within reach, arms pulling the other closer, but it’s over too soon. Their drivers are still there, and though they probably aren’t watching too closely, it still isn't a good idea to hold on too long.Still, Jared manages a murmured “Missed you” in Jensen’s ear before they pull apart. Jensen’s cheeks flush a little, but that’s the only outward sign of affection Jared’s going to get until they’re alone. “How was your holiday?” Jensen asks, turning and heading toward the fleet of trailers making up today’s set. “It was relaxing. Nice to have time to do nothing and actually get some sleep. Got a little bored by the end. How was yours?”“Same.”They had only spoken a handful of times during their whirlwind hiatus for Christmas, both too busy with their own families for more than a few text conversations here and there, and one phone call. And Jared missed him. It was only a couple of weeks, but now that he’s back here, with Jensen’s arm close enough to accidentally brush against his as they walk, it feels like it’s been forever. Jared scoots a little closer so their arms brush again.Everyone on set is in a good mood, happy to be back, happy to see the success the show is having. The day flies by as they all catch up, and Jared finds himself still missing Jensen as they leave for the day. He wants- no, he needs- a few minutes with Jensen all to himself. Acting like a jealous boyfriend, he thinks to himself with a laugh. And we aren’t even technically dating.Despite Jared's mood, they climb into separate cars that night, both too exhausted to hang out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”“Yeah,” Jared nods, “but it probably won’t be until we’re on the red carpet. I’ve got one scene to film.”Jensen makes a face and Jared grins, soaking up any evidence that Jensen missed him, too. “Night.”Jared nods and climbs into the backseat of the service car, leans his head back and closes his eyes. How long are they going to do this before something gives?********The Critic’s Choice Awards are exciting. Jared’s only been to a couple of these events, and he’s still getting used to how glamorous everyone seems as they saunter down the line, cameras snapping pictures while photographers yell their names, trying to get the perfect shot. It’s fun, though a little nerve-wracking, to get dressed up and be a part of it, to hear his own name among the shouts, to get interviewed about the show (and sometimes about the most random unrelated things).And then he spots Jensen. In a suit. Grinning sheepishly into a microphone. Fuck. Jared can’t focus on the question he’s answering now, so he quickly ends the interview, manages to smile and say thank you, and then he’s moving toward Jensen. It’s like a magnetic pull that he isn’t strong enough to stop. He watches how charming Jensen is, how disarming, how gorgeous he looks.And then he smiles as he decides exactly what he wants to do.It’ll be funny and cute. It’ll give the press something to talk about, and it will be good publicity for the show. And Jared’s impulsive anyway. So he doesn’t think twice about bounding over to Jensen, grabbing his face, and pretending to kiss him. He’s not going to, of course, and he gets just the reaction he wants. Jensen pulls away at first, until he realizes that it’s Jared touching him, and then he purses his lips and slaps Jared’s hands away with a scolding expression.Jared runs away as quickly as he came, and glances back to see Jensen rolling his eyes and laughing in a “see what I have to put up with?” way. Perfect. He and Jensen can laugh about this later, and maybe Jared can get a real kiss.And now he’s got the scent of Jensen’s cologne in his head to carry him through the rest of the red carpet.********“What the hell was that?” Jensen hisses when they sit down at their assigned seats. His voice is angry, but his expression is still serene, picture perfect. “What?” Jared plays it up with wide, puppy dog eyes, but his stomach is sinking at the thought that Jensen might be mad. He never thought that would be the reaction.“That kiss. You can’t just do that.”Jared ducks his head. Jensen’s right. It was a stupid move, especially since he knows Jensen is still uncomfortable with their...whatever it is. What was he thinking? “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”Jensen nods, face softening a little at his tone of voice, but the rest of the night is awkward. Things feel stiff, a little too polite and formal between them.Jared is still inwardly cringing about the whole thing when he gets back to his apartment and pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge, slinging his jacket over the back of the stool.He’s unbuttoning his shirt and trying to decide the best way to deal with this tomorrow when there’s a knock on his door.Given that it’s past midnight, Jared quietly walks to the door and looks through the peephole before he answers it. Jensen is standing in the hallway, hands in his pockets, biting his lower lip.Why is he here? Is this good or bad? Does he want to make up, or is he here to tell Jared that things between them just aren’t gonna happen?Only one way to find out.Jared sighs and opens the door.“Hey,” he says carefully.Jensen’s eyes trail down his face to his neck, then to the tiny bit of chest exposed by the three buttons he has open. “Hey.”“You wanna come in?”Jensen stares at him with narrowed eyes, like he’s trying to think this through, trying to make a decision. And then he steps forward, into the apartment, and kicks the door closed behind him without a word. Jared doesn’t move back, and they’re standing chest to chest, just a couple of inches between them as they stare, something suddenly buzzing between them. “I thought you might be mad at me,” Jared whispers, sounding small and more emotional than he meant to. “No. I’m not mad. I'm. I'm..."Slowly, intentionally, like he wants Jared to see him make the decision, he leans forward and touches their lips. It’s gentle and sweet with something hotter simmering underneath it, and Jared audibly sighs.The noise must make something inside Jensen click, and before Jared can comprehend what’s happening, he’s being pushed back into his bedroom, Jensen’s hands and lips all over him. There’s an urgency he hasn’t felt before as Jensen’s jacket falls to the carpet, and they’re both all jittery nerves, but Jensen’s mouth doesn’t falter as it finds Jared’s again, falling with him to the bed.Jared’s blood is pounding in his ears and his hands are shaking as he reaches up to touch Jensen’s face. “You sure about this?”He’ll die if Jensen tells him no, if he changes his mind, but he has to ask. He wants to know that Jensen wants this as much as he does. It’s like a dam has broken, and Jensen collapses on top of him, lips sucking at Jared’s neck and earlobe as he talks. “I’m sure. God, I’m sure. Wanted you since we met. Wanted to touch you every fucking day, wanted to kiss you. And tonight…”Jared can’t breathe.“And tonight I wanted to grab you, kiss you in front of everyone, all those cameras, make you officially mine.”Jared shudders at that thought, moans out loud because this is just too fucking much. It takes Jensen a minute of fumbling to get to his knees, hands sliding up Jared’s sides, underneath his shirt. He grins a little as he slides his hands back out again and starts unbuttoning the dress shirt, making a show of getting it off Jared’s body. “Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he pants, like he’s been holding all this in for far too long and can’t stop the flow of words now. His hands are warm on Jared’s skin, and he starts tracing collarbones, dragging fingernails down to pinch nipples. That makes Jared jump, stomach flexing, and Jensen traces the lines of those muscles, too. Jared watches, caught up in this, in Jensen looking at him, wanting him. This is exactly what he’s wanted to do to Jensen. He’s bursting out of his skin now that he knows Jensen feels it, too. “Jen,” he murmurs, squirming beneath him, wanting to kiss him again, or touch him, or something.“I love when you call me that,” Jensen says, sliding his tongue over Jared’s stomach as he speaks. “Lots of people call you that.”“S’different when it’s you,” he mumbles, moving lower to follow the dark, thin line of hair that disappears under the hem of Jared’s blue jeans. Their hands find each other and squeeze, and then Jared’s sitting up, pushing back against Jensen in a sweet struggle until he’s shirtless too.Jensen’s mouth is on his again, and this time there’s clashing teeth and a low growl in the back of his throat, a hand tugging at Jared’s hair to get him to lie back down. It doesn’t take long for Jared to get impatient and snake a hand between them, grabbing at the first button and zipper he finds. It happens to be his own, and Jensen sits up, grabs the thin suit material and pulls, managing to get Jared’s socks off too. Jared’s left on the bed with nothing but his boxer-briefs on, and he’s never felt so seen before. Those green eyes run over his body, heating up every patch of skin they look at, and the bulge in his underwear grows bigger by the second until he’s aching. When he shifts his hips, Jensen’s face goes a little tighter, and Jared sees the uncertainty there. “Hey, I’ve never done this before either,” he says softly, reaching out to run his hand down Jensen’s forearm. “We can go as slow as you want.”Jensen swallows hard and shakes his head just once, a yes okay this is good I can do this, then reaches for Jared’s hips. Jared is glad his voice sounded so steady, because he’s all but coming undone at the seams. This is everything he’s wanted, and that in itself is intimidating. But he has no idea how to actually do this, and there’s so any what ifs in his head right now that he can’t think straight. But then Jensen plants a kiss to his lower stomach, and Jared relaxes. This is Jensen. It's all going to be okay.Slow turns out to be more for a teasing effect than to calm their nerves. Jensen’s still sitting next to Jared, shirtless and with his pants undone now, and the curve of his back is gorgeous as he bends down, tongue flicking out over the head of Jared’s cock experimentally, like he’s not sure what it’s going to feel like. For Jared, it feels like he was just touched by a live wire. It’s definitely not the first blow job he’s received, but it’s the first one from Jensen, the first one that has all this shuddery softness behind it, the first one that he thinks might actually burn him alive from the inside out. Jensen takes his time to figure things out. His hand is a little awkward as he puts it on Jared’s thigh, then decides it’s better resting on Jared’s hip, but each touch feels perfect. He kisses everywhere but Jared’s cock, making him breathe hard and clench his muscles in an attempt to stay still. And then he finally gets brave enough to just go for it. Jared has to watch. He raises his head and looks down to see Jensen’s profile, strong jaw moving and lips...holy shit those lips...forming an ‘o’ as they sink down.Jared’s moan is almost embarrassingly loud as he falls back to the bed. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on how it feels, on how soft and wet and warm Jensen is. And then Jensen sucks, and Jared’s eyes fly open as his toes curl, because it’s exactly the right amount of pressure and it’s so achingly hesitant and sweet and perfect. “Fuck,” he gasps.“That feel good?” Jensen asks, leaning up and looking at Jared with flushed cheeks and a hopeful almost-smile.“So good,” Jared assures him, reaching down to stroke Jensen’s jaw. He barely gets his hand on him before Jensen’s got his head lowered again, more eager now, one hand gliding up Jared’s thigh to his balls.Jared can only take so much. He’s going to come way too soon if Jensen keeps swirling his tongue that way, and he doesn’t want this to end a second sooner than it should, so he winds his fingers through Jensen’s hair and gently pulls him away.“Come here.”Jensen moves easily, sliding up Jared’s body to kiss him.They struggle to get Jensen’s pants off without breaking the kiss, but they manage, kicking the blanket off the bed in the process.And then it’s just skin on skin, the two of them stretched out side by side, hot breath and rough hands, tangled legs and twisting tongues as they finally, finally, give in to the tension between them. Jared rolls so that he can hover over Jensen for a minute, get a feel for what it’s like for Jensen to be underneath him, shyly blinking up at him even as he pulls Jared’s head back down for a kiss.They’re rolling again, and now Jensen’s wedged between Jared’s legs, and oh, God, their dicks are touching, hot and hard and Jared can’t take it. He bucks his hips up to see what kind of friction that creates, groaning at the new sensation.“Jesus,” Jensen mutters. He sounds like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, hoarse and broken. Good to know Jared isn’t the only one losing control. They stare at each other as they start moving, silently working to find a rhythm that’s just theirs, sliding back and forth against each other, grinding and circling until they can’t take it anymore. “Jen, I’m gonna..gonna…” Jared doesn’t get the sentence finished before he’s coming, spilling all over both of them.Jensen follows right after, and the face he makes is absolutely the most gorgeous thing Jared has ever seen or ever will see. He goes silent, tilts his head to the side as those perfect lips fall open, chest flushing the same pink as his cheeks, eyes set only on Jared. They shake and tremble through it, then collapse down into the bed, mouths finding each other one more time for a wet, sloppy kiss.Eventually, not quite knowing if he should say something or not, Jared gets up and heads to the bathroom. Jensen follows and they clean up together, grinning at each other when their eyes meet. “You’re staying, right?” Jared doesn’t mean to sound needy, but right now, there’s nothing else he wants but to sleep next to Jensen. “If that’s okay.”As Jensen heads back to the bedroom, Jared gets behind him, so close that he runs into him, drops his head to plant a kiss on Jensen’s shoulder. Together, they straighten the sheets and put the blanket back on the bed, then slide underneath, bodies pulling toward each other until their tangled once again, lazier this time. “I’m glad you came over tonight,” Jared murmurs.“Me too.”“This was…”Jensen grins, almost laughs. “Yeah. It was.”“And I’m sorry again for messing up your interview. Honestly? I just saw you there and couldn’t stop myself.”“It’s okay,” Jensen tells him. “I know the feeling.”Jared stares at him dreamily, lost in a happy haze, until he falls asleep. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jared grins at Jensen from across the makeup trailer as he enters, keeping his face still so as not to disturb the powdering process. “Higher ups still here today?” Jensen asks. “Guess not,” Jared tells him. “Haven’t seen them.”“Good. Now we don’t have to pretend to get along.”Everyone in the trailer smirks at his joke, and Jared’s heart skips a couple beats at the secret they’re still keeping. It’s been almost two months since the night Jensen showed up at his apartment, and he’s unofficially thinking of that as the day they became official. As far as everyone else in the trailer knows, they’re just best friends, lucky to enjoy each other’s company so much, since they have to spend a lot of their time together. No one else knows that once they’ve spent fourteen hours together at work, they spend ten more hours together afterward, making out on Jared’s couch or watching a movie in Jensen’s fancy hotel bed before getting up and doing it all over again.  “Yeah, it’s hard to act like I enjoy this job in front of them. We never have any fun.” Jared catches Jensen’s eye in the mirror and smiles. They only have one scene to film today, and it’s an easy one. When they get on set, they can feel the calm in the air. Everyone is relaxed and happy, ready to go and excited to wrap early.Jared glances around the set, from Jensen to the camera crew, to the Impala, and stops for a deep breath.“You okay?” Jensen asks. “Better than okay,” Jared replies. He glances around to make sure no one is listening. “You think we can find a few minutes before our flight to LA?”Jensen rolls his eyes. “No. We have to leave straight from set. Control yourself.”Jared laughs, then slaps Jensen’s ass jokingly, not caring who sees. It’s not unlike Jared to touch anyone, let alone a good friend, and no one will think anything of it. “Not possible,” he grins, then heads to the Impala to film their scene. ********On the plane, once they’re settled in and have some time to kill, Jared pulls out a small gift bag and carefully sets it in Jensen’s lap. “Happy birthday!”Jensen grins. “You didn’t have to.”“I know I didn’t. But I wanted to. And don’t get too excited. It’s a few days late.”Jared watches eagerly as Jensen opens the gift, pulling the tissue paper away. “Holy shit,” Jensen breathes. “A viewfinder?”He twirls the box around in his hand and reads the small print, eyes lighting up as he looks at all the features the lens has to offer.Jared smiles, chest swelling at how happy Jensen seems with the gift. “You mentioned once that you wanted to direct someday. You’re gonna need one of those.”Jensen tears his eyes away from the present and looks up at Jared, face gone soft and sweet in a way it almost never does. “Thanks, Jay. This is...this is awesome.”Jared laughs, almost leans in and kisses him, but manages to restrain himself. “You’re welcome.”Jensen spends the rest of the short flight looking at the lens, reading the manual that came with it, gushing all kinds of technical terms that Jared doesn’t quite understand. Jared takes the opportunity to watch him, to stare at the way his eyes flash, at the shape of his lips when he smiles this wide. It hurts a little to feel so much. Jared wants to hold his hand, to talk about it publicly, to make sure everyone knows exactly what’s going on between them, because it’s too big for him to keep inside his own body. But Jensen still wants to keep things quiet. Jared understands. Neither of them are ready to explain to their friends and family that they’re with a man. Neither of them are ready for that kind of pressure once the network and press find out. Neither of them want to jeopardize this thing they’re still figuring out. But every now and then, Jared wishes he could just kiss Jensen happy birthday without looking around to see who’s watching first. The flight lands, and they have a night to themselves. Paley Fest starts in the morning, but they have a good fifteen hours to do whatever they want in Los Angeles. Starting with checking into the hotel. Fortunately, no one thinks twice about putting them in rooms next to one another. Jared looks at Jensen, who is smiling a little, like he’s already planning how easy it will be to stay together in one room if they don’t have to roam through the hotel to get there. Jared barely throws his bags into the suite before heading the few steps down the hall to Jensen’s room. “Dinner somewhere?” he asks.“Sure. Come in for a second, let me change clothes.”Jensen’s bag is neatly packed, of course, and it takes him no time to pull out a pair of dark jeans and a button down shirt. His blazer is already hanging in the small closet, waiting to be worn. For a second, he pauses, like maybe he’s considering taking his clothes into the bathroom to change, but then he just shrugs out of his clothes, down to his underwear. Jared watches greedily, and by the time Jensen’s kicking off the second leg of his pants, Jared’s behind him, wrapping his arms around him and splaying his hands across Jensen’s chest. “We could stay in,” he murmurs, biting at Jensen’s earlobe. Jensen leans back into him for a moment, lets Jared slide his hands all over his stomach before turning around and pulling away. “We could. But I want to go out.”Jared pouts, but Jensen only rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he coaxes, pulling his jeans on. “Let me take you on a date.”A date. That’s a word they haven’t used. And tonight, they could actually do that. It wouldn’t be weird at all for the two of them, in town for a press event, to go out to dinner together. And since they’re in a new town, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for them to go someplace nice. “A date,” Jared repeats, grinning. “Okay. I’m in.”Jensen takes him to a restaurant close to the hotel that he’s clearly already heard about. Or possibly searched for. It’s nice, fun and warm and interesting, but their booth still feels private enough that Jared’s comfortable stretching his leg out to touch Jensen’s, and Jensen doesn’t pull away. “We’re wrapping soon,” Jensen comments as soon as they’ve ordered. “You excited?”Jared shrugs. “I’ll be excited when I know we have another season.”“Yeah. But it’s been getting good ratings. I don’t see them canceling us, do you?”“Probably not,” Jared grins. “And either way, it’s been a ride.” Jensen’s voice is a little quieter, a little far away then as he stares at Jared.“Definitely,” Jared agrees, letting everything they aren’t saying hang between them as they smile at each other. When their food comes, the conversation lightens, and they eat off each other’s plates while they joke and laugh, like an honest-to-God actual couple. Jensen never moves his leg, and Jared happily nudges his foot against it over and over as they finish their meal, basking in the freedom of just sitting in a restaurant. “We should probably just head back to the hotel,” Jensen tells him as he pays the bill. “Early day tomorrow.”But there’s a heat in his voice that makes Jared shiver a little. Jensen isn’t talking about sleeping. Even walking back to the hotel, which is only a few blocks away, feels different. They can’t hold hands or anything, because they never know when someone might recognize them, but they walk close enough that their fingers brush every now and then, and it’s almost more intense that way, building anticipation inside of Jared so strong that he knows his cheeks are flushed with it. The don’t speak much, just enjoying the night and the city and each other’s presence, both lost in their own thoughts of what might happen when they get back their rooms. They’re so caught up in each other, that Jared takes a second to respond when a young girl, sweet and with a huge smile, steps in front of them. “Oh my God! You’re the Supernatural guys, aren’t you? Oh my God!”She grabs the girl next to her, who looks too stricken to talk, and they both start giggling furiously. It’s adorable and flattering, and a little embarrassing, honestly. Jared isn’t sure he will ever get used to this. “Hi,” he says.“What’s your name?” Jensen asks. “Sarah. And this is Lucy.”“It’s nice to meet you,” he grins, holding out his hand. Sarah sighs a little, then digs around in her bag. “Do you mind...can we maybe get a picture with you?” Jared smiles. “Sure, come here.”Sarah hands over a small digital camera, then the four of them group together, the two girls in the middle, Jared’s long arm holding out the camera. They all put their arms around each other in a typical pose, but Jensen slides his hand over Jared’s. It’s such a small thing, and the girls are so flustered that they probably don’t even feel it. But Jared does. He takes a couple pictures, then pulls away, enjoying how Jensen’s hand lingers. “Thanks so much! This is so cool!” Sarah gushes. “No, thank you for watching the show,” Jensen smiles, as smooth and charming as ever. “We really appreciate it.”“Bye!” Sarah calls, and Lucy just giggles again as they go on their way.“They were cute,” Jensen comments. “They were,” Jared agrees. “Still feels weird for random strangers to want to take a picture with me.”“They just think you’re hot,” Jensen teases, bumping his shoulder. “I’d want a picture with you, too.”Jared snorts. “Whatever. I’m not the pretty one.”Jensen shuts up then, and they try not to grin at each other the rest of the way back to their rooms.The tension starts all over again in the lobby elevator. The doors close to take them to their floor, and it’s like it lights a fire. They lean into one another, neither saying a word as they count the seconds until they can get to a room with a lock on the door. Jared follows Jensen to his room, putting his hands on his hips and nosing at the back of his neck when he takes too long to get the key card out of his wallet.“Come on,” he whines, and Jensen chuckles a little.“Impatient.”“Definitely.”The door finally swings open, and they almost fall into the room in their hurry to kiss. They’re alone, truly alone, with no responsibility and no reality to get in their way, and Jared’s drunk on it, sucking at Jensen’s lips a little too hard, sliding his hands inside of Jensen’s jacket shoulders to push it to the floor. Jensen lets him, kisses him back just as hard, groans when Jared drops to his knees right there in the entryway and unbuckles Jensen’s belt. It’s the first time they’ve done anything more than kiss since that night. There’s no real reason why, except that maybe they’re still nervous. Jared’s never touched a man before, and the thought intimidated him. But now, as he slides Jensen’s blue jeans down over his thick thighs, as he stares up at those green eyes, he can’t remember why. Right now, there’s absolutely nothing he wants more than to taste him, feel the weight of Jensen on his tongue. Slowly, he leans forward, kisses Jensen’s lower stomach, then looks back up with raised eyebrows, asking permission.Jensen nods, reaches out to push Jared’s hair out of his face before running his fingers down Jared’s jaw. Jared turns his head and kisses Jensen’s palm, then leans down, hands grabbing at Jensen’s hips with all the want he’s been holding back. Carefully, he leans forward and kisses just the head of Jensen’s cock, hard and twitching at the light touch. A couple drops of precome bead up, and he licks at them greedily, marveling at how it tastes like Jensen somehow, like an already familiar flavor that Jared recognizes. He sucks a little, experimentally, paying attention to Jensen’s reactions, to the sounds he makes. “Jesus,” Jensen groans. “You keep teasing like that and it’s gonna kill me.”Jared takes that as his cue to suck harder, to sink down as far as he can until Jensen’s cock is nudging the back of his throat, and oh God Jensen’s cock is in his mouth hitting the back of his throat.He pulls away for a second to catch his breath, and Jensen pulls him up. “Come on.”Jared sits on the edge of the bed, watching as Jensen digs through his bag for a second, then tosses a couple of things on the bed. A condom. And a bottle of lube.Jared’s heart starts slamming in his chest, and he can feel the heat in his face, giving away his nerves. “That’s...you brought...for us?”Jensen clears his throat and sits down, looking just as nervous as Jared feels as he barely meets his eyes. “Yeah. I mean. If you want. I thought...we’re alone in a fancy hotel…”Jared swallows hard. God, he wants this. He’s wanted this for what seems like years. He isn’t sure how to do this, isn’t sure what will happen next, how it will change things. But he is sure of everything about Jensen. He’s sure of that laugh that shakes Jensen’s whole body, he’s sure of the way Jensen protectively hovers and doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he’s sure of every touch and hug, and he’s sure of every word spoken between them, all the ones that have built this bond that’s so big, so overwhelming, that it’s rendered Jared speechless.And speechless is not something he should be when Jensen’s waiting for reassurance. Slowly, Jared nods, turns and crawls across the bed and almost into Jensen’s lap to kiss him, to push them both down to the bed with the force of it. “I want to,” Jared mumbles against Jensen’s lips. “I want to. With you.”Jensen makes a soft sound, almost a whimper, and winds his fingers through Jared’s hair to pull him closer, to smash their noses together as they kiss, to keep Jared’s mouth sealed to his even as they run out of air and start panting. When Jared finally breaks away, he looks down at Jensen’s swollen lips and rosy cheeks, and smiles.He’s in love with him. Jared’s probably known it for a while, but this is the first time he’s truly let himself think it, because it’s the first time, despite everything that’s happened between them, that he thinks this might really be happening. “What?” Jensen asks, lips turning up in a slight smile, a mirror of Jared’s.“Nothing. Just. I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s not going to, is it?”Jensen shakes his head no. "Does that freak you out?"“I think I'm okay with it,” Jared laughs.Everything feels so easy after that. The kiss turns back into one Jared recognizes, Jensen’s full lips moving strong and steady against his, turning them to their sides and tangling their legs together. They push and pull at each other, kissing down necks and taking off clothing until their bodies are pressed against each other, hot and hard, fingers exploring lines of muscle and curves of hips.It’s easy until Jensen slides down between Jared’s legs and sucks at his cock, an urgency in his touch now that matches the pressure rising in Jared’s system. Then the easiness turns into desperation, into a shaking need that makes sweat break over Jared’s skin. And then Jensen’s moving lower, confident now, tongue flickering over Jared’s hole.“Fuck,” Jared cries, back arching off the bed on its own, like his body is no longer under his control.Jensen licks again, wetter and harder this time, and Jared swears he can feel the smile on Jensen’s lips when he bucks again, unable to stop. It feels too good, he’s too sensitive, and there’s nothing for him to do but writhe and thrash through it.“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Jensen asks. “Here, I mean?”Jared takes a second to calm himself, then leans up. Jensen’s licking up and down his thighs, and the sight of his tongue is almost as good as the sensation its causing. “Once,” Jared admits.“When?”He shrugs. “A few weeks ago? I had a dream about you.”“Yeah? What was I doing?”“Pretty much this,” Jared smirks. “And when I woke up, I...uh…”Jensen licks a line up Jared’s cock, then leans up to grab the lube. Jared watches as he drizzles some over his fingers. “Tell me. You woke up. And?”“And I couldn’t get back to sleep. So I thought about the dream, and you, and what this would...oh, God.”Jensen circles one slick finger around Jared’s hole, then slides it inside slowly, taking his time, letting Jared adjust to the feel of it. “What this would what?” he insists.Jared blinks up at the ceiling and tries to concentrate. “What this would feel like. So I, uh, I fingered...myself…” His words come out halted and slow when Jensen curls his finger a little, then pulls it out just to thrust it back in. “Fuck. I fingered myself. But I didn’t get very far.”“Did it feel like this?”“No. This is…” Jared stops trying to talk then. Jensen slides a second finger alongside the first, running his free hand over Jared’s stomach. “Better?”Jared moans his answer, pushes his hips down to take Jensen’s fingers in deeper. Jensen stretches him open, slowly thrusting, slowly scissoring his fingers open each time, slowly adding a third, never moving fast enough to make Jared even a little uncomfortable. Part of Jared wishes he would. As he explores, finds the exact pace and rhythm Jared wants, he slides up to kiss him, soft and sweet kisses peppered all over his face and neck, so light and different from the feel of his fingers. It’s too much, and Jared’s grabbing at him without meaning to, digging his fingers into Jensen’s shoulders as he groans.“Please,” he finally manages, and Jensen nods, gently pulls his fingers away and sits up. Jared takes the condom and bottle of lube, breathes a little faster as Jensen lets him roll the condom on and coat his cock, Jared’s shaky hand sliding up and down until Jensen is wet and ready. Jensen closes his eyes and sighs at the feel of it, and Jared grins a little at how he looks unsteady, too. Without a word, they lie back down, Jared on his back, Jensen wedging between Jared’s legs, pushing his thighs farther apart with a wiggle of his hips. For just a moment, Jensen hovers over him, hands on either side of Jared’s head, looking down with a look of nervous wonder on his face, so sweet and gentle that Jared has to close his eyes for a second before it makes him embarrassingly emotional. He slides one hand up to rest over one of Jensen’s, then opens his eyes as the other one reaches down to guide Jensen in, to press the head of his cock against Jared’s hole.“It’s okay,” he assures him, leaning up to kiss Jensen’s swollen lips. “Please.”Jensen’s jaw clenches as he pushes, sliding in just barely, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh, God,” he mumbles, voice strained. Jared tries to relax, tries to open up and let him in, but it feels too strange, too full, too good not to clench himself around Jensen, to feel a part of Jensen literally inside of him. “Jesus, don’t...I can’t…” Jensen groans.“It’s okay,” Jared tells him again. This time, when Jensen moves, Jared’s hands find his ass, grab into that thick flesh and push, urging him to keep going. They’re both so loud, moaning into each other’s mouths as Jensen finally buries himself, balls resting against Jared now that he’s as deep as he can go. Neither of them move for a moment. Jensen tries to catch his breath, mouthing at Jared’s neck. Jared runs his hands over Jensen’s back, soothing both of them with the rhythmic motion, taking the time to memorize the feeling of Jensen inside him for the first time. “Jen.” It’s not a question. “I know,” Jensen answers anyway. They kiss for a long time, until the weirdness and discomfort of this new situation wears off and all Jared feels is full and desperate and burning hot. Carefully, he shifts his hips, and the jolt of pleasure that pulses through him is almost too much.“Fuck, Jensen. Move.”That’s all it takes for Jensen to lose his careful control. He pulls out and thrusts back in, then again, and again, picking up speed each time. He leans down and bites into Jared’s shoulder, teeth scraping against collarbone to muffle his cries. Jared doesn’t muffle his own sounds, doesn’t care how loud he gets, isn’t really even aware of it. All he’s aware of is Jensen. The smell of his sweat, the sound of that growl he makes, the way he slides his whole body against Jared’s, the way he feels pushing inside over and over...Jared can’t believe they waited this fucking long. And then Jensen’s leaning up, looking straight into his eyes, one hand sliding down to stroke Jared. They don’t look away from each other as they come. It makes them both shake violently, mouths open and sweat dripping, and they just stare at each other through it. Jared’s so totally mesmerized by the look on Jensen’s face that he doesn’t come until Jensen’s finished pulsing inside of him, until he’s panting and stroking Jared’s cock in earnest, not wanting to finish alone. And he comes crying Jensen’s name.Afterward, Jensen gets up to throw the condom away and comes back with a clean towel for Jared. When he slides into bed and they stretch out, one look is all it takes to make them start laughing. “Well. That was new,” Jensen grins. “That was fan-fucking-tastic,” Jared grins back.“Yeah, it was.” Jensen grabs the clock on the table and sets the alarm, then turns to his side to pull Jared into his arms. They fall asleep kissing. ********It’s so easy.The morning is all shy smiles and sweet touches as they get up and get ready for their panel, both of them comfortably quiet and still basking in last night. Jensen kisses him goodbye when he heads to his own room, and Jared’s still high from all of it when they arrive at the festival. But the second he hears the crowd, the second cameras are flashing, it’s so fucking easy to fall back into being best friends, into being coworkers who have a job to do. A pretty amazing one. The panel is fun, lots of banter and good discussion about the show. Jared loves to talk about it, loves to talk about Sam and Dean, is fascinated with the dynamic that the writers are creating for them to play with. It’s his dream job and dream role, and he knows Jensen feels the same way. And it shows in everything they do. It all passes in a happy blur, and before Jared knows it, they’re back on a plane, headed to Vancouver.Jared’s staring out the window at the lights below them, and he thinks Jensen has drifted off to sleep beside him until he speaks.“You ready to film these last few episodes?”“I’m ready,” Jared grins. They’ve got scripts waiting for them when they get home, and he’s anxious to dive into them.Jensen peers around to make sure no one’s watching, but it’s a late flight and almost everyone is asleep. He winds his fingers through Jared’s for just a moment and squeezes hard. “Whether we get a second season or not, I’m really glad I got to be on this show.”Jared hears the meaning behind his words and squeezes back.“Me, too.”Again, he looks around, then licks his lips like he’s nervous before leaning in, brushing his lips against Jared’s ear as he whispers. “And whether we get a second season or not, I’m not going anywhere.”Jared’s chest tightens and he can barely breathe.“Neither am I.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I’m gonna be sad when this is all over. I’ve had fun here.” Jared turns at the sound of the voice and smiles at Nicki. Nicki Aycox has only been in a few episodes, but she’s sweet and funny, has started to feel like part of the gang. “It’s been fun having you here,” he agrees. “You done for the day?”“Yep. I’ll see you guys next week for the finale. And I’ll bring you that book we were talking about.”“Awesome,” he smiles.“Jensen around? I didn’t get to say goodbye after that last take.”“He’s in his trailer,” Jared answers, almost apologetically. “Getting ready for our next scene. It’s kind of intense.”“I won’t bother him then.”Jared smiles and watches as the crew scurries around the set, getting everything ready. “Can I ask you something?” she says.“Sure.” He turns and gives her his full attention, a little surprised at the nervous on her face.“It’s actually not a question. It’s more of a...I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you, that I, uh.”Jared grins reassuringly, wondering what the hell she’s trying to say. “Just spit it out,” he encourages.“I think the two of you are really good together.”Jared’s blood freezes in his veins, but he tries his best to keep his face steady, to seem like he has no idea what she’s talking about. “What?”“I won’t say a word,” she tells him. “But I just thought you should know.”She looks like she wants to say more, but changes her mind and just gives him a small wave instead before turning and heading off of the set. He watches her leave, still stunned. Were they that obvious? Can everyone else see it as easily as she did? He looks around, but no one is paying him any attention, and he breathes a little easier. Surely someone else, one of the people they’re close to and work with every day, would have asked. Or made a joke. Or something. Nicki must just be some kind of psychic or something. Jared decides to pretend that she never said anything and go about his business as usual. He isn’t ready to deal with other people knowing their secret. Honestly, he’s also feeling a little guilty. He knows she has a crush on him. But after a few attempts at flirting, attempts which Jared just ignored with polite friendliness as best he could, she backed off. Now he just hopes he didn’t hurt her feelings. It isn’t that he doesn’t like her. She’s pretty and interesting, and they have a good time talking on set. But Jared’s taken. Completely, totally taken. So taken that he can feel it when Jensen silently steps up behind him. “You ready?” Jared asks, not turning around.“Yes,” Jensen says quietly. They don’t speak again until the cameras are rolling. ********Jared’s still a little shaky. It’s been almost an hour since they wrapped, but he just can’t shake this one off. Shoving Jensen against that wall, yelling like that, crying like that...watching Jensen react so damn perfectly...it’s a little much.“Come in,” he calls at the knock on his trailer door, fully expecting it to be Jensen.Jeff enters instead. “Hey, son,” he grins, plopping down on the tiny couch.Jared snorts a laugh. “You know I’m not your actual son, right? I only play one on tv.”Jeff laughs, sweet and loud, echoing off the walls of the trailer. “I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t still love you like one.”Jared looks down shyly, always thrown by how openly affectionate it he is.“You talked to Jensen?”“Not yet. He’s still in his trailer, I guess.”Jeff nods. “That scene was…” He can’t decide on the right word, so he just whistles his appreciation instead. “Yeah?”“Fuckin’ good.”Jared smiles, feeling himself start to relax a little. “Good.”“You okay?”“Sure. Just. You know. Takes a while to calm down.”Jeff peers at him, much the same way Nicki did. “Sure. Well,” he stands and stretches. “It’s long past time for me to get the hell out of here. I’ll see you soon, kid.” He leans down and kisses Jared on the forehead, then ruffles his hair before he leaves. Jared takes a deep breath and gets his things, ready for a good night’s sleep to get rid of the emotions that filming has brought up. ********It’s late. 1:36 in the morning, to be exact. “What the hell,” Jared huffs, more angry than shocked or confused. He throws the covers off and pushes himself toward the door.His irritation instantly vanishes when he looks through the peephole and sees Jensen on the other side.“You okay?” he says as he pulls it open.Jensen grins a little. “Yeah.”He steps inside and wraps his arms around Jared, burying his face in his neck. “Just wanted to see you.”And there it is. All the tension, all that pent up adrenaline, all that weird emotion he couldn’t quite place and couldn’t quite get rid of. Gone. Gone with one hug. He really shouldn’t have left the set with just a few texts. He should have waited around to see Jensen. Of course, they couldn’t have done this at work.Jared slides his hands up Jensen’s back, holding on tight. They stand there for who knows how long, until Jensen pulls away in order to take a full breath. “Today was. You know. I just wanted to check on you.”Jared’s chest tightens. “I’m good now. Are you?”Jensen nods. “I think so.”“Come on.” Jared pulls Jensen down the hallway of the apartment and into his bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Jensen to stand between his legs, hands reaching to pull Jensen’s face down.He feels it again when they kiss, that feeling of release and relief, of everything falling back into place, of the goddamn planets aligning just because of the feel of Jensen’s lips. “I’m getting you a key,” Jared murmurs, falling back to the bed and pulling Jensen with him. “So that I don’t have to get out of bed next time.”Jensen chuckles, the vibration of it tickling its way through Jared. “Deal.”The weight of Jensen grounds Jared, settles over him like a comforting blanket, keeping him where he belongs, sheltering him from anything and everything. He wants to do the same thing for Jensen. Want to be the same thing. He never wants to see Jensen looking like he did tonight when that door first opened, small and scared and needy. So he rolls them over and wedges his hips between Jensen’s legs, sucks at Jensen’s bottom lip until he groans. “You were so good today,” he whispers. “That scene. It was perfect.”Jensen closes his eyes like the words hurt, and Jared kisses down his jaw, keeps mouthing at his neck until he finds Jensen’s pulse. “Seriously, Jen. This show. I wouldn’t do it with anyone else. You know that, right?”Jensen nods, but stays silent, so Jared sucks at his earlobe.“And I know this...this is hard. But we’re good. Really good.”“Yeah,” Jensen agrees, threading a hand through Jared’s hair. “We are.”They fall asleep tangled up in one another, Jensen still fully clothed, mouths open against each other as they breathe, fingers laced together. ********The first season is officially finished filming, and it ended on a high note.The show’s ratings are good, and getting better.And Jared is in London with Jensen. Sure, it’s for press, and they don’t have a lot of time to themselves. But it’s still the two of them, in a foreign country, exploring and enjoying each other’s company. And tonight, as far as Jared’s concerned, there’s no one else on the planet but Jensen Ackles.There’s a whole city out there. There are landmarks to see and pubs to visit, there are museums and tours waiting for them. There are restaurants and theaters and a whole fucking city full of things they should be doing, culture they should be soaking up. Instead, they are lying in bed in a hotel room. “If you weren’t an actor, what would you want to do?” Jensen ponders that for a moment. “A fisherman.”“A fisherman?” Jared laughs. “And you’d pay your bills by…”“Wouldn’t have any. I’d build my own little cabin near a lake and live off the land.”Jared laughs harder. “So manly.”Jensen nods seriously. “You better believe it.”“Is there room for one more in that cabin?”Jensen shrugs. “Only if it’s you.”Neither of them say anything for a while, just basking in the quiet moment of relaxation.“What about you?” Jensen finally asks. “Rockstar,” Jared replies instantly.It’s Jensen’s turn to laugh. “Naturally.”“What? I could do it.”“Not with the way you play guitar.”Jared laughs with him. “I guess you’ll just have to teach me.”“That I can do. If you want.”Another few lazy minutes of silence. “You hungry?” Jared murmurs.“Not really. Not yet. Are you?”“Nah, we can wait and order room service later.”“So what now?” Jensen’s voice is low and warm, and Jared rolls into his side to kiss the corner of his mouth.“I can think of a few things.”“Oh, yeah?” Jensen’s hand finds Jared’s twines their fingers together and squeezes. “Like what?”“Well, once upon a time, you told me you wanted me in a shower. We have a shower all to ourselves.”“We do.” Jensen makes no move to get up.“So, if I went into the bathroom and turned the water on, what would you do?”Jensen rolls Jared so that he’s facing away from him, back pressed to Jensen’s chest. Jensen glides his hand up underneath Jared’s shirt and kisses his way across the back of Jared’s neck. “I’d follow you in there and watch you get undressed, to start with.”“And then?” Jared presses back, nudging his ass against Jensen.“And then we’d get under the water. I bet you look fuckin’ hot all wet.”“You’ve seen me wet before,” Jared reminds him, pushing Jensen’s hand down until it’s palming his cock through his blue jeans.“Not naked. Not pushed up against a shower wall.”Jared just groans at that, at how ridiculously perfect it sounds coming out of Jensen’s mouth. They rock on the bed for a few minutes, Jensen sucking at the back of Jared’s neck, Jared grinding himself against Jensen now that he can feel that he’s hard, too. And then Jensen leans up. “Come on.”The shower in the hotel suite is huge, gorgeous, all marble and stone. Jared turns the water on and lets it run while they undress each other, soft kisses to bare skin as it’s exposed, fingers grazing over muscles and squeezing at flesh. Jared grins as Jensen gets impatient, kicks off his underwear and pushes Jared toward the shower. The spray is hot, steam billowing around them as they step in and pull the curtain, closing themselves in together. Jared waits, but Jensen doesn’t touch him. He just steps back and watches when Jared gets his hair wet, lets the water stream over him and relax his muscles. “See?” Jensen finally says. “Totally hot.”Jared can feel himself blush and is grateful that he’s probably already red with the steam. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”Jensen smiles softly, steps forward to cup Jared’s face and kiss him, laughs when their mouths fill with water. “Guess we have some logistics to figure out.”Jared only shifts his hips so that their cocks drag together, pulling a gasp out of Jensen. “I thought you wanted me turned the other way, anyway.” Jensen raises an eyebrow and nods, challenging him. Swallowing hard, Jared turns around and puts his hands on the shower wall, managing to stick his ass out just a tiny bit. His face is probably flaming red now, but it’s nothing compared to how much he wants Jensen. Besides, Jensen certainly seems to want him. Nothing to be embarrassed about. He presses against Jared’s back, hands running from his shoulders down his spine, then over his ass, squeezing hard. A low moan escapes Jared, echoes off the shower wall loudly.“That feel good?” Jensen asks.Jared answers by pressing his ass back into Jensen’s hands again, urging him to squeeze again, moaning louder when he does. “Jen…”Jensen wraps his arms around Jared and runs his hand down until it’s wrapped around Jared’s cock, stroking slowly, thumb rubbing over the head. “What about this?”“God, yes.” Jared’s fingers curl into the shower wall, and he presses his forehead between them, takes deep and shuddering breaths as Jensen works his hand up and down, over and over. Jared finally pulls his arms away from the wall and reaches behind himself, grabbing Jensen’s hips and pulling him forward. The water rushes over them, hot and slick over their skin as it slides together, as the head of Jensen’s cock catches between the cheeks of his ass. “Not yet,” Jensen whispers. “Want you in bed for that.”Jared turns around, wraps his arms around Jensen’s neck and kisses him messily. “Then what other plans did you have for the shower? Just looking at me couldn’t have been the only thing.”Jensen smirks and shakes his head. “Come here.” He drags Jared under the spray, then grabs a bottle of the hotel’s complimentary body wash. Jared stands there while Jensen rubs his hands together until the cream turns into suds, then starts to tremble when Jensen washes him from his shoulders down to his feet, slick and slippery hands massaging him everywhere, touching him so gently it makes it seem like more, so intense and passionate that Jared’s knees almost buckle.When he’s done, it’s Jared’s turn to wash Jensen. He loves this part more, groans at the feel of Jensen’s skin under his hands, loves mapping out the curves of Jensen’s muscles, thick and corded and tense. “When you envisioned me in the shower, did you picture me on my knees?” he asks, and Jensen’s lips part with his rush of breath. Jared drops down to his knees and puts his hands behind his back, leans his face back and looks up at Jensen, not hiding anything in his expression. “Holy shit,” Jensen huffs. “What are you…”Jared just opens his mouth in invitation. “Gonna fuckin’ kill me,” Jensen mutters, but he’s already stepping forward, rubbing his cock against Jared’s cheek, over his lips. He eases his cock into Jared’s mouth, moving slowly at first, until Jared seals his lips and sucks a little. That’s all it takes for Jensen to start thrusting, to fuck into Jared’s mouth, one hand holding his head, the other on the base of his cock, keeping his strokes shallow and gentle. “God, Jay, you gotta, we have to…” He grits his teeth and pulls away. “Come on. The bed. Now.”Jared smirks as he gets up, follows Jensen back into the bedroom, both of them dripping wet and not caring at all. Jensen grabs the condoms and lube from his bag while Jared flops down on his hands and knees. He’s already pretty open from the night before, so Jensen only spends a few minutes fingering him, a few minutes in which Jared buries his face in the pillow and moans his way through it, twitching and writhing when Jensen finds his prostate. And then there’s the ripping open of a condom packet, and Jensen is grabbing his hips, pulling him back a little running one hand down his back just to make it bow. Jared grunts at the first push, at the now familiar feeling of Jensen sliding inside of him like that’s where he belongs. They’ve done this a lot now. Sometimes it’s long and slow and passionate, sometimes it’s lazy, sometimes it’s soft and sweet. Tonight, it’s hard and fast, and that’s exactly how Jared wants it. Jensen moves slowly for the first few thrusts, making sure that Jared’s good and ready for him. And then his rhythm speeds up until it’s too much, until Jared can’t catch his breath between the smacking sounds of Jensen burying himself as deep as he can. He pounds into him, crying out almost as loud as Jared, fingers digging into Jared’s sides like he’s afraid to let go. And God, it’s so good. Just as good as every other time they’ve done this. Jared gets his arms under him and starts to push back, meeting every movement with a thrust of his own, clenching around Jensen when he can. They find just the right pace, just what feels the absolute best, and then stay there, at that exact rhythm and that exact angle, until they’re both so loud that everyone in the hotel is probably listening. They don’t care. One of Jensen’s hands curls around to give Jared’s cock some attention, jacking him just as hard and fast as he’s fucking him. “Jen, I’m gonna...you’re gonna make me come.”He’s pulsing over Jensen’s fingers before he can finish the sentence, and Jensen immediately goes still deep inside him, lost in his own orgasm, like he was holding it back, waiting for Jared. They shake through it together, squirm against each other, legs rubbing as they try to get as close as possible, wanting to share their pleasure. Afterward, Jensen throws the condom away and grabs a glass of water that they share in bed. “You hungry now?” Jared asks.Jensen laughs. “Yeah. I could eat.”They order room service and decide that it seems like a good night for watching a movie. A tour of London can wait until tomorrow. Jared’s hotel room doesn’t get used the entire trip. ********They’re laughing about the interview all the way back to the hotel, Jared unable to stop his side-splitting giggles, Jensen looking like he’s half-cringing. True, Jared hadn’t meant to talk about masturbation. And he was certain Jensen hadn’t meant to talk about walking around naked. But it had happened, and it was hilarious. And the reporter had seemed totally taken with them, like it was just part of their package- funny and mischievous antics that were mostly harmless. In fact, they forget about it pretty quickly as they change clothes and head out for their tour of the city, finally. The whole day is spent sight-seeing, taking cheesy tourist pictures and buying silly souvenirs they don’t need. Jared has to stop himself a few times from reaching for Jensen’s hand, but not even that can stop them from having an amazing time. It’s past two in the morning when they stumble back to Jensen’s room, half-drunk and ready to fall into bed. Jared strips down naked and dives under the covers in less than two minutes, rolling his eyes at how Jensen takes his time, needs to brush his teeth and whatever else is in his nightly routine before he can sleep, even on a night like tonight. “Come to bed,” he groans. “I’m cold.”“Gimme a minute. I wanna check my messages.” Jensen puts his cell phone on speaker and sets it on the nightstand while he unbuttons his shirt. There’s a message from his sister reminding him of her upcoming birthday that makes Jared smile. And then there’s a voice that they both recognize. A voice that wouldn’t be calling, especially while they’re in London, unless it was really important. “Hey Jensen, Eric Kripke here. We just got a call from a reporter wanting to fact check an interview. She sent us some of the transcripts, and uh. They’re pretty interesting. I think we should talk when you guys get back to town. Nothing to worry about. Let’s just schedule a meeting.”Neither of them move for a minute, even as the voicemail hangs up on itself with no more messages to play. Jared finally sits up and looks at Jensen, whose green eyes are wide and nervous. “Shit.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “So, you know. Just tone it down, yeah?” Kripke hasn’t even shown up for the meeting. He’s just called from his car and has been talking at them over a speakerphone in a tiny office on set. Everyone else in the room is pretending not to listen, pretending to do whatever it is that they do in here. Jared frowns, a little irritated. “Tone what down?”“You know. The two of you. Your shtick.”Jensen says nothing, so Jared speaks again. “I don’t think I understand…”“That interview was hilarious, and don’t get me wrong. The success of this show is because of your chemistry. But we’ve noticed some...rumors. Online. There’s a fan base building, and some of them think the two of you are an item. That interview won’t help.”Jared blushes, thankful that Jensen is the only one looking at him. “So what? They’re just rumors, right?” He hopes the nerves in his voice aren’t obvious. “We just can’t have that kind of press. I’m not saying anything’s going on between you, but I gotta say, some of this stuff will make people wonder. And is that really the image we want for the show? Especially since you two are supposed to be brothers? Just be careful, guys. We need the two of you to be the Winchesters in real life too. If we want to keep our demographic happy.”“Got it,” Jensen says, dutiful but a little nonchalant, like this whole thing is ridiculous. Jared raises his eyebrows, but Jensen only shakes his head.“Good. Can’t wait to see how that finale turned out.”And without another word, he hangs up.“So. Are we in trouble or not?” Jared asks, trying to lighten the mood.“We aren’t in trouble.” The lightness in Jensen’s voice is gone, and he seems preoccupied now. That sends a spike of fear through Jared. “You wanna go somewhere and talk?” he whispers, quiet enough that no one else can hear him. Jensen shakes his head no. “Later.”Jared nods, and they go about their day at the office, a little quieter and more subdued than usual. Jared tries his best not to panic. But every time Jensen doesn’t meet his eye, every time they have nothing to say in between finishing the final paperwork of the season, the knot in his stomach gets bigger. By the end of the day, he’s anxious to get out of there, practically runs off set and to the car waiting to take him back to his apartment, just because he can’t handle the tension. What just happened? He knows he needs to talk to Jensen, and he will. But first, he wants to be prepared. And he wants to try and figure out how much damage has actually been done. He drives himself crazy for two hours, and comes up empty.For him, it’s easy. He’ll just be a little more aware of the things he says and does, flirt a little less, be a little more professional and careful when people are around. That will keep the ‘image’ that is apparently expected of him. It changes absolutely nothing else. But he can’t figure out why Jensen seemed so off. There’s no figuring out what’s going on in Jensen’s mind if he doesn’t want anyone to know, and Jared’s still torturing himself with all the things that could happen when Jensen finally calls him. “Hey. I’m leaving set. Can I stop by for a little bit?”Jared doesn’t like the way he says “for a little bit”, like he’s putting a definite limit on the amount of time they’re going to spend together tonight. “Sure,” he says. “Of course.”And then he waits, pacing around his apartment, trying to watch tv, finding a million little things to do to keep his hands busy until he hears Jensen’s key in the door. That sound, of Jensen letting himself into Jared’s apartment, hurts a little, because Jared isn’t sure if he should be savoring it or not. “Hey,” Jensen says, grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator in the tiny kitchen, then sitting at the counter. Jared sits down across from him. “Hey.”“I saw that they finally fixed that pothole in your parking lot.”“Don’t,” Jared says gently. “Can we just get to it? I don’t want to drag this out.”Jensen nods, swallows hard, and the look on his face solidifies the knot in Jared’s stomach into ice. “That was just. That was just my biggest fear about us, and it happened. You know?”Jared shakes his head. “No, I don’t know. That was nothing.”“Dude, that was basically our boss threatening our jobs.”Jared shrugs. “Then we’ll be more careful.”Jensen blinks at him. “I don’t think I can do that.”“What?” Jared folds his hands in his lap so Jensen won’t see them shaking. “He’s right. It would be really bad for the show if we were...if people thought…”Jared hangs his head and forces his eyes not to tear up. Jensen gets up and comes around to the other side of the counter, stops when he’s just an arm’s length away. “We just. We just can’t do this. It’s too complicated.”But they can do this. They have been. And it hasn’t been complicated at all. This is the only thing Jared wants. He doesn’t give a fuck about the show right now, or about what fans of the show will think. The only thing in existence is Jensen. But Jared doesn’t say anything, because he isn’t sure that Jensen feels the same way. Maybe Jensen’s been on the fence this whole time, just got caught up in it, and this was a wake up call. Maybe Jensen just wants out.“Okay.”Jensen doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry. About all of this.”Jared looks up and manages a small smile. “Are you? I’m not.”Jensen finally breaks, face falling as the emotion he’s feeling finally shows. “That’s not what I meant. This was...you are...I wish things were different.”Jared stands up and grabs Jensen then, desperately hugging him as tightly as he can. “Then don’t do this. Things are fine just the way they are."Jensen hugs him back for just a second before pushing him away. “No,” he insists. “It’s just too much right now. I don’t want to sneak around, and I don’t want the pressure of it. And neither do you. It isn’t fair. To either of us. And I know that neither one of us want to mess with the show.”Jensen’s not right, but he isn’t wrong. And Jared can’t argue with him. Instead, he just sits back down and looks away.“Jay,” Jensen murmurs, moving close like he’s going to say something. Instead, he just rests his forehead between Jared’s shoulder blades for just a split second, then leaves. Just walks out and shuts the door behind him, as quick and easy as that. Jared looks down and realizes that he left the key to Jared’s apartment on the counter. ********They don’t talk for almost a month. Jared heads back to Texas, where he plans on spending his time off with his family. Maybe that’s just what he needs. To get away, to spend some time floating on a lake, hiking, clearing his head. Maybe he’ll get far enough away from the situation that it won’t seem so damn big.And that works for about two days. He sees his family, keeps busy hanging out with his brother and cooking dinner with his mother, and puts Jensen out of his mind. And those few times when he does think about those green eyes and full lips, he just gets angry. Jensen had thrown it all away that easily. Jared had let himself fall, and Jensen just let him hit the ground. But anger only gets him so far. He finds himself in a tiny music shop looking at guitars.“Can I help you?” The woman is older, thin and pretty, with wild hair curling around her face. “I, uh. No. I don’t really play.”“Everyone plays,” she smiles. “You just need to learn.”Jared looks at her for a moment, with her long, flowy skirt, and smiles back. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”“Well, what are you looking for? Playing in a band? Classical guitar? Just playing for yourself?”“Um, just playing for myself, I guess.”For a moment, he sees Jensen, sitting on the couch in his hotel suite, picking idly at the strings while Jared reads a book in the chair next to him. Jared had loved looking over at Jensen’s hands, watching the way he would stare out into the room, seeing nothing, just feeling the instrument he played. “Well,” the woman says carefully, peering at Jared with narrowed eyes and bringing him out of his memories, “this one would be a great starter. Good tone, but nothing fancy. Don’t want to spend real money until you know you’re gonna stick with it.”“Works for me.” Jared isn’t sure he’ll ever touch it. But it feels like Jensen, and he wants it. The woman doesn’t say much as she rings him up, selling him a couple smaller things she thinks he’ll need. Jared just hands over his card. “Thanks,” he tells her. “Thank you. And honey?”Jared stops and gives her his attention. “Ma’am?”“Whatever it is. Whoever it is. It’s gonna be alright.”Jared instantly tears up, sniffs like a baby in front of this woman he doesn’t know. He nods, manages another “Thank you”, and makes it to his car before he breaks down.He allows himself three loud sobs in the front seat of his car, alone in the alley where he’s parked, before he tells himself to get his shit together. This is ridiculous. Things are easier after that, all things considered. There are no memories of Jensen here, no reminders of what he’s lost, and it finally does start to seem like a bad dream. Jared laughs again, enjoys his family, goes out and gets drunk with his high school buddies. But when he’s alone at night, every night, he gets out the guitar and the book of chords the woman gave him. He starts teaching himself, plays until his fingers hurt, then go numb. And the whole time, he feels like he’s with Jensen. And he lives for those painful moments, because the truth is, he isn’t ready to forget.********He gets the call early in the morning. “Good news and bad news. Good new is the show’s been picked up for season two. Bad news is you need to be back here in three days to do press.”Jared laughs and cheers, startling the dog sleeping on the floor of his childhood bedroom. They got a fucking second season!Without thinking, he’s dialing Jensen’s number, jumping a little in place, too much excitement inside to be still.“Hey,” Jensen answers, and Jared can hear in his voice that he’s already heard the news.“We did it,” Jared laughs. “We fuckin’ did it.”“Damn straight we did,” Jensen agrees, loud and just as happy. Jared punches the air, so relieved, so excited. “This is a big deal.”“Looks that way. You coming back for upfronts?”“Yep. Gonna book my flight in just a few minutes.”Jared realizes it then. He’s not allowed to talk to Jensen this way. Not anymore. Jensen seems to realize it too, and clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, I guess I’ll see you then. You doin’ okay? Had a good break?”“Yeah,” Jared lies. “It was nice to get away.”He regrets it the second he says it. He didn’t mean “it was nice to get away from you”. He hopes that isn't what Jensen heard.“How ‘bout you?” he asks, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m good. Didn’t make it back to Texas. But it’s been nice to relax a little.”There’s a ton of words bubbling up in the back of Jared’s throat. He gets off the phone before they can spill out. “That’s good. Well, I need to go book that ticket.”“Okay. I’ll see you.”“Yeah, see you.”********The press is painful. It’s painful because it’s fun. Every actor from the network is there, everyone is in good spirits, and there are cameras everywhere. Jared spots Jensen almost immediately when he arrives. The two of them will be expected to walk the line together, so Jared swallows his nerves and walks over. Be cool. You have to act like you like each other. But not like you like each other too much. Jensen is looking at him with an expression he can’t quite read. It looks like a regular smile, but Jared knows better. There’s something underneath it, something that makes Jared ache for him. For them. And then they are being yelled at, being told to smile and to look this way and to hug each other. Just like that, they’re them again. They know how to do this in their sleep. They banter and grin and play with each other, they say and do all the right things. And Jared basks in it. He leans in close enough to smell Jensen’s cologne, he runs his hand down Jensen’s back every now and then as they pose, just to feel the familiar curve of it. The whole night feels like some past life, miles away from him, even though it’s exactly what his life is and is going to be for the foreseeable future. And then it’s over. And Jensen leaves with just a quick “I’m heading out, see you soon.”Jared heads back to his apartment alone.Once there, he gets drunk. Not the good kind of drunk he used to get with Jensen every now and then, late at night with nothing to do the next day, just drinking enough to feel the warm buzz before crawling into bed to feel each other.No, he gets the kind of drunk that only happens with a broken heart. He’s sad and angry, staring at the bottle, crawling out of his skin as he sits motionless on the couch, until he can’t stand it. He stumbles to the kitchen and tosses the glass into the sink, not particularly caring if it breaks or not, then makes his way to his bedroom, where his luggage still sits unpacked. Falling into the floor instead of sitting down gracefully, he unpacks just the guitar. He doesn’t play. He couldn’t right now even if he wanted to. His fingers are way too drunk, as is the rest of him. He just sits there with it in his lap, arms wrapped around it, like it might turn into the chest he wishes his arms were holding. ********The phone wakes him up. His head hurts from the alcohol and his back hurts from sleeping on the floor. The guitar is still next to him, and he accidentally bangs his hand against it as he reaches for his ringing phone. “Hello?” he manages, sitting up slowly.“I always seem to be waking you up,” Sandy says. “Sorry about that.”“No worries.” Jared looks at the clock and sees that it’s almost ten in the morning. “I probably needed to get up anyway. What’s up?”“I just heard that you got a second season. Saw the coverage of the upfronts. That’s amazing!” She sounds genuinely excited for him, and he can’t help but smile. “It’s pretty cool.”“That’s it?” she laughs, then drops her voice to match his low tone. “It’s pretty cool?”He chuckles. “It’s awesome, isn’t it?” His head clears as he stretches back out on the floor, staring at the ceiling as he talks. “I mean, we knew it was a good show, but this is a big deal. People are talking about us like we’re a frontrunner of the season. We could even get early renewal!”“And you’re happy? With the show?”Jared hesitates for just a second. “Totally. I don’t know how much of it you’ve seen, but it’s got a lot of potential. With the way last season left off, there’s so many ways the story can go, and it’s going to get deep into the characters now, I think.”“Sounds like exactly what you’ve been looking for.”“It really is.”“And how’s Jensen? You two still having fun doing this together?”Jared clears his throat. “Sure. He’s fine.”If he sounds strange, Sandy doesn’t comment. “Well, I was actually thinking I could come visit. Do you have some time off soon?”“We’re filming some promos, but yeah. I’ve got lots of time, actually.” He considers his options, and hanging out with Sandy sounds a hell of a lot better than sitting here alone and depressed. “How soon can you come?”He can hear the smile in her voice when she answers. “I can be there in a couple of days. Should I get a hotel room or…?”Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have had to ask this question. But after their last visit together, Jared gets it. He should probably tell her yes, that she needs her own room, because it would be unfair to lead her on. But the thought of her, pretty and warm and smiling, everything about their relationship so simple and uncomplicated, makes him say otherwise. “‘Course not. You’ll stay with me.”“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve missed you, Jared.”Jared doesn’t say it back. He can’t. But he is looking forward to seeing her. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jared wakes up to the smell of coffee and a pit in his stomach. He ignores the bad feeling, the one that's been growing bigger the closer this day got, and rolls out of bed, yawning his way to the small kitchen of his apartment. Sandy’s standing at the counter, gazing out at nothing, cup of coffee in her hands and an empty mug on the counter that's waiting for him. And she’s wearing nothing but the button down shirt he’d worn to dinner last night. She’s been here on and off all summer, and though it started as just one of their weekend flings, it’s sticking this time. He likes her. He likes how easily she laughs and how she wants to go on little adventures in the city all the time. He likes how she listens when he talks. And he likes how he can turn his brain off and not think about anyone else when he’s with her. She's the best escape.He stares at her for a moment as she takes a sip of coffee, not wanting to startle her. She really is gorgeous, he thinks to himself. When she finally notices him, she grins, genuine and sweet. “Good morning.”Jared says nothing. When she turns to pour his coffee for him, he just presses up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing down the side of her neck. She playfully smacks at his arm when he digs his fingers into her side and rubs himself against her. “You don’t have time for this,” she reminds him. “Busy day ahead, remember?”Yes. He remembers. That’s why he’s avoiding it.“I have time,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down, over her bare thigh, then back up underneath his own shirt draped over her thin body. She hasn’t bothered to put underwear on. Within seconds, he’s got her bent over the counter, her hands curling under his as he fucks into her from behind, slow and lazy, like he doesn’t have anywhere else to be. But he does.Afterward, as she’s pushing the hair out of her face and grinning at him, he can’t put it off any longer. He has to shower, has to get dressed, and has to go to the set. They start production again today. He’s supposed to be in a script read-through in a half hour. With Jensen. “So, I was thinking,” Sandy says, lounging on his couch now as he throws a jacket on. “I know I’m leaving tomorrow and that your season is starting, but I thought maybe I’d come back in a couple of weeks.” She lowers her eyes like she's a little nervous. "I, uh, I like being here. This has been good, you know?"Sandy has a section of his closet now, keeps a toothbrush and shampoo in his bathroom. They’re getting comfortable. Which is making Jared a little uncomfortable. It’s been nice, having her here for the summer, making his whole life feel like some fun vacation fling. But he isn’t sure how that’s going to carry over now that his real life is waiting. He isn’t sure if he wants it to, no matter how much he really likes her.“Sure,” he tells her. “We can talk about it tonight.” He leans down to kiss her quickly, avoiding a real conversation about it. “But I gotta run. I’ll call you later?”“Okay. Can you let the doorman know I’m here in case I need to go somewhere, and he has to let me back in?” Because Sandy is unbelievably cool, she never minds jumping through hoops like that, keeping the big things separate and casual.Jared nods, because he just can’t bring himself to give her the spare key hidden in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. It doesn’t belong to her. ******** You can do this. It’s just Jensen. You’re still friends. As Jared walks from his trailer to the offices on set, he tries to talk himself down, tries to make this not such a big deal. But they haven’t spoken since they finished filming the promos, and so much has happened with Sandy, and Jared has no clue where they stand or what this is going to be like now. And there’s no time left to worry about it, because there’s Jensen. He’s sitting in his chair with his script open on the table in front of him, talking to the director, asking questions here and there. Jared smiles at that, at how familiar it is, to hear Jensen discussing the technical side of things, wanting to learn everything he can. His eyes light up when he sees Jared, and Jared’s heart surges forward, pulling him closer on shaky legs.“Hey,” they say in unison, then look down and chuckle a little. “How’s it going?” Jensen finally asks.Jared forces himself to look Jensen in the eyes when he answers. “Good. You know. Fine.” Does Jensen know about Sandy? They haven’t spoken, but people talk. “How are you?”“Good. Excited to be back here.”Jared isn’t sure how to take that. Their reunion is short, interrupted by people shuffling in and loudly saying hello as the old routine starts again. This time, it’s quiet between the two of them. There’s no joking, no antics, no talking to pass the time. Jared wonders if anyone else notices. And then the reading starts. And they have a job to do.Just like over the summer, it’s easier than Jared thought it would be to pretend. He isn’t sure why he’s surprised, he is an actor after all. But there’s just something comforting about being Sam, about talking to Dean. He’s still sure of Jensen when they’re doing this, still sure of the chemistry between them, even if it hurts now. And as the day goes on, they relax a little. “You get the next few scripts?” Jensen asks. “Yeah. There’s some good shit in there.”Jensen laughs. “There is. Of course, we spend a lot of it screaming and crying. Not the most fun to film.”Jared shrugs. He’s actually kind of looking forward to it. He hasn’t felt much of anything lately, not really, and it will be nice to force some emotions. Even the bad ones. Jared’s relieved when he climbs into the SUV that will take him home. The first day is over. It wasn’t a disaster. But alone in the car, Jared thinks all the things he held back on set. He thinks about how good Jensen looks, about how Jeff kept eyeing them during breaks like he knew something was off, about how much he wanted to just talk, to hang out like they used to. There are hot tears in his eyes when he gets back to his apartment building, and he hastily wipes them away as he gets out of the car. He takes deep and even breaths during the elevator ride, calming himself down, forcing himself to forget about it for now.Sandy’s waiting for him inside. And she’s the one he’s with right now. She’s the fun, sweet, uncomplicated person he can be with without hiding, the one he can kiss at the movie theater and talk to his family about. She’s the one who didn’t walk out on him. Just like he did when she said “good morning”, Jared stays silent when she greets him. She’s dressed for dinner already, sitting at the kitchen counter reading a magazine, short skirt riding up her crossed legs. Jared can’t think about Jensen anymore, can’t talk about his day yet, so he just spins her stool around, drops to his knees, and pushes her legs apart so he can taste her. She giggles and lets him.********Four episodes in. It’s getting easier. Maybe it’s just time doing its job, but it almost feels like they’re real friends now. The feelings are still there, suffocating Jared whenever he thinks about it too long, but he’s learned to breathe around them. They are back to being them, teasing each other, pranking the crew, spending their downtime between takes talking about everything. Jared even mentions Sandy a few times. He doesn’t go into detail, and Jensen doesn’t ask, but there doesn’t seem to be any bad blood between them when her name comes up.Things are good.And Jared’s miserable. Why doesn’t Jensen care that he’s with Sandy? If they’re such good friends again, why don’t they hang out outside of the set anymore? Why does greeting fans and doing any kind of press together feel the same as shooting a scene?Every night that Jared doesn’t spend with Sandy, he spends thinking about Jensen. He creates scenario after scenario in his mind, conversations they won’t ever have, moments that won’t ever happen. Moments where he gets to tell Jensen how much he misses him. Where Jensen breaks down and tells Jared that he can’t do this anymore, that he was wrong to break things off. Jared fantasizes about every single happy ending that might be possible, not even feeling guilty that he should be thinking about Sandy.Not that Jensen wants any of that anyway. Today, Jensen just seems like he wants to be left alone.“You okay?” Jared asks softly, quiet enough that the crew won’t hear him.Jensen nods. “Just. Getting ready.”Jared doesn't push for more conversation. It’s probably one of the most emotional scenes Jensen has had to film. It’s raw and close up, too. No monsters or other people to take some of the focus. And Jensen is fucking flawless.They do the scene in only three takes, and Jensen nails it every damn time. Jared aches for Jensen, aches for Dean as he sits there on the hood of the car, tearing up himself despite the fact that it’s not in the script for him to cry. He can’t help it. The pain, the guilt, it all bubbles up out of Jensen in the most authentic, real way, quiet but intense. Mesmerizing.The crew is silent after the cut, and Jensen just stands up and takes off walking. Jared’s on his feet and going after him without even thinking about it. Neither of them say a word, and neither of them stop walking until they are down the road far enough that they can barely see the crew they’ve left behind. Jensen’s still got tears in his eyes, looking out over the pretty scenery and taking deep, shuddering breaths to try and calm himself down. Jared opens his mouth to say something, but nothing feels right. There’s not a whole lot to say about the scene, and if this emotion is coming from anywhere else, well...Jared isn’t sure what he wants to say about that. He throws an arm around Jensen’s shoulders instead. Jensen leans into him instantly, head bobbing like he wants to fall completely into Jared, but he stays on his own two feet. Jared grips his shoulder firmly and holds on, hoping it’s enough. “I’m okay,” Jensen finally says. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”“Nothing is wrong with you,” Jared tells him. “That was a fucking incredible scene.”Jensen nods. “Thanks.”“You wanna talk about it?” Jared’s almost afraid to ask. He isn’t sure this is allowed now.Jensen shrugs out from under Jared’s arm and turns to look back at the set, where the crew is now disassembling everything. “Not really. I just needed a minute.”“Okay,” Jared nods. “I can go. I’ll tell them to give you some time.”“No,” Jensen grabs his arm as he turns to leave. “I didn’t mean-would you...I don’t mind if you stay.” Of course I’ll stay. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me. “Okay.” They don’t say much else, just shuffle around and kick at the dirt a little, until Jensen finally scrubs a hand over his face and puts on a smile that only looks half-forced. “I’m good. Thanks, Jay.”It seems like a lifetime since he’s heard Jensen call him that. It shines over Jared like sunshine, and he has to force himself not to lean in, not to openly bask in it. “Any time, Jen,” he mutters, following Jensen back to the tiny crowd.********When the phone rings with Jensen’s name on the screen, Jared goes still, a surge of adrenaline rendering him motionless for just a second, before he manages to answer with fumbling fingers.“Hello?”“Jay?” He can hear the alcohol in Jensen’s voice, in the slow drawl of it. “Yeah, where are you? Are you alright?”“At my hotel. I was just. I don’t know.”“What’s going on, Jensen?”“This is stupid,” Jensen slurs. “Can, uh. Can you…”“On my way.” Jared doesn’t think, doesn’t process. He just gets up and moves, grabbing his keys and heading out the door as quickly as the call is disconnected. He tries not to think too much as he drives to the hotel. He has no idea what’s wrong or what’s waiting for him there, and he doesn’t want to make assumptions. He just impatiently revs the engine at every red light, cussing under his breath until he’s pulling into the parking lot and dashing inside. Jensen answers almost instantly, like maybe he was waiting by the door for Jared’s knock. And he doesn’t look good. His eyes are red and puffy from the drinking and from crying. His hands shake as he offers Jared a beer. Jared takes it, but doesn’t drink. He waits for Jensen to talk. Jensen shuts down when he’s pressed too hard, and Jared knows he’ll talk when he’s ready. “I dunno why I called you.” Jensen sits down and runs his hands back and forth over the top of his head, sounding more like he’s talking to himself than to Jared. “It was a really long day, ya know? And I couldn’t get out of that scene. I even went out for a little bit, but the mood just wouldn’t break. And I just needed…”Jared doesn’t dare move or breathe too loudly as he speaks. “Needed what?”Jensen lifts his head, and Jared’s never seen his eyes so bright, almost feverish, pleading and broken. “I needed you. I need you.”“I’m here,” Jared tells him, careful and cautious. “You wanna talk about that scene? Or do something to take your mind off it?”“I don’t know why it fucked me up so much. It doesn’t usually take this long for all that to wear off.”Jared shrugs. “You dug deep this time. But it’s just a script, Jensen. This mood? It’s not real. Get some sleep and it’ll be over by morning.”“It’s not just that, though.”“What else is it?”“It’s just. Work feels wrong now. And you’re with Sandy, and I fucking hate that.”Jared’s afraid to react. This is the first time they’ve mentioned this, and he doesn’t want to make a wrong move. “Not that I’m allowed to hate that. I was the one who told you this couldn’t happen.” “Do you wish you hadn’t said that?” Jared can’t help himself now.Jensen laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I wish a lot of things.”Jared takes a chance and sits down on the couch next to him. “What do you wish?”Jensen doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns, eyes taking a second to focus, and cups Jared’s face in his strong hands, one thumb rubbing over Jared’s lips. Jared loses the battle right then. He leans forward, presses his forehead against Jensen’s, curls his fingers around Jensen’s wrists to keep his hands right where they are. But when he pushes his lips out, Jensen turns away.“I’m sorry. You’re with Sandy. I shouldn’t have...we still can’t…”It hits like a freight train to Jared’s chest, the hurt of it, the sharp pain that takes his breath away. It destroys him all over again. Not that there was much left to destroy.He stands up. “You’re okay here?”When Jensen nods, Jared leaves, rushes out as fast as he can, hoping he can breathe once he finally manages to get outside. And to his surprise, he can.It’s all still devastating.But Jared isn’t alone anymore. Jensen isn’t over this either. It drags things out, makes them worse, makes them both gluttons for punishment, but Jared isn’t suffering by himself. This meant just as much to Jensen as it did to Jared.It doesn’t change things or fix things.But it means that tonight, when Jared falls asleep with a wet face and a broken heart, he isn’t the only one. That’s the only comfort he’s going to get, but it will do for now. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Craziest fantasy?”Jared kisses at Sandy’s pulse, sucks at it just a little until her breath catches in her throat. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I don’t really have any.”She squirms in his lap, her panties soft and silky against his bare cock. “Seriously? Not one?”Jared grins up at her, shifts his hips to get more of that contact. She takes a breath, enjoying the feeling. “Ever wanted to do it in a public place? To role play? To restrain each other? Nothing?”Images flash through his mind of Jensen holding his wrists down.“No,” he lies. “I mean, I’m not opposed to any of those things. I guess I’ve just never really thought about it that much.”She reaches down and pushes her panties to the side, wiggles down so that he’s sliding his cock between the lips of her pussy, slick and warm. “Maybe you should. Maybe we should try some kinky shit.”Jared sits up, grabs her hips so fast she gasps, and kisses her hard. “Getting bored?”“Not even a little,” she assures him.They untangle just long enough for her to slip her panties the rest of the way off, and then she’s back in his lap, rocking herself down onto him, inch by lazy inch.“What about you?” he asks. “What’s your craziest fantasy?”“To have sex with a big celebrity,” she grins. Jared kisses her again, long and slow, all lips and hands instead of tongue. She falls into it, drapes herself around him until her hair tickles his shoulders and her heels are digging into the small of his back. They can’t really thrust in this position, sitting up together this way. Instead, they just grind, writhe around and see what new sensations each movement causes. Sandy squeezes herself around him every now and then and groans. “We could do whatever you wanted,” he tells her. “Just tell me what you want.”“Someday,” she tells him, “I want to sneak into a bathroom or dressing room or something.”Jared’s cock twitches inside of her. “Yeah? You like the idea of getting caught?”She nods. “Sure, but it’s more about the I have to have you now and can’t wait until we’re home part of it. It’s gotta be spontaneous, okay?”Jared smiles, gently pulling out of her as he flips her to her back. “I promise. The next time we’re out in public and I get the urge to touch you, I will.”She laughs, then guides him back inside her. They stop talking as he starts thrusting, deep and rhythmic, kissing at her neck and shoulders as he moves. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, using the leverage to lift her own hips and meet each of his thrusts. They’re good at this. Always have been. She knows where and how to squeeze, can fit into him like a puzzle piece. He loves how she sounds, how soft she is. And he knows that she gets off on this as much as he does. He knows that he does it for her, too. They’ve been officially together for a while now, and the transition from “person he’s sleeping with” to "girlfriend" has been mostly smooth. He still has his moments of doubt. But the more they do this, the more he’s got her warm body beneath his and the sound of her laugh in his ear, the fewer and farther between those moments of doubt become. “Fuck, Jared,” she breathes. She lets her legs fall wide open, grabs his ass, and starts pushing, hard enough that their hipbones slap together, echoing through the room between her cries. Jared moves faster, harder, gives her what she wants until she’s shaking, contracting around him, pulling out his own shivery orgasm. They kiss for another few minutes once he falls to the bed beside her.“What about threesomes?” she asks, kissing the hollow of his throat with a loud smack.“Threesomes?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “You got a girlfriend I don’t know about?”“You got a boyfriend I don’t know about?”Jared freezes, but forces himself to relax at her innocent joke. It doesn’t mean anything.“I don’t know,” she continues. “It could be fun.”Jared shrugs. The thought had never really occurred to him, but it might be an exciting game to play once or twice. “I could be into that.”“Really? What if I said I wanted a threesome with you and another guy? Does that change your mind?”He peers at her, wondering if this is some sort of trap. But of course it isn’t. She’s looking at him with that same innocently sexy smile, eyes wide and clear. He takes a deep breath and decides to trust her. “I’d be okay with that.”She hesitates for just a second, then nods. “Cool.”That’s it. Just total acceptance, no questions asked. He hugs her close and kisses her again. “What did I do to deserve you?” he murmurs.She just sighs contentedly as they drift to sleep. ********“You’ve been weird all day, dude. What’s your deal?”Jared looks away from his cell phone and focuses on Jensen’s face. “Sorry, what?”Jensen rolls his eyes and grins a little. “I said, what’s wrong with you today? You’re totally out of it.”“Oh. Sorry, it’s nothing. I, uh…”“Talkin’ to Sandy?” Jensen plops down in the chair next to him and reaches for his coffee. Jared smirks at the sight of him, in Dean’s clothing, drinking an iced capp-frappe whatever it is. Dean would be disgusted.There’s no awkwardness in his voice when he mentions Sandy, so Jared nods yes. “Things are serious between the two of you.”Jared shrugs. “They aren’t not serious. But we’re not getting married or anything.”Jensen’s phone buzzes, and they’re both lost in their screens again, waiting for the next take.Jared continues his conversation with Sandy, who has decided that tonight is the night. She’s found the person she wants to have a threesome with and has invited him to have dinner with them. It’s a little exciting, a lot nerve-wracking, and Jared isn’t quite sure how he feels about it. Sandy understands, of course. That’s why they’re having dinner. If Jared doesn’t want to go through with it, they go home without an extra guy, no harm done. But she sounds so hopeful that Jared’s going to try his best to want this. But he can’t get rid of his nerves, and by the end of the day, it’s rubbed off on Jensen. He’s just as jittery, shifting his weight too often, unable to keep his hands out of his hair, buzzing with extra energy. “I gotta get out of here,” Jared tells him the second they’re wrapped. “I’ll see you day after tomorrow?”“Yeah, I’m heading out, too. See you.” There’s something a little off in Jensen’s voice, something that feels like more than just an anxious mood. For a half-second, Jared thinks about stopping him, about asking him to hang out tomorrow on their day off. It’s time that they got over all their shit and started being friends again. Because really, that’s what they are. They’ve started joking and playing with each other again, having real conversations instead of polite ones. And they’ve started touching again. Jared can shove him, can touch his arm when he’s making a point, can wrap his body around Jensen’s and make the crew laugh when he forgets his line. So it’s about time to start hanging out outside of work again.Next time. Jared will ask him the next time he sees him. He just doesn’t have the courage to do it tonight. Tonight, he has to go to a restaurant and meet some guy he might be fucking later. The car gets to the restaurant too quickly. He isn’t quite ready as he walks in, legs a little shaky, blood pounding in his ears. He glances around, and doesn’t see Sandy. She’s usually five minutes late, and he’s a little early, so he just heads to the bar. A drink or ten is definitely necessary tonight. And there sits Jensen. Fuck.“Hey,” Jensen nods, looking almost like he expected to see him here. Jared manages to sit down next to him without losing his shit. “Hey. I’m just, uh, meeting Sandy. For dinner.”Jensen nods. “I know.” He tilts the glass of whiskey in his hands and looks into it like he’s seeing something more than just the liquid and ice. His answer catches Jared off guard. “You know?”“I’m here to have dinner with the two of you.”Jared sputters a little as the bartender comes over. Jensen orders another whiskey for himself and one for Jared. “You what?” Jared finally spits out. “Sandy called me the other day. We talked for a long time.”Jared’s panicking now. His hands are sweating and his chest is getting tight, and he needs to get out of here right now. But he can’t move his legs. “Talked about what?”“Well. She talked. I listened. She’s fearless.”“She is,” Jared agrees, face on fire. “So, she told you about her ‘fantasy’ or whatever?”“She did.”“And she wants you to be the one.”“She does.”As soon as the whiskey is in front of him, he swallows it down, letting the burn in his throat ground him back to reality. “I didn’t know that.”“I know.”“So you’d thought you’d just surprise me? What the hell were you thinking?” Jared hisses. Now that the shock has worn off, the anger and panic is setting in. “I’ll go if you want me to,” Jensen tells him. “But she was pretty persistent on the phone. Apparently, she has a thing for the Winchesters and thought it would be fun to role play. And she said that it’s about time she and I got to know each other since we work so closely together.”Jared blinks at him for a moment. “You can’t possibly think this is a good idea. I mean, what the fuck, man?” It feels good to have a reason to feel angry, a reason to talk about this without the raging pain and regret. “My girlfriend wants you to have sex with us and you actually agree to it? And then don’t even give me a fucking heads up?”Jensen looks around, flushing a little at how Jared’s voice is just a little too loud. “Look, I’m sorry. I just.” He looks at Jared, green eyes flashing a little darker than usual. It’s all there on his face. The hope, the uncertainty, and Jared’s anger starts to fade. “I’m sorry,” Jensen says again, reaching for his wallet and throwing some cash on the bar. “I’ll go. I shouldn’t have come.”Jared almost lets him leave. And then that damn magnetic pull takes over, and he just can’t. He just fucking can’t. “Don’t leave.”Jensen turns around and searches his face. “This was a horrible idea.”Jared shrugs. “When have we ever had good ones?”Jensen smirks a little. He’s right, Jared thinks. This is the worst idea they’ve ever had. They’re supposed to be over each other. This is not going to end well for anyone. Jensen stays anyway. Sandy shows up a few minutes later, looking a little nervous and extremely hot in a little black dress that shows just enough skin. Jared can feel Jensen looking at her as they get a table, assessing her. He’s probably wondering what’s underneath the dress, and Jared wishes he could tell him that he won’t be disappointed. But he isn’t sure of the rules yet. Is he allowed to flirt like that? Or is Sandy supposed to take the lead?So he stays quiet. “So, I guess my secret’s out,” Sandy says. “I probably should have told you that it was Jensen.”Jared nods. “That would have been nice, yeah. But it’s okay.”“If this is going to be too weird, or mess up work or anything, just tell me. I won’t get my feelings hurt.”“We can handle it,” Jensen says, and Jared tries not to laugh at how true that is. They’ve dealt with worse than this. Somehow that starts the evening, settles them a little, and the awkwardness disappears. They order food, drink wine, and talk. Sandy wants to know everything. She asks all about work, about the people they’ve met and the things they’ve done. They tell story after story, laughing so hard their stomach muscles hurt as they live it all over again.“And then the guy tells us that you aren’t actually supposed to eat that part,” Jensen cackles, “that it’s just decoration. But of course, Jared’s already eaten three from the counter display.” Sandy laughs along with them, as enamored with Jensen as Jared is. “And I spend the rest of the day watching tv, while Jared spends the rest of the day with his head in a toilet. We never even made it to the museum tour we’d planned.”“Hey,” Jared holds up his hands in defense, “they really shouldn’t make them look like food if they don’t want people to eat them.”Jensen makes a face. “Or maybe they assume that most people aren’t just going to go down the counter, eating bits of all the displays. Who raised you?”Jared laughs louder, hand immediately reaching out to rest over Jensen’s. He stops halfway and snatches it back, but Sandy notices. The laughter dies down. “So,” she says, a little more serious now, “I guess we should talk about the elephant in the room. I know you are both probably wondering how in the hell you ended up here.”They shrug in unison, and Jared has to stop himself from smiling at that. “Well, that’s why,” she says, gesturing to Jared’s hand that is still awkwardly resting on the table, a little too close to Jensen’s. “What’s why?” Jared’s heart starts pounding. “Well,” she purses her lips the way she does when she’s trying to figure out exactly how to say something, “the way you talk about Jensen. Or, rather, the way you don’t really talk about Jensen. It’s cute, actually. And I assumed that there was some kind of...attraction there?”Jared can feel Jensen next to him at the table, as still and frozen as he is. “Uh. Well, I...uh…” he clears his throat and Sandy smiles.“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.” She turns her eyes on Jensen. “Can I be honest with you?”Jensen snorts a laugh. “You weren’t being honest before?”She grins. “Look. I think you’re hot. And I think Jared thinks you’re hot. So do you want to come home with us?”She has no fucking idea, Jared thinks. In her mind, this is all innocent fun, something kinky that will make a good story later, something to bring the two of them closer to each other. And it’s sweet. Under any other circumstances, Jared would be all over this, wondering how in the hell the universe saw fit to bring him a woman like that. He doesn’t deserve her. But as it is, she’s accidentally opened a wound that was never really closed to begin with. And she’s waiting for an answer.Jensen looks at Jared, and for a second, Jared lets himself look back.Can they do this? Can they really spend just one night together without fucking everything up? Without destroying whatever they’ve managed to rebuild? Can they spend a night together with someone else and keep their history a secret?Those questions don’t really matter, though. Because in the end, Jared doesn’t really care. Those are all in the future, problems he’ll have to deal with later. Right now, he’s sitting closer to Jensen than he has in months, and that is the only thing he can think about. He nods just a little, knowing Jensen will see it and understand. Jensen blinks back, and Jared almost laughs at how they can still talk this way, without saying a word. “Yeah, Sandy,” Jensen says, tearing his eyes away from Jared. “I want to go home with you.”She grins, skin lit up by the candle flickering on the table. “Good.”********They haven’t said anything since they got to Jared’s apartment. The elevator ride was full of so many different types of tension that Jared almost backed out, but here they are. “I’m gonna get out of this dress. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Sandy disappears into the bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaving them alone in the living area. As if on some unspoken cue, they both move, walk over to the couch and sit down, carefully not looking at each other. “Is this too weird?” Jensen whispers.Jared turns and faces him, asks the question he really wants the answer to. No point beating around the bush. “Why did you agree to this?”Jensen looks at his hands, folded in his lap. “I don’t know.”“Yes, you do.”He looks up then, green eyes meeting Jared’s. “Sandy caught me off guard. She called, and I just. I just said yes.”“Because…” Jared shouldn’t be asking these questions. It’s too dangerous and too painful. But they’ve already come this far tonight. A few more steps won’t make this less of a stupid mistake.“Because I miss you.”Jared nods. There isn’t anything else to say. That’s the answer he was afraid of, and the answer he was desperately hoping he’d get.And now all that’s left is to wait for Sandy to come back out here.All that’s left is to spend the night with the woman he’s falling for, and the man he can’t get over. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They’re sitting on the couch silently when Sandy comes out of the bedroom. She looks bare, stripped down, makeup off and hair let down to hang on her shoulders, and somehow, that makes her look ten times more beautiful than she did at the restaurant. She pads across the carpet on bare feet, red toenails peeking out from underneath the hem of Jared’s robe, which is adorably huge around her body.Once she gets to the couch, she stops and fidgets, glances around the room and kind of huffs a nervous half-laugh. Jared isn’t really sure what to say or do either. He looks at the floor and rubs his palms on his thighs. Jensen is looking at Sandy. Eventually, he lets out a low whistle of appreciation, one that relaxes her and lets her weight fully settle, like she’s letting out a breath she’s been holding. “So,” she says. “Uh, should we go in the bedroom? Or…”“Maybe a drink first?” Jared suggests, and Jensen nods.“That sounds good.”Jared gets up and heads into the tiny kitchen, looking at both of them over the counter separating the rooms, Jensen with his long, sprawling legs stretched out in front of him, and Sandy with her loose waves shaking as she laughs at something Jensen whispered to her. “Whiskey?” he calls out.“Yes, please,” Sandy answers. “Can I have mine-”“Mixed with a splash of diet soda,” he nods. “And mine-” Jensen starts.“Over ice, nothing else.”Sandy looks back and forth between them, but doesn’t seem to find it strange that Jared knows exactly how Jensen takes his whiskey. Jared just keeps his head down as he pours the drinks, then carries the three small glasses back to the couch in one hand. He offers the hand to Sandy first, who delicately reaches for her glass, then to Jensen, who is careful not to let his hand brush Jared’s, and it’s such an intentional non-touch that Jared can feel it somewhere deep inside. Jared watches as Sandy downs her drink in two swallows, then takes a deep breath. “I’ve never actually done this before. I don’t know how we’re supposed to start.”Jared shrugs. “I think we can start however you want to start.”“Okay, then,” she smiles, and reaches for the half-emptied glass in Jensen’s hand. She sets it on the coffee table, then sits down on the couch next to Jensen, leaving Jared standing in front of them, watching. And God, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Is he supposed to watch both of them? Is he supposed to touch both of them? He and Sandy didn’t talk about any of those kinds of rules, and even if they had, this is Jensen, and they probably wouldn’t apply anyway. He needs to sit down, needs to be alone so he can think this through, because his head is in a fog right now, trying to catch up with everything that’s happened and how he feels about it. But Sandy’s hand is dragging up Jensen’s thigh, and that catches Jared’s attention. He’s mesmerized by it, by the shape of those pretty fingers over that thick muscle as they lean into one another. Jensen doesn’t close his eyes as they kiss. He watches Sandy, slowly moves his lips in a perfect mimicry of hers, and Jared loses whatever willpower he was holding onto. He remembers what it was like to kiss those lips, to feel their warmth and their firm swell, to taste them. And he envies Jensen, too. Sandy knows what she’s doing. Even now, she’s sliding the tip of her tongue over his lower lip to tease him, and Jared grins at the familiar move.They kiss for a long moment. Sandy ends up with her arms around Jensen’s neck, one leg thrown over his lap, and Jensen’s got his hands in her hair. She beckons to Jared without breaking away, curling one finger at him to get him over to the couch. Jared moves slowly, a little shaky, and fits himself in behind her, her back pressing against his side. She sighs at the feel of him, then pulls away from Jensen, turns her body and neck enough that she can get at his mouth now. And oh God, oh God, she tastes like Jensen. It’s there on her lips and tongue, that flavor that Jared hasn’t tasted in so long, that taste that he’s missed. Without thinking, he grabs her hair and pulls her face back, plunges his tongue deep into her mouth to lick every bit of that taste out. He needs it. He craves it. And this is the only way he’s going to get it tonight. He realizes as soon as he tastes it that he can’t touch Jensen. The scent of Jensen’s spit on her neck, the taste of him in her mouth, is enough to make Jared instantly hard, enough to make tears form in his eyes and his breath catch in the back of his throat. There’s no fucking way he can touch Jensen without breaking down, without forgetting about her entirely, without spouting all the words he’s swallowed down since Jensen walked out on him. So he won’t touch Jensen. That’s not a luxury he can have. Sandy misinterprets his aggression, digs her fingernails into his forearm and kisses him back just as ferociously, and Jared lets her, tries to give her the reaction she expects. The one she deserves.Somehow, she’s on her knees then, in between them, smiling up like she’s just won the lottery. Jared watches as she unwraps herself, pulls the robe open slowly, lets it slide off her body and elegantly drape to the floor. Of course she’s naked underneath, and some of Jared’s jittery nerves turn to tension that settles in his cock. Jensen must feel the same way, because he shifts a little on the couch, spreading his legs. He’s careful not to bump his knee into Jared’s. Sandy reaches out for both of them, winds her fingers through theirs.“What do you all want?”Jensen leans forward, and Jared can see the smirk out of the corner of his eye. “No, babe. You called us here, remember? We’re here for you. So you tell us what you want.”It’s all bluster, but Jared knows Sandy won’t be able to tell. Jensen’s nervous, isn’t any more sure of how to do this than they are. But he’ll turn on that goddamn charm and make it work. “I think…” Sandy looks at Jared who smiles encouragingly. “I think I want to taste you. Both of you.”She leans toward Jared first, going with what’s familiar and easier, sliding her hands up his thighs until she gets to the button on his pants. He lifts his hips to help her as she slides them down, hooking her fingers into his boxers and taking them too. They pool around his knees as his cock twitches free, and in a moment of weakness, he looks over at Jensen. His hands are folded in his lap, mouth in a tight line, jaw clenched. He’s not looking at Jared, but he’s not really looking away either, and Jared has to fight his body’s urge to lean over, to press up against him and feel him again. Sandy crawls closer, leans down to push Jared’s shirt up enough to kiss his stomach, then work her way down. Jared sucks in a breath, louder than he means it to be, and curls his hands over her shoulders just to give them something to do. Her skin is as soft and smooth as it always is, and he closes his eyes to focus on that, on her. Her mouth teases him, tongue flicking out over the head of his cock once, then twice, before she licks all the way down to his balls. She sucks a little there, making his hips pump up involuntarily, unintentionally showing off how hard his cock is. He can feel Jensen watching, can feel those eyes burning over his skin, but he doesn’t dare return the look. He just squeezes her shoulders harder as she kisses her way back up and starts sinking down onto him, gently sucking at the sensitive head. “Fuck,” he hisses, pushing up into her warm mouth, into the tongue that’s swirling over him. She moans a little around him, then starts bobbing up and down, dark eyes blinking up at him every now and then. When she pulls away, Jared doesn’t try to cover himself up. He just sits there, cock still hard and throbbing, as she nudges her way between Jensen’s legs, pulling his pants off the same way she did Jared’s. Jensen is watching her closely, lips parted and cheeks flushed the way they do when he wants it, when he’s really turned on. Is he turned on by her? Or because he just watched her give him a blow job? Jared watches her as she repeats everything she just did, starting with kissing down his stomach. It’s hard to look, hard to see those muscles he’s missed, and holy shit, that cock. It’s long and thick and begging to be touched, and Jared contemplates sitting on his hands for a second in order to keep them still. He settles for just gripping his own knees and holding on, trying not to stare too hard as her tongue slithers around Jensen’s balls. male Jesus Christ, this is going to kill him. And then Jensen moans. That does more to Jared than the sight of his dick. It’s raw and real and low and raspy and everything male that Sandy isn’t, and it’s fucking perfect and fucking painful. Jared closes his eyes and turns his head away to try and get a grip. He can still hear the slick sounds of Sandy’s mouth, though, and Jensen moans a few more times. “I think,” she says, a little out of breath, and Jared’s so glad she’s not pulling those noises out of Jensen anymore, “that maybe we should go slow tonight? Not do anything too crazy our first time out.”First time? Does she think there will be more times? Jared can’t think about that now.“Whatever you want.” Jensen repeats the same reassurance he gave her when they first started, and she smiles at him, completely taken.God, Jared understands that look. “I think I want you to fuck me,” she tells him, then glances over at Jared, “while I suck you off. Can we do that?”She’s asking Jared for permission now, wanting to make sure she isn’t crossing any lines or making him uncomfortable. “Sure,” he tells her. Jared can handle that. He won’t have to touch Jensen, won’t have to do anything but focus on her. And he can do that. “Then come here, you two,” she giggles, leaning back and crawling around the coffee table, getting on her hands and knees in the open space in the middle of the room. Jared and Jensen stand up in unison, still not looking at each other, and shed their clothes as they move in opposite directions around the coffee table. They drop to their knees, Jared in front of her, Jensen behind her, and she groans.“Jesus, this is unreal. Like, they make porn about this stuff. And most of them aren’t this good.”Jensen chuckles at that and runs a hand down Sandy’s spine, making it curve beneath his touch. “You’re a hell of a catch, aren’t you?” Sandy glows under the praise, but Jared can hear the edge to it, that tiny bit of sadness and fear at the idea that maybe Jared’s completely satisfied here. Sandy reaches for the robe, pulls a condom out of the pocket and passes it back to Jensen. Jared still can’t look, has to focus on her face and her face only, on the expression as she leans forward to wrap her lips around his cock again. She sucks him down faster this time, moves more shallowly in favor of speed, messy and wet and hot, hair curling down around him. She groans when Jensen’s hand disappears between her legs, and Jared imagines those fingers sliding into her wet pussy, stretching her open the way he’s stretched Jared open. “Jesus,” he moans, looking up at the ceiling. He’s not going to last. Fortunately, with how loud Sandy is, mouth full of his cock as her voice vibrates around it, he doesn’t think it’s going to take long for any of them. He hears the condom wrapper being opened, then feels the push of it when Jensen thrusts into her. She cries out, sinks all the way down on Jared’s cock with the forward motion of it. And Jared remembers that movement, remembers being pushed up a bed until he was pressed against the headboard as Jensen slammed into him. Stop. Stop thinking about that.Jensen waits then, stops moving and lets her take over. She shifts her weight, adjusts her arms underneath her, then blinks up at Jared, managing to look sassy even with her mouth full of his cock. She starts a slow rhythm, forward to suck at Jared, backward onto Jensen, over and over. She gains speed slowly, letting the feel of this, of the two of them, sink in. Jared tightens his hands into fists and lets her do what she wants, lets the simmering inside of him grow into a tight burn of pressure, flames licking inside of him as expertly as her tongue over the head of his dick.Eventually, her mouth goes slack. She attempts to keep sucking, but her groans are so loud she can’t quite keep up the pace. It doesn’t matter. Jared’s close enough that he can just shift his hips a little and listen to her, and that will get him over the edge. Until now, he’s been blocking out Jensen, but now he can hear his deep guttural sounds, the ones that mean he’s just as close as Jared is. Sandy comes, shaking between them, managing to hold Jared in her mouth even as she trembles. He watches her face twist in pleasure, watches her eyes roll back a little as they close.And then he looks at Jensen. He has to. He can’t stop himself. And Jensen is staring right back at him.They stare for a split second, Jensen still thrusting into her pussy while Jared thrusts into her mouth. And then they’re both coming. Together. Jensen reaches out to wind his hand in her hair, and Jared reaches for Jensen’s hand. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But he has to. He grabs Jensen’s hand, under the guise of holding her head still while he comes in her mouth, and squeezes, holding onto those fingers like his life depends on it. They shake and pulse together, strong but quiet, looking straight into each other’s eyes as the sweat breaks over their skin.And then Jensen lets go. Jared drops down to the carpet next to Sandy, who is catching her breath and sighing happily every now and then. Throwing an arm over his face, he tries not to laugh, tries not to cry, tries not to give in to any of the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He just breathes in and out, as calm and steady as possible, while Jensen throws the condom away.When he comes back, Sandy leans up to kiss him, murmuring praise that may or may not make sense, but is enough to put them all at ease during a potentially awkward moment. Jared doesn’t look at him while he gets dressed. Sandy puts Jared’s robe back on, and Jared heads to the bedroom to put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, hoping that his silence isn't offending anyone. “That was fun,” Sandy’s telling him when Jared returns. “You sure you have to run off so soon?”“Yep. Early day on set tomorrow,” Jensen lies. They both have the day off, but Jared keeps his mouth shut. If Jensen needs an excuse to leave, he’ll let him have it. “Well. Talk soon?”Jensen nods, leans down to meet her lips when she turns them up for a kiss. “I’ll walk you out to the elevator,” Jared tells him. “Be right back,” he tells Sandy.In the hallway, neither of them speak until Jensen pushes the button for the elevator. “Jensen…”“Don’t.”“Don’t what?” Jared asks, partly amused and partly irritated.“Don’t say anything.” Jensen turns to face him, standing a little closer than is necessary. “Whatever you’re about to say, good or bad, I couldn’t handle it. So just don’t, okay? We’re good. Just. Don’t.”Jared knows he shouldn’t, that he can’t, but he grabs Jensen’s face anyway, rubbing his thumbs over Jensen’s jaw and pressing their foreheads together. He doesn’t say a word.When the elevator door opens, he lets go, and Jensen leaves, looking at the floor as the doors close. Back in the apartment, Sandy’s waiting for him in bed. “Was tonight okay?” she asks. “Yeah,” he sighs, dropping down and pulling her into his side. “Tonight was good.”“I don’t know if I want to do it again. No offense to Jensen. He’s pretty wonderful.”Jared can’t help his smile. “We don’t have to do it again, then,” he tells her. “But I’m glad we did it. I can cross that fantasy off my list. And I had a hell of a time.”Jared doesn’t answer, just squeezes her a little as she settles in to sleep. He lies awake for a long time, trying to figure out what the hell he’s feeling. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They don’t talk about it. They go to work every day for the next couple of weeks and don't say a word about what happened.Jared doesn’t mind ignoring it, because he wouldn’t know what to say anyway. He’s had absolutely no luck figuring out how he feels about everything, and he’s even less sure of how Jensen feels about everything. It’s fine with him that they’ve just breezed over it and never acknowledged it in the light of day. If anything, things are easier between them. Like maybe they’ve closed the door and can really move on now. Jensen’s a little more relaxed when he talks to Jared, a little more naturally flirty, the way close friends really are. And they’ve started hanging out again. They play video games in their trailers, they grab dinner when they leave the set, they even go out to a bar when Sandy heads back to Los Angeles and Jared has a free Saturday night. Things relax between them, like a rubber band that spent weeks stretched around a stack of papers, holding them all together, and now just sits happily on a desk in a gentle circle, no pressure to hold anything any longer. “So what are we doing tonight?” Jensen plops down in his chair, so close to Jared’s that their knees almost touch. Jared blinks at him. “I didn’t know we were doing anything.”Jensen bumps his shoulder. “Oh, come on. We have the day off tomorrow. We get to stay out late!”“Usually I’m the one saying that,” Jared smiles, “while you groan about how tired you are.”“Well, I’m not tired. So let’s do something. I’ll pick you up at seven and we can decide where we want to go, okay?”“Yeah, alright,” Jared nods. He tries to tell himself that his heart isn’t really beating faster, that he’s not suddenly full of adrenaline. It’s just hot on set. ********He slides into Jensen’s car, grinning at how strange it is to see him drive. They have cars to and from set, and on the rare occasion that they ride somewhere together, they’re generally cramped together in the back, knees drawn up to their chests in the small space. But tonight, Jensen has his long legs stretched out under the steering wheel, the skin of his muscular thighs showing through a hole in the denim just above his knee. Jared can see his biceps straining against his t-shirt as he holds the steering wheel with his left arm, right arm draped over the back of the passenger seat as he turns to back out. Jared looks a little longer than he should, because this is a Jensen no one gets to see. The backwards baseball cap on his head hides hair that’s probably fluffy and sticking up everywhere now, and he’s got a soda can in the cup holder. They aren’t actors or celebrities tonight, aren’t dressed well enough to get their picture taken with fans they may run into, and Jared can’t remember the last time they did this. “Where to?” Jensen asks. Against his better judgment, Jared shrugs and suggests the first thing that comes to his mind. “We could, uh, get some take out and then just drive for a while. It’s gorgeous out. We could go to a park and eat?”It’s too private, too much time spent alone with just their conversation between them. They should go bowling, go to a bar, do something that isn’t personal. But Jensen nods. “That sounds good.”The sun sets late, and they drive through the dusk, through the brilliant colors splashed across the sky, with the windows down and the smell of Chinese food floating up from the containers stashed in the backseat. Jensen’s humming along to the radio softly, as sweet and easy as the summer night around them, and Jared sticks his hand out the window, letting the wind push his fingers back. “So what’s up?” Jensen finally says. “Anything new going on?”“Not really.” Maybe he’s so relaxed that he isn’t thinking clearly. Maybe he just wants to poke the bear. But something makes him say “I’ve been learning to play the guitar.”“Yeah?” Jensen turns onto an old two-lane highway, nothing but trees surrounding it, like they’re driving back to a time before power lines and cell phone towers. “That’s awesome. What got you into that?”Jared closes his eyes, lets the memories wash over him with the warm breeze. Jensen sitting in bed, skin glowing with the morning sun while he played. Jensen following him around his apartment, laughing as he made up a stupid song about doing laundry. “It was when I went home at the beginning of summer. I just. I guess I just needed a way to pass the time.”Jensen goes still and Jared knows he understands what’s not being said. Jensen knows exactly why he took up guitar. He clears his throat and makes another turn, this time down a road that doesn’t even have lines. “So, uh, what kind of guitar did you get?”Jared smiles at the thought of the woman in the music shop, selling him the cheapest one because she knew it wasn’t the music he was after. “An old piece of shit. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna stick with it or not.”“Smart,” Jensen nods. “It can turn into a pretty expensive hobby.”“One I’m not very good at,” Jared laughs, leaning into his door so he can turn a little, get a good look at Jensen while they talk. “I bet that’s not true. Just takes practice. We should play together sometime.”Jared grins, ducks his head down and looks at his hands. “Yeah. I’d like that.”“Can you believe the launch party is coming up? Doesn’t feel like we’ve been doing this that long.”Jared shifts his body and stares out the windshield, at the wide open land they’ve found just outside the city. “I don’t know. It feels like a lifetime ago that we started, for me.”Jensen doesn’t say anything to that. The silence that falls isn’t awkward or uncomfortable, but it isn’t empty or easy. It’s full of that same charge that’s always there between them, of all the things they don’t need to say, because they’ve always known how to communicate without words. Jared sighs. And here he thought this had faded, that he had some closure. Maybe he’d just have to accept that he never would.Jensen finally pulls over on the side of the road, in a small gravel embankment where they can see the sky as it gets close to dark. The pinks have faded to deep purples that turn their skin strange colors as they get the food and climb on the hood to eat. “This is very Winchester of us,” Jensen jokes, stabbing his chopsticks into the container Jared’s holding. A laugh snorts its way out of Jared. “Dean would never own a car like this, but yeah. Should we have some sort of conversation full of subtext where we feel a lot of pain but don’t actually solve anything?”They both freeze as soon as the sentence is finished.Shit, Jared thinks. Everything was so nice and normal. And now it’s ruined. But Jensen surprises him. He bursts into laughter, loud and deep from his belly, dropping his chopsticks and not seeming to notice as they roll off the car to the ground. “Well, shit,” he says, slipping into the slightest of southern accents. “Maybe we really are the Winchesters after all, because that’s all we fucking do.”Jared laughs too, more of a cathartic relief than anything else. “Right?”They laugh until tears stream down their faces, until their stomachs hurt with it, until they can still hear it echoing through the trees when they stop, like it’s caught on and the animals are laughing with them. “Jesus,” Jensen sighs. “What a goddamn mess.” He shakes his head and digs a fork out of one of the plastic bags so he can go back to his dinner. “Doesn’t have to be,” Jared says quietly. “The last couple of weeks have been pretty good.”His voice rises at the end like it’s a question, and he holds his breath waiting for Jensen to answer. “Yeah. They’ve been better.”There’s something in his voice that doesn’t quite sit right, doesn’t have the same confidence he had a few seconds ago. But, true to form, Jared ignores it. “So, um. Are you taking Sandy to the launch party?”The question catches him off guard. “Hadn’t really thought about it. I guess not. She’s in Los Angeles, and I don’t think she’s planning on coming back for a while.”“Oh.”“Why?”“I just assumed you would, is all.”A thought strikes Jared, one that makes his stomach sink. “Are you taking someone?”“No,” Jensen shakes his head. “But. I don’t know, man. You think it’s a good idea to walk the press line together?”“Why wouldn’t it be?”Jensen carefully closes the container he’s eating from, fingers moving too intentionally to be casual, and it irritates Jared. “I mean, after everything. Maybe we shouldn’t add to the rumors that Kripke was talking about.”Anger bubbles up inside Jared, curls around the hurt that’s threatening to overwhelm him, and takes over. “You aren’t fucking serious, are you?”Jensen looks up, shrinks a little under Jared’s bitter voice. “I mean, I just-”Jared slides off the car, setting his food down and pushing his hair off his face, trying to calm himself down. But he’s only human, and he can only take so much before he breaks. “What? You just what, Jensen? We are the damn leads of the show. No one is going to think a fucking thing if we do press together.”Jensen turns his head up and looks at the sky.“That’s why you want me to bring Sandy? So people will see that at least one of us is taken?”Jensen still doesn’t say anything, doesn’t meet Jared’s eyes. “Jesus Christ, Jen. What the fuck are you so afraid of?”Jensen pushes himself off the car then, starts gathering the containers of food and putting them back in the bags. “Not afraid of anything,” he says quietly. “I just don’t want…”“You don’t want people to know about us. Got it. Loud and clear.”Jensen turns and looks him in the eye. “It’s not like that and you know it. It’s just...complicated.”“No, it isn’t. You just want to pretend the whole thing never happened, because it’s easier for you that way. It lets you keep your big manly man image, gives you an easy out when things get too intense.”Jensen sighs, runs his hands over his face like he isn’t sure what to say, then grabs the food. Jared watches as he tosses it into the backseat. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”Jared slides into the passenger seat and stares out the window, determined not to look at Jensen. “Jay.”Jensen doesn’t play fair, and Jared can’t ignore the pleading in his voice. “It’s just too much, still. I have no idea what I’m doing here. With this.” Jensen's voice is gruff and a little too loud, holding back his emotions.Jared wants to be sarcastic, but it comes out mostly needy and sad. “You seemed to know what you were doing with me and Sandy that night.”“That was probably a mistake.”Jared holds his gaze when he answers. “I’d make that mistake again.”“So would I.”They don’t speak again while Jensen drives them home, the whole sky almost black now, glowing a little the closer they get to the city. Jared unbuckles his seatbelt in the parking lot of his apartment building, and has his hand on the door, ready to leave without another word, but Jensen stops him with a quiet whisper. “I think you should bring Sandy to the launch party.”It’s not the first time they’ve said their goodbyes in one form or another, and it isn’t the first pain Jared’s felt from this. So he just nods and gets out of the car. A few hours later, after a night of staring at his phone and having a million fake conversations in his head, he picks it up and dials. “Hello?” “Hey, Sandy.”“You okay? It’s late.”“Yeah, sorry about that. I just needed to ask you something.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sandy is waiting at the airport, smiling a little nervously as he descends the escalator, doing his best to give her a normal smile. “Hey!” She grins and leans up for a quick kiss. “Do we need to go to baggage claim?”Jared shakes his head. “Nope. I just carried on.”The truth is that he doesn’t have much with him. The messenger bag he’s carrying only has an extra shirt, his toothbrush and toothpaste, and a small towel. He hasn’t told her this, but he isn’t planning on staying in Los Angeles for more than a few hours. The extra things he brought are just in case he gets stuck for some reason.“I was glad you called,” she tells him. “It’s been a while since you’ve been here.” Jared can hear the hesitation in her voice, the tiny bit of nerves at how vague he’s been about the reason for his visit. She leans over a little as they walk toward the parking garage, like maybe she wants to reach for his hand, but she drags her fingers through her dark hair instead, pushing it back over her shoulders.“I guess it has been,” Jared agrees, wishing he didn’t have to do this. Wishing he didn’t like her as much as he does. “So, uh, what did you want to do today? We could go out? Get lunch somewhere?”“Actually, can we just go back to your apartment?”She nods silently, mouth forming a flat line. Jared hangs his head a little guiltily as he follows her out to her car. ********“Alright. Whatever it is, lay it on me.”They’ve been in her apartment no longer than five minutes, just long enough for her to kick off her sandals and plop herself down on the couch, and she’s cutting right to the chase.Jared sits down next to her and opens his mouth, but he can’t quite get any words out. He’s practiced this speech until it’s perfect, had this conversation in his head more than once on the plane ride here. But now that he’s looking at her, he can’t bring himself to do it. “Sandy,” he finally begins, “I, uh. I think we need to stop seeing each other.”She turns her head away to look out the window as his words sink in. Jared feels like a complete asshole when he she turns back around and there are tears on her face, quietly streaking down over a sad smile. “Okay,” she says softly. “Can I ask why?”Jared reaches out for her hands, needing to comfort her. “I’m so sorry.” The words are all there now, rushing out of him. “This isn’t because of you. Seriously. You know how I feel about you.”“I thought I did,” she replies. “You have no idea…” His voice trails off. He can’t finish that sentence. She has no idea that she saved him from himself when he was mourning Jensen. She has no idea that she gave him a reason to smile again. She has no idea that she gave Jensen back to him, even if just for a night, and he will never be able to thank her for all of that. “This relationship has meant more to me than I could tell you,” he says honestly. “But…”“But it isn’t fair to you. I can’t give you everything you deserve.”“All I want you to give me is you,” she says, looking at their joined hands. “I know.” It hurts to watch her face fall as she realizes what he’s saying, that he’s just never going to truly love her, that he just can’t give himself to her the way he should be able to.“Well, then. I guess that’s that. Can I ask you something?”Jared talks around the lump in his throat. “You can ask me anything.”“Is it Jensen?”Jared doesn’t give her an answer, but his silence is an answer in itself. “I thought it might be. That night...it was kind of intense. I wondered after that.”He doesn’t want to cry, but the tears come anyway. He drops his head, lets his forehead rest on their hands, and she wriggles one away to brush her fingers through his hair. “Don’t,” he mumbles. “You shouldn’t be comforting me.”“Says who?”He leans his head up and sees her smile, still sweet and innocent through her pain. “God, I don’t deserve you,” he tells her. And it’s not the first time he’s had that thought. “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I broke up with you,” she grins.“What?”“When this leaks and people ask why. I broke up with you because I didn’t like the distance, okay?”Jared is so grateful he aches with it. He grabs her face and kisses her one last time, sweet and slow. “Thank you,” he whispers against her lips. “For everything.”“You know you didn’t have to fly all the way down here to do this.”He shrugs. “‘Course I did. I wasn’t gonna do this over the phone.”Her smile is gentle and comforting. “You’re a good man, Jared. Now. Get out of my house so I can eat my feelings in peace.”He laughs, kisses her one more time and tells her he’ll call her in a couple of weeks, then gets up and leaves. He can’t make himself look back at her.The whole flight back to Vancouver, he thinks about what to say to Jensen. Or if he should say anything at all. Things are not great between them, and it’s not as if Jensen has been dying to get back together. And he probably shouldn’t go back and announce his breakup as if he only did it for Jensen. He did it because he wasn’t in love with her, and it wasn’t right. He stares out the window, watches the lights beneath them as they fly over city after city, wondering how many people are as confused as he is.And he gets off the plane as unsure about how to deal to with Jensen as he was when he boarded. But when the cab driver asks for an address, he gives him the name of Jensen’s hotel anyway.It’s late, and Jensen’s probably asleep. Jared knocks loud enough to wake him up, and sure enough, he’s sleepy-eyed and groggy when he opens the door.“What are-is everything okay?”“I broke up with Sandy,” Jared blurts out, then bites his lip as he waits for Jensen’s reaction.Jensen just pushes the door open for him and nods toward the couch in the suite.Jared watches him stifle a yawn, then comb at his hair with his fingers. When he sits down on the coffee table across from Jared, he has a flat expression, the one that gives nothing away and makes Jared crazy.“Did something happen between you two? A fight?”“No.”“So why did you break up with her?”“You know why.”Jensen shakes his head and looks down at his bare feet. “I really don’t think-”“Stop it. Just listen to me for a second, okay? I broke up with her because she isn’t the person I want to be with. It’s done. But that’s not why I’m here. You owe me a conversation.”There’s nowhere for Jensen to hide, and Jared isn’t letting him out of it this time. “I know.”“Then fucking talk to me, man. Tell me the truth.”“What do you want to know?”Jared waits until Jensen meets his eyes. “If there were no cameras. If we weren’t kind of famous. If Kripke hadn’t told us to tone it down, would that change things?”“It doesn’t matter,” Jensen sighs. “That’s never gonna happen.”“Jensen, I swear to God, I am leaving here and quitting the goddamn show if you don’t give me a straight answer.”Jensen almost smiles at Jared’s anger, and Jared knows he’s close to breaking. Finally.He pushes harder, leans forward until their knees are touching and he can slide his hands over Jensen’s forearms. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Just say it.”Jensen takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just. I’m just really scared.”“Of what?” The dim light from the one lamp they’ve turned on makes Jensen’s skin glow as he turns his head, looks down at the carpet. “Of you.”“Why?”“Because I’m in love with you.”He says it almost unemotionally, those words coming from those perfect lips like they aren’t the most important thing that’s ever been said in the history of everything. He just throws them out there and lets them hit Jared in the gut, guards himself with that blunt tone and those squared shoulders. Jared can’t speak for a moment. He’s too busy soaking it in, letting I’m in love with you fill his head until he’s dizzy, fall down into his chest and burn there for a few seconds. Eventually, he realizes that his hands are still on Jensen.He tightens his fingers, pulls on Jensen’s arms to force him to turn his head forward, to lean in a little. The kiss is slow, hesitant, a question that Jared needs Jensen to answer. And he does. They sink into it, bodies fitting like puzzle pieces when Jared falls back into the couch and Jensen pushes himself up to hover over him, arms winding around each other.Their lips still fit, still move in the exact right way that makes them both shiver a little. Their tongues still know how far to push in so they can meet, dancing together a little as Jared sighs into Jensen’s mouth. “God, I missed you,” Jared murmurs, can’t stop himself from saying the words. “Missed you so much, Jen.”Jensen makes a broken noise in the back of his throat and sits back on the couch, next to Jared now. “I missed you, too. Every day. Jesus, it was…”“I know.”“I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me. I just freaked myself out, and then you were with Sandy…”“I was with Sandy because I couldn’t have you.”Jensen looks at him with hope across every inch of his face, like Jared hadn’t made it perfectly clear how he felt about him in the first place. “I’m sorry. For everything.” He leans in again, but Jared pulls back, hands flat on Jensen’s chest to stop him. “Wait. I don’t want to do this if you’re gonna...I can’t handle going through that again.”Jensen’s shoulders slump and he gently drops his arms. “I can’t either.”It feels so familiar, to be standing on the edge of this cliff. “Okay,” Jared nods. “I know you aren’t ready to go public. And that’s totally fine by me. But you told me before that you didn’t want to sneak around, either.”The air thickens, making Jared’s chest heave as he waits for Jensen to answer. Jensen stares at him, lets his eyes wander down to Jared’s lips, licks his own. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out. But I’m not gonna fuck this up again. I’m not gonna lose you.”Jared doesn’t have time to respond, because Jensen’s kissing him again, pushing him down on the couch and possessively settling over him, hands grabbing at his sides, hips digging against Jared’s, low growl humming through his kiss into Jared’s mouth. It has been way too fucking long since they’ve done this. When they need to breathe, Jensen backs off, stands all the way up and pulls Jared to his feet, mouth searching for another kiss instantly, walking both of them to the other side of the large suite where the bed waits.There’s probably a lot to talk about, but it can wait. Right now, the only thing that matters is that it’s Jensen, and he’s here, and he’s in love with Jared, and Jared can feel his body, can taste his lips and smell his skin again. They stumble to the bed, pulling at each other’s shirts. Elbows and knees get in the way as they fall into the mattress and squirm their way to the middle, making them smile a little as they keep kissing, as they stretch out completely, bare chest to bare chest. “Holy shit, I’ve missed this,” Jensen groans, kissing wetly down Jared’s neck. Jared tilts his head to give Jensen more room, grunting when he sucks hard just below Jared’s ear. “Missed how warm you always are.”Jared’s hand slides down Jensen’s back, bumping over each muscle along the way. Their hips grind together almost instinctively, and Jensen groans again. His hand slides down Jared’s chest to pinch at one of his nipples. The arch of Jared’s back at that sharp, perfect sting, sends his chest right up against Jensen’s, solid and thick muscle to slam into.“Fuck, Jen, just…” He impatiently grabs at Jensen’s sweatpants, shoves his hand down them and is delighted to discover that there’s no underwear in his way. It’s just Jensen, hot and hard and thick for him to wrap his fingers around and stoke.Jensen’s breath catches and his lips stop kissing over Jared’s collarbone for just a second before he shifts, pushes Jared’s hand away. “Wait. Hold on.” He rolls away to shove the pants down and kick them off, and Jared uses the opportunity to struggle out of his own jeans, getting them caught on the shoes he’s forgotten to take off. He kicks and laughs at himself, finally getting them off and throwing them to the floor with a thud.When he turns back to Jensen, something surges him forward, makes him shove Jensen to his back so he can be the one on top this time. Jensen lets his head fall back on the pillow, wraps his thick legs around Jared’s hips, and holy shit that’s the most amazing thing Jared’s ever felt. Their cocks rub together, twitching and jerking like they’re reaching for each other, like they’re happy to be back where they belong. “Say it again,” Jared says, looking down at Jensen’s flushed face. “Tell me you missed me.”Jensen doesn’t hesitate. “Missed you so much, Jay.”“Tell me you want me.”Jensen tightens his legs around Jared and shifts his hips, grinding their bodies together. “Always wanted you.”  He leans up to drag his tongue down Jared’s jaw, then plant a sweet kiss on the corner of Jared’s mouth. “Not going anywhere this time.”Those are the words Jared wants, the reassurance he’s looking for that he isn’t about to get his heart broken again. “Again.”Jensen smiles. “I want you. Only you.”Jared thrusts a little, sucks at his fingers until they are wet enough to reach down and wrap around both of them, squeezing hard. Jensen gasps, makes the perfect little whimpering noise and wraps his hands around Jared’s, their fingers naturally entwining. “Again.” He needs to hear it, needs the words to be said enough times that they erase the last few months.“Only you, Jay. It’s only ever been you.”Jared closes his eyes, braces himself, and thrusts harder, their hands moving in the same rhythm and dragging the sensations out longer. “Again.”“Shouldn’t have let you go the first time,” Jensen says, words coming faster, like they’re rolling downhill and gathering speed. “Shouldn’t have left. I need you.”Jared groans and moves even faster, letting the pressure build inside of him as his balls draw up tight. The weight of Jensen’s legs around him, the sound of his voice, the curves and lines of him as he wraps himself around Jared’s body...it’s too much, and Jared gets lost in it. He’s coming before he means to, shouting Jensen’s name as he spills over their fingers. The movements are so wet then, slick sounds filling the air until Jensen’s coming too, just as loud and hard as Jared. They kiss their way through the tremors, not wanting to stop touching each other, not wanting to pull apart just yet. Jared’s hand finds Jensen’s again, and their fingers lace together once more, not caring about the mess they’re making. “We should clean up,” Jensen eventually says. “Mmmm,” Jared hums, much more interested in sucking at Jensen’s earlobe. “If we clean up,” Jensen bribes, “we can get under the covers and go to sleep.”Jared still isn’t sure he wants to move yet, but he likes the idea of snuggling under the covers, so he lets Jensen lead him to the bathroom. They clean up quickly, silently, and are back in bed in record time, the lights off, blankets pulled up around them, legs and arms tangled.Jared snuggles his face right into Jensen’s neck where he can breathe the scent of his skin, where he can pout his lips and touch Jensen’s pulse. He’s almost asleep when Jensen speaks. “You awake?”“Mmmm” Jared answers sleepily.“I just. I fuckin’ hated watching you with Sandy. This whole time, I was climbing the walls.”“Hmmm.” The noise is basically an agreement, and Jared hopes it’s enough, because he doesn’t want to think or talk anymore tonight. He just wants to lie here in Jensen’s warmth and go to sleep.“Don’t date anyone but me from now on, okay?”Jared opens his eyes then, laughing a little as he lifts his head enough to talk. “You don’t have to worry. Know why?”“Why?”Jared pushes his head forward and talks right against Jensen’s mouth so that he can feel the words instead of just hearing them. “Because I’m in love with you, too.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jared wakes up curled under a wonderfully heavy blanket, in a bed a little more comfortable than his own, tucked right up against Jensen’s neck where he fell asleep.It’s not the first time. They’ve slept in the same bed countless times, cuddled countless more times than that, and there is nothing unfamiliar about this morning. But everything is different.Because they’re in love. They’ve been in love for a long time, Jared knows. But they’ve never said it, never made it official.It feels like they are really a “we” for the first time. No going back now.Before Jared can open his eyes and really wake up, Jensen moves. Jared hears his deep sigh, then falls away a little when Jensen untangles their arms so he can stretch. “Five more minutes,” Jared groans, snuggling deeper into the bed. “Work will wait.”Jensen leans down to kiss his lips, then trace his tongue over Jared’s jaw. “Oh, fuck it. Let’s stay in bed longer than five minutes.”The alarm hasn’t gone off yet, and they still have plenty of time, but they both go along with the ‘work be damned’ charade. They need some time to bask in each other.Jared grins. “I’m a bad influence on you.”Jensen slides lower, sucking at Jared’s collar bone. “Yep. You complaining?”“Not even a little.”Jensen is at Jared’s nipples then, tweaking them once before leaning down to suck and bite until Jared’s back is a tense, curved arch. He doesn’t stay there long, just until Jared lets out his first moan, and then he’s sucking his way down Jared’s stomach. Jared grunts, then smiles when Jensen sucks a particularly hard spot just above his belly button. “You trying to leave a mark?”Jensen shrugs. “You don’t have any shirtless scenes coming up.” He leans down and sucks at the exact same spot again, harder still, giving Jared goosebumps. The playfulness turns a little hotter, a little more possessive, as Jensen leans up to inspect his work, then sucks one more time. Jared’s certain he’ll have a hell of a hickey on his stomach, a perfect image of where Jensen put his lips and his tongue. “Can I give you one?” he asks. Jensen sits back and grins. “Go for it.”God, he’s gorgeous. There’s only a tiny bit of sunlight peeking through the hotel curtains, just enough for them to see each other, and it makes Jensen look sweet and soft and warm, like they’re in some dream world with each other. Jared sits up too, takes his time letting his eyes wander from Jensen’s face down to his bare chest, then back up. He drinks it in, the broad shoulders, the stocky, thick muscles, how his face is such a delicate contrast to all that solid strength. And while his face is delicate, pretty even, it’s not less masculine for it, still gives Jared a burning feeling in his gut that no woman’s face ever has, no matter how beautiful she was. “I thought you were going to give me a hickey?” Jensen prompts, one eyebrow raised at all of Jared’s staring. “Sorry,” he grins. “Got distracted.”“Yeah. I do that too, sometimes.”Jared can feel his cheeks heat up with his blush. He’ll never get used to this. Eagerly, he reaches forward, runs his hands all over the chest he was just memorizing with his eyes. Jensen’s lips part, but he doesn’t make a sound as Jared maps out every line, traces every single muscle. Jared follows his hands with his tongue, tasting his skin, still a little salty from the night before, when they were a tangled, sweaty mess. He chooses the spot right under Jensen’s left nipple, draws a circle with his tongue, then seals his lips and sucks. He sucks hard, groaning a little when Jensen reacts, hand flying to the back of Jared’s head and holding him there. He keeps going, making sure he leaves a bruise, then pulls away to see it.He hadn’t expected it to look so...hot. It’s just a bruise. And yeah, it feels good to get one, which is why he did it. He wants to make Jensen feel good. But now he can see himself on Jensen’s skin. Literally. It’s pretty fucking hot. Jensen pulls his face up then so their lips can meet, morning breath ignored in favor of kissing the life out of each other. They groan and sigh and grab at each other, fully awake and fully hard now. Jensen pushes at Jared until he falls into the bed, flat on his back again, and Jared barely has time to get comfortable before Jensen is nudging his legs apart and dipping his head between them, licking a long line up Jared’s cock.“God, yes,” Jared hisses. Jensen’s lips feel like silk, but they’re firm and sure as they kiss the length of him, as they work their way over Jared’s dick like they want to get to know every single bit of him. Jensen doesn’t dive right in, doesn’t tease like a porn star. He moves like he enjoys this as much as Jared does, like he’s getting something out of this, too. Jared lifts his head enough to watch, and the way Jensen blinks up at him, the shape of his mouth as he slides it over the head of Jared’s cock...it’s almost as good as the spark of pleasure shooting up his spine. Their eyes stay on each other for a moment as Jensen starts to sink down, but Jared has to squeeze his shut then, has to focus and gather his composure before he comes all over both of them and ends this too soon. Holy shit, Jared has missed this, too. He’s missed the way Jensen’s hands grip his thighs and his hips. He’s missed the little groans that he can feel vibrating through him more than he can hear them. He’s missed the warm, wet pressure of Jensen’s mouth as he sucks, as he takes Jared in until he’s almost down his throat. Jared lets himself enjoy it for a few moments, lets himself thrust a couple of times just to feel the friction of Jensen’s tongue, but then he gets impatient. Jensen isn’t the only one who enjoys giving a blow job as well as getting one. “Come here,” Jared whines. “I want you, too.”Jensen pulls away just long enough to twist his body and swing a leg over Jared so that he’s straddling his face. Jared doesn’t think twice about running his hands up the backs of Jensen’s thighs to his ass, smacking his hands down and digging into the muscle there. And then he’s leaning up, letting the head of Jensen’s cock rub over his lips a couple times before opening his mouth and tasting him. Their movements start to mirror each other, kissing and sucking, bobbing their heads and pushing each other closer and closer to the edge. Jared can feel Jensen’s tension, how his muscles get taut with each pull of his mouth. With that, Jared makes himself slow down, forces himself to drag this out. For both of them. They sink into a slower, more shallow rhythm, dancing around each other the way they always do, knowing exactly what the other wants. “Fuck,” Jensen breathes, pressing his face into Jared’s thigh. “I know,” Jared answers, gasping as he lets his head fall back to the pillow, away from Jensen.Jensen flops to his back, then wriggles around until he’s on his side next to Jared. Jared leans in when Jensen runs a hand down his face, then back into his hair, stroking gently. “Let’s stay right here all day,” Jared suggests. Jensen sighs like he’s truly considering it, but ultimately shakes his head. “Nah, we have to go to work. But not quite yet.”He reaches for his nightstand and digs out a condom and a small bottle of lube. Jared frowns. “You’re prepared.” They haven’t slept together in months, and he doesn’t really want to know why the condoms and lube are so readily available, but the words are already out of his mouth. Jensen smiles a little sadly. “Wishful thinking. I kept them there just in case you...in case we…but I didn’t think...”Jared’s heart beats a little faster, aches with love for this man that has finally come back to him. “I’m right here,” he whispers, leaning forward to catch Jensen’s mouth on his own. Jensen rolls to hover over Jared. Jared’s legs just fall open for him, creating space so that Jensen’s body can get where it belongs, slotted right up against Jared until not even air could get between them. But Jensen doesn’t stay there for long. “Roll over,” he whispers. Jared doesn’t hesitate. Not if it means Jensen’s gonna move things along, because now that the condom is lying there, Jared doesn’t have the patience to drag things out anymore. He rolls to his stomach, tossing the pillow out of the way and reaching out to curl his fingers around the bars of the headboard. “Have I ever told you how perfect you are?” Jensen sighs.Jared doesn’t answer, just lets out a rush of breath as he squirms, waiting for Jensen to touch him. “Every bit of you,” he continues, leaning down to kiss the back of Jared’s neck. “This part is perfect.” Jared shivers.Jensen bites into his shoulder blade, making Jared groan into the mattress. “And this part.”The bars bite into Jared’s hands as he grips it tighter, holding on as Jensen slides his tongue over each and every notch of Jared’s spine, not stopping until he’s in the small of Jared’s back, just above the curve of his ass. “And especially this part.” Jensen finally gets his hands where Jared wants them, pulling his ass cheeks apart, squeezing a little harder than is necessary. His tongue is just like Jared remembers, rough and warm and scarily accurate as it thrusts right against Jared’s hole, no warning or lead up. “Fuck,” Jared gasps, whole body jerking with the sensation of it. Jensen moves with him, keeping his mouth right there, opening Jared up on his tongue. He licks and thrusts and sucks, sliding into Jared deeper than should be possible, making Jared shake and sweat. Without realizing it, Jared’s humping the bed, seeking any friction he can get on his throbbing cock, letting Jensen’s soft sheets rub against him. He spreads his legs even further, toes curling and pushing up a little to get closer to Jensen’s face, then back down to push against the bed, low and greedy noises rumbling out of him. “Please, Jen…” he begs hoarsely. “Please stop teasing...just...come on.”He hears the click of the bottle as Jensen pours the lube, and then his fingers replace his tongue, pressing in and going so much deeper. He curls them up into Jared’s prostate almost instantly, gently rubbing until Jared’s ready to explode. It takes all the patience Jared has to lie there and enjoy it, because he doesn’t care if he’s open enough, doesn’t care about getting ready, he just needs Jensen inside him now. Jensen refuses to hurry though, and makes sure that Jared is stretched open, slicked up, totally ready before he finally pulls his hand away. Jared feels light kisses on his back, peppering his skin with their barely there touch. Jensen takes a second to roll on the condom and slick himself up, wipe his hands on the sheets, and then those hands are sliding up Jared’s arms, wrapping around Jared’s where they are still clinging to the headboard. Every inch of their bodies are pressed together, all Jensen’s weight practically crushing Jared beneath him, and it’s the best thing Jared’s ever felt. Their fingers lace together, fall from the bars down to the bed on either side of Jared’s face as Jensen rocks his hips.Finally, he gets himself in the right position and pushes in, one hard thrust that fills Jared up so quickly that he can’t breathe for a moment, just opens his mouth in a silent cry. “Oh my God,” Jensen groans, his head dropping to rest between Jared’s shoulder blades, hot breath coming in fast bursts against Jared’s skin. “Fuck, Jay. Forgot how good you feel. So fucking good.”Jared finally catches his breath. “Move.” It’s all he can get out, but all of the need and desperation he’s feeling are there in his tone, and Jensen smiles a little against his skin. When he moves, he doesn’t hold back, pulling all the way out and slamming back in, both of them shouting at the feel of it, fingers clinging to each other so tight they’re probably cutting off circulation. They keep that same deep rhythm, those same smacking thrusts that force Jared up the bed until he finally digs his knees in to brace himself. He starts pushing back, angling Jensen into his prostate with every fucking push.And he’s never heard Jensen this loud. Maybe it’s how hard they’re fucking right now. Maybe it’s that it’s been so long since they’ve done this. Maybe it’s the relief of knowing it’s not the last time they’ll get to. But whatever the reason, Jensen is shouting, grunting and growling every time he buries himself in Jared’s ass, alternating wordless cries with dirty words that make Jared’s blood pulse even hotter through his veins. Jared’s not much better, muffled screams into the mattress, letting himself react however he wants to the feel of Jensen inside him. It’s all they can do to hold on for just a couple of minutes, and then Jensen’s hands move to Jared hips, dig in as his whole body tightens up. Jared shifts his hips, lets himself go as he slides his cock against the bed one more time. They come together, Jared untouched, Jensen thrusting into Jared’s prostate one last time. They violently shake through it, groaning loudly, bodies going rigid as they pulse together, ride out the tremors with their bodies connected. It takes longer than usual for them to come down, for Jensen to gently pull out and flop down next to Jared on the bed, for their bodies to slowly relax. The endorphins take over and Jared grins, feeling totally satisfied and a little high on Jensen. “Yeah,” Jared sighs, as if they’d been having a conversation. “They can film without us today.”Jensen huffs a laugh. “I don’t think that’s how this show works. We should-”The alarm they set the night before goes off, and they both roll their eyes. Jensen flings out an arm, smacks at it a couple of times until it stops screaming at them, then rolls over half on top of Jared. “We should get up. I need to throw this condom away,” he murmurs, planting a loud kiss behind Jared’s ear. “Nope. Toss it in the floor or something.”Jensen chuckles and moves, but Jared throws out an arm to pull him back down. “No,” he insists. “Let’s just stay right here.”Jensen leans over and whispers in Jared’s ear. “If you get up right now, we have time to shower together.”Jared considers that for a moment, then reluctantly pushes himself up. Slowly, he gets out of bed, stretches himself, wincing a little at sore muscles and the mess he’s made on his own stomach. “I hate you.”Jensen grins. “That’s not what you said last night.”Jared returns the smile, feeling a little shy now. “No. It’s not.”They kiss slowly, standing there naked and messy, all sex hair and sweat. Finally, Jensen pulls away, grabs Jared’s hand and leads him toward the bathroom. Jared can’t remember being happier than he is right now. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jared thought it would be a funny joke. He really expected Jensen to laugh or roll his eyes, then do the take again. But now Jared’s lying on the bed, waiting for a call to cut, which should have happened long before now. Things have just been really intense on set. They filmed Croatoan, then Hunted, and the two of them spent a lot of time crying at or near each other, delving into what it would feel like to be with the other one as they died. Their co-stars are wonderful, the crew is the absolute best, and there’s nothing else Jared would rather be doing. But it’s taken its toll on both of them. He and Jensen spend most of their free time together, but it’s quiet and solemn. They should be having fun, enjoying themselves now that they are in a good place, one that seems like it’s going to last a while. But work gets to them, puts a bit of a cloud over all of it. Which is why Jared thought they needed a good laugh, something to break the intensity. Playthings is just as hard for him as the last two episodes were, and his heart breaks for Sam a little more with every take. As an actor, it’s gold. Exactly the kind of depth you hope to have written for your character, exactly the kind of challenge you want to give yourself in front of the cameras. And he doesn’t mind how raw and vulnerable it is, because he’s got Jensen right in front of him. Jensen, who he trusts more than anything and anyone in the world.Still, he couldn’t help but reach up and grab Jensen’s face during the take, his pleas a little too exaggerated and melodramatic, leaning forward a little like Sam was going to lay a big, wet kiss on Dean. But no one laughs. Jensen, always the professional, stays in character and pushes him away, and Jared has no choice but to do the same and stay with it, to fall on the bed and wait for them to get Jensen’s reaction shot. “Cut!” Finally.“That’s the one,” Charles nods. “Perfect.”Seriously?Jared looks over at Jensen, who smirks just a little as he shrugs his shoulders.He gets it. He knows what Jared was trying to do. And that’s enough for Jared to feel like he’s done his job. He isn’t too sure how that scene is going to turn out in the end, but if he made Jensen grin, it doesn’t really matter. “You wrapped after this?” Jensen asks.“Yep.”Jensen glances around cautiously, then leans in. “Can I come over tonight?”Jared nods. “Of course.”“I think we deserve a night of fun.” When someone starts talking at them, he winks, leaving Jared to wonder exactly what he means by that.Luckily, he only has to wait a couple of hours. Their drivers take them to their separate homes in separate cars like always, because they aren’t taking any chances of rumors. Not this time around. But Jared knows that Jensen will call a cab, and they will spend the rest of the night together doing whatever it is that Jensen wants to do. He’s expecting dinner of some kind, maybe a movie, definitely sex. He isn’t expecting Jensen to be carrying his guitar when he lets himself in. Jared grins at Jensen’s keys when he tosses them on the coffee table. The spare key to his apartment is there, nestled between the few others keys, gleaming up at him happily like it’s glad to be back where it belongs. “Guitar?” Jared asks, not bothering to get up off the couch. He’s already changed into shorts and a t-shirt, settled into the cushions to wind down, and he’s not ready to move yet. Jensen only nods, sets his instrument down, and disappears into the bedroom. He’s carrying Jared’s guitar when he returns. “I thought we could play a little,” he grins.Jared takes the guitar, but he isn’t sure how he feels about this. “Like I told you before, I’m not very good.”Jensen shrugs. “That’s the point. I’ll teach you.”The weird feeling in Jared’s stomach tightens a little. “It’s just that. I, uh.” He clears his throat. “I started playing guitar because it was a way for me to be close to you,” he says quietly. “And now that I have you back, it just reminds me of all that shit, you know?”“Well, that’s a shame,” Jensen says, apparently unconcerned with Jared’s hesitation. “Because music is good for the soul.”Jared stays still as Jensen pulls his guitar out of the case and tunes it a little. “Oh, come on,” he finally says, leaning in, smiling his most devastating smile. “Let me replace those memories with these.”And when he puts it that way, Jared’s on board. “Alright,” he sighs. “But I’m warning you, all I know is Smoke on the Water.”Jensen laughs, the sound as musical as the guitar when he starts strumming. Jared immediately recognizes the song, smiles as the chords of Free Falling fill the room. Jensen plays for a minute, face concentrating as he judges the sound, stops to tune his guitar a little more, works out finger patterns to make the chords sound a little more complicated. Jared watches, stares at his fingers as they move so gracefully over the strings, and his eyes as the drift shut every now and then. If Jared was any more in love, his heart would explode from it. They haven’t said the words again since that first time, that moment that Jared relives all the time because it was just too perfect. But it’s there now, all the time, pouring out of him any time they are near each other, and he can’t stop it. And why should he? He stares when Jensen starts to sing along, softly, voice deep and warm, and knows that no one else will ever own him the way Jensen does. No one else will ever be that goddamn gorgeous, right down to his soul, and Jared wants to bask in that as often as possible. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” Jensen finally huffs, but his eyes are sparkling. “Nope,” Jared replies simply. Jensen rolls his eyes. “Okay, rockstar. It’s your turn.”Jared manages to pull his eyes away from Jensen and focus on his guitar. The song sounds simple enough, so he’s willing to give it a try. “What are the chords?”“D,G,G,D,A,” Jensen tells him, and holds his guitar ready to chime in.Jared carefully strums each chord a couple times to get the feel of it, and to stretch his fingers a little, then adjusts his whole body. “If you laugh at me, I swear to God I’ll never suck your dick again.”Jensen’s burst of laughter almost knocks him over. “One, I’m definitely gonna laugh at you. Two, yes, you will.”Jared can’t argue with either of those statements, so he just grins and starts to play. It’s a little clunky, but after the first verse, it starts to sound like it should. And Jensen doesn’t laugh. “Here,” he interrupts. “Watch how I hold my wrist. It makes the transitions easier.”Jared watches as Jensen plays a little, then adjusts his own hand. “Like this?”“Not quite.”Jensen gets up and pushes his guitar to the side, walks around the coffee table and settles in on the couch right behind Jared, pressed up against his back. He leans his head down so that his chin is on Jared’s shoulder and he can peer down at the guitar. When he starts to put his arms around Jared, Jared snorts a laugh. “You really think you’re gonna teach me anything this way? All I wanna do is drop the guitar and kiss you.”“Control yourself, Romeo,” Jensen smiles. “You’re gonna learn to play this song.”Jared tries to concentrate and Jensen’s hands slide over his, as their fingers lace together for just a second before Jensen starts adjusting the curve of his wrist and how he holds his fingers. “There,” he says, lips right against Jared’s ear. “Hold your hand like that, and the progression will be easier.” He smacks a kiss on Jared’s neck, making him shiver, then pulls away and settles back to his original spot on the couch. Jared shrugs, then plays the chords again. This time, it is easier, and the song sounds much smoother. He gets in the rhythm, then looks up proudly to find Jensen grinning at him. “I did it!” he cheerfully announces. “I feel like I should give you a treat or something.”Jared raises an eyebrow. “What kind of treat?” “Not that kind. Not this early in the evening, anyway. Play it again?”Jared sighs, so put upon, and starts to play again. This time, Jensen sings along. Really sings. He doesn’t just hum or form the words under his breath. He isn’t throwing away the sounds like he’s just goofing around. Jared almost forgets what he’s doing as that sound fills his ears, washing over him like whiskey or honey, thick and rich and absolutely intoxicating. The song doesn’t have any particular meaning for the two of them, bears no resemblance to their relationship, but it feels like theirs as Jensen sings it, as he watches Jared’s hands, as they catch each other’s eyes and share a shy smile. Somehow, it feels like one of the most intimate things they’ve done. The song ends, the notes kind of hanging in the air between them, and they don’t speak. Eventually, Jared puts his guitar down and reaches for Jensen, who lets him pull him close for a slow kiss, all soft movements and sweet sighs, foreheads resting together and noses rubbing. But Jensen stops him when he tries to lie down on the couch. “Let’s just hang out for now,” he suggests. “Eat dinner. Talk. We’ve got all night, right?”They do. So Jared kisses him one more time, then heads to the kitchen to pull out the take-out menus.********Jared shifts on the kitchen stool and picks at his plate. “Are you heading back to Texas for Christmas? It’s coming up fast.”Jensen nods. “Yep. Going to my parents’ place in Dallas. Are you?”“Yeah.” Jared’s heart beats faster as he just blurts out the next thought in his head. “You want to come hang with us for a few days? Meet my family?”Jensen visibly tenses, puts the fork full of food back down on his plate. “Meet your family?” There’s no tone for Jared to pick up on, just Jensen’s perfectly smooth delivery that hides fucking everything. Jared backtracks. “Not like meet my family. Just. You and I have worked together for almost two years now and they don’t know you. I just thought it could be fun to hang out a little. Wasn’t planning on introducing you as my boyfriend or anything.” He smiles, keeps his tone purposely light.Jensen relaxes. “Sure, we could do that. I’d like to see you over the holiday.”“Me too.” They go back to eating, comfortable silence falling over them for a few minutes, and Jared lets his inner self celebrate that Jensen doesn’t seem to be freaking out his time. He trusts that Jared is okay with keeping this secret. And now, he honestly is. The reasons are valid, and there’s a lot to be said for the two of them having their privacy. “You think we’re gonna get a break soon?” Jensen asks.“A break?”“From all that intense shit they’ve been throwing at us. Those episodes were rough, man. It’s about time for a fucking filler episode or something.”Jared laughs. “I doubt we’ll get it. But maybe they’ll lay off the heavy scenes specifically between us.”“Well,” Jensen sighs, pushing his mostly empty plate away, “if I have to do them with someone, I’m glad it’s you. Not sure I could go there with anyone else.”Jared grins. “Maybe that’s just because you’re a bad actor.”Jensen’s mouth drops open in shock, then hardens into a flat line. “You are so gonna pay for that.”“Promise?”The tension tightens and builds, presses in on them as they watch each other, waiting. And they are both running, racing each other to the bedroom. Jared wins, but Jensen’s on his heels, grabbing his hips and all but tossing him on the bed, covering Jared’s body with his own. Jared laughs and squirms around to get on his back, so their chests are pressed together and he can look Jensen in the eye. The laughing stops then, as Jensen runs a hand through Jared’s hair, pushing it out of his face, smiling a little as he bends down to kiss him. They take their time with each other. For a long while, it’s enough just to kiss, to run their hands over arms and waists, to cling and pull while their tongues dance with each other. When they finally feel the need to go farther, they undress each other as slowly as they kiss, taking the time to fully appreciate every patch of skin that’s revealed, to touch and suck and bite at each other with no other agenda in mind. Jared relaxes into the bed and closes his eyes when Jensen gets the lube and works him open, digs his fingers into the sheets and lets the sensation riot up his spine. Fuck, Jensen is so warm, warm fingers, warm breath, warm skin and muscles against Jared’s, and he wants to lie there in it forever. And when Jensen finally rolls on a condom and slides into him, they kiss their way through that, too, needing every inch of their bodies touching tonight. It’s more playful than it is intense, Jensen rocking his hips teasingly, Jared tugging at Jensen’s hair and grinning into his mouth when that makes him moan a little. It feels like a break from all the emotional baggage they’ve been carrying around from work, like a mini-vacation just for the two of them. They don’t talk as Jensen thrusts. They just let it build and build until it crests, until Jensen’s coming, reaching down and stroking Jared’s cock a couple of times until he’s coming, too.It’s every bit as perfect as every other time they’ve done this. Afterward, they head to the bathroom, and Jared smiles to himself when he realizes they have a routine. They clean up, then brush their teeth together, knowing without speaking who spits when. And then they fall into bed, naked and happy. “Thanks for tonight,” Jared says, rolling them over so that he’s the big spoon tonight.Jensen grabs his hand, laces their fingers together over his stomach. “We deserved it.”“We did,” Jared grins. A few minutes of silence pass.“Jay, are you even tired? It’s still early.”Jared laughs. “Not really. Just felt like we should sleep.”“Come on. I’ll teach you some more songs.”Jared groans good-naturedly and follows Jensen out of bed. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jensen looks nervous when Jared opens the door. He’s got his hands shoved in his jeans pockets and he’s looking down at the porch, looking almost small. It’s adorable.Jared resists the urge to reach out and hug him, kiss those frowning lips into a smile, and just grins instead. “Hey.”“Hey.”Jensen walks in when Jared pushes the door open wider, shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on the hook on the wall. “I’m glad you came,” Jared tells him, and Jensen seems to thaw a little at how relaxed he is.“Me too.” He glances around the entryway. “Nice place.”Jared rolls his eyes. His parents’ house is small and normal, family pictures on the wall, a layer of dust covering everything in the formal front room they never use. “You don’t have to say that.”Jensen undoubtedly grew up in a place much nicer than this, and though Jared isn’t at all embarrassed or ashamed, he doesn’t want to make a big deal of it. “I mean it,” Jensen insists. “Our house was nice, but it was always...kind of cold. Impersonal. This feels like a home.”Jared grins, because it’s the absolute truth. As much as he loves his life, it’s always nice to come home. A voice calls from deeper inside the house. “Jared? Is that Jensen? Don’t just hang out in the doorway now.”“That would be my mother,” Jared laughs. “Come on.”He leads Jensen to the kitchen.“Well, hello there!” Sherri is standing in the kitchen, flour on her arms and some kind of dough in front of her on the counter. “It’s about time we got to meet you for more than just a few minutes.”“Hi, Mrs. Padalecki.” Jensen puts on that charming grin that’s so fucking irresistible Jared has to actively control his facial expression before he gives himself away. “Thanks for inviting me over today.”“It’s Sherri, honey. And we’re glad to have you. Hope you like pie?”The corners of her eyes crinkle as she waits for Jensen to get the joke.“Oh my God, Mom,” Jared laughs. “I thought we said no Dean jokes?”Jensen cracks up then, fully relaxing as he leans his elbows on the counter and hangs his head for a second to really laugh. “I do like pie,” he tells her. “Good. And now that we’ve said hello, get out of my kitchen.” she winks. “We’ll talk at dinner.”“Yes ma’am,” Jensen nods.Jared wants more than anything to blurt it out. Tell his mother how in love he is. He wants to wrap his arms around Jensen and all of his sweet charm right there in front of his family and be honest. But keeping it a secret is actually kind of...hot. Every time they look at each other, there’s this tension, these secret signals they’ve mastered. Even in a room with Jared’s mom, or on set in front of all the crew, or on a press line with cameras flashing, the two of them are in their own little bubble as long as they have this secret between them. “Come on,” Jared heads for the hallway. He knows exactly what he wants to do.Jensen follows him up the stairs and down a hallway to a small bedroom. He glances around at the movie posters and the game system hooked up to a tiny television set. “This is your room,” he smiles.“Yep.” Jared shuts the door and clicks the lock shut.Jensen’s mouth falls open in surprise. “We are in your parents’ house,” he hisses. “We can’t.”“Mom’s the only one who’s home right now, and trust me, she’s not leaving the kitchen until that pie is done.” He steps forward until the toes of their shoes are almost touching. “Besides, I don’t want to have sex or anything. I just want to make out.”“Make out?” He sounds skeptical.“Oh, come on. I’m in my childhood bedroom with a celebrity who happens to be really hot. Let me have this fantasy.”That earns Jared a laugh from Jensen, and though Jared makes Jensen laugh all the time, it always feels like he’s just won some sort of prize. “Fine,” Jensen says, and makes a show out of kicking off his shoes and stretching out on the bed. “Have your way with me.”Jared takes off his own shoes, stares at Jensen for a minute before lowering himself over him, nuzzling against Jensen’s neck. “I missed you.”“It’s only been a few days.”“Still missed you,” Jared says, leaning up to grin down at him.“I missed you, too.” Jensen’s hands slide up Jared’s sides, over his chest up to his face, then pull him down into a kiss.It’s every bit as good as when Jared brought a hot girl up here in high school. Better. It’s just as fun, just as illicit, just as silly. There’s still that feeling of “what if Mom finds out”, still that sense of gentle, sweet innocence. But it’s more. It’s Jensen, so regardless of how playful it is, there’s something overwhelming about it, something Jared gets lost in. Before he knows what’s happening, his entire body is relaxed down into Jensen’s, his hands are clawing at the buttons on Jensen’s shirt, his tongue is sliding between those full lips and into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen rocks up into him, settling his hands in the small of Jared’s back and drawing up his knees around Jared’s hips. Jared starts contemplating how fast and quiet they could be if they did have sex.“Jared? You up here?”The voice interrupts them, and Jared pulls away, drops his forehead to Jensen’s shoulder. “That would be Megan. My sister.”Jensen sighs and plants a kiss to the side of Jared’s head. “Then I guess we have to go.”********Dinner comes and goes quickly. They all love Jensen. And of course they do. Who wouldn’t? But even so, it gives Jared a sweet satisfaction in his gut to watch his parents laugh and talk easily, to watch Megan’s eyes widen dreamily as she talks to him. They tell stories about the set and filming, but Jensen shows just as much interest in them, asking questions and then actually listening to the answers. He fits. Jared has that thought as they are finishing the pie his mom insists they both eat two slices of. Jensen fits here. With his family.With him.“Well,” Jensen finally says. “I better be going.”“You aren’t driving back to Dallas tonight? It’s way too far.” Sherri picks up his plate and hands it to Jared with her own. “Take those to the sink.” When she turns back to Jensen, she has the most stern mom face Jared’s ever seen, and he stifles a laugh.“No, ma’am,” Jensen smiles. “My aunt lives in Austin. She’s expecting me.”“Good. You’ll let Jared know when you get there safe?”“Of course.”She leans down and kisses him on the cheek, and Jared watches the blush cross his cheeks. “Come around more often, okay? It was nice having you here.”They make it to the door after another ten minutes of small talk and goodbyes, Megan following on their heels. As soon as they are out of earshot of their parents, she rounds on them, blocking the hallway and staring at Jensen.“Are you in love with my brother?”Jensen looks at Jared, who is certain his jaw has hit the floor. He just glares at his sister. “Megan, for fuck’s sake, what are you-”“With the way you two stare at each other? It’s a valid question.” There’s no anger in her voice. Just curiosity. “So. Are you?”Jensen stammers a little, and Jared is too caught off guard to help him. “Well, I...uh...we don’t...um…”“That’s what I thought,” she nods. And then she pushes up on her toes and kisses the corner of Jensen’s mouth, grinning when she pulls away. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Mom and Dad.”Jared watches her bound up the stairs, then tries to do damage control. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”“It’s okay,” Jensen says. He seems surprisingly calm, and actually manages a small grin. “She’s nice.”Jared rolls his eyes. “If you say so.” There’s a huge rush of relief inside of him when he realizes Jensen’s actually okay and not totally freaking out about all of this. “Do you have to go back to Austin tonight?”“Why?”“Well, if you could just wait a couple of hours until everyone goes to bed, I could come meet you somewhere.”Jensen nods. “Name the place.”******** “You know, when you said we could go somewhere, I envisioned someplace with heat.” Jensen zips up his jacket and follows Jared out onto the dock of the lake. “Oh, shut up. We spend most of our time in fucking Canada. This isn’t cold.” He shines the flashlight in front of them, but it isn’t really necessary. The moon is almost full and bright enough to easily see by. They get to the boat and Jensen smiles at it. It’s tiny, barely big enough for two people, just meant to get around this small lake so a person can fish. “Wanna float a little?”“Whose boat is this?”“Friend of my parent’s. They live about a mile up the road. They’ll never know.”Jensen climbs in, and Jared follows, leaning out to untie the rope holding it to the dock. One big push with his arms is all it takes to get them moving, though there are oars if he wants them. After a few seconds of trying to get comfortable, they find themselves lying on their backs, feet propped up on opposite ends, heads resting together in the center of the boat. “There are a million stars here. I miss it,” Jensen murmurs.“Me too.”Jensen is right. The sky is clear, and even with the brightness of the moon, they are far enough out in the country to see thousands of stars dancing across the sky. It feels like they have an audience, a gorgeous one that actually approves of them. Even so, Jared likes the constellations of Jensen’s freckles better. “This summer, we will make good on that promise to hang out on the water.”Jared nods. “Fuck, yeah, we will,” he whispers. Neither of them mention the lost opportunity of last summer, and Jared’s happy to find that the pain of it doesn’t stab like it used to. Now it’s just a dull ache that goes away as soon as Jensen squirms a little, his head knocking into Jared’s. Jared turns and pushes his lips out, captures Jensen’s in a strange, upside down kiss. It’s more just resting their lips together than kissing, unable to really find a rhythm in this position, but it’s still nice. Comforting. “I guess we’ll find out when we get back if there’s a season three,” Jared sighs eventually, breaking their silence. Jensen shrugs. “There will be.”“I know,” Jared agrees. “It’ will just be nice to get the official word.”“What if we don’t?”Jared turns his head and rubs his nose against Jensen’s. “Then we run away together. Find some tropical island to retire on.”“Sounds good to me. Grow old on the beach, beer in hand, watching you swim naked on our private beach…”Jared hums a low note of satisfaction. “Let’s do that even if we get picked up for another season. Who needs a television show?”Jensen chuckles a little. The night goes still around them, too cold for the sounds of insects, no breeze to rustle the bare branches of the trees. It’s just the two of them, huddled in their jackets, cramped together in a tiny little boat on the water. “Merry Christmas, Jen,” he whispers.“Merry Christmas, Jay.”Back at their cars, they say goodbye. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks,” Jared says sadly.“Hey, it’s not like we won’t talk all the time.”Jared doesn’t mean to act like a teenage girl, but he’s gotten to the point now where any amount of time away from Jensen is too much, makes him feel unsettled and restless. “I know.”“Come here.”Jensen pulls Jared into his arms and hugs him hard, hands eventually sliding down to his ass. “I’ll sure miss the hell out of this, though,” he says, squeezing hard.“The second we get back to Vancouver, you can do whatever you want to it.”“Promise?”Jared nods. “Promise.”Later, when Jared sneaks into the house, Megan is waiting in the living room, reading a book. “Hey. Sorry if I was...too blunt earlier.”Jared shakes his head and walks over to drop a kiss to her forehead. “It’s fine.”“Then, how about I make some coffee and you tell me all about him. He’s really hot,” she giggles.“I’d love that,” he grins. “And yes. He is.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It’s too early, but Jared’s awake anyway. His muscles are stiff in that slept so good and deep there wasn’t a single movement all night way, and he needs to stretch the aches out and move around. So he bends, and curls his body right into Jensen’s. He doesn’t move or say anything, not really, but Jared knows he’s awake now too, and he feels a little guilty at having cost him the next hour or so of sleep before the alarm goes off. He’ll just have to make it up to him. Without a word, he cuddles up to Jensen’s back, slides his hands over the broad muscles there, walks his fingers down the dip of Jensen’s spine. Jensen sighs a little and squirms, urging him on when his hands reach the dip just above his ass. Jared grins and slides his hands over Jensen’s hips instead, curling his fingers into the bones there. “Mornin’,” he whispers, kissing at Jensen’s neck. “Mmm,” Jensen answers, pushing back against Jared even more. Jared’s cock swells as an answer, but he ignores the ache in favor of wrapping his arm around Jensen and feeling every inch of his chest and stomach as thoroughly as his back. When he gets to the trail of hair below Jensen’s belly button, he can feel the head of his hard cock brushing his knuckles, asking to be touched. He wraps his fingers around it and gently squeezes, strokes one long, slow motion. It’s as lazy as the sun out the window, as the soft light trying to rise through the winter morning. He almost dozes back to sleep with his hand on Jensen, thumb circling over the head, fingertips wandering down to his balls every now and then. Eventually, Jensen groans and turns, rolling to his stomach so that Jared has to let go, but turning his head so they can really kiss, neither of them minding the sleep-sour breath or the sweaty heat from being crowded under heavy blankets all night. Jared keeps his eyes open, looking at how long Jensen’s eyelashes are, at the freckles across his nose. He has to taste him. Really taste him. “Hey, Jen?” He throws a leg over him and wiggles down Jensen’s body until he is covering him, his cock pressed right against the hard muscle of Jensen’s ass. “You know what I wanna do?”“What’s that?” They slide together for a moment, just savoring the feeling of skin on skin, of the way their bodies fit together. Jared leans down and plants a kiss just below Jensen’s ear, then leans up and talks to the back of his head. “I want to eat your ass.”There’s a muffled groan from the pillow where Jensen buries his face, and he nods a little, whole body tensing. Jared grins at the fingers now curled into the sheets, then starts kissing his way down Jensen’s body, not pausing until he’s between Jensen’s legs, kissing at the swell of his ass. Jensen shivers a little at the touch of Jared’s hands on his thighs, goes rigid when Jared slides them up and gently pulls his cheeks apart. But he relaxes the second Jared dips his head, tongue fluttering lightly just over his hole. “Fuuucckkkk,” he grunts out, pulling his head out of the pillow to take a deep, gasping breath. Jared ignores the way that makes his cock jump and throb and focuses on what he really wants- to taste Jensen. To show him how good his can be. He swirls his tongue, edging around the sensitive skin there, tracing circles and patterns over his hole until Jensen is raising his hips a little, pushing back, silently asking for more. When he gets another low and long moan out of Jensen, he flattens his tongue and licks at him, broad strokes that make Jensen spread his legs a little wider and dig his knees into the bed. And finally, Jared points his tongue and starts to work it into Jensen. He sinks into him slowly, listening to each breath, paying attention to every movement, making sure that it’s as good for Jensen as it is for him, because oh God is it good. It’s hot and intense and he’s so fucking close to Jensen right now, literally inside him. It makes his whole body shake.“Roll over,” he manages. “Let me make you come.”Jensen pushes up on his arms, forcing Jared to sit up, but he doesn’t roll over. He gets out of bed instead, and holds out his hand to Jared. “Not yet.”Jared lets Jensen pull him up, foreheads bumping as they wrap their arms around each other. “What do you want?” Jared asks, ready and willing to do just about anything Jensen asks of him.“I wanna fuck you in the shower.”Yeah. Jared can handle that.Later, Jared’s hair is still wet as he fixes coffee in his tiny kitchen, putting exactly the right amount of cream in Jensen’s mug before drinking his own, filled with sugar. Jensen comes in buttoning up the shirt he was wearing yesterday, hiding all that skin and muscle away until the next time they’re alone. “You want breakfast?” Jared asks. “I’ve got some bacon and eggs.”“No,” Jensen says, taking a drink of the coffee. “I should probably get going before your driver gets here.”They never show up or leave work together. Too dangerous. When their cars show up, they will be waiting, alone in their own homes.“You know, maybe we should cut down to one driver. Pick one of us up, then get the other on the way? It makes more sense, and we’d get to hang out a little.”“Maybe,” Jensen shrugs. There’s something a little strange about the way Jensen isn’t sitting down, the way he’s hovering at the counter. “You okay?” Jared asks. “Yeah. I just. I should get home. Don’t wanna be late.”There’s still something off, but when he comes around the counter and kisses Jared goodbye, it’s long and sweet, nothing abnormal about it, so Jared pushes the thought out of his mind.Jared smiles when he pulls away. “Later.”Jensen just grabs his key and heads out the door. ********Jensen’s smothering him on set, and it takes Jared all of five minutes to figure out what’s wrong with him once they're there. It’s hard to hide his own smile as they get ready to film the "big scene:, the part of the finale where Sam dies, spine cut in half, with Dean there holding him. Jensen doesn’t want to do it. He’s quiet and grumpy, putting himself between Jared and anyone else who gets close, even the director and the crew. In fact, he’s downright surly, and the worse it gets, the more Jared wants to laugh and pull him into a big hug. “You don’t have to do that,” he whispers when they get a second to breathe while the cameras get set. “Do what?”“Be all protective of me. You know I’m not Sam, right? None of this is real?”Jensen’s shoulders sag. “Feels real.”“I’m right here. And I’m totally fine.”“I know.” But he doesn’t relax, and Jared decides to just leave him alone and get them both through this the best they can. Jim wanders over and claps them both on the shoulder. “You ready, boys?”“Yep,” Jared nods. “But all I have to do today is fall.”Jim laughs. “Makes up for the fight scene you shot yesterday. Looked pretty brutal.”“Was it?” Jensen asks, sounding worried. Jared can’t very well say no, I would have told you if it was and you would have seen the bruises in front of Jim, so he just shrugs. “Nah. Wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked.”“We should go grab dinner when we’re all done here today. Celebrate the end of the season?”“I’m in,” Jared agrees, “as long as there’s alcohol.”“Of course,” Jim replies with a laugh. “What about you?”Jensen nods. “Sure.” “Good.”Jared and Jim chat a little more while Jensen glares at the floor, silently doing whatever it is he does to prepare himself. And then it’s time. It takes a while to get all the shots the director wants, but it goes smoothly. Jared wants to open his eyes while Jensen is holding him and screaming Sam’s name, wants to see all the emotion in his face. Jensen is so fucking good in scenes like this, can access this whole other part of himself, and Jared loves to watch that. But he manages to stay limp, to let his body thud into Jensen’s, fake blood smearing everywhere. When they call it a wrap, Jensen’s gone almost instantly. He tells Jared he’ll meet them at the restaurant and just disappears. Jared tries not to worry as he heads to his own trailer to shower and change. He just needs his space, just needs time to calm down. And Jared gets it. He knows how emotional those scenes can get, and Sam actually fucking died. They have some harder scenes still left to get through, and if it was the other way around, if he had to hold onto Jensen’s body, if he had to make Sam suffer through Dean’s death, he knows he wouldn’t be handling it any better than Jensen is. He’ll just have to spend the night at Jensen’s and make him feel better.Meanwhile, they have a dinner to go to. “Where’s Jensen?” Jim asks, settling into his chair and opening up the menu.“On his way, I hope. He said he’d meet us here,” Jared tells him, then changes the subject. Jim is as hilarious as ever, and they’re both laughing there asses off over their beers when Jared gets a text message from Jensen. *Meet me in the bathroom.* *What? Why?* *Just do it. Please* Jared finishes his drink in one swallow. “Restroom,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”The restrooms are down a hallway in the back of the restaurant, quiet and secluded. The second Jared touches the handle of the door, it’s being pulled open, and Jensen drags him into the single stall room and locks the door behind him.“What the hell?” Jared asks, completely baffled as to what the fuck is going on.Jensen drops to his knees without a word and starts working Jared’s blue jeans open.“Jensen.” He grabs his hands to stop, to force him to look up. “What are you doing?”Jensen stares, eyes filling with tears that don’t get a chance to fall until he blinks them away. “I just. I need to touch you. Please, you have to let me.” He slides one hand up Jared’s stomach, over his chest until it rests right over his heartbeat. “That scene. And you were just so still…” He shakes his head as if to clear it, curls his fingers into Jared’s shirt. “You have to let me touch you.”Jared’s heart hurts, breaks and shatters at the sight of Jensen like this, desperate and sad and upset. He nods, giving Jensen what he wants. Anything to make him feel better. Jensen’s hands are rough and warm, moving quickly, yanking Jared’s pants and boxers down just enough to get his cock free. Jared’s half-hard already, and Jensen staring at him gets him the rest of the way there. There’s so much longing in Jensen’s face, so much relief when he leans forward and plants a kiss on Jared’s thigh. He’s trembling. “Hey,” Jared says, trying his best to be calm. “I’m right here.”Jensen nods and swallows, then leans forward, presses his whole face into Jared, lips sliding over the head of his cock. He doesn’t move slow, sucking Jared into his mouth with a loud, wet sound. He swallows, sucking harder and swirling his tongue around, pressing it against the sensitive underside. Jared lurches forward, one hand grabbing at Jensen’s hair and the other covering his own mouth to stifle his groan. One more suck of Jensen’s lips and he falls back against the cold bathroom wall. When he opens his eyes, he can see them in the mirror, his own cheeks flushed, upper body fully clothed, lower body hidden by the back of Jensen’s head, bobbing up and down. He feels himself swell even more, feels his balls tighten. “Come on,” Jensen coaxes. “Come for me, Jay. I need it.”That’s all Jared needs to hear, and he’s spilling into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen swallows him down like it’s nectar, like it’s water in the desert, and Jared watches those full lips wring every little bit of pleasure out of him before he closes his eyes and lets out the breath he’s been holding. “Jesus Christ, Jensen.”Jensen stands up, puts Jared clothes back in place for him before he meets his eyes. “Sorry.”“For what?” Jared asks.“For that. That was a little…”“It’s okay.” Jared lifts Jensen’s chin and kisses him. “It’s all okay.”Jensen nods, eyes already a little brighter, shoulders already a little more relaxed. “Okay,” he repeats. “I’ll go out first,” Jared tells him, and kisses him one last time before heading back to the table. All through dinner, Jared thinks about what he wants to say, what he needs to say to reassure Jensen. But the more he thinks about the whole situation, the more worried he gets about how weird the whole thing is, until he’s certain he’s as bad as Jensen was. By the time he’s letting himself into Jensen’s hotel suite, he’s a nervous, jittery mess.“You okay?” Jensen asks immediately, standing up from the couch and muting the television. “You can’t just do that!” Jared blurts out. “Do what?” Jensen frowns, then bows his head. “I told you I was sorry about the bathroom thing. I know that crossed a line, and-”“That’s not what I’m talking about. You can’t just get all emotional like that.”“Wait. What?” Jensen’s expression is legitimately confused. “I can’t...I don’t know how to handle that. I’m the one who gets emotional, I’m the one who has mood swings, and you can’t just get all needy like that without warning me first. It...it makes me feel…”“Makes you feel what?” Jensen asks. “Unsettled, I guess.” He sounds like a baby, but he can’t help it. This whole thing has confused the hell out of me. “Why’d you even get like that? We’ve done hard scenes before, and it was never like that.”Jensen steps forward, gets close. “I don’t know. This time was different. It just scared me.”“Why?”Jensen takes a deep breath and says the next words like they’re an accusation. “It scares me how in love with you I am. It scares me that I couldn’t read that script without almost having a panic attack. It’s all just...a lot.”“Well. It scares me when you get scared.”Jensen snorts a laugh, breaking the tension. “We’re a fuckin’ mess.”“Yep.”“So then, what do we do?”Jared just shrugs his shoulders. “Come on,” Jensen finally says. “I guess we just go to bed.”They tangle themselves up in each other as much as they can in Jensen’s big bed, holding on for dear life. Jared lies awake for a while, thinking about the day they’ve had and what Jensen said. Jared is just as in love with Jensen. Overwhelmingly and consumingly in love. And yeah. That’s pretty scary. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The women conducting the interview are sweet, adorably nervous with their little digital camera and notepads. Jared watches as they fidget, lean a little closer to each other when he and Jensen approach.“Thank you so much for talking to us,” the shortest one says, messy hair curling around her face as she attempts to push it behind her ear. “We are such huge fans!”“No problem…” Jensen grins, prompting her for her name. “Emily. I’m Emily. And this is Kara.”Kara is quieter, blinking shyly through dark eyelashes, her nerves silencing her instead of giving her Emily’s extra energy. “Nice to meet you.” Jensen holds out his hand and they both shake it a little clumsily. Jared grins and gestures behind him at the large building. “They’re already tearing down the set or we’d give you a tour.”“That’s okay,” Emily chirps. “Does that mean that you’re done filming for the season?”“Yep. Heading back home tomorrow, actually.” The four of them walk to a small group of tables sitting in front of a food truck that frequents the set, most of them filled with the crew as they all break for lunch before continuing to break everything down. Jared notices that they’re all watching closely, that everyone gets a little quieter as the women sit down and pull out their list of questions. “So again, thanks for doing this. We’ve been hanging around set for a couple of months now hoping that we could get some time with you for our blog.”Jensen smiles. “Sorry, we don’t always have time to do this kind of stuff while we’re on set. But we checked out your blog.”“It’s really great,” Jared chimes in. And he means it. The blog is a fan site, but it’s really thorough, with message boards for every episode, posts about any and all press, a place where any fan of the show could find just about anything they wanted. “Thanks,” Kara says, speaking for the first time and looking a little relieved that she finally said something. Jared watches her stare at Jensen and tries not to smile. He understands her starstruck feeling. The two women bounce questions back and forth, most of them mundane and typical. Jared gives his normal answers, tries to be a little more enthusiastic and a little more detailed when telling stories he knows they must have heard before. They hang on every word, writing down their own notes despite recording the conversation. About halfway through the interview, the topic changes from the episodes and characters to the technical side. “So, do either of you have plans to become more involved in the production of the show?” Emily asks.“A lot of television actors end up directing on their shows,” Kara adds. “I’d love to do that.” Jensen lights up. Jared doubts that either of them notice a change, because he’s so good at playing the part, but this is the first time in the conversation Jensen’s seemed like he was truly excited, rather than just polite and professional. He talks for a while about the challenge of directing, rambling on about creating something behind the camera as well as in front, and Jared can’t take his eyes off him. Neither can Emily and Kara. “One last topic,” Emily says, and the two women glance at each other nervously, like they are daring the other one to ask the question. “Uh-oh,” Jared teases. “Is it personal?”“Sort of?” Emily sets down her pen. “We were just really curious- and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to- but we were curious if you’d read any of the fan fiction?”Jared laughs. “And here I thought you were going to bring up that time Jensen got arrested for streaking.”Kara’s eyes go wide and Jensen instantly rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Never happened,” he assures her. “But no, I honestly haven’t come across any of it.”“Me neither,” Jared tells them. “Sorry to disappoint you.”“That’s a shame. We were really curious to get your opinion about the Wincest.”“The what?” Jensen’s frowning, never comfortable with anything about the show that he isn’t in control of. “Well, there’s a large group of fans who write about the relationship between Sam and Dean, only they see it as...well, romantic. Like Sam and Dean together.”Jared and Jensen both gape at her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”“No,” Jared tells her as the initial surprise wears off. “It’s fine. Just...why? Why do people write about that?”Kara is the one that speaks this time, and Jared suspects that she is exactly the kind of fan they’re talking about. “Well, because Sam and Dean are just close, you know? And they have all these moments where they look at each other like they’re two seconds away from making out. Plus, don’t you think it would kind of make sense? The two of them, on the road together, only able to depend on each other? I mean, the show itself talks about how codependent they are.”It’s the most she’s spoken since they’ve sat down, and Jared has to stop himself from laughing. “Well, hey. If they see something worth writing about, that’s awesome. But I gotta tell you, it’s not really part of the show. They’re brothers. Nothing else.”Jensen nods, shifting in his seat like he’d like this interview to end. “Got it,” Emily smiles. “Then can I ask the obvious question all of your fans want to know? Are you two single? Dating anyone?”For just one second, Jared’s thrown off guard. He can’t say that he’s taken, but there’s a stabbing feeling in his gut at the thought of lying. “Oh, we’re not gonna answer that,” Jensen says with a wink. “Why destroy our mystery?”“Hey guys?” Jake, one of the set crew who’s been eavesdropping on this interview, interrupts. “They just called for you in Jensen’s trailer. Phone call with the studio or something.”Jared breathes a sigh of relief even as he frowns at Jake, because he knows he’s lying. Jensen’s saying his goodbyes and thank yous to the women, but Jared keeps eye contact with Jake, raising his eyebrows. Jake only winks at him and mouths “You’re welcome.”He knows. Oh, fuck. He knows. Jared glances around, barely able to force a smile for the bloggers as they say goodbye and gather their things. The entire crew is watching them, hovering, and it’s because they know. And they’ve been hovering just in case they needed to be rescued. Not that they need to be rescued. They do press all the time, the majority of it off set where the crew can’t intervene. It’s more a show of support than anything. A show of support. For him and Jensen being together.Jared has to blink away tears all the way to Jensen’s trailer. ******** “I can’t believe they know,” Jensen says. Again. He’s been repeating it like a broken record since Jared told him. Jared pokes at the ground beef in the skillet with a spatula, then reaches for the taco seasoning and dumps it in. They’ve decided to stay in for their last night in Vancouver before hiatus. Jensen is pulling out toppings, piling tomatoes, shredded lettuce, cheese, salsa, and sour cream on Jared’s small kitchen counter while Jared cooks the meat. “The shells need to be heated up too,” he comments. Jensen puts his hands on Jared’s hips as he passes him in the tiny area, plants a kiss on the back of Jared’s neck. “They know.”“Yes,” Jared grins. “So you’ve said. A thousand times.”Jensen bangs around as he opens the shells and spreads them on a cookie sheet, then nudges Jared out of the way to pop them in the oven. “They’ll be warm in just a couple of minutes.”Jared nods.“Do you think everyone knows?”Jared shrugs. “If no one has said anything, does it matter?”“I guess not. Just.”Jared peers at Jensen, trying to figure out if this is just a surprise, or if it actually bothers him. Because Jared can’t go through Jensen freaking out and breaking up with him. Not again.When Jensen looks at him, though, there’s no fear. There’s just...sadness?“What is it?” Jared asks, setting down the spatula and turning so they’re fully facing each other. Jensen licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair, then surprises Jared by stepping forward and pulling him into a hug, their foreheads pressed together. “It’s just that...do you ever wish everyone knew? Do you wish we could talk about it with them? I know we said we’d keep this a secret for a lot of reasons. But do you ever wish we didn’t have to?”“Do you want to tell people?”“No. I don’t think we’re ready for that. Do you?”“Not if you don’t,” Jared replies honestly.“I just. It would be nice to kiss you on the red carpet sometime. Or to tell those girls today that I am definitely not single.”“Yeah,” Jared smiles, running his hands up and down Jensen’s back. Jensen leans in, presses their lips together gently. “I don’t like not being able to reach out and touch you whenever I want. I don’t like not being able to talk about you to my friends. To my family.”Jared tightens his hold. “You can touch me now.”Jensen kisses him again, slower this time, tongue running over Jared’s bottom lip before sliding into his mouth. Jared sighs into it when Jensen’s hands slide down and grab his ass. “Yeah, I can.”Jared turns around in Jensen’s arms, switches the stovetop and the oven off as Jensen slides his hand down Jared’s chest from behind, pushes his way into Jared’s jeans to brush over his cock. The bedroom is only a few steps away, but neither of them make a move toward it. There’s no need, and they are too caught up in each other to really think too much about it. Jared groans and pushes his hips into Jensen’s hand, then clumsily turns back around, needing to get at his mouth again. Jensen kisses him fiercely, possessively, hands everywhere, pushing Jared down to the floor and stretching out on top of him. “Want to just fucking tell everyone.”“Tell them what?” Jared asks, just wanting to hear Jensen say the words. “Want to tell them that you’re mine.”Jared shivers on the cold kitchen floor, leans up into the hard warmth of Jensen’s body. Jensen groans as he kisses his way down Jared’s neck, hips bucking. “God, this is just...so…”“I know,” Jared murmurs.It’s too much, this thing between them. They shouldn’t have fallen into this so easily, shouldn’t have gotten in over their heads. Yet here they are, and neither of them are going anywhere. And the physical side of all this is just as strong as the emotional. Jared can’t think when Jensen’s got his mouth on him, can’t form a coherent sentence sometimes just looking at him. It feels too good to have him here, pressing Jared down into the floor, pulling on his clothes until he’s completely naked. And it feels even better when Jensen strips off his own clothes so that they’re just skin on skin. Jensen traps Jared’s wrists above his head and holds them there while he thrusts, rubbing their cocks together, rutting against him hungrily. “There’s lube in my jeans pocket,” Jared tells him. Jensen lifts up and looks at him with surprised humor. “Really? Why?”Jared shrugs and hooks his legs around Jensen’s hips. “Because you never know what might happen. Especially after the restaurant bathroom.”Jensen grins and reaches for Jared’s pants, pulls out the tiny bottle. “No condom, though. Bedroom?”Jared shakes his head, stares right up into those green eyes, and says “No.”“But…”“It’s okay. If it’s okay with you.”Jensen blinks down at him for a second, then slowly nods, leans down to give Jared one sweet, soft kiss. “It’s okay with me.”Jared’s whole body tingles at that, at the thought of Jensen inside of him with nothing separating them, nothing keeping their bodies from feeling each other. And Jensen must be excited about it, too, because his fingers are a little less graceful than usual as he fumbles the lube open and drizzles some over his hand. Jared’s legs spread naturally for Jensen as he wraps his slick fingers around Jared’s cock, stroking slowly a couple of times before moving lower, fingers rubbing over Jared’s hole. Jared’s hips rock up, trying to take his fingers in, but Jensen won’t be hurried. As he teases with his hand, he leans back down, kisses across Jared’s chest and sucks a nipple into his mouth. Jared arches into him as the electricity shoots down his spine, sweat forming on his skin, cold floor beneath him totally forgotten. “‘Course,” Jensen mumbles, licking his way back up to Jared’s neck, “there are some things I don’t want to tell. Things that are just mine.”“Like what?”“Like the way you sound when I do this.”He eases two fingers into Jared, pushing slowly but steadily, crooking them up into the spot that makes Jared’s mouth fly open in a shout. “Yeah,” Jensen smiles. “That’s just for me.”“It’s all just for you,” Jared moans.Jensen opens him up quickly, efficiently, then slicks up his own cock. The tension between them is palpable now, the desire and the need flowing like the air they’re breathing. Jared still hasn’t managed to form a complete thought other than JensenJensenJensen, and as Jensen leans down and kisses him, he realizes he’s been chanting it out loud. And then Jensen braces himself and pushes in.Holy fuck, he’s hot, like a furnace inside of Jared, throbbing and burning him from the inside out. Jared watches as Jensen struggles to keep his eyes open. He grits his teeth, his whole body tenses, his arm muscles start shaking, and Jared knows he’s struggling, too. For a few moments, Jensen doesn’t move. They just lie there, bodies connected, feeling each other totally bare, nothing between them. “It’s all just for you,” Jared tells him again. He’s so high with all of this, so lost on the scent of Jensen’s skin and the feel of his breath washing over him, that he just starts talking, spilling out every word that comes into his mind. “Take what you want. Fuck me however you want. Tell whoever you want. It’s all yours.”Jensen groans, buries his head in Jared’s neck, and starts to move. It’s a slick grind at first, Jensen barely pulling out of him before thrusting back in, angled so that he nudges Jared’s prostate with each motion. And Jared feels so full. It’s not like they’ve never done this before, but he can’t stop thinking about how bare Jensen is, can’t stop clenching around him and feeling every inch, buried so deep. It doesn’t take long for Jensen to find a faster pace, to start thrusting in earnest, to move hard enough that Jared can hear their hips smacking through their groans. Jared clings to him, digs his fingers into his shoulders, lets them scratch their way down Jensen’s back. He doesn’t care if he leaves marks. Jensen doesn’t seem to mind either, and just makes a broken sound against Jared’s ear and keeps pushing. Around the time that Jared feels like he’s going to explode if Jensen doesn’t give him some relief, Jensen starts to move faster, slamming into Jared until he’s seeing stars.“Come with me,” Jensen growls.It’s all the encouragement Jared needs, and he’s pulsing his orgasm between them as soon as Jensen finishes the sentence. It curls his toes, arches his back, tenses all his muscles as he clings to Jensen. And oh, God he can feel Jensen spilling into him, can feel the wet heat of him as he comes. Jared squeezes himself around Jensen and drags it out. He wants to be just like this, Jensen inside of him, for as long as he can. Jensen takes longer than usual to catch his breath, kisses Jared a few minutes longer than he usually does. Jared doesn’t mind. “Dinner’s probably cold,” Jared says eventually.“We’ll heat it up,” Jensen says. “As soon as we take a shower. Come on.”Carefully. Jensen stands up and stretches, muscles rippling everywhere. He grins when Jared stands up slowly, kissing his way up Jensen’s chest as he rises.But Jared doesn’t move when Jensen tries to pull him out of the kitchen. “It’s okay that we aren’t telling anyone. You know that, right? That we aren’t doing anything wrong? And that I’m okay with keeping it just between us?”“I know,” Jensen nods. “But if the crew knows...it just feels kinda nice that they know. That they support it.”“Yeah,” Jared grins. “It does.”“Maybe the rest of the world will know someday.”“Someday.”Jensen leans forward and leans against his chest so Jared can wrap his arms around him. “God, I love you.”And those words are all Jared needs to hear to know that they are right where they need to be. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I miss you.” Jared wiggles deeper under the covers of his childhood bed, curling his legs up to keep his feet from hanging off. He balances the cell phone on the side of his head and gets comfortable. “It’s only been a couple of weeks,” Jensen answers. “Have some pride, man.”Jared snorts a laugh. “Says the guy who sent me fourteen texts the other day detailing his trip to the grocery store.”Jensen laughs a little too, a deep chuckle that makes Jared’s smile last. “I miss you, too.”“Only two more days until we’re together in Austin.”“What did you tell your family?” Jensen still sounds a little uneasy about the whole thing, but Jared knows he’ll be waiting two days from now, just as desperate as he is for them to see each other.“I told them that we were gonna take the weekend to look over the scripts we got for next season. You?”“I told them we had some show stuff to do. No one asked about the specifics,” Jensen tells him. “Good. Three whole days to ourselves, then.”“Yep.”The silence stretches between them, comfortable and easy. Truthfully, there’s not much to talk about. They’ve both been home, in their own separate little corners of Texas, for a couple of weeks, just hanging out with their families. Not a whole lot to report. And they’ve talked on the phone every single night, just wanting to say hi and hear each other’s voices. “What are you wearing?” Jared grins. “Oh my God.” Jensen’s eye roll is as loud as his actual words, and Jared laughs at the mental image of it. “I’m wearing nothing,” he continues, in that same deadpan voice. “I’m in my childhood bed, talking to my secret boyfriend, wearing absolutely nothing. Go to sleep with that image in your brain.”Despite knowing Jensen’s lying, just kidding, but his body reacts to the words anyway, and he shifts his hips a little. “I’m not wearing anything either,” he tells him.“Liar.”They go silent again, but this time it’s electric, charged with all the kisses and touches they haven’t had over the last couple of weeks. “Jay, we can’t do this now,” Jensen says, voice almost mournful. “We can wait two days.”“We can too,” Jared insists. “Just be quiet.”“And what could we do exactly?” He already sounds just on the verge of being out of breath, and Jared isn’t far behind. “You could tell me exactly what you miss about me,” Jared prompts, hand sliding down his bare chest toward the hem of his sweatpants. “I miss your mouth. Miss waking up to it touching me.”Jared does have a habit of waking Jensen up with kisses. Some sweet and innocent, some not so innocent. “I miss that, too.”“And I miss your hands. What are your hands doing right now?”“Palming myself,” Jared answers. This time he’s not lying. “Wish I could see it,” Jensen murmurs. “Bet you look like total sin in that tiny bed, posters on the wall above it, long legs spread…like a fucking teenage wet dream.”Jared rolls to his back, slips one hand beneath his sweatpants and into his boxers to wrap his hand around himself. “You had wet dreams about guys when you were a teenager?”“If I had known you then? I probably would have.”Jared whimpers into the phone, stroking himself slowly, and waits for Jensen to keep talking. Waits for Jensen to get him trembling and making a sticky mess out of his old sheets.********The first morning they’re in Austin, they go straight for the hotel room and don’t leave it all day. The door is barely closed and their bags are still hitting the floor when their arms are pulling at each other, gripping in a tight hug. Jared buries his face in Jensen’s neck and takes a deep breath, feels tension he didn’t even know he was carrying melt away. “Hi,” he mumbles.“Hey,” Jensen answers, a smile in his voice as he tightens his hold. When they finally manage to pull apart, they’re moving to the bedroom, mouths meeting as they fall into the bed. They kiss and touch and undress each other, mouths everywhere, sweat building, every movement a little more desperate than usual, like they’ve been apart for years instead of days. Jared smiles up at Jensen, watches as he lubes himself up. When he reaches up to touch Jensen’s face, Jensen just turns his head to kiss his palm, lines himself up, and pushes himself into Jared. They only come up for air to get a room service lunch. It’s dinner time when they finally feel satisfied enough to get out of bed and shower. Jared grins when Jensen grabs him with soapy hands and washes his body, massaging every muscle he touches. And the night is as perfect as the day. They go to a small restaurant, one where Jensen clearly made a reservation days in advance, with low, warm lighting and small tables that force their legs to practically intertwine under the white tablecloth. They grin at each other as they talk, shy and soft little smiles because this is exactly the way this should always be. “Oh,” Jared says suddenly, remembering something he’s been saving to tell Jensen in person. “You remember how those girls asked us about Wincest?”Jensen snorts. “Yeah.”“Well, I did some research. Dude. You’ve gotta see some of this stuff.”“Crazy?”“I just didn’t know how popular it was. These fans are...dedicated.”Jensen laughs. “I don’t think I want to see it. It’s a little weird to be reading about a character I play, let alone read about him fucking his brother.”Jared lowers his voice and leans in, carefully watching Jensen’s reaction to the rest of what he has to tell him. “I also found a blog about you and me. Not the characters.”Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Like, fan fiction about us?”“Some of it,” Jared nods. “But some of it is just people talking about how they think we’re a real couple. They’ve analyzed everything we’ve ever said and done in front of a camera or in print. Some of it's bullshit, some of it's a little close to home.”Jensen frowns. “Is this something we should be worried about?”“I don’t think so. It’s not that big of a blog. Not only that, but some of it is so out there, it’s enough for the average person to blow the rest of it off.”Jensen relaxes. “What part did they get right?”Jared grins. “The part where we’re in love.”Jensen actually blushes, and Jared’s heart swells at the color in his cheeks. When the meal is over, Jensen orders dessert to go, and as they stand up to leave it’s hard for Jared not to reach for his hand, not to act like the couple they are. “Back to the hotel?” Jensen asks once they’re out on the street. “You sure? There’s lots to do around here.”“Yeah, I’m sure. We can go out tomorrow.”It’s Jared’s turn to blush at the heat in Jensen’s voice. “To the hotel, then.”Again, they’re all hands the second they’re alone, but they take their time now, not moving with the urgent passion they had that morning. Instead, they make out on the couch in their suite until their lips are numb. Jensen reaches for the dessert he dropped on the small coffee table and opens it up, revealing a huge piece of chocolate cake, a decadent layer of almost liquid chocolate fudge spilling out from the middle, and a large strawberry with chocolate sauce drizzled over it. Jared’s mouth is already watering, but he practically drools when Jensen picks up the strawberry and bites into it, those ridiculously sexy lips wrapping around the point and sinking in, sucking a little. When he pulls the berry away, his lips are stained just a shade redder than usual. Jared doesn’t think twice about taking his own bite of the strawberry when Jensen offers it, staring into his eyes as the sweet flavor hits his tongue. “We don’t have a fork for the cake,” Jensen smirks.“Don’t need one.”Jared uses his fingers to break off a crumbly bite, get some of the fudge on it, and hold it out. When Jensen takes it, he slides his lips down Jared’s fingers much farther than necessary, using his teeth to scrape every bit of chocolate off before he swallows, eyes closing at the taste before he sucks Jared’s fingers totally clean. “That is delicious,” he moans. They feed each other bites that way for a few minutes, until Jensen gets tired of it and smears some of the chocolate on Jared’s lips, kissing and sucking it off. That’s all Jared can take, and he strips his shirt off, watches Jensen do the same before he stands up and shrugs out of his pants. There’s no need to talk in these moments, but as Jensen stands to get rid of his own clothes, Jared realizes they are talking. Their eyes drift over skin and muscle, their breath changes, they push and pull against each other with some invisible force between them, and they are most certainly saying all kinds of things. Jensen sits back down, cock hard, leaning against his lower stomach as he strokes it, waiting to see what Jared’s going to do. Jared just slides into Jared’s lap, spreading long legs over his hips and wrapping his arms around Jensen’s neck. He’s already loose and open from the day they’ve had, so Jensen lets him slick up his cock with spit and just sink right down. “Jen,” he moans, dropping his head down on Jensen’s shoulder.“I got you,” Jensen whispers, and grabs Jared’s hips. He guides them in a rocking motion, creating an easy friction that creates a simmering heat inside of Jared as he just hangs on. They just grind together like that for a while, mouths eventually finding each other, hands grabbing at hair and hips and anything they can reach, worshipping each other the way they want to, the way they always do. And when they come, it’s not a hard, overwhelming feeling. This time it’s a slow ocean current, wave after wave of pleasure that builds until they are pulsing together, strong and steady.“Two weeks apart is too long,” Jared whispers as they force themselves to get up long enough to clean themselves and get in bed. “Agreed,” Jensen whispers back. ********The next day is full of city adventures. They get up early and have breakfast at a cute little bakery. They shop, buying new sunglasses for Jared and a couple new guitar accessories for Jensen. They check out a local art shop and admire the metalwork of the owner. They walk around a large park and buy lunch from a food truck, then explore the tiny carnival happening under the trees. It’s a perfect day. Jensen is relaxed, laughs easily, the seriousness he usually carries with him abandoned for the day. Jared feels light, grateful, staring up at the sun and letting it warm his skin as much as Jensen warms the rest of him. They get their dinner in carry out boxes and take it back to the hotel to spend the evening watching a movie, laughing at the raunchy comedy they choose, then curling up together on the couch in their softest sweats to watch the news, Jared’s head in Jensen’s lap. “Don’t get me wrong,” Jensen says, stroking his hair, “this weekend is awesome. But man, I am so sick of hotels. I don’t think I can stay in that suite in Vancouver anymore.”Jared smiles up at him. “I know what you mean. My apartment is tiny enough to feel like a hotel room, and I feel like I’m suffocating there.”Jensen swallows hard and stares at the television like he’s nervous about Jared’s reaction to his next statement. “I was thinking about getting a real place when we get back.”Jared nods. “No reason not to at this point.”“I...uh...was thinking you could. Well, that we could. You know.”Jared sits up, gapes at Jensen as he processes what’s just been said. “You want to move in together?”“Well, when you say it like that it sounds so...formal, but yeah. I guess that’s what I’m asking. It just makes sense, you know? We could get a big place with plenty of room for people to think we’re just roommates, co-workers who happen to live together out of convenience. And it would be financially better for us to share a mortgage instead of buying two places and always staying at one. Plus-”Jared cuts him off with a kiss. “I’m convinced,” he mumbles against Jensen’s lips. “Yeah?”“Yeah.”That night, they don’t have sex. They just slide into the big comfortable bed and talk for a little while, making plans to look for houses, talking about what they want to do tomorrow, their last day in Austin. There’s something more intimate about their low voices in the dark room than the moans they usually make, something deeper and more powerful. When Jensen drifts off in the middle of their conversation, Jared just snuggles closer and lies awake for a while, just listening to Jensen’s steady heartbeat.******** Jared wakes up first in the morning, like he always does. He slides quietly out of bed and grabs his laptop from the chair, heads over to the couch so he won’t wake Jensen, and checks his email. Then, with a smirk on his face, he looks for the blogs he’s found. Jensen will get a kick out of them when he wakes up. And maybe there are a couple of things in some of that Wincest fan fiction they ought to try themselves. The first post on the blog he found about the two of them and their real life is a new one, and it seems frantic, with a bunch of capital letters and exclamation points.   “THERE HAS BEEN A SIGHTING. ALERT: THE J’S HAVE BEEN SPOTTED TOGETHER.”  Beneath the title, there are pictures of Jensen and himself, clearly taken in the park just the day before as they wandered around the makeshift carnival, followed by a small blog post. “Yesterday, Jared and Jensen spent the day in Austin, Texas. A fan of Supernatural spotted them in a local park and managed to snap several pictures of them enjoying their day out, which she posted on her own personal blog. I’m so glad I happened to come across it! We can assume by the shopping bags they’re carrying that they were together for at least most of the day, if not all. And look at that body language! Look at how Jared is leaning toward Jensen in the second picture. And in the fourth, we can see Jensen’s hand on the small of Jared’s back as they bend over a craft table to look at the merchandise. And that last picture? The way they are laughing together? Have you ever seen two people more in love? If there was ever any doubt in my mind that these two are a couple, it’s gone now. Spending that kind of quality time together during hiatus, looking at each other like they’re the only two people in the universe. I’m a believer in this real life love story!” A million thoughts buzz through Jared’s brain as he stares at the screen. Who is this person who took these pictures? Normally, fans just come up and say hello, ask to get their picture taken with the two of them. Jared knows that more and more people are starting to recognize them now, but he’s never felt like he couldn’t go out in public without it being posted on the Internet for the world to see. And his blood runs cold at the analysis of the pictures. The blogger, whoever he or she is, is absolutely right in the assumptions that are made. Those pictures do look like a couple out for a romantic afternoon. Fuck. Maybe it’s not so bad. This is a small blog after all, and like he told Jensen, most of this shit is too ridiculous to be believed. He glances at the number of hits. The post has been up for only three hours, and it already has a little over a thousand hits. Fuck fuck fuck.Despite his better judgment, he clicks on a few of the post’s comments. “...knew they were together! This just proves it!...” “So glad they could have this quality time together…” “...wonder if the public will hear about their relationship soon…” This is beyond bad, isn’t it? No way to talk themselves out of it or deny those pictures. The only thing to do is ignore it and hope it doesn’t go any further than gossip on a tiny blog. It’s not as if the blogger knew they were staying at a hotel together, or that they had been out to dinner the night before. This is controllable, isn’t it?“What are you looking at?”Jared’s head snaps up to find Jensen sitting up in the middle of the bed, looking adorably disheveled as he yawns and stretches. He takes a breath and decides to ruin Jensen’s morning, if for no other reason than he isn’t sure he can keep this secret without it driving him crazy. “Come here. You need to see this.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Fuck,” Jensen breathes. “Fuck.”“I know,” Jared says. They’re hunched down in front of the laptop, staring at the blog, Jensen’s breath on Jared’s neck as he peers over his shoulder.“This is bad,” Jensen mutters under his breath. Jared turns his head and finds himself too close to that perfect jaw, to those perfect lips. Now is not the time to kiss him, but that’s all he wants to do. Because he’s terrified. Jensen’s going to run. He’s going to panic, going to shut down, and he’s going to run. Jared’s heart starts hammering, his skin starts crawling, and his chest hurts with it, with the thought of Jensen leaving. He won’t survive it again. He won’t. He can’t let this happen.“What do you think…” Jared can’t even finish the sentence, and he knows Jensen can hear the shaking in his voice. The weight of Jensen’s hand on the small of his back, gently rubbing, is a little comforting at least. It might just be an absent-minded thing, a habit Jensen isn’t even aware he’s doing, but it’s something. Something that says Jensen hasn’t left him yet. Jensen frowns. “How did they even get these? And post them so fast?”“I guess we’re more recognizable than we thought,” Jared laments. Jensen runs a hand back and forth over his hair. “And you think people really sit around and talk about whether or not we’re fucking?”“Apparently.”“It’s just on this blog, right?” “As far as I know.” Jared is still a little numb, frozen in the thought of Jensen possibly freaking out and leaving.“So it’s not like our families or anyone from work would see this unless they were specifically looking for it.”Jared shrugs, trying to control the fear pulsing through him, bubbling up to the surface now. “Most likely.”“Then I think we just lay low.” He sighs and stands up straight, stepping back from Jared and taking the security of his hand away. It moves from Jared’s back to cover his own jaw, rubbing nervously. “Maybe no one will ever see this. And we’ll just make sure not to give them any more material.”There it is. Deny that anything is going on, and then give the whole thing up. Jared tenses, fear in his gut sitting heavy, making it hard for him to breathe. He can’t make himself look at Jensen. “I’m not going anywhere,” Jensen says, sensing Jared's emotions the way only he can. But it sounds like an afterthought, like the gears of his mind are still whirring and he’s not sure of what he’s saying. Jared gets up and turns around then, catches Jensen’s eye and holds it, his whole body shaking a little as his eyes start to well up. Jensen immediately softens, arms reaching for Jared and pulling him in.“Hey,” he murmurs, warm and sweet. “I’m not going anywhere.” It sounds true this time. His hand snakes up into Jared’s hair, tugs just enough for him to feel it, to feel Jensen there, steady and solid.He nods and buries his face in the bend of Jensen’s neck, willing his unshed tears to dry up. He swallows hard, then takes a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s waist as he breathes him in, lets the scent of him soothe away his panic. They don’t move for a while, and Jensen doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t break the hug, just lets Jared cling to him. Eventually, Jared speaks, but he doesn’t move from Jensen’s neck. He speaks into his skin, right against his pulse. “What do you want to do?”Jared hates when Jensen pulls back enough to look at him. There’s air between them now, and it just feels unacceptable. “Like I said, I want to lay low. I want to go back home to my family. We can handle the rest of hiatus apart, right?”Jared frowns at him. “I guess. What happens when we get back to Vancouver?”“Then we buy a house together.”“Seriously? That’s laying low?”“Probably not. But we’ll find a place close to work and stick to the roommate story. No one can deny that it makes more sense than what we’ve been doing. And hey, maybe none of them,” he gestures to the laptop, “will even find out. It’s not like we have fans staking out your apartment or my hotel now.”“That’s true,” Jared nods.Slowly, he starts to calm down, to take deep breaths and let the adrenaline ease out of his veins. Jensen isn’t leaving. Jensen isn’t leaving. Jensen isn’t leaving him. “These fans are serious, huh?” he smiles, looking back over at the screen. “You gotta admit, some of those pictures are pretty great. You look adorable in that first one.”“I like the last one,” Jared tells him. “We look like a real couple.”“That’s ‘cause we are.” When Jensen kisses him, Jared can’t help but wrap his whole body around him like an octopus, arms and legs curling and pushing him back toward the bed where they can lay down, where Jared can press his whole body against him and get as close as he wants. As close as physics will allow. Later, when Jared’s mouth is too numb to keep kissing, he runs a hand over Jensen’s jaw. “Can I ask you something?”“You can ask me anything,” Jensen says, not opening his eyes. “How are you so sure about us?”Those green eyes flash open, a hint of worry in them. “What?”Jared wiggles his hips against Jensen’s, snuggling closer. “It’s just...different. When we first started this whole thing and Kripke told us to calm down, you...you left.” They both cringe a little at that, not wanting to remember. “But now, it’s literally on the Internet for everyone to see, and you’re fine with it?”It takes a minute to get his answer, but he wait patiently while Jensen gathers his thoughts. “The night I told you I was in love with you?”“I remember,” Jared smiles.“Well, I meant it. Really meant it. And when I finally admitted it to myself and told you, that was it. It’s been pretty easy since then to deal with all this shit, because I don’t really have another choice.”Jared leans forward and plants a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “No choice?”“Not being with you just isn’t an option now.” This time, he sounds a little nervous, but he relaxes when Jared nods. “I know exactly what you mean.”“Doesn’t mean I’m not a little freaked out by all this. We can’t even go out anymore?”“I guess we’re just gonna have to assume someone is always taking pictures of us when we do.”“Well, that sucks.” Jared nods. “It really does. And we’re just going to have to play up the whole 'bro' thing. Make that our thing.”“We can do that. Maybe it’ll even get easy.”“I don’t know,” Jared says. “I don’t know that it will ever get easy to not touch you.”Jensen grins. “You can touch me now.”Jared runs a hand up his thigh and does just that.********The rest of hiatus is long. Everything is good. They talk every day, have plenty of middle-of-the-night phone sex, and though they miss each other, they make it work. But the days seem to get longer as they get closer to heading back to Vancouver. Jared hangs out with his sister and brother, makes dinners with his mom, buys his dad a new boat for Father’s Day that the whole family takes out on the lake. But he still finds himself alone sometimes, strumming Free Falling on his guitar and missing the crinkle of Jensen’s eyes when he laughs. He stalks the blog regularly, but the post seems to run its course and get buried underneath new things. He even scours the internet for other sites like that one, but he doesn’t find anything that worries him. It seems to all be fine. Now if he could just get back to Vancouver. Back to Jensen.“I want a back porch,” he tells him one night, snuggled under the covers with his phone balanced on his ear. They’re almost whispering, for no real reason other than it feels too late and dark to be talking loudly. “And a huge yard.”“You know Vancouver is a city, right? Not farmland.”“Well, we could get a place just outside the city. Half-hour commute tops.”“I’m okay with that.”Jared grins. “And we need a nice kitchen for all the meals you’re gonna cook for me.”Jensen snorts. “Good luck with that. What we need is a pool.”“We’d never be there to use it.”“A huge jacuzzi tub, then. Big enough for both of us.”That thought goes straight to Jared’s dick, but he ignores the delicious burn in his gut. “Definitely.”“I guess we need two bedrooms. Maybe on separate floors or on separate sides of the house, so if anyone ever asks or sees it, it looks right.”Jared echoes Jensen’s irritated tone when he answers. “Yeah.”“But don’t worry. Two bedrooms just means one more room we get to christen when we move in.”Jared laughs. “Are we just christening the bedrooms? Or the whole apartment?”“Definitely the whole apartment.” Jensen isn’t laughing. Instead, his voice has taken on that hard, hot tone that makes Jared shiver. “That could take a whole weekend.”“At least. I already have a few ideas.”“Yeah?” Jared feels a little wobbly at that thought, of Jensen planning the things he wants to do to him. “Yep.” This time there’s humor in his voice. “I may have read some of that Wincest stuff on that blog and gotten a few kinky ideas.”They both laugh at that, then say goodnight. Jared mentally checks off another day on the calendar. He’ll be back in Vancouver soon. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “It’s perfect.”Jared nods his agreement, watches Jensen as he looks around the living room. It is perfect. They only looked at three other places before they found this one, and it took them all of ten minutes to decide that this was the place. It’s fairly small, just a normal sized house snuggled behind some trees in a cute neighborhood, one that seems quiet and like it keeps to itself. There are two floors and a partially finished basement, enough space for people to think they each have their own area, small enough for them to feel like they have a real home. And it’s theirs. They both signed the papers, it’s both their names on the mortgage, and Jared can’t fucking believe it. They live together. It’s just so...committed. Jensen drops the box he’s holding and pulls Jared into a hug, pressing a kiss into the side of his neck. Jared grins and tilts his head back to make it easier. “We have a truck full of shit to carry in,” he reminds him. Jensen shrugs. “The truck isn’t due back to the rental place until tomorrow. We can take a break.”“A break?” Jared laughs, pushing him away. “We haven’t even started yet.”“Fine,” Jensen sighs. “Let’s do this quickly, though. The second we get that last box off the truck, you’re mine.”“Promise?” Jared teases, fingertips grazing Jensen’s as he heads toward the front door. It takes five hours, a pizza, and a six-pack of beer, but they finally lift the last piece of furniture off the truck, Jared’s dining room table from his old apartment. “There,” Jared sighs when they set it down in the dining room off the kitchen. He stretches his arms over his head, feels his shoulders scream with the overuse of moving and lifting all the boxes. “Finished.”Jensen is right there all of a sudden, sliding his arms around Jared’s waist while he’s still stretching, so that his arms fall down to rest around Jensen’s neck. “Finished,” Jensen nods.The kiss is hot, possessive and hungry, both of them reveling in the freedom of it. This is their place. They officially have a home here in Vancouver, no more shitty apartments and hotel rooms. And their home is together.Jared gets a little weak from the idea of it, from the idea that he’ll come home to this every day, to Jensen covering his mouth with kisses, tongue sliding hot and heavy between his lips. He lets his wobbly knees bring him down, where he can get at Jensen’s belt buckle, pull his jeans down and mouth at the line of his cock through his boxer-briefs. He nuzzles into the crease of Jensen’s thigh, breathing him in, hands squeezing his ass, before Jensen gets impatient and pulls his underwear down to pool at his knees with his jeans. Jared’s own cock throbs as he leans forward, licking at the precome beading on the head of Jensen’s dick, moaning at the familiar taste of it, at how perfect it is. Jensen shivers, puts a hand on the table to brace himself. Jared takes his time. He swirls his tongue without sucking, licks up and down Jensen’s cock like it’s a lollipop, traces each line and curve of it. He runs a hand up Jensen’s thigh, squeezing at the hard muscle there before moving to his balls, gently rolling them in his hand before leaning down and sucking them into his mouth, one at a time, using barely-there pressure that makes Jensen dig his fingers into Jared’s shoulder, grip so tight it almost hurts. “Fuck,” he breathes out.“Tell me about your ideas,” Jared says, letting his lips move against Jensen’s cock as he speaks. “My ideas?”Jared presses the tip of his tongue into the slit for just a second, pulling a groan out of Jensen, before pulling away to answer, his hand still stroking slowly. “You said you read some fanfiction, and that it gave you some ideas.”Jensen’s already flushed, but his cheeks burn a deeper red when he answers. “It was nothing. Just.”“Just what?” Jared encourages. “Tell me. I wanna know.”Jensen swallows hard, and Jared bats his eyelashes pleadingly, hoping it comes across as sexy and not cheesy. “I only skimmed a couple. But there was one that wasn’t about Sam and Dean. It was about us.”“And?” Jared smiles.“And we were kind of...rough with each other.”Jared’s grin widens. “We could do that.”“I mean, it wasn’t crazy or anything. Just. It was kinda hot to think about…”“About fucking me hard?” Jared smirks, leaning back in to kiss at the head of Jensen’s cock. “About making me scream with it?”Jensen’s only reply is a nod, as Jared sucks him down, keeping his mouth soft and wet until he can feel Jensen bumping the back of his throat. Then he seals his lips and swallows, sucks hard, tongue sliding around for extra friction.He sucks and sucks, sliding back and forth, wet and messy, letting Jensen grab his hair and push him closer, push his cock deeper. Jared fucking loves it, loves the low groans Jensen is making, loves the sharp tug on his hair as Jensen tells him where to go. And he loves when Jensen comes, hot pulses down his throat, stomach tensing and flexing with it. He drinks him down like nectar, using his tongue to pull out every drop he can, to give Jensen every ounce of pleasure possible. When he pulls away and looks up, he knows he’s a mess, lips wet and swollen, spit dripping down his chin. Jensen pulls him up and kisses him hard, licking the taste of himself out of Jared’s mouth, hands desperately fumbling at Jared’s jeans. “Here,” Jared says, pulling away and stripping down hastily, watching as Jensen kicks of his boots, gets his pants off, tugs at his t-shirt. When they come together again, it’s just skin on skin, hot and sweaty now, both of them clawing at the other as their mouths crash together. And then Jensen is flipping Jared around, a strong hand between his shoulder blades pushing him down so that he’s bent over the table, chest against the cool wood. It’s so sudden that Jared gasps, palms slapping down as he catches himself. “Is this okay?” Jensen asks, voice a little hesitant now.“God, yes,” Jared moans, heart pounding and skin tingling. “Definitely okay.”That seems to reassure Jensen, and he swats Jared’s ass, a perfect sharpness sliding up Jared’s spine and spreading out to his fingers and toes. There’s an edge to this now, a little wilder and darker than he’s used to, and it’s so so good, to go there with Jensen, to let go a little.“Don’t move,” Jensen orders.Jared watches out of the corner of his eye as Jensen hurries out of the room. It’s so quiet that he can hear the rummaging a couple of rooms away, can hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears as he waits, nerves buzzing, cock twitching, so fucking ready for whatever Jensen’s going to do to him.He’s still bent over the table when Jensen comes back with a small bottle of lube, coating his fingers before dropping to his knees behind Jared. His fingers are cool as they slide between his ass cheeks, press against his hole, two of them sliding in right away, pushing in until they’re buried. “Jesus, Jen,” he grunts, pushing back a little to take them deeper, to get Jensen to move. Jensen curls his fingers, presses them right up into Jared’s prostate, hot sparks behind Jared’s eyes at the feeling of it. He doesn’t let up, stroking and rubbing that sweet spot as he stretches Jared open, adds a third finger and begins to thrust. Jared feels so full, but it’s not enough. Not until it’s Jensen’s dick inside him. Jensen seems to understand, and before long, he’s slicking up his cock, already hard again, and grabbing Jared’s hips, pulling him back a little and spreading his legs even wider. Jared lets him, does his best to be still on the table, the wood sticking to his sweaty skin now. A loud shout comes out of him when Jensen pushes in, not taking him time, just lining up and thrusting steadily until Jared can feel his balls pressed up against him. “You okay?” Jensen whispers, leaning down to brush soothing kisses over the back of Jared’s neck “I’m not gonna break. Just...just fucking move. Please.”Jensen accepts his answer and does exactly what he asks. It’s different than any other time they’ve done this. They’ve had playful, fun sex before, they’ve had passionate sex before, but it’s never felt like this. This is desperate. Jared can feel Jensen’s hands digging into his hips, pulling him back with each thrust so he can get deeper. It’s fast and hard, like they’ve been starved for each other, like there’s no going slow or taking their time. Jared didn’t know he needed this. Every groan from Jensen feels like reassurance, feels like a promise. Every bruising touch just proves that he belongs here, that he’s Jensen’s. Completely. And he fucking loves it. He loves the burning of his skin where Jensen’s fingers have left marks. He loves the tension between them, the building pressure. He loves the burning stretch as Jensen slams into him, how split open he feels, like Jensen is just making a home for himself inside of him.“Oh my God,” Jensen groans, holding on impossibly tighter. “Wait,” Jared manages to gasp. “Hang on.”Jensen instantly stops moving and gently pulls out. “What? Did I-”“I’m fine,” Jared smiles, pushing himself up off the table and turning around. “Stop worrying. But I don’t want either of us to come yet. You said we had to christen the whole apartment.”Jensen smirks. “Come on.”He grabs the lube and pulls Jared to the living room, stretches out on the floor next to the box labeled “DVDs” and strokes his own cock, slicking it up again. Jared scrambles to get down, to straddle Jensen and feel his hips between his own thighs. The second Jensen lines himself up, Jared slams down. This angle is a little more shallow, but it doesn’t matter. He bounces up and down as fast and hard as he can, not holding back, letting Jensen see and hear everything as he rides him. It’s his turn to grab Jensen, to curl his hands around Jensen’s sides and dig in for leverage, undoubtedly leaving bruises of his own. “So fuckin’ gorgeous,” Jensen moans, pushing his hips up and urging him on. There’s no stopping themselves this time. The rest of the apartment will just have to wait. Jensen wraps his hand around Jared’s neglected cock and starts to stroke hard, keeping the rhythm of Jared’s thrusts. In seconds, Jared is spilling all over Jensen’s fingers, slamming down through his orgasm, impaling himself on Jensen’s cock. Jensen groans and lets his head fall back to the floor, but he keeps his eyes open, keeps his hand moving on Jared, as he comes too, pulsing hot and heavy into Jared’s ass. They stare at each other, work each other through the shuddering aftershocks, try to catch their breath as the high just keeps going. Just as Jared thinks he might be able to move again, Jensen lifts his hand from Jared’s almost too-sensitive cock and brings his sticky fingers to his own mouth. Jared watches as Jensen fucking licks them clean, sucks at each of his fingers with those blush-perfect lips, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. It’s not like Jensen’s never swallowed Jared’s come before, but to watch it this way, to see Jensen unable to let it go without tasting it, the need to swallow him down even when it isn’t part of Jared’s orgasm so fucking hot that Jared shakes again with one more weak jerk of his dick. “Trying to kill me, Jen,” he pants, carefully sliding off of Jensen and into the floor next to him. “Not yet. We still have a lot of rooms to get through.”Jared smiles and lets Jensen pull him to his feet and toward the bathroom for a shower. Afterward, they pile into Jared’s bed, the only thing in the house they’ve actually bothered to set up, hurriedly spreading sheets and blankets over the mattress. The rest can wait until tomorrow. “Don’t get the idea that we’re going to be sleeping in here regularly,” Jensen tells him nuzzling his damp head into Jared’s neck as they tangle together. “Why not?”“I have a brand new mattress waiting to be unwrapped in my room. We’re sleeping there. So much more comfortable.”Jared can’t argue with that, so he only shrugs and tightens his arms around Jensen.“Hey, Jay?”“Mmmm.”“Did you know this was going to happen when we met?”Jared smiled. “I hoped it would.”“It was really hard, you know. Those first few months.” Jensen is talking into Jared’s skin, not looking at him, the way he does when he feels too vulnerable to make eye contact. “Yeah? Why?” Jared whispers, trying to keep Jensen in the mood to talk.“Because you scared me. How much I liked you scared me. I’d never felt that way about a guy at all, and it hit me fast, you know?”“Trust me, I know.”“And once I just admitted it to myself, I still wasn’t sure how you felt about me, so I just spent all my time daydreaming, driving myself crazy with all the things I wanted.”Jared pulls away a little, forces Jensen’s chin up so that he can see those green eyes. “What did you want?”Jensen swallows. “You.”Jared grins as Jensen’s hand slides down his ribcage, lower to settle on his hip. “And what did you want from me?”“Everything.”Jared closes his eyes and sighs as Jensen leans forward to lick at the hollow of his throat. “But mostly,” Jensen continues, “I just dreamed about this.” His hand slides down to wrap around Jared’s cock, already half-hard and swelling fast. “We were such good friends already...this felt like the only thing I was missing.”“And what did you dream? Tell me.” Jared pumps his hips, fucking himself into Jensen’s fist, drunk on this conversation and on Jensen’s voice.“I dreamed about what your skin would taste like. What sounds you would make when I touched you. What your cock would feel like in my mouth.”Jared sucks in a sharp breath, already so close to coming that he has to pull away, roll over to hover over Jensen. He settles there between Jensen’s legs and starts slowly rocking his hips, dick slotting right up against Jensen’s own erection. “And I dreamed about this, about how hard you’d make me come.”“Jesus,” Jared mumbles, eyes squeezed shut so he can just feel Jensen’s body beneath him.They stop talking then, hands exploring, mouths touching, sweet and gentle this time, worshipping each other as they thrust, rutting against each other. Jensen comes first, with Jared holding his own orgasm back just so he can watch, so he can hear the moans and watch the muscles ripple as Jensen lets go. It’s too much, though, and Jared gives in before Jensen is done trembling, lets the release wash over him, slow and strong. He lowers himself down to kiss Jensen again, who smiles into his mouth. “We just took a shower.”Jared snorts. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to get up.” He pushes himself out of bed and pads to the bathroom, grabs the towel he used to dry himself off after the shower, and uses it to clean both of them off before tossing it in the floor and snuggling back down in the bed. He’s almost asleep when Jensen whispers. “I still dream about you.”Jared drags his mind from sleep long enough to give him a half-hearted “Dream about what?”“About what it would be like to kiss you in public. To talk about you in interviews the way I want to.”“Someday,” Jared murmurs, drifting off so quickly he almost doesn’t hear Jensen’s reply. “Definitely someday.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They wake up at the same time. Sort of. Neither of them is really awake, just lying there, barely conscious, in those last minutes before an alarm goes off. Jared doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t move, just sighs when Jensen’s lips wander up the bend where his neck meets his shoulder. His hard cock is pressing against the crease of Jared’s ass, nudging its way in, slick with precome and spit that Jared didn’t feel him put there. He pushes in easily and Jared groans at how open he still is, at how he’s a little sore from last night and that only makes this better. He wants to stay sore from Jensen in his ass. Doesn’t care if he never walks right again. They don’t speak, and they don’t move fast. Jared doesn’t really move at all actually, just stays lax and pliant as Jensen thrusts lazily, like they’re still dreaming. He feels every bit of Jensen this way, throbbing hard and hot inside of him, sliding in and out of his hole with that slow possessiveness like he fucking owns it. And honestly, he totally does.Jensen’s hands drag around to cup Jared’s dick, gently tug at his balls, making him sweat and whimper until he’s coming, dirtying the sheets and Jensen’s hand as he pulses. Jensen isn’t far behind, grunting through it as he fills Jared up, muscles tensing and flexing.“Good morning,” he groans as he finally pulls away.“Morning,” Jared grins, looking back over his shoulder. “How much time do we have before we have to get up?”Jared glances blearily at his cell phone on the nightstand. “Ten minutes,” he sighs.“Damn. I was hoping we’d have time for a round two.”“Seriously?”“Sure. We still have plenty of rooms left to fuck in before we’re done.”Jared laughs. “Well, it will have to wait. We’re back on set in an hour and a half. Besides,” he rolls over and presses his lips to Jensen’s, talks right up against his mouth, “my ass needs a break.”Jensen smirks, smug and satisfied, and nods. “Sore?”“A little,” Jared allows.“I like that. That you’ll feel me all day.”“Trust me,” Jared says, dropping his forehead to Jensen’s chest. “I do, too.”********They drive to set themselves in Jensen’s car, knowing that the first day is always short and they won’t need someone to take their exhausted asses home later. Jared can’t be still, messing with the air conditioning, changing the radio station, adjusting his seat. “What’s wrong?” Jensen asks.“Nothing. Just...I’m not sure how to act today.”“What?”“Well, they all know. Or at least, some of them do. So I guess we just act like they don’t? Like we’re just friends?”Jensen nods. “Seems like a solid plan to me.”Jared bites his lip and looks out the window.“What?”“I hate going back to that.”Jensen reaches over and rubs his thigh, soothing little circles. “I know. But at the end of the day, we’re going home together, right? Besides, even if it was all out in the open, what would that change? Not like we’re gonna fuck right there on camera in the middle of a scene or anything.”Jared laughs in spite of his worries, but it dissolves as he thinks about that statement. “On camera. Hmmm.”It’s Jensen’s turn to laugh. “Down, boy. We are professionals.”He’s right. They are.And it turns out to be fairly easy. No one says a word, but the set feels different. A little more relaxed. Jared doesn’t panic that he’s going to slip and say something too flirty, Jensen’s broad shoulders stay relaxed, and they get through the one scene they’re filming easily. And it’s fun. Jared missed this over hiatus. Jensen aside, he fucking loves this. It’s such a rush to escape into someone else for a little while, to play pretend, to tell a story that he really wants to tell. He gets lost in it, almost forgetting that it’s Jensen he’s working with and not just Dean, his obnoxious brother that he loves more than himself. “Dinner?” Jim asks as they all walk toward the parking lot.Jared looks at Jensen, who shrugs. “Sure,” he tells him. “Pizza?”“Sounds good. I’ll meet you there.”The pizza restaurant just a few miles away from set is the cast and crew’s favorite. Jared and Jensen beat Jim there and slide into the same side of a booth, ordering three beers and mozzarella sticks to start. “So, how many hours in the gym is this meal going to cost you?” Jensen teases. He’s been making these jokes all summer, as Jared changed his eating habits and starting really lifting weights. “They told me to bulk up,” Jared shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I can’t cheat once in a while. Must be nice to be the ‘softer one’.”Jensen immediately rolls his eyes. “Soft, my ass.”They grin at each other for a minute, totally aware of exactly how perfect the other’s body really is.“Hey, guys.” Jim startles them as he plops in on his side of the booth, helping himself to his beer and a mozzarella stick. Instinctively, they pull apart, just a little, a movement that would have been missed by someone who wasn’t looking for it. But Jim surprises them.“You don’t have to do that. You aren’t keeping any secrets from me or anything.”“What?” Jensen manages to sound confused without sounding panicked. “I know. About you two. Everyone on set does. You don’t have to pretend around me.”“Uh, I don’t, uh…” Jared has no idea what to say to that.“That’s actually why I wanted to have dinner tonight. I wanted to tell you two that I know. Now, I don’t want to invade your privacy or anything, and I can go right on pretending that I don’t know anything about anything. But if it makes things easier for you, I know. And I think it’s great.”Jared and Jensen share a look. “You do?” Jensen asks carefully. “Sure. You two suit each other.”Jared still doesn’t know what to say, and there’s a long silence that stretches between the three of them.“What?” Jim finally says. “You thought because I’m old that I wouldn’t understand? Or wouldn’t approve?”“No,” Jensen says, starting to laugh a little. “It’s just that...you’re a lot more like Bobby than we realized.”All three of them laugh then, loud and booming, leaving Jared feeling weightless and free. “Thanks, Jim,” he says. “We love you for that. But let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?”“Deal,” Jim nods.********It’s not like they haven’t ended up together after work a million times. But there’s something different about coming home to a house rather than an apartment or hotel. And there’s definitely something special about coming home together. They both grin as they park in the garage, let themselves into the kitchen, mail getting tossed on the table. Jensen pulls two beers out of the refrigerator and hands one to Jared before kicking off his shoes. Jared smiles, kicks off his own, then presses right into Jensen, not quite hugging him, just standing there, chin on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. “I love you,” he murmurs. It just falls from his lips, the most natural thing in the world, and he isn’t quite sure if he said it out loud or just thought it until Jensen responds with a soft “Love you, too.”“So,” Jared pulls away and takes a long drink of his beer. “We’ve got a few hours before we need to think about going to sleep.”“Dude. Call of Duty.”Jared laughs and follows Jensen into the living room, where they set up their game system. The rest of the evening probably should be spent unpacking, since they’ve barely started, but that can wait until their next day off. Instead, they spend hours in front of their huge television, playing a video game like teenagers. When they’ve had enough, they switch to the news and stretch out on the couch together, legs tangled together in the middle. “Can you believe we’re doing a convention?” Jensen asks, almost out of nowhere. They'd gotten the news a few days ago, but hadn't really thought to talk about it until now, with the move keeping them preoccupied. “I can’t believe anything about our lives,” Jared laughs. “But yeah, that’s pretty awesome.”“I wonder how long our panel will be. And what kinds of questions they’ll ask.”Jared can hear the nerves in Jensen’s voice. “Don’t worry. You’ll be great. Just do that charming thing you do.”“That charming thing?” Jensen quirks an eyebrow.“Oh, don’t act all innocent like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”Jensen looks unconvinced.“It’s just another job, Jen. Like anything else we do. You’ll be great.”“Until those girls from that website start asking me about my sex life,” he snorts.Jared laughs, too. They’ve kept an eye on that blog, and it’s provided all kinds of entertainment. There hasn’t been another incident since the pictures from Austin, but that hasn’t stopped the people who frequent the website from writing all kinds of theories, posting all kinds of old press photos with in-depth analysis of where their hands are and how they are smiling, and posting infinite amounts of fan fiction. The last couple of weeks has focused on the show itself, on the upcoming season, and it’s actually pretty accurate and entertaining to read. Jared is starting to like this blog in spite of himself. It violates his privacy and could be potentially damaging, but it’s kind of nice to see the support, no matter how misguided. “Well,” Jared says, “if the questions get to be too much, we can always just make out and shut everyone up.”Jensen sits up, leans forward to kiss Jared sweetly on the lips. “Like this?”“I think we can do better than that,” Jared grins, pulling Jensen down on top of him and sliding down into the couch. They kiss for a long time, all lips and hands, feeling each other, feeling the softness of it. Eventually, Jared licks at Jensen’s lips, slipping his tongue into Jensen’s mouth to taste him, to deepen the kiss, kissing him until they’re both breathless. And it’s not enough. Jensen kisses back just as thoroughly, hands tugging at Jared’s hair, the solid weight of him pinning Jared down so that he can’t move anything other than his head and his arms. They drink from each other like they’re drinking fine wine, like they’re addicted. Neither of them makes a move to go farther. They’re both too tired from work, Jared’s still a little sore, and honestly, they don’t need more. The small little sounds Jensen makes, the way he feels buried against Jared’s neck- that’s enough. They’ll get back to fucking in every room of the house tomorrow. “Come on,” Jensen finally says. “Let’s go get my bed set up.”Jared groans at the thought of more manual labor, but the idea of cuddling up in that new, huge bed sounds too good to pass up. His cell phone rings, and he digs it out of his pocket. “Right behind you,” he tells Jensen, then glances at the screen. Sandy.“Hello?” he says, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “Hey you! Hope this isn’t a bad time?”“Not at all. What’s up?”She sounds breathless and excited. “Well, I just got the news, and you had to be the first one I called.”“What news?” Jensen turns and tilts his head in a silent question, and Jared holds a hand up, telling him to stay where he is.“Guess who is guest starring on your show this season?”“Wait. What? Really?”She laughs. “Really! It’s only one episode. But I’m so excited!”It takes a minute for it to sink in, and Jared tries to keep his voice steady. “That’s awesome!”“You mean that?” Her voice wobbles a little, and Jared feels bad for the insincerity she must have heard in his answer. “I really do,” he says, a little calmer this time. “It’ll be good to see you again, and you know we always had fun working together.”He can hear the relief in her voice when she speaks again. “I know! I’m playing a demon. I think it should be a lot of fun.”“When are you flying out?” he asks.“Oh, it’s not for another month or so. I just couldn’t wait to tell you. How have you been?”“I’ve been good,” he tells her, not going into detail. “How have you been?”“Oh, you know me. I’m always good.”Jared laughs. “Can I ask…” she pauses for a moment like she’s gathering her courage, “about Jensen? I don’t want to show up and say or do something stupid.”“Oh, you know. Jensen’s good.” Jared grins into the phone and knows she’ll understand.“He’s standing right there, isn’t he?” she laughs. “Well, are you two...you know...public?”“Not exactly. Best to act like the two of you have barely met.”For a minute, he’s lost in the memory of a night the three of them spent together, a night that was equal parts amazing and tortuous. He knows Sandy is having the same thoughts. “I can do that,” she says.“Thank you.”He still doesn’t deserve her on his side like this. But he’s grateful. “Well, I’ll let you know when I have all the details. But I guess I’ll see you soon!”“See you,” Jared tells her, and hangs up.“So...Sandy is going to play a demon in an episode. She just got the news.”Jensen carefully doesn’t react, the blank expression he always wears when he’s guarding himself. “Oh, yeah?”“Yeah.”“She knows about us, doesn’t she?”“Yes, but she isn’t going to say anything. Trust me.”Jensen nods. “Okay. Then I guess, this is kind of a cool thing?”“It is! She’s good, fun to work with. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her.”Jensen walks forward and wraps his arms around Jared. “You aren’t thinking about another threesome are you?”“What if I was?”Jensen tightens his hold, looks a little taller all of a sudden. “She’s nice and all, but I only went that night because it was you. I don’t generally like to share.”His voice is deep, rumbling over Jared until it makes him shiver. “Don’t worry. I’m all yours,” Jared whispers. “Damn straight, you’re mine,” Jensen nods fiercely. “Now come help me get my bed set up. I want you to show me that you belong to me.”Jared follows him to the other bedroom, the one they are planning on making their bedroom. But sleeping is now the last thing on his mind. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They’re in the small bathroom upstairs, the one they haven’t used before today. The master bedroom downstairs has a nice, big en-suite that houses both of their toothbrushes, while this bathroom is just for appearances. But today, it’s the place they have chosen to shower, and now Jensen is lying on the cold floor while Jared rides him. “Fuck,” Jensen huffs out, running his hands over Jared’s thighs. Jared smirks and squeezes himself around Jensen, rocking his hips slowly, letting Jensen’s cock nudge against his prostate every time he moves. It’s a slow dance, a rolling rhythm that’s going to leave them sweaty enough to need a second shower. “Come here,” Jensen breathes, pulling Jared down to kiss him, soft and sweet, a delicious opposite to what Jared is doing with his hips. Jensen’s fingers drift from Jared’s thighs to his dick, stroking slowly and forcing Jared to break the kiss so he can gasp. “Jesus,” he groans.  “Gonna make me come too soon.”“What’s too soon?” Jensen asks, grinning a little. “I didn’t know we had a schedule.”Jared leans back up, gives Jensen full access to his body, hissing when Jensen’s hand moves faster. “We don’t. Just. I like this. Want it to last.”Jensen eases his grip and slows down, lets Jared’s building orgasm fade away to a nice slow burn. Jared takes his time then, explores all the different ways he can move his body with Jensen’s, how many different ways they seem to fit together perfectly. The sensations buzz, electricity created and fueled by the swell of Jensen’s lips and the sound of his harsh breaths, then pushed under Jared’s skin to spark and crackle.Without needing to speak, they sense when the other can’t hold back anymore. Jared starts bouncing up and down at the exact moment Jensen squeezes his cock and starts jerking him hard and fast. Like their bodies planned it, they come at the same time, shaking so hard the sound of their smacking bodies echoes off the bathroom walls. Jared collapses on top of Jensen afterward, mouth attacking his neck, licking the salt from his skin. “I think that does it,” he murmurs against Jensen’s ear. “Yep,” Jensen grins. “We have officially fucked in every room of our house.”“Our house.”They kiss again, slower this time, knowing they’re going to have to get up and get dressed when the kiss ends. And sure enough, Jensen sits up the second Jared rolls to his side. “We’re gonna be late.”Jared sighs, watches the muscles in Jensen’s body as he stands up and stretches. He gets more gorgeous every time Jared looks at him. “So?”“So come on,” Jensen grins. “If you hurry up, I promise to blow you in my trailer later.”Jared laughs and jumps up, following Jensen down the stairs like a puppy, shaking the water out of his hair. They get ready together, playfully bumping each other, mixing stolen kisses and work conversation. When their driver shows up, Jensen grabs Jared’s face and pulls him in for one last kiss, the kind that always leaves Jared flushed and out of breath. “Let’s go do our jobs,” he grins. Sometimes it hurts a little to separate from one another, to climb into that car and know that they can’t hold hands or look at each other for too long. But today, it’s kind of nice, this teasing. It’s a secret between them, a silent language they’ve created themselves, that no one else knows. And apparently, it’s a promise that Jared’s gonna get a blow job later in the privacy of Jensen’s trailer. ********“Hey!” Sandy is waiting when they get out of the car. Before Jared can answer her, she’s buried in his chest, arms wrapped around him. He grins and hugs her back, the familiar smell of her hair wafting up to his nose. “Hey, yourself. I thought you weren’t here for another week.”She leans back and smiles up at him. “Just couldn’t contain my excitement and flew out early.”“Lucky us,” he smiles back. “No, they actually bumped my scene up. We’re filming it tomorrow. I’m here for costumes and stuff today.” She turns and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. “Hey, Jensen.”“Hi, Sandy. Good to see you.” He’s perfectly friendly, but Jared can hear the formality in it, the polite tone that means Jensen has retreated into himself, is letting her see only what he wants her to see. “So this is Supernatural?” She starts walking toward the cluster of trailers where they get ready each day, makeup and costumes and craft services, all sitting next to the giant warehouse soundstages. “Impressive.”Jared laughs as he and Jensen follow. “It looks like any other television show.”“Still. I’m excited. I, uh, may have watched every episode over the last couple of weeks.”“Yeah?” Jensen chuckles a little. “And?”“And I love it. I get why the Internet is obsessed with you two.”Jared thinks about the blog, about how he and Jensen check it every week or so now just to be sure they haven’t accidentally set off another conspiracy theory that’s actually the complete truth. “Yep,” he jokes. “We’re definitely fascinating.”“No, really. This show is a big deal, guys.”They reach the trailers and get caught up in their day, but her words stay in Jared’s mind. A big deal. She’s not wrong. The more they film, the deeper they get into the story, the more Jared realizes how special the show really is. It’s not just special for him and Jensen because it happens to be how they met. It’s special in and of itself.Sam and Dean are special. Jared’s so fucking lucky that he aches with it, heart threatening to expand so much it splits his chest. The routine takes over, and Jared settles into the familiar motions of getting ready, waiting around, joking and talking with the crew, waiting around some more. He and Jensen film a fairly long scene, the kind that takes hours to get all the necessary shots. Sandy watches a few takes, smiling at them quietly until a woman with a press badge pulls her away.With or without Sandy watching, Jared’s having a blast. He laughs loudly when he misses his mark and stumbles trying to discreetly move to the right spot. Jensen forgets his lines and starts channeling his soap opera days, making up a melodramatic script until the director calls cut and they can collect themselves. And in between their goofy mistakes, they act. Just like that, they’re brothers, hiding who they really are from the world and depending on each other for survival. Jared can relate. “You bored yet?” he asks Sandy when he gets a break. “Not at all! I just did an interview for some teen magazine, and now I get to try on about thirty black dresses that all look the same, until someone decides which one is right for our scene.”Jared laughs. “Could be worse.”“It definitely could,” she nods. “So, are the two of you out?”Jared almost chokes on his water. “What?”“You and Jensen,” she whispers. “I didn’t say a word, but I was just wondering. The way everyone talks about the two of you...it’s like you’re a unit. No one will come right out and say it, but I just got a feeling that I’m not the only one who knows.”Jared sighs heavily. “The biggest secret that isn’t actually a secret. Yeah, a lot of people know. But we definitely don’t talk about it. It wouldn’t be good for the show or our careers.”“I get it,” Sandy nods. “I’m sorry you have to hide. But I got it.”They talk for a few more minutes, Jared remembering why he likes her, how fun and relaxed things always were between them. He’s having such a good time that he almost misses the buzzing of a text message in his pocket. Almost. It’s Jensen, and all it says is My trailer. Now.“I gotta go,” Jared tells her. “But I’ll see you later. And I’m really glad you’re here.” He leans down to kiss her on the cheek.She smiles softly. “Me too, babe.”And with that, Jared’s walking, almost running, toward Jensen. And Jensen’s waiting on his knees.Jared shuts the door behind him, cock swelling so fast it hurts at the sight of this beautiful man, in the middle of the small room, kneeling, arms behind his back and head tilted up like he just can’t wait. “Fuck, Jen. I would have sprinted here if I had known you were waiting like this.”“Just come here,” he replies, licking his lips and breathing a little fast, like he’s as excited as Jared is. That’s an order Jared is happy to obey, and in seconds, his jeans are pooled at his ankles, caught on his boots, and he’s holding the Winchester flannel shirt up and out of the way so that Jensen can suck him off, frantic and messy, moaning around Jared’s cock like it’s candy. He swirls his tongue around the head, presses up against the underside just as he gently tugs at Jared’s balls, his other hand wandering around to tease at Jared’s hole. Jared groans and tugs at his hair, pulls his head away before he comes. “The couch,” he gasps.Jensen nods and they move together. Jared kicks off his boots and gets his jeans and boxer-briefs off completely. Jensen gets the lower half of his body undressed too, waits for Jared to stretch out on the couch, then throws one leg over Jared’s head to straddle his face. They suck at each other, Jensen fucking down into Jared’s mouth, Jared lifting his hips up into Jensen’s, mirroring each other’s movements, moving at the same pace, driving each other crazy. Jared closes his eyes and just feels it, lets his body take over and move how it wants, hungry for Jensen’s cock, his own cock aching for release. Jensen comes first, tensing up and grunting loudly, pulsing hot and bitter down Jared’s throat. Jared swallows every bit, grabbing Jensen’s ass and holding him in his mouth until Jensen’s too sensitive to stand it. Jensen pays him back by baring his teeth and lightly scraping just the way he likes. It punches the orgasm out of him instantly, sudden and unexpected, making Jared slap a hand over his own mouth as he shouts, just in case someone happens to be walking past the trailer. Jensen leans up, licking his lips. “Shhhh,” he laughs. “Or we’re gonna have to stop sneaking sex at work.”Jared forces himself to calm down and grins back. “That would be a tragedy,” he pants. “I’ll do better next time.”They get their pants back on and Jensen grabs a bottle of water from the small refrigerator. “You want one?”“No,” Jared grins. “Don’t wanna wash your taste away yet.”Jensen actually fucking blushes, and Jared feels his chest tighten with that comforting, settling weight. “You excited to shoot Sandy in the head tomorrow?”“You don’t like her.” It’s not a question, and Jared watches as Jensen takes a long drink of water instead of answering. “It’s not that. I like her just fine.”“Then what is it?”“I don’t know her all that well,” Jensen shrugs. “And she just. You know.”“You’re jealous.” It dawns on Jared suddenly, makes his mouth twitch as he tries to hide his smile. “Am not.”“You are! You’re jealous.”“Well,” Jensen gives in, setting the water bottle down on the counter, “can you blame me? The two of you have a lot of history, and it’s obvious you care about each other. And she was the one you were with when I…”Neither of them fill in that blank. “Jensen.” Jared moves to stand right in front of Jensen, cupping that beautiful face in his hands. “You don’t honestly think there’s something going on with her, do you?”“No,” Jensen admits, eyes looking down. “I just...I wish things were different. That you hadn’t needed her. That I hadn’t pushed you toward her.”“Hey. We’re here now, and that’s what matters, right?”Jensen finally meets his eyes and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He puts his hands over Jared’s, squeezes a little before pulling away. Jared lets him, smiles to himself as Jensen shakes the moment off. “We’ve still got some time before they need us again. Wanna go grab something from the food truck?”Jensen grabs the guitar propped up in the corner and sits down on the couch. “If you want. Or we could just hang here for now and get a huge dinner later.”The faint melody of Free Falling sounds through the trailer then, and Jared’s instantly lost. A million emotions float through him at the sound of that song, a sweet ache that wells up and pushes tears into his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispers, blinking the tears away. “Let’s just hang here for now.”He sits down next to Jensen and nuzzles into his neck. Jensen just keeps playing, humming softly.********“Jared?”Jensen sounds upset. Jared quickly finishes unpacking the food they picked up from the fancy restaurant down the street and carries it with him as he follows Jensen’s voice into the dining room. Jensen’s already at the table, staring at the screen of his laptop.“What is it?” Jared sets the plate of salmon and wild rice in front of Jensen, then sits down and digs into his own pasta dish. “Apparently, Sandy did some interviews today.”“Yeah, she said she talked to some teen magazine. Why?”“It’s online.”“Already? That was fast. She just did that interview a few hours ago.”“Well, it’s just a blurb on their website, the full article isn’t written yet, obviously.”Jared takes a drink of water and frowns. “Why are you even on their website?”“I wasn’t. I was checking that blog, the one about us?”“They posted Sandy’s interview?”Jensen nods, biting at his lip as he continues to stare at the screen. “Read this.”He turns the computer around and pushes it in Jared’s direction, making a face at his dinner like he isn’t hungry anymore. With a sinking stomach, Jared reads the blurb. It’s all pretty standard, Sandy talking about how excited she is, a little bit about her character, the usual stuff. And then he sees it. And of course, we couldn’t leave without asking Sandy the question on everyone’s mind- what it’s like to work with an ex-boyfriend. While we cringe at the thought of working with our exes, Sandy assures us that’s not the case between her and Jared. “It isn’t awkward at all,” she tells us with a smile. “We were always better friends than we were boyfriend and girlfriend. And I’m definitely not on his mind anymore.”Does that mean that Jared has found love with someone else? Jared doesn’t need to read anymore. “It’s nothing, Jen,” he says, though he knows that they’re never that lucky. “Read what the blog has to say about it.”With an inward groan, Jared looks below the article blurb to see what the blogger has pulled out of it. Interesting, isn’t it? Jared’s clearly with someone else now, and we all know who that someone else is. I wonder if Jensen is the reason Sandy and Jared broke up in the first place. Whatever happened, they seem to be on good terms now. Also, we know that the Js have been showing up and leaving set in the same car. We don’t have any concrete evidence, but there are rumors floating around that they live together now. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Of course, they’ll say they’re just roommates, and that with all the traveling they do and everything, it only makes sense. But we all know the truth. “Jesus. Why do these people care so much?” Jared says, more to himself than to Jensen. “I have no idea,” Jensen answers, finally taking a bite of his food. “But it’s getting kind of old. They know we show up to set together? Work isn’t even safe for us anymore?”Jared shuts the laptop. “What do you wanna do?”“Same as last time. We do nothing and hope nobody finds it?”There’s no fear in his voice. There’s a weary tone, maybe a little sadness, but no fear. Without thinking, Jared gets up and launches himself at Jensen, bending down behind him to hug his shoulders and bury his face in Jensen’s neck. “Dude,” Jensen laughs, “what’s that for?”“Just. I love you.”Jensen takes a second to lean their heads together before he playfully shoves him away. “Get off me. I’m trying to eat.”Jared settles back in his chair and goes back to his own food. “I wonder if we should do something about this.”“Like what?”“I dunno. Figure out who is watching us on set, for one thing.”“How? There’s a pretty big crowd of fans at the gate on a daily basis now. And what would we do if we figured it out?”Their legs bump under the table and Jared hooks his ankle around Jensen’s. “You’re right. There’s nothing we can do.”“I don’t think we need to worry. We’ll keep checking the blog to make sure it doesn’t spread across the entire Internet. And we’ll have to make sure that Sandy didn’t say anything else that’s gonna come out in the article, but other than that…”They finish dinner and clean up the kitchen, then pile into bed early, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before they have to be back on set for their sunrise shoot. Jensen wraps Jared up in his arms, throwing a leg over him as well, pulling him as close as he can. This time, it doesn’t feel like Jensen is clinging to him for comfort. It feels like he’s protecting him, like he’s the one doing the comforting. Jared snuggles into him, into the reassurance of his warm skin and steady heartbeat. He falls asleep easily, with Jensen shielding him from the outside world. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Wait.” Sandy shakes her head and peers at Jared’s laptop screen, then looks back and forth between Jared and Jensen. “There’s a blog about the two of you?”“Probably more than one,” Jensen tells her. “But this is the one that we know about. I’m too scared to go looking for more.” He smiles and winks, and Sandy grins a little, relaxing her shoulders. “So I really fucked you guys with what I said in that interview.” The couch is on the other side of Jared’s trailer, and Sandy crosses the space to sit down, but she still looks like she wants more room between herself and the two of them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...I mean, I wasn’t trying to say anything about the two of you…”Jared nods. “We know. We aren’t angry or anything. I just needed you to see this in case there are ever any other interviews. We hate to ask you to lie, but...”“It’s just that we aren’t ready to be outed yet.” Jensen keeps his voice as soft as Jared’s. “There would be some major backlash. And, you know, we play brothers. It could hurt the show if everyone knew we were together.”“I get it. Trust me, I’ll be more careful. I just didn’t realize this was...this show was…”Jared almost laughs. “We have some intense fans, yeah.”“Well, I won’t feed the rumors.” Jensen looks over at Jared, raises an eyebrow that Jared knows means “Do you trust her?” Jared gives one little bob of his head, probably too small for anyone else to see, but it’s enough for Jensen. They’re safe for now. Sandy looks at the floor and starts fidgeting with her necklace. Her voice is almost too quiet to hear. “I’m really sorry you two have to deal with all of this.”Jared is already moving to hug her, but surprisingly, Jensen beats him to it. Sandy looks a little stunned, but leans into it when he sits down next to her and pulls her in, kissing her temple and locking his hands in the small of her back. “Thanks.”“Okay,” she says loudly, pulling away and smiling at Jared. “You ready to shoot me?”The scene is good. Sandy plays the sex appeal and sass perfectly, dangerous and flirty and the exact right energy. It’s so comfortable to work with her, so easy to let go and get lost in the scene and trust that she’ll go right there with him. And on top of that, shooting the scene is fun. Jared watches in amusement as her face changes from the expression of her character to one of shock, loud peals of laughter billowing out of her when the uneven ground causes her to trip on her heels. She catches herself before she face plants into the dirt and gravel, but only barely. “Oh, shit! Sorry,” she laughs, talking to everyone on set. “Graceful,” Jared teases, laughing with her. “Nothing like being too clumsy to walk to really put the fear of hell in Sam.”She smacks his arm. “You try walking here in heels! It’s not as easy as it looks!”The director calls cut as the crew gets ready for the gunshot stunt, and the two of them sink down into their chairs, tired from the long hours, but happy. “So, I’m heading back to LA after this, but not until Monday. What are you guys doing this weekend? Maybe we could all go out and do something?”“I’d love that,” Jared says, “but we’re actually heading out to a convention.”“A convention?”“Our first one. It’s a con for Supernatural, Smallville, Buffy and Angel.”“That’s awesome!” she smiles. “But you sound kinda nervous.”Jared shrugs and picks at the label on his water bottle. “A little. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m used to answering typical press questions in interviews and stuff. I don’t know what the hell these fans are going to ask.”“It’s a real shame you aren’t attractive or funny or charming or kind. That would help in a situation like this.”Jared grins at her teasing. “It would.”“Jensen’s going with you, right? So you’ll have each other. I think it’ll be fun.”The call comes for them to finish the scene, and the rest of the day is spent hard at work, no time for them to just hang out with each other. Jensen is long gone, and Jared is exhausted by the time he says goodbye to Sandy, kissing her and promising to call her soon. He piles himself into a car and lets the set driver take him home, dreaming the whole way about snuggling into bed with Jensen and getting some sleep. But when he finally gets into the house, makes his way down the hallway to their bedroom, shedding his jacket and dropping his keys on a table as he goes, he can’t just collapse and go to sleep. It’s Jensen’s fault. He’s stretched out in the bed, mouth opening and almost snoring, totally dead to the world. All four limbs are spread out like a starfish, taking up all the room, the blankets balled up at his feet like he got too hot and kicked them off. He’s also naked. Wonderfully, gloriously naked. Jared stares at him for a while, taking in the way he’s got one arm curled over a pillow, like maybe he was missing having Jared there with him. His skin is pale in the moonlight peeking through the half-closed curtains on the window, highlighting the cut of muscles everywhere, the stocky lines of him, making him look even more broad than usual. He’s perfect, from his shoulders to his ass to the tips of his toes to the messy tufts of his hair. Jared loves him so much it hurts. His breath catches in his lungs and his hands feel a little shaky as he stops for a moment and takes the time to be grateful. They’ve spent the last few days feeling nervous and scared, angry about having to hide. But right now, all Jared can feel is fucking lucky. He takes off his clothes as quietly as possible, then gently pulls the pillow away from Jensen, slipping into the bed next to him and pulling that strong arm over his own chest. He smiles when Jensen tightens his hold instinctively, before he even wakes up. “Hey.” Green eyes blink up at him, sleepy and disoriented. “What time is it?”“A little after three.”“The scene go okay?” Jared can’t help but run his fingers through Jensen’s hair, just desperate to touch him, to feel him when he’s soft and sweet like this. “Yeah, it was really good. She asked if we wanted to hang out with her this weekend.”“We’ll be in Chicago.”“I know. We’ll see her some other time.”“Glad you’re home.” Jensen drops back down to the bed, pulling Jared closer and sighing with as much contentment as Jared’s feeling.“Me too.”He can’t stop himself. He knows he should let Jensen sleep, that he should be sleeping himself, but there’s just no way he can do anything other than kiss him. It starts out slowly, sweet and lingering, mouths resting together in between actual movements of their lips and tongues. Jared runs his hands over Jensen’s chest, gently maps out the continent of his skin with his fingertips, planning all the places his mouth is going to visit. Jensen lets him push him to his back, eyes open but still hooded as he watches Jared settle over him, warm skin sliding together. Jared kisses every place he just touched, dragging himself down Jensen’s body inch by inch, making sure he pays attention to every detail, to every freckle.He drifts down to Jensen’s belly button, smiling against Jensen’s body when he spreads his legs without thinking, stretching out to make room for Jared to get between them. Jared notices goosebumps appearing when he nips his way down Jensen’s dark blond happy trail, bites a little harder just to watch his abs flex with the sting of it. And then he’s where he wants to be. Jensen’s cock is hard, a little wet at the very tip, and as perfect as it’s ever been. Jared’s mouth is already watering when he nuzzles against it, kisses his way down to rub against Jensen’s balls, too. Jensen doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t groan or moan his pleasure. He sinks his hands into Jared’s hair instead, holding him in place. It will never cease to amaze Jared how this never gets old, never gets too familiar to be exciting, how the hunger he has for this never eases or goes away, no matter how much satisfaction he gets. He lets his tongue peek out and taste the precome at the tip of Jensen’s dick and moans like it’s a new flavor, genuinely loving the taste of it as much as he did the very first time. He sinks down slowly, savoring it, eyes fluttering closed because it’s still a novelty, still a luxurious experience he wants to enjoy. Jensen lifts his hips, going deeper until he’s bumping against Jared’s throat. Despite the protesting of his own body, Jared manages to keep his throat open and take Jensen down until he’s completely buried, until his nose is pressed against the flat of Jensen’s lower stomach, because he knows that’s how deep Jensen likes to be. He swallows, lets his throat squeeze around him, because he knows Jensen likes that, too. Jensen lets out a low sound, not quite a moan but no less sexy for it’s softness. The sound is still full of everything Jared’s feeling himself as he starts to move up and down on Jensen’s shaft, wet and warm and easy. Jensen keeps his fingers tangled in Jared’s hair, sometimes pulling and sometimes just brushing, always touching, always silently talking to Jared through the small movements. Yes, right there. Faster. I love you. Just when Jared’s certain he’s about to come, Jensen stops him, pulls him back up for a kiss. “Wanna come inside you,” Jensen whispers. Jared answers with a shiver, flips them over so Jensen is on top. With a clumsy hand, Jensen reaches for the lube on the nightstand, clicks it open and lifts his hand to coat his fingers. “Not your fingers. Just your cock,” Jared tells him.Like the caveman he is when he’s still half-asleep like this, Jensen only grunts and nods, drizzles the lube on his dick instead of his hand and slicks himself up. Jared gasps at the first press of Jensen against his hole, stretching and burning exactly the way he wanted him to. He swears he can feel each vein, the exact shape of Jensen, when he’s this tight. Jensen grits his teeth and grunts again as he works his way in, riding the line of being careful not to hurt him, and giving in to his need to just fuck him into tomorrow. Jared can feel it simmering under Jensen’s skin, the desire to just slam into him over and over until they’re both screaming. He wants that, too. “I’m not gonna break, Jen.”That’s all the permission Jensen needs. He buries his face in Jared’s neck, waits for Jared to grab his ass, and then drives in as far as he can, a rush of breath punched out of him along the way. Jared cries out, arches into the solid weight above him and lets his own cock rub against Jensen’s stomach. There’s no slowing down now, no more sweetness as the animal instincts take over and they start rut against each other, hard and deep. Jared holds onto Jensen the entire time, pulling him closer, making him grind instead of thrust, making sure they both feel all of each other even as the sweat makes everything a little too slippery for friction. Jared isn’t even sure which one of them comes first. There’s just a building heat, sloppy kisses, crashing waves of pleasure that make them scream, and then it’s over, both of them totally spent with a mess on Jared’s stomach between them. Carefully, Jensen pulls out, kisses Jared’s nose quickly before he pads to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. Jared gratefully takes it and cleans up, tossing it to the floor to be dealt with tomorrow. They burrow down into the covers then, unable to tell whose arms and legs are whose. “We need to pack tomorrow,” Jensen says, as if they aren’t both still high from the sex chemicals in their brains. “Yeah. Did you see the schedule they emailed to us?”“Yep. We’re doing autographs and taking pictures, too. I can’t believe that there are so many people willing to pay for that.”“We’re three seasons deep. I guess it’s time we get used to it.”Jensen hugs him closer. “I guess.”“Hey, Jen?”“Hmm?”“This is all really exciting and overwhelming and all that, and I’m really glad I get to do it. But I’m mostly glad I get to do it with you.”Jensen leans forward and presses their lips together, a “me, too” breathed between their tongues. They fall asleep still kissing. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The room is freezing, and Jared’s grateful for it. The nerves inside of him are making him feel hot, just seconds away from a sweat breaking over his forehead and ruining any pictures they’re about to take. Jensen is standing next to him, his face calm in that practiced expression he's mastered. He’s not the real Jensen anymore. He’s Jensen Ackles, the actor, ready to put on a show for their fans. Jared smiles a little for that, at how good Jensen is at this, at how he handles himself even when he’s nervous and out of his element like he is now. Jared will calm down once they begin, will find his groove and start entertaining people, because that’s what he’s done his whole life. But Jensen will use this act as a shield all day. Jared almost shivers at the thought of being the only one in the room able to really read him, the only one who will really know what Jensen’s thinking. “You ready?” the photographer asks, grinning at them. “Let’s do it,” Jensen nods. The music gets a little louder, pumping through Jared’s veins and turning his nerves to excitement. A line of people starts snaking through the door slowly, mostly women, staring at Jared and Jensen with wide eyes while they get their tickets torn by the convention employees. “Hi!” Jared reaches out for the first two young women in line, clinging to each other and giggling a little, voices a tiny bit too high when they walk forward. “Hi! Oh my gosh!” The first one laughs at herself and shakes her head a little, then steps between them and faces the camera. The second woman stares for a second. “You’re so tall,” she gasps, then puts her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. That was dumb.” Jensen laughs and throws an arm around her, pulling her into his side. “Don’t worry. I still think Jared’s part giant, so.” She laughs loudly, they all smile quickly as the picture snaps, and the women hurry away with a “thank you”. The rest of the photos continue to go that quickly, a blur of people thanking them, gushing over them, or being too nervous to say much at all. Jensen smiles and speaks, but he’s polite and a little formal, very aware that this is technically a job. Jared, however, forgets. It doesn’t take too long for him to just start having fun. Everyone is so nice, and it’s easy to get a little lost in it, to dance and joke around, to tease and play until even Jensen has loosened up a little. The end of the line comes, the last few people taking advantage and hanging around a little longer to talk, to hug them a second time before leaving. “That wasn’t so bad,” Jared says, pushing his hair out of his face. Jensen slaps a hand on Jared’s shoulder, just to make physical contact. “Nope. Not bad at all.” The photographer calls out at them. “Okay, can I get a few of just the two of you?” “Sure,” they say in unison, moving automatically, angling their bodies the way they’ve always been taught. “You can relax a little,” the man grins, taking picture after picture. “I’d like a few goofy ones, too.” Jared doesn’t know what comes over him. He just slings his leg up over Jensen and clings to him like he used to, silly and over the top. And just that one picture would have been fine. But once they touch that way, Jared can’t stop. Right there, in front of the cameras, Jared puts himself all over Jensen, arms and legs wrapped around him, pretending to bite him, grabbing his hand like they’re doing some weird tango, laying his head on his shoulder. Jensen goes right along with it, looking grumpy and stone-faced the whole time, like he’s an annoyed babysitter. It’s perfect. Jared wants to stay right there the rest of the day, Jensen’s warm body against his as people watch and smile, like maybe they’re meant to be together and the world wouldn’t end if everyone knew. And then Jensen steps away, just a small shuffle, but it’s enough for Jared to know to back off, that they’ve reached their public limit. Kate, the woman chosen to be their handler for the day and get them to the right places at the right times, steps up and gives them her pretty, professional smile. “Guys, we’re due at your panel in fifteen minutes. Can I get you a drink or anything before we head to the main room?” “Water would be great,” Jensen nods. “Thanks.” They follow her to the green room, where they pick up bottles of water and Jared pockets a candy bar, and then it’s time. “You ready for this?” Jensen asks. Jared nods, bumps Jensen’s shoulder and stands a little closer than he probably should, but Jensen doesn’t move away. They hear their names, hear the cheering from the crowd, and walk out into the lights. It’s not nearly as intimidating as Jared had feared. The stage is small and comfortable, the audience is enthusiastic and welcoming. Jared waves and blows a kiss, looks over at Jensen who is smiling a genuine smile, and completely relaxes. “Hi, guys,” he says eventually. “Wow. Look at all of you!” Jensen lifts his microphone. “I know! None of you had anything better to do today? Nerds.” The crowd laughs at his only mildly funny joke, making him smirk a little, and Jared takes just a second to enjoy just how fucking sexy Jensen is when he’s confident like this, when he’s sure of himself despite his nerves and his private nature. “Okay,” Jensen says. “Do we...I see a line there. Do we have some questions?” The first few questions are about the show and really easy to talk about, things like “what was your favorite monster on the show” and “do you do your own stunts”. They try to keep their answers interesting and fairly short, entertaining more than informative, because that’s what this crowd is paying for. And then a young girl, probably in her early teens, steps up to the microphone. “Hi! I just wanted to tell you that I’m so excited you’re here.” “Thanks, we’re excited to be here,” Jared smiles. “My question is, uh, what’s the hardest scene you’ve ever had to film?” “Any scene I’m forced to deal with Jensen,” Jared says, face totally straight, and the crowd laughs again as Jensen acts offended. There’s a moment where everyone waits for him to give a real answer, but his mind is drawing a blank, so he ignores the question and keeps the joke going, shrugs his shoulders and turns his chair. “Jensen? Hardest scene you’ve filmed?” When Jensen speaks, his voice is oddly serious. “The end of season two, the finale where Sam dies? Yeah, that scene was hard for me. It just...it felt very final and very real, and it was an emotionally rough thing to film, you know?” The crowd gives a hushed awww, but Jared is stunned into silence, trying hard to keep a straight face and not look at Jensen. “Yeah, yeah,” Jensen rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “But when you spend as much time together as we do, when you’re as close as we are, it all starts to feel a little more real, and that scene was obviously intense for our characters. That one was probably the hardest one for me to film.” The girl thanks them and sits down, and Jared barely hears the next question, just goes through the motions as he tries not to smile, not to just explode from happiness right there on the stage. “So, you kind of answered this just now,” the woman says, “but I wanted to know if you two are close outside of work? Like, do you hang out?” Jared takes this one, wants to give Jensen the same feeling he has right now. “We’re really lucky, I think, because we kind of clicked from our first day on set. We know each other really well, and trust each other, which is really important when you do what we do. There’s no one else I would rather do this with than Jensen.” He makes sure not to use the word friend and to keep his answer vague. The audience assumes he’s talking about work, but he can tell by the way Jensen keeps his head bowed just a little, long legs stretched out in front of him, that he understands. The next question is a light one, and Jared is grateful for it. “What’s your favorite song?” Jared thinks for a second and lists off a few bands he’s been listening to a lot lately. When he looks over at Jensen to get his answer, Jensen doesn’t hesitate. “Free Fallin’.” ******** It feels like years before they are alone again. They finish the panel, sign autographs, meet too many people for Jared to remember, and have dinner with the other celebrity guests. Jared’s exhausted when he gets back to his hotel room, feeling very much like his whole life has shifted a little after today. The full scope of the show, and its popularity and fan base, has hit him hard, made him realize how important this job is, how lucky he is. The knock at his door makes him smile, and he opens it quickly, pulling Jensen inside so he can kiss him hard, until they are both panting into each other’s mouths, hands gripping hips and digging in. “So,” he breathes, when he can pull himself away, “I think we’re famous.” Jensen snorts a laugh. “Apparently. Can you believe today? That was incredible.” “It really was.” Jensen flops down on the bed and starts unlacing his boots. “You didn’t bring your bag,” Jared comments. “I figured I’d get ready in my own room tomorrow morning,” Jensen shrugs. “I gotta get back there really early anyway. Why? You’ll mind if I spend the whole night in here naked?” Jared pushes Jensen’s shoulders until he’s sitting up straight, then slides right into his lap. Jensen instantly reaches around and squeezes his ass through his jeans. “Of course not,” Jared murmurs. “Just wish we could share a room.” They kiss lazily, falling back on the bed at some point and rolling until they’re side by side, fingers drifting over jawlines as they suck and bite at each other’s mouths. Jared sighs a little when Jensen rubs between his legs, coaxing his half-hard cock into an almost painful erection before reaching for the button of his jeans. “God, you feel good,” Jared whispers, letting his head fall back and his eyes flutter shut as Jensen works his pants open. “Yeah? You like this?” Once he gets Jared’s cock free from his underwear, he drags his fingertips over the entire length of it, light and tender, almost tickling. “I like everything you do.” “So that would be a yes, you like this. And you like this?” Jensen wraps his fingers around Jared and squeezes hard, stroking faster, teasing precome out of Jared’s slit. “Fuck...yes…” Jared’s hips are moving now, working with Jensen’s rhythm. “And this?” Jensen moves, bends himself so he can swallow Jared down, just once, sucking hard all the way up, swirling his tongue over the head. “ Yes ,” Jared moans, louder now. “And you’d like it if I fucked you, wouldn’t you? If I was buried inside you?” “Jen, just do it. Please .” Jensen smiles against Jared’s mouth before kissing him again. “I will, I promise. But I want to go slow tonight. Just wanna enjoy you, okay?” Jared blinks his eyes open, finds Jensen staring down at him, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. “Yeah. Okay.” “You were really great today,” Jensen says, out of nowhere. “That panel was actually kinda fun.” “ We were great,” Jared nods. “Thanks for what you said.” Jensen nods, knowing exactly what Jared’s talking about. “I think we both said some shit today,” he grins. “Good thing we’re the only ones that know what we were really talking about.” Jared frowns, unable to stop the words. “Is it? Is it a good thing? Do you think those people would have rioted or something if we’d told the truth?” Jensen drops his head to Jared’s chest and sighs. “We’ve talked about this, Jay. So many times.” Jared sits up, forces Jensen to look at him. “I know. But today...today made things a little clearer, you know?” He hasn’t actually thought this through, but he knows the words are true as he says them. He can feel it. “This show, those people...this is something really fucking special. Us being together is going to piss some people off, but it’s not going to ruin anything. It’s just not.” Jensen’s eyes go wide, almost like he’s a little scared. “What are you saying?” Jared takes a deep breath and laces his fingers through Jensen’s. “I’m saying I don’t want to hide anymore. I’m not suggesting we make a big deal of it, or that we even tell anyone. But I don’t want to lie. And I don’t want to hide. I want to be us.” He waits, lets the words sink in. He knows Jensen will need time to process everything. He expects Jensen to tell him that he’s crazy, expects him to say he needs to think about it, expects a fight. But Jensen takes a minute, then focuses those green eyes right on Jared’s, and says the unexpected. “Okay. I’m in.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “You sure about this?” Jared asks. Jensen’s been anxious all day. It’s not anything he said or did, it’s just a feeling, just something Jared can feel. And he doesn’t want to do this is Jensen isn’t ready. “Of course I’m ready,” Jensen says, flashing a sure grin. A fake one. “Don’t do that,” Jared says, pulling Jensen a little closer. “It’s just me, Jen. Drop that tone and tell me the truth.”Jensen shrinks just a little, reaches out to tug at the beanie on Jared’s head. “I’m a little nervous.”Jared nods, waits patiently for Jensen to keep talking. “I just don’t want to wake up tomorrow to an internet shit storm. If this is going to end badly, I don’t want to deal with it. But I do want to go.”“Then let’s go,” Jared says. “We talked about this. Fuck what anyone else has to say, right? Who cares if there’s a shit storm? We won’t be part of it. You don’t have to be a celebrity protecting his image tonight, right? You just have to be a guy taking me out on a date.”Jensen takes a deep breath and nods, still anxious, but his feet move toward the door and that’s all Jared really cares about. The restaurant is nice, one they’ve frequented since they discovered it, hidden on a side street in downtown Vancouver. They park a few streets away and walk there, despite the cold, enjoying the holiday displays in the windows. When Jared bumps Jensen’s shoulder with his own, he doesn’t pull away.This is what Jared has been waiting for. After their promises at the convention, they’ve been pretty busy, and haven’t had a chance to actually act on them. But here they are, just a few days away from winter hiatus and going home to Texas for a while, and it feels like the right time. Jared wants to reach for Jensen’s hand, but he manages to stop himself. Baby steps.It’s enough that Jensen is here, sliding into the opposite side of a dimly lit booth, pulling his scarf off and ordering a drink. “I think I’ll have a bourbon tonight. Maker’s Mark? And he’ll have your best scotch. On the rocks.”The waitress smiles and nods, walks away without any sign that she recognizes them. “What?” Jensen asks, raising an eyebrow as Jared grins at him. “You just ordered my drink for me.”“Sorry, did you want something else? I can probably get her back before she tells the bartender-”“It’s not that. It’s just. It’s something a boyfriend does.”Jensen actually blushes, something Jared thought they were long past, and it takes everything he has not to lean across the booth and kiss him full on the mouth. “Yeah. I guess it is.”Just like always, it takes no time at all for them to fall into a conversation. Almost three years, and they haven’t run out of things to say, haven’t stopped being enamored with each other. This time, though, Jensen doesn’t look around to see who’s watching. This time, Jared lets his leg stretch out and settle against Jensen’s, their ankles rubbing together under the table. “Oh my God!”A short, cute woman and a bored-looking, just as attractive man are standing at their table.“I’m sorry, but you’re...you’re Sam and Dean, right?”Jared smiles and nods. “Hi! What’s your name?”“I’m Elyse. This is my boyfriend, Matt.”Matt nods, and pulls at her hand. “Okay, you said hi. Now let’s leave them alone.” He looks at Jensen apologetically. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”“It’s no trouble,” Jensen says, shoulders a little rigid. “We’re glad you came over to say hi.”“Would you mind if...could I maybe get a quick picture?”“Sure.”She pulls a tiny digital camera out of her purse and shoves it at Matt, then plants herself in front of the table. Jared and Jensen both lean in close to her and smile, and then she’s gone, calling a thank you and staring at the screen of the camera.Jared watches Jensen closely, waits for him to go quiet or start paying attention to the people around him. To his credit, his eyes only do one quick scan of the room before they’re back on Jared. “Sorry,” he murmurs.“Don’t be,” Jared shrugs. And just like that, they are back in their own little world. Jensen has no idea how fucking perfect he is. Sometimes, like tonight, it hits Jared out of nowhere. He’s so used to Jensen at this point that his perfection has become normal, not shocking or surprising. But every now and then, Jared is struck with it. As Jensen pays for the meal, pays for both of them like they’re a real and public couple, Jared stares at the artwork of his face, at his lips, his eyelashes, his straight nose and sharp jaw. And all of that is made even more perfect with the warmth in his voice, by the strength in his shoulders that Jared knows comes from the strength of his heart, by the solid steadiness of him that always manages to calm Jared when he’s overwhelmed by his own feelings.“I love you,” Jared says, out of nowhere and for no reason, just as Jensen is standing up to pull his coat on. Jensen doesn’t hesitate to look Jared straight in the eyes. “I love you, too.”“You ready for the rest of our date?”Jensen grins. “Can we just go home instead? We can go to the movies some other time, right?”“What did you have in mind?” “Things that we couldn’t do in public, whether people know we’re a couple or not.”Jared’s cock swells a little in his pants at that, all the sweetness of his previous thoughts melting into something hotter and dirtier. “Sounds good to me.”This time, when they get outside and head back to the car, Jared does reach for Jensen’s hand. Jensen flinches at first, but lets Jared wind their fingers together. Jared squeezes his hand as his heart threatens to burst right out of his chest. “Thank you.”Jensen doesn’t say much until they get back to their house. But once they’re inside, he’s all over Jared, murmuring in his ear as they stumble to the bedroom together. “Did you see that girl tonight? On the street?”“What?”Jensen pushes Jared down on the bed and kneels in front of him, pulling off Jared’s shoes. “She was staring at you like she’d suck your cock right there if you asked her. And then you grabbed my hand.”“She saw?” Jared cocks his head, wondering where Jensen is going with this, leaning back on his hands when Jensen goes for the zipper of his pants. “She did,” he nods. “And she looked disappointed. And a little irritated.”He hooks his fingers into Jared’s pants and briefs, baring his lower half in one swoop.“And?” Jared prompts, ignoring how hard his own cock is.“And,” Jensen licks his lips, “I liked it. People look at you like that all the time, and that was the first time I got to tell them you belong to me.”His voice is so possessive, so hard and jealous that Jared’s cock jerks involuntarily, flushing darker under Jensen’s words. “How did that feel?” Jared’s voice is barely a whisper now as Jensen leans in, hands running up Jared’s thighs. “I liked it. Liked being able to look at her and smirk. Liked other people knowing you’re mine.”Jared groans a little when Jensen licks a line up the soft skin of Jared’s inner thigh, almost but not quite reaching his cock. “You’re gorgeous, and you’re magnetic. Like sunshine. Everyone wants you. And tonight, that girl wanted you, and I got to tell her that you were coming home with me.”Jared can’t breathe. He can’t think. He can only stare, dumbfounded, heart thudding in his ears at Jensen’s words. Finally, his tongue slides over the head of Jared’s cock, but even as he kisses up and down the length of it, he keeps talking. “Want to tell everyone, Jay. Want everyone to know that you picked me, that I’m the one who gets to do this. The only one who gets to do this.”Jared cries out when Jensen sinks down on his cock, sucks hard and keeps pushing down, until Jared is buried in his throat. It’s like he’s drunk as he falls back on the bed, head spinning with all the things Jensen rarely says out loud, buzzing with the whole night and the feel of Jensen’s lips wrapped around him now. “Mine,” Jensen growls, pulling away with a wet sound to start undressing himself. Jared pulls off his own shirt and scoots back on the bed, groans when Jensen finally joins him, skin against skin like it’s the first time. “I am yours,” Jared whispers against his mouth, hands locking at the back of Jensen’s neck to hold him in the kiss. Jensen kisses back just as passionately, tongue and teeth bruising Jared’s lips as his hands dig into his sides, his grip as possessive as his words had been. Jared arches into the touch, shivers and tingles at the idea of being Jensen’s, of everyone seeing them together and knowing that he belonged to the most gorgeous man in existence. When they have to pull apart rather than suffocate in each other’s mouths, Jared whimpers a little, but Jensen smiles and kisses his way down Jared’s neck, not stopping until he gets to his chest. Jared runs his fingers through his short hair, guides his head lower until his mouth is over Jared’s hips. “Mark me. So everyone will know I’m yours.”“But no one will see it here,” Jensen smirks, then pushes himself back up to Jared’s neck. “Maybe I should do it here. Where everyone will actually know.”Their eyes meet, and Jared can feel the challenge there. Jensen has finally made the decision to do this, to stop hiding. It’s there in his eyes, and once Jensen has made a decision, he doesn’t look back. Jared answers by tilting his head, giving Jensen an expanse of skin to work with. For the first time ever, Jensen gives Jared a hickey in a spot that others will see. His lips seal over Jared’s pulse and he sucks, hard, groaning a little. Jared digs his fingers into Jensen’s arms and thrusts his hips up into the air, almost coming from the sensation, from what it means. And Jensen is thorough. He sucks again and again, not satisfied until Jared can feel it throbbing, and Jensen declares it a dark enough purple to last at least a week. Jared spreads his legs then, and Jensen fucks him, rough and hard but still sweet somehow, every touch one of we’re free now. Jared hasn’t come that hard in months, maybe even a year. The next day, the entire makeup trailer is giggling at Jared’s neck. “You know,” Shannon chastises, “you could have asked Jensen to stick to the lower half of your body. Or your chest, at least.”Jared blushes. No one ever speaks about them so openly, but with a huge hickey on his neck, there’s nothing left to hide. “I’ll let him know.”Sarah meets his eyes in the mirror and grins. “I think it’s sweet.”It’s just a small thing, but Jared gets it. She’s giving him her support.“Thank you,” he says, turning around to kiss her on the forehead. “You’re welcome. Now sit down. It’s gonna take me forever to cover this up.”They film for the next eleven hours, Jensen’s mark tingling away on Jared’s neck under a mountain of concealer. It’s probably the best day Jared’s ever had at work, and his good mood continues until they are back at home, Jensen lying on the couch as he sits on the floor in front of it, laptop balanced on his lap. “So. Should we check the blogs and see what the damage from last night is?” he asks, ready to bite the bullet. Whatever it is, the faster they know, the faster they can get through it.But Jensen only smiles. “We don’t need to.”“Did you already look? Did we fly under the radar last night?”Jensen shakes his head. “I didn’t look, but we don’t need to. Because I don’t really give a shit if we flew under the radar or not.”Jared remembers his decision made face from the night before. Jensen’s really okay with this. The laptop is quickly shoved to the side as Jared climbs up onto the couch, right into Jensen’s waiting arms.
10598730
The Playing Cards
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Nick Cutter, James Lester, Danny Quinn, Patrick Quinn (Primeval), Helen Cutter, Tom Ryan (Primeval), Lorraine Wickes, Caroline Steel, Joseph Wilder", "Fandom": "Primeval", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by eriah211", "chapters": "12/12", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-11T00:00:00", "words": "14,722", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Timelines, Divergent Timelines, Angst", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Other Land", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Nick took a deep breath and got ready to try again.The first try had been a complete failure so he had taken his time to think carefully about his next step. He had always known that he couldn’t bring Helen down on his own, he needed help, but approaching Connor to tell him everything hadn’t been a good move. Connor was smart and a good lad, but he was totally entangled in Helen’s web of lies and Nick had just scared him away. Connor had immediately run back to Helen and told her everything, not believing a word Nick had said. Since then, Nick had hardly seen Connor in the field with the team and when he had, he had always been surrounded by soldiers all the time.Connor probably hadn’t been a very good choice, but Jenny was nowhere to be found and Stephen wasn’t an option. When the big mess-up had happened and he had seen Stephen standing there with the rest of the team, he had wanted to cry with joy, but even if he was immensely happy to see Stephen was alive in this timeline, the young man had already fallen under Helen’s spell once and she had probably made sure that this time he stayed under it. The cold stare Stephen had given Nick when he had called his name was the only hint Nick needed to stay away from him for now.That had left him with too few options and he had turned to the one person who had disliked Helen more than anyone, James Lester. He was still working for the Home Office in this reality, even though he didn’t seem to be related in any way to the ARC project, but it would have to be enough.Nick had been cautious and had paved the way for getting Lester’s trust, or at least his curiosity. Nick knew his ex-wife well enough now, even if it had taken him too long, and he couldn’t believe Helen would settle down and be happy with a bureaucratic job.  He knew she wouldn’t have given up going through anomalies on her own. He had been patient and had followed her whenever he had had a chance and he had sent anonymously to Lester every piece of information he got about suspicious meetings and her secret travels through the anomalies. To be absolutely honest, it wasn’t too much, a few dates and places and some blurry photos taken with his phone, but he hoped they had been enough to make Lester suspicious.Now Nick was waiting outside a restaurant, hoping Lester had decided to come to meet him at midday as instructed in his last note. Nick had chosen a random restaurant in the city and had crossed his fingers. He knew he needed a lot of luck for this to go well, but unfortunately this plan was all he had come up with. And right here, right now, it was starting to look like a terrible idea.If he wanted to have any chance at all, he knew he had to be convincing, he had to make clear that Helen was a danger to national security and he had to avoid the timeline change topic. For a first meeting, the explanation of alternate realities being manipulated by his ex-wife would probably be a bit too much. Although if he eventually had to explain that to Lester, he had an ace up his sleeve that he hoped it would gain him some credibility. He just wished he had had time to show it to Connor when he had tried to explain everything to him, maybe things would have been different then.Less than a minute later Nick saw Lester getting out of a taxi and walking into the restaurant and he looked at his watch. Always punctual, he thought. Well, now it was time to find out if the rest of his personality hadn’t changed much either. Nick took a deep breath and walked towards the restaurant.The place was half-empty and it didn’t take him long to spot Lester sitting alone at a table with a familiar look of annoyance on his face. Nick walked straight to him and sat down facing him.“James Lester,” Nick said directly. “I’m glad you’ve decided to come.”“Nicholas Cutter,” Lester replied. “I thought it might be a bad idea, but I was curious.”Nick was a bit surprised, but the fact that Lester had recognised him meant that he had already done some digging on the ARC project. He hoped it was a good sign.“It’s good to get over the introductions so quickly,” Nick said. “Now we can move to other more interesting topics.”Lester raised an eyebrow and smirked. The so-familiar expression made Nick realize how much he missed the old times. Lester had always been a pain in the arse, but in the end they had ended up understanding each other, most of the time, at least.“Have you taken a close look at the information I gave you?” Nick asked.“There were just some vague notes about a supposed traitor working for the government and about national security being compromised,” Lester answered. “But I have to admit that you know how to catch the reader’s attention. The ‘Don’t trust her or anyone around her, you could be in danger’ introductory line is one of my favourites. And old trick to make lectures more interesting?”“It might have sounded a bit dramatic, I’ll admit that, but it’s absolutely true,” Nick replied. “It wouldn’t be the first time Helen’s tried to murder somebody.” “And do you have any proof of that?” Lester asked nonchalantly.“She had put many lives in danger and caused the death of some good friends. I also have a bullet wound in my shoulder and she was the one that pulled the trigger. She missed because somebody tackled her, but she made her intentions very clear,” Nick said.That day, Danny had shown up just at the right moment and Nick owed him his life, although they had never managed to talk for more than five minutes without arguing. Not that it mattered now that there was no sign of Danny around the ARC.“But I’m sure my word isn’t enough, is it?” Nick added.“No it’s not,” Lester replied, looking very unimpressed.“Well, then what about the pictures I sent you?” Nick asked.“What about them, Mr Cutter?” Lester asked back. “All they show, and rather blurrily I have to add, is your ex-wife with some unknown people, or near a big shiny light. Do you actually have any proof of any kind to back up your accusations of treason?”“Big shiny light?” Nick repeated dumbfounded.  “You don’t even know what an anomaly is, do you?”Lester didn’t say anything, but the blank look on his face told Nick all he needed to know. He felt his hope sinking.“I thought at least you’d have learnt about the ARC project,” he said to Lester. “This just makes it all more difficult. If you don’t know about the anomalies you can’t know how dangerous they can be, how dangerous it is to leave the ARC in the hands of somebody like Helen.”“Because it’d be better in somebody else’s hands? Like yours, for example?” Lester asked.“What? No!” Nick answered bewildered. “Look, this was obviously a bad idea...”“I couldn’t agree more,” Lester said as he made a sign to the waiter.“You have to keep digging and learn about the anomalies, and then you’ll understand how serious the situation is,” Nick said standing up. “But you should be careful, Helen won’t like you sticking your nose into-”A strong grip on his shoulder stopped him on his tracks. When he turned around he saw the waiter showing a warrant card to him. Two police officers in uniform were walking into the restaurant straight towards them. Nick turned to Lester in disbelief and horror while the fake waiter started talking.“Nicholas Cutter, you’re under arrest for the harassment of Helen Cutter...”He wasn’t really listening any more; all he could do while they handcuffed him was think how he had fucked everything up. The great plan had sunk even before it started and now he couldn’t run anywhere. Even if he managed to break loose and run from the waiter, where would he go? To hide in the toilets? In the movies there was always a back door, but if this had been a movie, he would have convinced Lester and they would be now planning how to take down the evil villain over some drinks. But Lester was just standing there, looking at his watch with an exasperated look on his face.“You don’t know what’s really happening! You have to stop her!” Nick shouted at him while they were bringing him out. “She’s dangerous! Please, James, don’t turn your back on this!” . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lester looked at his watch in annoyance while the police officers carried Nicholas Cutter away. And of course the man had to make it even more dramatic by shouting while they were bringing him outside.“You don’t know what’s really happening! You have to stop her! She’s dangerous! Please, James, don’t turn your back on this!”Lester sighed heavily. He hated to admit it, but that part was right, he didn’t know what was going on.When the mysterious notes started to arrive, it had been surprising and also slightly exciting. He hadn’t heard about the ARC before or about somebody named Helen Cutter. The anonymous notes didn’t offer much information, but if the national security was compromised it would have been reckless to ignore them. He didn’t want to look like a gullible idiot, though, so he decided to do some checking on his own first. If he found something strange, he’d thought at that moment, he would send the information to his superiors.The anonymous informant said that a traitor had compromised one of the most dangerous projects of the Ministry, the ARC project, and had pointed directly at Helen Cutter, insisting that she was very dangerous. The first step had been easy, he had to learn what the hell that ARC project was and what part Helen Cutter played in it. Unfortunately, his request for information only got him a standard blurb full of anodyne nonsense, some vague description of a job for the national security. The only interesting information he got was that Helen Cutter was, in fact, the director of the project. They had their own SF back-up, vehicles and base, all very new and very secret and it looked like nobody wanted to share anything relevant about what kind of work they really did there.Other anonymous notes arrived, not adding much information, but insisting that she was dirty and that she had her own agenda, which could put the public in danger. They still didn’t offer a single proof, but those photographs of strange lights were curious, to say the least. Although he knew it all could be just some photoshop manipulation, of course; maybe somebody was just making fun of him, trying to make him look like a fool.After a few more failed attempts at getting more information about the project, Lester started to get bored and since he already had his own work to do, he finally decided to inform his superior and make it his problem, let him be the one to decide if it was relevant information or not.Lester had thought that had been the last of it. He had been ordered to immediately hand over any note that arrived in the future and nothing else, which was fine by him. And then the note setting a personal meeting had arrived and he was summoned to Home Secretary and there informed that they needed him to go to that meeting and play bait. It was suspected, they told him, that the person behind the anonymous notes was Helen Cutter’s ex-husband, a perturbed man that had been harassing his ex-wife for a long time.“This is the man, Professor Nicholas Cutter,” the Minister said, showing him a picture. “Have you seen him before?”The man in the picture, obviously one of those official photos for academic profiles, looked very bored and as if he wanted to be doing anything else instead of posing for a photograph. He didn’t look perturbed at all, but you never knew.“I’ve never seen him before, that I recall,” he answered. “Is he dangerous?” “Don’t worry; your safety won’t be compromised,” the man said. “There will be police officers in place, ready to arrest him. We just can’t let a lunatic wander around putting one of our projects at risk.”Of course nobody had thought it was necessary to talk further about the ARC project in his presence so he had been a good boy and had agreed to play his part. He had to admit that he was slightly curious about the whole thing and wanted to meet the man anyway, perturbed or not. And when they had met, well, Cutter might not have given the most convincing first impression ever, but he hadn’t looked like a complete lunatic.And now they were taking him away and everybody was going to bury the incident and he was never going to find out what was happening. Because there was certainly something going on and that ARC project was very important. But they expected him to go back to his paperwork and ask no more questions.Lester took out his phone and looked for the ARC’s number. He had tried to talk to Helen Cutter a few times, using some administrative issues as excuse, but he had got blocked by a very determined assistant every single time. She had politely offered to send him information, had apologized profusely because Dr. Cutter was in a meeting and overall, had found many other excuses to not let him talk to her. Now, Lester decided as he dialled the number again, he might just have a chance to talk to the mysterious woman, if he played his cards right. “The ARC,” the same female voice as usual answered.The screeching sound of a car on the street got people’s attention and some of them got closer to the windows and started talking excitedly, so Lester had to move to the back of the restaurant to avoid the noise.“I would like to speak with Helen Cutter, please,” Lester said.“I’m sorry, but Dr Cutter is-“ the woman replied immediately.“Tell her that I have just had a very interesting chat with Nicholas Cutter, miss, I’m sure she will find a moment for me,” Lester cut her. “My name is James Lester, from the Immigration Department.”After a second of silence, he was put on hold.. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- When they took him out of the restaurant, Nick saw there was a police van already waiting outside, just a few metres away. Before he had time to think what to do or what to say, if there was anything he could say at all, they got to the van and one of the police officers opened the back door to get Nick inside. And there, as if the day hadn’t been surprising enough, Nick saw no other than Danny Quinn.“Having a bad day too, lad?” Danny asked him cheerfully, shaking his cuffs.Nick just gaped and stared at him wondering if he was finally losing his mind. In the van, Danny just looked back at him with a very familiar cheeky grin on his face.The officer at his back pushed Nick, urging him to get into the van, but he had only put one foot inside when he heard a crackling sound and saw the officer that was holding the door fall to the ground shaking.“Oi!” the other police officer shouted, trying to get the driver’s attention, while he pushed Nick inside roughly.Then a hissing sound came from the front of the vehicle and Nick saw that a cloud of smoke was starting to fill the place, making the driver cough uncontrollably. There was another crackling sound behind him and when he turned his head to the door, Nick saw the other officer falling down shaking. A second later a short, skinny man dressed in black and wearing a ski mask appeared with a taser in his hands.The driver, still coughing, got out of the van, but then there was a thump against the side of the vehicle and the coughing stopped and instead of a furious police officer, a bulkier masked man appeared at the van door holding a bat, just as a car skidded to a stop beside them.“Time to go, man!” the taller man shouted. “What are you waiting for?”“You’re crazy, you know that?” Danny said, jumping out of the vehicle.Well, crazy or not, it looked like they had an escape plan and he couldn’t just go around running in cuffs so Nick followed the masked men and got inside their car before they had the chance to close the door.“Hey, man! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the taller man said.“We don’t have time for discussions,” Danny said from the front. “Just drive!”A third masked man drove them out of there at full speed without more words. Nick and the two other men were squeezed in the back of the car, but he wasn’t going to complain at all, he was lucky they weren’t trying to throw him out of the moving car. He just hoped his luck would last a bit longer.“We need to find some place to hide, we can’t drive around forever!” a female voice said. “They’re going to be onto us in a minute!”Surprised, Nick realized that the skinny masked man was, in fact, a woman. Not the biggest surprise of the day though.“We could go to the old... place,” the taller man glanced at Nick and faltered. “You know... that place.”“Very eloquent, lad,” Danny said. “I know that place, but we’re just driving in the opposite direction.”“Well, we didn’t have much time for planning, you know?” the driver replied. “I think we are doing well, all things considered.”“But we can’t take this guy with us!” the taller man said. “He could grass on us!”“We still have to find a safe place, boys. Focus!” the woman said.“OK, does anybody know this area?” Danny asked. “Any place we could use?”“I know a place,” Nick said.Everybody turned to look at him, except for the driver, for which Nick was really grateful.“There is a place, not far away. I’ve been hiding there for a few weeks now,” Nick added. “But we can’t park this car in front of the door.”“Of course not! Do you think we’re idiots?” the driver said, offended.Seconds later they drove into an empty alley and they stopped.“Can we get there on foot from here?” the driver asked.Nick was relieved to see that he still knew that part of the city. They were close enough.“Yes, if we hurry up, we could make it,” he answered.“Are you crazy? Why would we buy this guy’s shit?” the taller man said. “We don‘t even know who he is!”“Well, this is an emergency, we have to get out of this car and disappear now,” Danny said. “If any of you has a better idea, this is the moment to say it.”The taller man huffed, but didn’t say anything and they all got out of the car.“Look, I think we should split up,” Danny said to his partners. “Nobody has seen your faces yet, if you change your clothes and lose the masks, you could walk away freely.”“Are you shitting me? I’m not going to leave you alone with this guy after I went to all that trouble to rescue you!” the driver protested.“Oh, so you went to a lot of trouble because of me?” Danny said. “Why was I in the police van in the first place, huh?”“So now it’s my fault that you let them catch you like a newbie?”“What? A newbie?”The two men continued the friendly bickering as if they had all the time of the world. Meanwhile, the other two, obviously used to such situations, spoke quietly a few steps away from Nick.“OK, I don’t like this too much, but it looks like it’s the best plan,” the woman finally said to Danny.The tall man nodded and walked towards the car. He took a bag from the boot and opened it to take some clothes out.“I’ll go with the big troublemaker here,” the driver said. “We’ll be OK, don’t worry.” “Be careful, OK?” the woman said as the three men started walking away. “You know how to find us when everything has calmed down!” “You lead, man!” the driver said taking off his mask and throwing it to the nearest bin.He was younger than Danny, with dark, curly hair. He didn’t ring any bells for Nick, but there had been so many changes around that he wasn’t surprised or worried about it.“But we can’t go around in cuffs,” Nick said, showing them his hands.“Oh, I’ve already taken care of mine,” Danny said smirking as he showed the open cuffs in his hand. “We’ll deal with yours when we get to that safe place of yours.”Danny folded his jacket and put it over Nick’s hands to disguise the cuffs. Then he clapped Nick’s shoulder encouragingly and kept walking. ***“Unfortunately for the local businesses, it looks like there are a lot of closed shops in the city,” Nick explained when they got to his hideout.“A furniture store. Not a bad choice!” Danny said appraisingly.“It’s easy to sneak in and out without being noticed,” Nick shrugged. “And there even were some pieces of furniture left. It’s comfortable.”“Well then, now that we’re all comfortable, why don’t you tell us your story, man?” the younger man said.“Why don’t I tell you while you take these off me?” Nick said raising his handcuffed hands. “And then you can tell me yours. That was quite an escape you pulled through.”The younger man looked proudly at Danny, but he just rolled his eyes dramatically.“We had only like five minutes after they took you away!” the young man said to Danny. “I knew if they got you into the police station there’d be no way to break you out, so we had to rescue you before that. Fortunately they made a stop on their way to pick up this guy and that bought us some time.”“What were you arrested for?” Nick asked carefully.“Some misunderstanding about a car that I didn’t even want in the first place” Danny answered, looking pointedly at his partner.“And what about you?” the younger man asked Nick, ignoring Danny’s glare.“A ruse by my ex-wife,” Nick answered briefly.“Rough split-up?” Danny asked.“You could say that,” Nick answered, smiling bitterly. “She seems determined to destroy my life.”“That sucks,” Danny said sympathetically. “I’ve already heard that song a few times, man.”“Probably not like this one, but thanks anyway,” Nick replied. “And now, my cuffs, please?”“Sure, it’ll just take a minute,” Danny said grinning.In fact it took him about two minutes to open the cuffs, but Nick was amazed anyway. He wondered if Danny had to force cuffs very often in this reality, but then he decided he really didn’t want to know.“So, this place’s safe?” the young man asked, looking dubious.“I’ve been using it for a few weeks, but there’s no way to be 100% sure,” Nick admitted. “I try not to stay for long in the same place anyway.”Nick had been terribly lucky to have Helen’s anomaly opening device with him when everything had changed. It was the one she had lost in her haste to get away after she had tried to murder him and it had given him a great advantage, since it didn’t look like anybody in the ARC used or knew this technology at all. Well, Nick had seen Helen using it in her secret travelling through the anomalies, but she wasn’t sharing them with the others. She obviously still liked to have her secrets and an ace or two up her sleeve. “We’ll have to find another place soon then,” Danny said.“I have somewhere to go,” Nick said feeling the inside pocket of his jacket.He was also lucky the police officers didn’t have time to take the opening device from him. He could go to the nearest anomaly site and disappear, but he didn’t know what to do about his new friends. He could take them with him, but he wasn’t sure what their reaction would be. He basically looked like the old Danny, but anomalies were difficult to wrap one’s head around them. Although it would be great to finally have somebody on his side.“We’ll wait a bit longer and then we’ll go on our way” Danny said before Nick had time to make up his mind. “It’s been a pleasure, I wish we’d met in different circumstances and all that.”Nick had to make an effort not to sporfle at that. If he only knew. Well, maybe there was one thing Danny had to know, he thought, just in case.“Look, I’m very grateful you got me out of that mess, but my ex won’t be,” Nick said to them. “She’s dangerous, so if you ever cross paths with her, be careful.”Nick took his phone and showed Danny one of Helen’s pictures. He was waiting for a snarky retort or funny comment from Danny, but what he wasn’t expecting was the look of shock on his face. “That woman!” Danny said grabbing Nick’s hand to turn the phone to his friend.The younger man also seemed surprised by Danny’s reaction and just looked at his friend questioningly.“It’s the woman that warned me you were in danger in that house!” Danny said.The younger man paled and looked again at the photo, but he still didn’t seem to recognize Helen.“She helped me to save my brother many years ago. What’s all this?” Danny asked to Nick, still grabbing his hand tightly.Something finally clicked in Nick’s head. Helen had been so smart. It looked like it was time for the truth after all, Nick thought.“So that’s Patrick then,” Nick said, gaining more shocked expressions from both men. “How do you know my name?” Patrick asked suspiciously.“It’s a long story and it’s hard to explain, but there’s something I have to show you and then you’ll understand it better,” Nick said. “We’ll be safer there anyway.” “Why would we follow you anywhere?” Danny said, letting go of Nick’s hand.“Because she’s been playing with you both as well all these years,” Nick answered. “Please, just give me a chance to explain.”“If this is a fucking trick...” Patrick said menacingly.“If this is a fucking trick I want to hear it anyway,” Danny said. “Let’s go then, but you get the handcuffs again, just to be sure.”. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Not far away from the hideout, there was a location where Nick could open an anomaly to the Jurassic. He had used it a few times and it was a relatively safe place, if they were careful, so he decided it was his best option. Going further to get to a different anomaly would be too risky; the police were probably still looking for them. They should have waited a bit longer before going out to the streets again, but patience wasn’t one of Danny’s virtues and as soon as it was dark, he’d decided it was time to go.It didn’t take Nick much effort to convince Danny and his brother to go through the anomaly with him, but that didn’t surprise him much. He already knew that fear didn’t get in Danny’s way for too long if there was an adventure ahead and, as it seemed, it was a family thing.Once on the other side, Nick closed the anomaly behind them and watched as both brothers stared excitedly around like children on a Christmas morning. It made him remember the first time he’d gone through an anomaly himself, almost a lifetime ago. It had been a moment of wonder; it had opened so many possibilities and offered so many answers and so many questions that he hadn’t looked at the world the same way after that.Nick gave them some time to wonder at the new world and then he briefly tried to explain the whole thing, but it ended up being a long lecture with lots of questions and more than a few disbelieving stares. He had been right, if he hadn’t brought them here, there was no way they would have believed him. Hell, they were literally in a different world, staring at a herd of stegosaurus and they still had trouble getting their heads around a few bits of Nick’s story.“Even if all you’ve said is true, it doesn’t look as if changing the past has been such a bad thing,” Danny said, obviously thinking about his brother.“Look, let’s make this clear, if it had suited her plans better, Helen wouldn’t have hesitated to kill your brother,” Nick said. “You were just lucky that it was good for her to save Patrick. Many people were affected by her actions and I doubt all of them were that lucky.” “And you said my brother was a copper?” Patrick asked incredulously.Danny sporfled, obviously amused at the thought.“I think he just thought it would help him to investigate your disappearance, I doubt it was vocational, considering his lack of respect for authority,” Nick replied honestly. “But now, please, can you finally take these off me? We have to go and this is a dangerous place to be handcuffed.”“You’re in a hurry to be somewhere?” Danny asked.“Well, this isn’t a theme park; we have to find a shelter. Fortunately there’s a cave not far away, we can keep talking there.”“But we could go back, right?” Patrick asked nervously. “I mean, you can use that thing again to open the anomaly, can’t you?”Trust a Quinn to think about the consequences of his actions after a while, Nick thought. That idea didn’t seem to have crossed their minds when they’d gone through the anomaly in the first place.“Yes, we could go back,” Nick reassured him. “But the police are still after us back there. They can’t find us here and if we’re careful and don’t attract unwanted attention, we should be safe.”“Well, we can stay here for a while then,” Danny said happily as he released Nick from his handcuffs again. “We don’t have anything urgent to do, right, Patrick?”Nick thought about his own urgent matters and sighed. It was already too late to stop plan B and get the parcel back from the courier office.In case something went wrong, he had left a package to be delivered the next day to the only other person around that he could trust to see what Helen was really doing and hopefully do something about it. The plan was to retrieve it before the end of the day in case everything went fine, but that had obviously not happened and so, Lorraine Wilkes was soon going to receive a copy of every piece of information he had managed to gather against Helen.  ***  The cave was close and he had used it a few times, so there were still some things lying around that they could use now, like the torches Nick had made in case he needed to keep away unwanted visitors.They got as comfortable as they could and Nick tried to explain everything again. And he thought it was time to use the ace that he had up his sleeve. He hadn’t had time to use it with Lester, but he hoped it would be enough to convince Danny and his brother once and for all. He wasn’t sure they could do much to help, but he would definitely feel less alone with them on his side.Nick took out his phone and looked for the video Abby had recorded at the last Christmas party in the ARC. He hadn’t even noticed Abby had picked up his phone until he had seen her filming around the atrium, but it hadn’t bothered him, they all had been in a very festive mood, and maybe a little bit drunk, to care. He had totally forgotten about it until one day, after the timeline had changed, when he was looking at old photos, feeling sad and lonely. Then he had found the video and had seen the familiar faces, smiling, bickering, drinking and throwing confetti around. Lester appeared in it, frowning slightly at the mess, but probably just more for the show than anything. And of course, Danny Quinn appeared too, teasing his friends and very specially, Lester.“Well, I hope this will convince you both,” Nick said, showing them the video. “I hope you won’t think I’m that good at video manipulation.”Nick looked at their faces while they watched the video and thanked the universe internally for his phone having a full battery. He had managed to copy the video to a flash drive and had sent it in the package to Lorraine, who also appeared briefly in it. He hoped it would be enough to convince her as well.When the video ended, both brothers stared at him without saying a word. Patrick still seemed a bit suspicious, but Danny looked deadly serious. Nick could see the wheels turning in his head and he knew Danny well enough to be a bit worried about that. . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I really don’t know what to do about it, Tom,” Lorraine said. “The package arrived yesterday and I have been looking at all this over and over again, but I still don’t know if I should tell somebody or not. I guess I could just ignore it... But you’ve seen the video too, that can’t have been faked, can it? Or maybe it can and I’m just being foolish...”Lorraine picked up one of the photos from the small pile of documents in front of her and looked at it for a moment before letting it down on the table again, sighing.“Sorry, I asked you to come because I need some friendly advice and I don’t let you say a word,” she said. “Thank you for listening to me, Tom. You’re a good friend.”“No worries at all, Lorraine,” Tom said smiling. “Who else could I be talking to seriously about timelines and time travel? But you’re paying for the drinks today.”Tom Ryan was probably the best thing she had got out of a relationship that had sunk some time ago. He was one of her boyfriend’s pals and they’d immediately got along very well, so she had felt relieved when, after the relationship was over, Tom didn’t just disappear into thin air. In fact, they almost worked together on the ARC project, but Tom had only got to work as captain of the SF team for a day before he was reassigned. It had been a big disappointment, but at least now she still had somebody to talk about the ARC and the anomalies without having to worry about the Official Secrets Act.They were sitting in a discreet corner of the pub, having some beers. It was early in the evening, so the pub wasn’t too crowded as yet and they didn’t have to worry about people eavesdropping their conversation.“If I didn’t know about the anomalies, this would sound ridiculous, but we know how many possibilities they offer,” Lorraine said. “Honestly, do you think I’m overreacting?”Tom looked thoughtfully at her before answering.“I think you’re worried because you think this might be true,” he finally said. “If you thought this was just bullshit, you wouldn’t be worried at all, you would have given it to Helen Cutter straight away.”Lorraine picked up one photograph and showed it to him.“This little device Helen’s holding here, the one that Nicholas Cutter describes as ‘anomaly opening device’,” she said pointing at it. “I saw it in Helen’s office once. She put it in a drawer when I came in, but I had time to take a good look at it and it’s the same thing... Of course, it could be anything...”“But it’s not just that...” Tom continued for her.Lorraine thought about the mysterious absences, the unexplained sources of information, the manipulation. She wasn’t blind, she had seen how differently Helen acted around people, especially with Connor and Captain Becker. She had them wrapped around her little finger. Helen had tried to use the same tricks on her a few times, but Lorraine had just played dumb. It had worked fine and Helen had ignored her from then on, probably thinking Lorraine wasn’t worth the effort, but she had kept her eyes and ears open.“There are a lot of small things that don’t look right,” Lorraine said. “But it’s more a feeling than anything...”“You don’t trust her,” Tom concluded for her.Lorraine looked at Tom and sighed. “No, I don’t,” she finally admitted.Lorraine took the handwritten note that Nicholas Cutter had left for her on top of the folder of documents and read the last paragraph again.‘I know it’s a long shot, but now there aren’t many people I trust to do the right thing and one of them is you, Lorraine. I know you are an honest and intelligent person, so she can’t have fooled you. If nothing else, at least be careful and keep your eyes open and please, take care of the people in the ARC, who once were my dear friends. In a few hours I’m going to meet another one of them, James Lester, and I really hope he is still a friend, but if you are reading this, then things probably haven’t gone well.’“James Lester has tried to get in touch with Helen a few times, but she has always refused to talk to him, until the other day, when he said he had talked with her ex-husband,” Lorraine said. “She was in a terrible mood the rest of the day after that phone call.”“They arrested him, but he got away, right?” Tom asked. “I’m not surprised she was in a bad mood.”“She was angry before the police called,” Lorraine pointed out. “She seemed to get in a dark mood whenever Lester phoned.”Nicholas Cutter’s notes said Lester had been the director of the ARC and that Helen had manipulated people’s lives to keep him and many other people away from the anomalies so she had freedom to do as she pleased. Lorraine remembered the video and shivered. She had seen herself talking and smiling to some people she didn’t even know, but it looked like they had been good friends.“Has anybody ever told you why you were reassigned after your first day at the ARC?” Lorraine asked.It was something that had always bothered her. That day she had come with Helen to greet the new SF team, glad to see her friend was going to be close to her in that new and amazing job and she clearly remembered Helen’s shocked expression when Tom stepped forward to shook her hand. It faded quickly, replaced by a polite, professional smile, but Helen hadn’t been in a very good mood that day, either.“Not really, they just told us we had a more urgent mission and they sent us abroad a few days later.” Tom shrugged. “It happens sometimes.”“I still have Lester’s phone number... and his home address,” Lorraine said slowly. “He had been talking with Nicholas Cutter, he might have more information about this.”“And you want to talk to him,” Tom deduced. “How did you get his home address anyway?”“It’s the address he gave to be sent information about the ARC when he first phoned; we sent him the standard blurb,” Lorraine answered innocently.“I’m starting to think that you haven’t called me just to have some drinks and a talk,” Tom said with a mischievous smile. “It sounds like you already have a plan...”“But I needed a friend to stop me if it was a terrible idea,” Lorraine replied smiling. “So, what do you say? It’s not too late to pay somebody a visit, is it?” . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I think this has been a terrible idea,” Nick said, horrified.“It was your idea!” Danny replied.“No, it wasn’t!”“You wanted to explain everything to Lester,” Danny insisted. “Well, now you have the chance, he isn’t going anywhere.”“And he won’t be calling the police any time soon,” Patrick added while playing with a very expensive mobile phone that wasn’t his.“I really don’t think this is going to help us to gain his trust,” Nick said.Lester, tied to a chair in his living room and gagged with his own tie, looked furious and not understanding at all. At first, Danny’s suggestion of trying to talk to Lester again and show him the video and the anomalies hadn’t sounded that bad. Maybe it hadn’t been a very elaborate plan, but he had still hoped Lester would listen to him and help them. Unfortunately the whole thing hadn’t gone the way Nick had originally thought.“You should go to the front door and check the way is clear,” Danny whispered to his brother. “We don’t want his cleaning lady or a neighbour to appear and surprise us.”Patrick nodded and walked to the front door, still playing with Lester’s phone.“Well, what are you waiting for?” Danny said to Nick. “It took me a lot of effort to get his address; we should make good use of our chance here.”“A lot of effort?” Nick said. “You just played the dumb messenger part in his office and the receptionist was naive enough to fall for it.”“But I had to use all my charm and be very convincing,” Danny said, grinning.Nick sighed and turned to Lester, who was still glaring daggers at them. Maybe they should have tried to get in touch with Lorraine after all, but it was too late to have second thoughts now.  If they wanted to have any chance at this Nick knew he had to cut it short and use his best proof, so he took out his phone and played the video of the Christmas party.“This is probably going to be a long conversation, but I want you to take a good look at this first and then I’ll explain to you what’s really going on,” Nick said turning the phone to Lester.  ***   An hour later things hadn’t improved at all for them. Lester had got his tie out of his mouth in order to have a real ‘conversation’, but it was clear that he was more than sceptical about the story he had just heard. Not even the video seemed to have impressed him for too long since he had soon started claiming they were very good special effects and nothing more.“We’ll have to show him them,” Danny said, his patience long lost.“Haven’t you finished yet?” Patrick said from the hall.“The guy isn’t convinced, we’re going to have to take him for a walk,” Danny said to him. “Go take the car and meet us on the front in five minutes.”Nick heard Patrick going out of the front door and he stared thoughtfully at Lester, trying to decide if it was safe to untie him. Lester was now looking a bit more nervous, probably wondering what kind of walk his kidnappers were planning and he couldn’t blame him, they probably looked like a bunch of lunatics to him.“We’re going to take you to see an anomaly with your own eyes, Lester,” Nick said to him. “I hope it’ll help you to understand.”“An anomaly?” Lester said, curiosity taking over slightly from his fear.“Wait till you go through one, man,” Danny said smiling widely, “It’s like a sci-fi movie!”“We mean you no harm,” Nick said staring seriously at Lester’s eyes. “We just want you to see it. I really hope you’ll believe me then, but if you don’t, I promise we won’t be bothering you again.”Lester was still quiet and serious, as though he was considering Nick’s words, when they heard the door opening and closing again.“That was fast, Patrick. Something happened?” Danny asked surprised.“You could say so,” Patrick said as he entered the room.Nick immediately recognized the man that came into the room holding a gun to Patrick’s back. And the one that came in after him. It wasn’t difficult considering they had the same face and that he had seen many copies of the same man over the years. The second clone pointed a gun at them and ordered them to raise their hands. Then Helen Cutter made her grand entrance.“Lester doesn’t have to follow that order, but you two should,” she said as she walked slowly into the room. “They tend to be quite zealous about their tasks.”“You can’t complain about it, you made them that way,” Nick retorted angrily.“I’m not complaining, I’m merely warning you,” Helen replied smiling sweetly. “I would hate it if this reunion got interrupted abruptly because of a sudden movement.”Nick, Danny and Patrick slowly raised their hands while Lester gaped from his place on the chair. The clone took Lester’s phone from Patrick’s hand and threw it away before pushing him to make him join his brother at the back of the room.“Well, gentlemen, this is a situation I have never wanted to get to,” Helen started. “I worked really hard to keep you away from me and the ARC, so this is very, very disappointing.” . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “So it’s really you,” Danny said. “You’re the exact same woman that warned me about my brother 20 years ago!” “Yes, Mr Quinn. I was very generous, I think, going back to that moment to save you and your brother from your personal drama,” Helen said. “That’s why I’m so disappointed. I gave you a precious gift, I gave you your brother back and you have still come back to bother me when I least expected it.”“So, you’re saying that it’s true?” Patrick said. “Everything he told us! What he said about the time-travelling through the anomalies!”“It took me many calculations and a lot of planning and still, here we are,” Helen said, sighing dramatically. “But this is your fault, Nick. If you had let go, we wouldn’t be in this situation now.”“Should I have let you rule the ARC as you pleased, deceiving everybody?” Nick demanded. “I know you don’t really care about it, why do you even do it?”“To keep everyone involved under control, Nick,” Helen answered. “I’m just making sure the ARC project doesn’t end up causing the destruction of the Earth.”“Very altruistic,” Nick replied. “It doesn’t sound like you at all.”“Well, I’ll admit that it has some advantages,” Helen said, smirking. “But it leaves me very little time for other activities and the paperwork is hideous.”“My heart bleeds for you,” Nick deadpanned. “It’s a pity that you don’t have much time to travel through the anomalies on your own so often now.”Helen frowned slightly, but she recovered her smile almost immediately. “Oh, I still do it sometimes. After all, debts and favours have to be paid somehow and people get incredibly generous if you have technology from the future or rare specimens to trade.”“I have never taken you for a smuggler, Helen,” Nick said. “How does trading in creatures fit in your plan to protect Earth from humanity?”“Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”Out of the corner of his eye Nick saw that Lester was gaping, completely surprised by Helen’s words. Danny and Patrick, on the other hand, looked very interested in their conversation and Nick was worried they had just discovered a new line of business.“From what I’ve heard, you have just openly admitted the charges your ex-husband has accused you of,” Lester eventually said.“Oh, Lester, you’ve finally managed to catch up,” Helen said, faking surprise. “You are a persistent little man, do you know that?”“You didn’t seem very willing to share any information, Mrs Cutter,” Lester replied. “So I had to persist.”“Oh, and you certainly did,” Helen agreed. “But you should have let it go, Lester. Curiosity isn’t always a good thing.”“And refusing phone calls and meetings isn’t the correct way to avert suspicion, in case you haven’t noticed,” Lester replied dryly.“But we did talk on the phone after all, didn’t we? And I tried so hard to convince you that everything was fine,” Helen said. “But I knew you definitely wouldn’t let it go after your meeting with Nick. And so here we are now.”“What exactly are you doing here, Helen?” Nick said.“I just came to have the meeting Lester has been so persistently asking for,” Helen said innocently.“And may I ask if you usually bring two thugs with you to all your meetings?” Lester said.“It’s always good to be cautious,” Helen said. “And this time it’s really been a good decision because I have just found a colleague of the Ministry being attacked by some delinquents that had recently escaped from the police.”Helen’s smug smile worried Nick deeply. This was definitely looking bad for all of them, so bad that right now the prospect of being handed to the police sounded like their best option and he wasn’t sure Helen was considering it. By the look on their faces, Danny and his brother had also realized that and Nick found himself hoping they had another great escape planned for situations like this.Then Helen took a gun out of her pocket and walked slowly to him. The Quinn brothers tensed immediately, but before they had the chance to do anything stupid or heroic, Helen made a sign to the clones and in two fast strides they got to them and hit them on the head with guns, knocking them unconscious.“Now, now, Nick,” Helen said standing in front of him. “What should I do with you?”Helen tilted her head and the look on her face softened slightly.“You could have just stayed away,” Helen said. “It would have been easy like that.”“I’ve already told you, Helen,” Nick replied. “I can’t watch you play God and do nothing. You shouldn’t have altered everything so it would suit your twisted plans.”Helen’s look hardened again and she smirked. “Sometimes you have to take some risks-“ she began.“Yes, for the greater good,” Nick interrupted. “You’ve already said that. I just don’t think your idea of the greater good is the same idea as the rest of us have.”“I’m starting to believe that your husband has a point, Mrs Cutter,” Lester said. “I don’t know how it is possible that nobody has seen it until now. The selection process for the ARC personnel has been extremely deficient, if you ask me.”Helen turned to stand in front of Lester, with a disdainful smile on her face and the clones walked to stand at her sides.“There are loads of greedy people in all the ranks of the Ministry, Lester,” Helen explained to him while she put her gun back in her pocket. “Some are even cheaper than police officers, in fact.”“And if they aren’t ready to take a bribe you just make them disappear, like you are planning to do with us,” Nick said. “Like you did with the others.”“Some people’s disappearances were inevitable,” Helen replied shrugging. “Some others were just accidental.”Nick thought of Jenny and felt his anger rise. He stared at Helen in silence while he tried really hard to remember the time when looking at his wife had made his heart flutter with something other than apprehension.“We’ll have time to discuss this later, Nick,” Helen finally said. “Now we have to go.”She leant over Lester and used his tie to gag him again. Lester’s offended look would have made Nick laugh if the situation wasn’t so worrying.“Where are we going?” Nick asked.“I’m late for a meeting, so I have to go. And it looks like you’re going to come with me,” Helen answered, walking towards the door.“Make sure he gets into our car without making a fuss,” she said to one of the clones. “We don’t want to attract people’s attention.”The man walked to Nick’s side and signalled him towards the door with his gun. Nick took two steps forward, but then stopped and called to Helen before she got out the door.“What happens to them?” Nick asked.Helen looked at the two unconscious men on the floor and then at Lester. Nick thought he saw for a moment a bit of sadness on his ex-wife’s face, but it disappeared so quickly that he wasn’t sure.“Meeting with Lester was a very unfortunate decision, Nick” Helen said. “And adding Quinn and his brother to this has only made it worse. When I came here I only wanted to see what Lester really knew and I found you all here conspiring together. This could spiral out of control very fast, so I fear I have to take a drastic decision now.”“Helen, don’t...” Nick begged.“Wait five minutes and then burn the place down,” she said to the second clone. “Two well-known delinquents assaulting the house of a respectable civil servant and a fire that gets out of control. The police won’t ask many questions.”“You can’t do this, Helen!” Nick shouted. “I won’t let you do this! I won’t go anywhere with you and your th-“Nick turned furiously to face the clone that was behind him just in time to see the butt of the man’s gun before it hit his head and then everything went black. . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “This doesn’t look good,” Lorraine said when they saw the unconscious man being carried into the car on the street.This was definitely looking terribly bad and Tom hoped that the twilight and the ornamental bushes by the road were enough to cover the car they were in, because he was sure the man who was carrying the unconscious guy over his shoulder had a gun and there was a second man in the house. Helen Cutter was looking around nonchalantly, as if she was just an innocent bystander, but Tom was already suspecting they had to be very careful with that woman.After another long look around the street, Helen walked towards the car and sat on the driver’s seat while the other man sat in the back, beside the unconscious man.“Did the unconscious guy look like James Lester?” Tom asked Lorraine.“I’ve only seen the photo on the Home Office website, but I don’t think so. He was dark-haired and this man was blond, I think,” Lorraine answered. “It isn’t the guy that opened the door for them either.”Their impromptu visit to Lester’s home had quickly turned into a whole new situation when they had seen Helen Cutter herself and two menacing men forcing a third man to let them into the house. Tom didn’t know what was going on, but he thought this proved that Lorraine’s suspicions weren’t groundless, to say the least.Helen’s car started and Tom knew he had to take a decision fast. There was at least another man held at gunpoint in Lester’s house.“I have to see what’s happening inside. The other man is still there and probably James Lester too,” Tom said as he opened the car door. “Follow them from a distance, don’t get close and don’t confront them in any way.”“Don’t worry, Tom,” Lorraine said, starting the car. “I won‘t even get out of the car, I promise. Be careful yourself!”“Don’t worry,” Tom replied, about to hide behind the bushes. “Now, go!”   *** Tom got closer to the back of Lester’s flat, fortunately on the ground floor, and hoped he hadn’t taken the wrong decision. Maybe he should have gone with Lorraine, but the fact that they had left a man in the house made his instincts scream that something was wrong there. And as well as that, Lorraine was a very capable woman, with self-defence training and a lot of common sense; if she had said she was going to be careful, she would be. He really hoped it was enough to keep her safe, because if she got hurt because he’d left her alone, he would never forgive himself.Tom was in the back garden, looking for the safest place to get a view of the interior of the flat when somebody opened a window. He edged closer and listened carefully. Somebody was walking around the room, throwing things on the floor.When he heard the steps going away, Tom risked a brief look through the window. It was enough though to tell him that his instincts had been right. There was a man tied to a chair in the middle of a living room and what looked like an unconscious man on the floor. At least he hoped he was just unconscious.The heavy footsteps entered the room again and Tom considered his options. It looked like he would only have to fight one man, but he almost certainly had a gun and Tom hadn’t. Getting in through the window was out of the question if he wanted to take him by surprise since the man was probably standing there facing the bloke tied to the chair, which also meant he would be facing the window, as well.Tom was considering if he could pick the lock of the front door quietly enough when he heard the man moving around the room and then getting away again. Then he heard a door closing; maybe the front door? Tom listened carefully, but there were no more sounds of footsteps coming back into the room; all he could hear was the muffled yelling of the man tied to the chair, so he took a second quick look inside. Then he cursed and jumped through the window.Helen’s lackey had set the fucking room on fire and left the men there to die. The day was getting better and better. Earlier on, his only plan for the evening had been to go out with his friend for some drinks!Once inside the house, Tom saw there was not just one man unconscious on the floor, but two.  The fire was spreading fast and the smoke was starting to fill the room so there wasn't a moment to waste.He knelt by the chair and started to untie the man whose expensive suit and dark hair identified him as the probable owner of the house, James Lester. Tom didn't even try to undo the knots, he just used his Swiss army knife, Lorraine's last Christmas present, to cut the rope. He’d complained that he missed his boot knife while off duty, being terribly useful in many situations as it was, and she had handed him a small box on Christmas Day. You can't go around carrying a combat knife, Tom, but nobody would complain about an innocent Swiss army knife, she had said to him, winking. And a good little knife it was, he thought, when it cut easily through the ropes.Lester finished untangling himself while Tom grabbed one of the men from the floor and put him over his shoulder. The other one was already waking up, but the smoke was so dense that it was starting to make it difficult to breathe. Tom got out through the window, left the unconscious man on the garden and hurried back inside.  Lester was already helping the other man, who was leaning heavily against him. He was taller and looked barely conscious so he was making it very difficult for both of them to walk. Tom stepped forward to help Lester carry the man and the three of them got out of the house as quickly as they could.Once in the garden, and after a few deep breaths and some coughing, Lester took off the tie he had been gagged with, which was loosely hanging around his neck, and tossed it to the floor with disgust."What a way to ruin a fine tie," he said before he started coughing again."We have to warn the neighbours before the fire spreads, they have to get out!" Tom said as he took out his phone to call the firemen."The Burtons are on holiday and the two flats on the first floor are empty. The fault of the financial crisis, the state agents said," Lester replied.The man was quite a sight. The expensive suit was totally crumpled, his shirt slightly unbuttoned and smoke-dirty and his hair was totally dishevelled, but he still looked more offended than scared."And now it looks like I will have to move, too,” Lester said looking at the flames. “But I think I’m safe to say that it could have been worse," he added offering Tom his hand. "James Lester. I can’t thank you enough for your good timing."On the ground the tall man was helping his friend, who was already regaining consciousness."Captain Tom Ryan," Tom said smiling and shaking Lester’s hand. "You’re very welcome." . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Nick woke up after his head smashed lightly but repeatedly against a hard surface. That surface, he discovered when he opened his eyes, was the window of a moving car. They had put him on the back seat and his head had ended up falling to the side until it had started hitting the window with every bump of the road. It wasn't a nice way to wake up, but at least he wasn't dead.The memory of Lester's and the Quinn brother's fate made him sit straight with a jolt. He wondered how long he had been passed out. Were they already dead? Had Helen's minion had time to set the place in fire?"Nick, dear, I told you my men were quite literal-minded and you were indeed starting to make a fuss," Helen said from the driver’s seat. "No silliness this time, OK?"The clone, who was sitting by his side, turned his gun on him so Nick could see it clearly. There were no more words, but the menace was clear and Nick didn’t doubt the man would carry it through.There was nothing he could do in that situation so Nick focussed on the road, trying to recognize that part of the city. It looked like they had left behind the residential area and Nick could see stores and small buildings all around. There weren’t many people on the street and many businesses were showing a closure sign. It looked like Helen had wanted a secluded place for her meeting.After a few more minutes, Helen drove into a slightly more isolated area and finally stopped the car next to an abandoned warehouse that in the good times had belonged to an appliance store.“I have to meet my business partner and arrange a delivery and then we’ll have to talk very seriously,” Helen said, turning to Nick. “And let’s make this clear: what happens until I come back is completely up to you; you can be smart and wait patiently or you can try to escape and get yourself killed.”Nick opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t even start a sentence. He knew that the opportunity to reason with Helen was long gone. There was no remorse and no compassion to be expected from her. He closed his mouth again and looked back at her with great sadness.“Wait here until I come back,” Helen said to the clone. “If he tries something, you can kill him, but be discreet. We can’t attract any attention.”The clone nodded and then Helen turned and opened the car door.“I don’t know why you bother,” Nick said before she got out of the car. “Why didn’t you just leave me to die with the others?”Helen sat back and slowly turned to face Nick with a sad smile on her face. “For old times’ sake, I suppose. Who would have guessed I’m sentimental, after all?”   ***   Lorraine kept the map in front of her face while she dialled Tom’s number. She hoped it looked like she was lost and trying to find her way back, because there weren’t many reasons why she would have parked in such a deserted area. She had stopped her car in front of a different building, but she still could see Helen’s car, which meant that they could see her too.Then she saw Helen Cutter getting out of the car and walking towards the big front doors of the warehouse. Lorraine folded the map a bit to be able to watch Helen’s movements, but made sure it still covered her face. She was grateful that, GPS aside, she still had a big map in the glove box and that her car was a random black Peugeot. She couldn’t stay there for long though, she would have to move the car soon or it would definitely look suspicious.“C’mon, Tom, pick up!”She was starting to get worried about her friend. She told herself that he was a well trained SF soldier, but deep down she knew that wasn’t guarantee enough.An old truck drove down the road slowly and parked in front of the warehouse, next to where Helen was standing. A man got out of the vehicle and joined her on the sidewalk, while the driver stayed inside.“Lorraine?”Tom’s voice sent a wave of relief through Lorraine’s body. “Tom, are you OK?” she asked hurriedly. She could hear the background sound of a siren loud and clear. “What’s happened? Is James Lester all right?”“Yes, he is, we all are. It’s just that the house was more crowded than we thought at first,” he answered. “Where are you?”“I’ve followed Helen’s car to an old shopping area, not sure about the name-““It’s OK, give me the GPS coordinates and I’ll call the cavalry. I know the man I can trust with this.”Lorraine gave him the coordinates and described the place briefly for him. Also, just in case, she gave him the number plate of Helen’s car. Then Tom told her briefly about what had happened to him and that the man Helen had kidnapped was her ex-husband, Nicholas Cutter himself.Meanwhile Lorraine could see that Helen had opened the doors of the warehouse and let the truck get inside. Then she walked in alongside the man and closed the doors behind her.“Tell your friends to hurry up, Tom,” Lorraine said. “Helen has gone inside the warehouse with the men of the truck, but the armed man is still inside the car with Nicholas Cutter.”“I will, don’t worry. You haven’t got out of the car, have you?”“No, I’m still in the car and I’m not too close, I don’t want them to see me,” she replied. “In fact the area is quite deserted. It won’t be easy for your friends to get close without them noticing.”“Don’t worry about them, they’re professionals.”“Well, I’m sure they will be fine, but Nicholas Cutter, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be in a very good position right now.” Lorraine replied.“They’ll try to get Cutter free before they strike,” Tom said. “Nobody likes a hostage situation getting messy. Now you just have to get-”Lorraine heard the voice of a man stopping Tom mid-sentence, but it was difficult to understand the words clearly.“Wait a moment, Lorraine.”All she could hear for a while was a muffled conversation, but then Tom’s voice got to her clearly again. “Lorraine? You did great, but you have to get out of there now. Don’t worry, we might have a way to help Cutter, with a bit of extra help.” . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Nick didn’t know what to do. His survival skills might have improved a lot recently, but he still couldn’t think of a way to get out of the car without getting shot. There might be another chance soon, he repeated to himself, trying to keep calm.An old truck had arrived soon after they had got there and a man had joined Helen in front of the warehouse for a little chat while the driver waited at the wheel. Then Helen had opened one of the big doors and the truck had gone inside the building. The three of them had been there for quite some time now and Nick didn’t know if he should be worried about Helen or the two men.The second clone had arrived a few minutes ago and had gone inside too, after checking briefly with his partner. All he had said was a laconic ‘It’s done’, but it had twisted Nick’s stomach so hard that he had almost been sick.Nick noticed the clone was keeping a close eye on him, waiting for him to do something stupid, but at the same time the man also watched their surroundings, vigilantly. That part didn’t take him much effort though, since the area was almost deserted. The warehouse seemed to have been emptied a long time ago and there were very few cars driving around. That’s why it was so easy to spot the same old blue car coming down the road again.It wasn’t as if the driver, a man who was clearly arguing with somebody, was trying to go unnoticed though. As it got closer, the car slowed down and finally stopped just by their side.Lowering his window, the driver knocked on the clone’s window and signalled him to lower it. The clone tensed slightly, but he finally lowered it, after sending a warning look to Nick.“Oi!” the man said. “Can you help me, lad? My girlfriend here forgot the GPS and she doesn’t know how to read a map!”“That’s not true, Jason! You took the wrong turn!” the woman protested.They kept arguing, much to the annoyance of the clone. Nick, on the other hand, felt hopeful again. He had recognized the deep voice of the man called Jason as the voice of one of Danny’s masked partners. The woman, he was sure, was the other one. Nick looked at her in surprise as he also recognized the face of Caroline Steel. In the old timeline he hadn’t talked to her in person, but he had been told about Caroline’s part in Leek’s plans and her later change of heart.“We were trying to get to this damn furniture store because she wants a fancy new sofa and we’ve been driving around for ages!” Jason told them in exasperation.Then he leant down slightly to grab something from the footwell and Nick tensed and got ready for something to happen. When the man turned to face them again though, Nick saw he had a big brochure with lots of pictures of sofas in his hand.“Do you have any idea where this stupid place is?” Jason said, pushing the brochure right in front of the clone’s nose.Nick couldn’t see exactly what happened then because the big brochure was blocking the view, but the now familiar crackling sound was hint enough so as soon as he heard it, Nick quickly moved away from the clone’s body.The clone trembled and then fell limply on the seat. The brochure fell to the ground and Nick could see Jason again, now holding a taser and wearing a cheeky grin. Nick didn’t wait a second. He took the gun from the unconscious clone and got out of the car. Caroline and the man, who had got out of their car too, greeted him with big smiles when he walked towards them.“Easy with that, man,” Jason said to him when he saw the gun on Nick’s hand. “We’re here to help.”“You’re just in time again,” Nick said smiling back.“I’d like to have that back, thank you very much,” Caroline said, taking the taser from her partner and putting it inside her bag.“Danny phoned and asked us to rescue you,” Jason said. “He said he’d compensate us for all the trouble.”“Do you have news about them? Are they OK?” Nick hurriedly asked. He had felt so relieved that for a moment he’d forgotten about Danny and the others.“They’re OK, don’t worry. It looks like they had their own hero to rescue them,” Caroline answered. “Danny said your psycho ex-wife had kidnapped you and tried to kill them. By the way, where is she?”“Inside the building,” Nick answered without bothering to correct her for using the word ‘psycho’. “I’m not sure what she’s doing, but we really should go.”“I agree, I think we should be going,” Jason said immediately. “Danny also said the cavalry was coming and I don’t want to have to explain what I am doing here. It would take quite a long time.”Just as he finished talking, all the hell broke loose. Two military vehicles came out of nowhere and stopped in front of them. At the same time a helicopter appeared and started flying over the area. A full set of soldiers got out of each car and they all ran towards the warehouse except for two of them, who came up to their cars. One of them checked the clone’s vitals and the other one commanded them to stay put and not move.Everything seemed to be moving really fast. Nick couldn’t hear any shots being fired, but it only made him worry more, he didn’t think Helen would surrender without a fight.Caroline and her friend definitely didn’t look happy to be surrounded by soldiers and Nick could see the way they kept looking discreetly around, looking for a way out. Caroline, in particular, seemed to be quite freaked out. When Nick saw her getting her hand inside the bag, he put his hand on her shoulder.“Please don’t. I don’t think your taser has enough battery to get you out of this,” he whispered.Caroline didn’t look happy about it, but a third military van appeared and that seemed to convince her to play nice. At least for the moment. She took her hand out the bag and stood by his side, looking as surprised and innocent as possible. . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- In the end Helen got away. It didn’t come as a big surprise, but Nick was disappointed nevertheless.Nick, Caroline and Jason had waited outside the warehouse under the close watch of the soldiers posted outside. The raid was over quite quickly, and the soldiers came out of the building escorting the two men from the truck and one of the clones, but there was no sign of Helen or the other clone.The helicopter started flying over a bigger area and some soldiers were sent to search the surroundings. That was all Nick needed to see to know that Helen had found the way to get away yet again.When everything calmed down somewhat they were led inside the warehouse and met the person in charge of the operation. Time for more reunions with old friends, Nick thought when he recognized Captain Wilder as he walked straight up to them.Wilder was very interested in knowing their story but not as interested in answering questions, so Nick had to give up asking about Helen and start talking about  himself. Considering there was little point on lying about his identity and the reason why he was there, he decided to tell the truth, or at least a partial version of the truth that wouldn’t make him sound too crazy. He didn’t know how much these men knew about the ARC and he didn’t want to end up in the nearest asylum.Nick didn’t know what he should say about Caroline and Jason, but he got the feeling they would appreciate some discretion about their activities, so he tried to be as vague as possible. When it was their turn to talk, they both told a barely believable story about them seeing someone in danger and wanting to help. Unsurprisingly, Wilder didn’t seem at all convinced by it.“A little favour, he said,” Jason muttered when Wilder stepped aside to talk on the phone. “Danny’s going to owe us big time for this shit.”Caroline wasn’t particularly happy about the situation either, especially since they had taken her taser away.“He’s got us into trouble before, but this?” she whispered. “He’d better have a way to get us out of it.”Speak of the Devil, Nick thought when he saw Danny and Patrick being escorted inside the building. And right behind them, to his surprise, was no other than Tom Ryan, who walked in with Lester and Lorraine by his side.Patrick looked a bit nervous and tense. Danny, on the other hand, looked relaxed and confident as usual, but at least he had the decency to smile at his friends apologetically when they glared at him. Lester had obviously tried to make himself presentable, but his clothes still looked a bit crumpled and his tie was missing. The raised eyebrow and the glare told Nick that his attitude was back on top form, though.While Danny and Patrick joined their friends for a quiet conversation, Nick turned to Lorraine and smiled at her tentatively. “So you got the package,” he said.“Yes, I did, and just in time, by the look of things,” she replied.“Indeed,” Lester said. “Ms Wickes’ friend executed a very impressive last minute rescue, luckily for us.”Ryan had gone to talk to Wilder and it looked as if they already knew each. Nick really hoped that was good news. They didn’t work for Helen, but there were many reasons why they could all end up in jail if things took a wrong turn.After a while, Wilder and Ryan got closer to the group and Nick held his breath.“Well, now that you all are here and that I’ve heard so many different stories, I think it’s time you told me exactly what really happened,” Wilder said, a stern look on his face. “And no bullshit this time or you’ll join our handcuffed friends in the van."They looked at each other hesitantly and then Lorraine started talking.   ***   Nick told the whole truth, mentions of an alternative reality aside, and was relieved to see that the rest did the same. Well, Danny and his friends told a slightly modified version of their background, but they described their encounter with Helen precisely and that was what mattered. Lorraine also mentioned superficially the content of the information Nick had sent her and she didn’t mention the video at all, which helped to keep the story simple.Captain Wilder didn’t even blink at the mention of the anomalies. That was another good sign. He probably knew already about them and the ARC project and that would save them from very long and complicated explanations.When they all had finished, Wilder told Nick, Ryan and Lorraine to go with him and asked the rest to stay to sign some official papers.“We won’t keep you much longer,” the captain said when he saw them frowning. “After all, there’s no reason for us to detain some innocent citizens that got themselves involved in this accidentally.”After those words, he turned to leave, but Nick saw a smile tugging the corners of Wilder’s lips as he started to walk away.“Is he really going to let them go?” Nick asked Ryan as they followed Wilder outside.“Well, I think it really depends on what James Lester says,” Ryan answered. “After all they got into his house and tied him up. Well, three of you did, at least.”“I admit that wasn’t the brightest idea ever,” Nick said, sighing.He really hoped Danny and his friends wouldn’t get in trouble because of him, but if Lester decided to call the police, he didn’t think they could get away so easily again.“So... does Wilder know about the anomalies too?” Nick asked.“Yes, he’s been involved in some missions. And I’ve known him a long time, he’s an honest man. I knew I could count on him in a situation like this.”Wilder got them to one of the vehicles and asked them to get in.“We’re going to have a more thorough conversation somewhere more comfortable,” he said.“Thanks for responding so quickly to my call, Joe,” Ryan said once they’d all got into the car. “There weren’t many people I could trust to believe me with this story.”“You’re welcome, Tom,” he replied. “But to be totally honest, there was already an ongoing operation to uncover Helen Cutter’s activities. Your call just made us rush it.”The driver didn’t wait for any indication from Wilder and he started driving away immediately.“Where are we going?” Nick asked.“To the ARC,” Wilder answered. “There are some people waiting for us there.” . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Theirs wasn’t a tourist trip, so Nick could only have a short look at the ARC on their way to the meeting room where a representative of the Home Secretary was already waiting for them.Nick caught a glimpse of Connor’s and Becker’s shocked faces as he entered the building, but they weren’t the only ones surprised by what was happening. Every face turned to look as the well-known fugitive Nicholas Cutter walked in with Captain Wilder by his side. It looked as if nobody had informed the ARC staff about the recent events.They were interrogated separately and then brought together into a room to explain everything all over again. It was long and tedious, and Nick had never been a very patient man, but for his own sake, he tried his best. By the end of their second retelling of the story, though, he wasn’t the only one that was starting to show annoyance. Lorraine’s answers had started sounding uncharacteristically sarcastic a while ago and Nick had caught the usually stoic-looking Ryan rolling his eyes once or twice.Eventually the civil servants seemed satisfied with their answers and the atmosphere relaxed considerably.“We’d love to hear Helen Cutter’s version too, but unfortunately we haven’t managed to find her yet,” the man from the Home Office said. “We’re hoping her business partners will be more talkative, though. We found enough evidence in the warehouse, including some small dinosaurs from the Cretaceous, to make their lives very difficult if they don’t help us to find her.”“Helen could literally be anywhere by now. You know that she has an anomaly opening device like mine, don’t you?”“Yes, we do now. A very useful device we could have made good use of if she had shared it with us,” he answered. “But she kept that and many other things from us, so it seems.”“How did you find out she had her own agenda?” Lorraine asked.“One of the civil servants she approached wasn’t as easily corruptible as she thought. He decided to play along, but immediately reported her activities to us.”“Good to hear that,” Nick replied. “But she played around freely for quite a long time.”“We wanted to get more information about her contacts before making a move against her, but unfortunately, due to recent events, we have had to improvise,” the man said with just a hint of reproach in his voice. “Now we’ll have to arrest her accomplices before the news spreads and they decide to destroy all evidence and run away. This is going to cause some drastic changes in the Home Office steps, I fear.”Nick was tired, but he managed not to add anything to that last comment.“Now, Captain Ryan and Ms Wickes are free to go, but there’s something we still have to discuss with Professor Cutter,” the man added after a moment. “There’s a video and some relevant information in the documents you sent to Ms Wickes that we want to talk about further.” ***   There was indeed a small earthquake in the Home Office and very especially in the ARC, but unlike the first time everything had drastically changed around him, this time, when the ground stopped moving, Nick liked where he was. It wasn’t perfect, but he had to accept that it was the closest thing it was ever going to be.They offered him a job on the ARC project due to his wide experience with the anomalies and Nick gladly accepted. He wasn’t going to be the director though, since that post was assigned to James Lester himself. It looked like Lester had known how to play his cards when the heads had started rolling in the Home Office. And maybe Nick’s good words about Lester’s work on the other timeline had helped too.Lorraine got promoted to Head of Administration and whatever that was exactly, she seemed happy so Nick congratulated her with enthusiasm. Unfortunately, she was probably one of the few old members of the ARC that was happy after the whole change.All the workers in the ARC project were investigated to try to find any possible minion Helen could have inside, but no one was found. Security measures were increased anyway and more members of the Special Forces were assigned to the project, forming a second team under the command of Captain Ryan. Even Nick could see that had stung Becker. His actions and loyalty had never been officially questioned, but the fact that they had added another team to the ARC was probably seen by Becker as a sign of mistrust. He was still competent and serious about the job, but his relationship with Ryan and Nick was strained, to say the least.And what to say about Connor and Stephen? The first one had wandered around the ARC like a kicked puppy for quite some time, but it looked like he was slowly starting to get over Helen’s betrayal. Nick hoped he could get the young man’s trust back soon. Stephen on the other hand, Nick didn’t know how to deal with. He seemed less affected by Helen’s actions than Connor, but Nick knew that Helen had hurt him deeply. Stephen’s attitude was professional but cold and he seemed to be distancing himself from the rest of the team. If Nick could just find a way to get closer to him, but he didn’t even know how to start.Lester was as stuck-up as he remembered, but at least this time Nick knew that deep down, under the expensive suits and fancy ties, there was a good and honest man. Lester had even refused to report Danny and his brother for breaking into his house and they had managed to get away again. Lester did the same for him and overall, behaved like a reasonable boss so Nick tried to be nice and not to argue with him about the paperwork. Not very often, at least.The fact that there was no sign of Helen was probably what worried Nick the most. He knew she wasn’t going to give up so easily, but time passed and there was no timeline change that he could notice, so Nick thought that maybe she had finally decided to stop playing god.Or maybe she was just taking her time to plot her revenge. Nick didn’t doubt they would see her again, but this time, when she came back, they all will be ready.End
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The Journal of Nero
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This is the journal of myself, Nero Severn. A record of who I was and what I did before I came down to London, the city that fell. I have heard many things about the city and its current resting place, the Neath. Such things as devils walking among us and colours that make you forget or even remember. This is a record of who I was and what I did, so I hope I don't forget or lose my way. I am writing this while the special constables are on their way.I guess my story starts on the day of my birth, the winter of 1873 December the 5th in the city of Oxford. I was the son of William and Rose Severn. Both were of high society with a great sum of money despite not working. Most of it was from their parents with a decent income from land and other thing I did not bother myself with. They had one child before me, my brother Jack who was born eight years before me. During my childhood my parents did not do their bests. The job often passed to my brother who looked after me more than my parents did. Now I think why they even had children as my brother was treated no better than I. They never bothered with us, always off to party and events. More concerned with their guests than their own children.One of my favourite memories of Jack and I was a night in Autumn when I was eight. Nightmares of shadows creatures and darkness. I woke up shaking. I couldn't go to my parents as they would pay no attention. I went looking for my brother, he spent most his time in an old observatory which had a sizeable library. It was part of the family house left over from my grandfather that I never met. He was an academic that studied the star and probably had more in common with us than our parents. He was the only one who used it and looked after it, apart from the maid who simply dusted some books. I made my way out of the house and into the observatory, the only light source a flickering candle. The observatory and library were one big room that took up the whole building, with bookshelves on most walls, soft chairs and tables. The centre of the roof had a big glass panel letting star light shine in. Jack was sitting at the table in the middle of the room. He had trouble sleeping as well most nights, so he spent countless nights reading or searching the stars until he passed out or the sun rose and chased away the stars. As I approached him, he turned his head with a slight smile and bags under his eyes. He gestured to the chair next to him, I sat next to him as he began explaining about the celestial bodies. I rested my head on the table as he continued, his rambling kept my mind off the nightmare I had.Since then he was no longer the only one was use the observatory, we would use it together. Probably falling asleep more times there than our own bedrooms. When my brother turned eighteen and I was ten, our parents did not even care when he started to take care of me at his apartment during his education at Oxford University. Our parents paying for both, they never minded spending their money on us but never their time. I always looked up to my brother and strived to be like him. Jack wanted to be a professor to teach others and 'forward science' as he liked to say. After he finished his education at the age of twenty four he did go on to teach at Oxford as a professor of physics, I think it was with the stars and planets. It was good back then. I had plans to also go to a University hopefully Oxford so I could stay with my brother. It turned out I would not have to decide.I returned to the apartment we were living in at the time it was the 23rd of May 1891 I was seventeen. It was a small place, well compared to the mansion we used to live. When I got back I knew he was there as he usually was, so I knocked on the door like I always did.The open slightly from the force of my knock. He never left the door unlocked. I called his name but no reply. I slowly pushed the door. Then I saw him. Body lying on the ground, covered in red. I stood there standing for what felt like an eternity. Twenty heartbeats sooner, and I would have heard his last words. Then a woman's voice followed by a scream. People calling for the police. Questions giving answers that I can't remember. The body being carried away. Silence. It was dark outside when I realised I was somewhere else, looking around I saw that they removed the body but the blood was still there. Stuff was missing, don't know if it was for evidence or taken by the killer. Killer? That was when I actually realised something. Someone did this, the knife marks in his back, the struggle that was obvious.The next few days were a blur, I left the apartment less than I did before which was saying something. Only leaving for my education and food less than I should have. The funeral was two weeks later. It was quite a big affair with our parents planning it, probably more for their precious image than out of any love for their son.Thinking at least they had a spare. I don't remember much of the funeral, just lots of people saying I'm sorry for your loss and I can't imagine how you feel. When it was over I went back to my apartment. That's when I found it. Under a table, an envelope of dried red flower petals. Red, like my brother’s blood.Two years later of investigating my brother’s death I travelled to Europe following the bodies that the murder left behind, like a child throwing candy wrappers away without a care. The last body I had gone to investigate was of a woman. Adalene Petit lived in Paris engaged to a Mr. Linford who was at the time missing, now I know he went to London following similar leads. My investigation led to a man who helped the murder escape the police and Paris. He was a short man who looked liked he had never even saw a bath in his life. Never one for violence I often used my parents’ money they normally first seam resistant to it but more money usually works. The man gave me two pieces of information. A name he used 'Scathewick' and secondly a location, he was going to London.I now had two major clues since I found the envelope. A name and location. I have crossed oceans and spent a sizeable part of my parents’ money to find this man 'Scathewick' . I am even going to have myself sent to New Newgate, the main prison in London, as the quickest route down here to the Neath. Surely the hardest parts are behind me? I am not sure. I can hear the special constable outside searching for me, looks like my plan worked. I will stop at nothing to find the person responsible and there will be a reckoning.
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{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Bang Yongguk, Moon Jongup, Bang Yongnam, B.A.P Ensemble, Original Characters", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by JjangQueen", "chapters": "12/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-04T00:00:00", "words": "40,019", "Additional Tags": "Organized Crime, Gangs, Kkangpae, Romance", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Bang Yongguk/Original Female Character(s), Bang Yongguk/Moon Junko", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "B.A.P, K-pop", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Moon Junko||Dragon King 23yo || 1990.05.01 || Zero Line / Thousand Year House || Leader / Vanguard || 161cm || 51kg I have money, it's trust and character I need around me. You know, who you choose to be around you lets you know who you are. One car in exchange for knowing what a man's made of? That's a price I can live with.   --Han "Seoul-Oh" Lue    Bang Yongguk || Inversion Rapper 23yo || 1990.03.31 || B.A.P || Leader, Main Rapper || 180cm || 62kg  "Life is like a piano. The white keys represent happiness and the black keys represent sadness. But as you go through life, remember that the black keys make music too."   -- Bang Yong Guk    Moon Jongup || Moon Angel 19yo || 1995.02.06 || B.A.P || Main Dancer, Sub-Vocalist || 176cm || 66kg "I don't think there'll ever be a challenge in your life if you don't try out something because you're scared. I think you just need to do it without any thoughts."   -- Moon Jong Up ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Now they return home, their bones bruised and their spirit slightly broken, but they are still alive, and they will be well sometime soon.” --Hannah Nikka Bryan, Soldier’s DescentMoon Jongup was not a stressed person. Sure, he felt anxious during his audition for TS Entertainment and that anxiety was felt tenfold during his debut stage. He had been worried about his college entrance exams, uneasy about B.A.P’s first time on Weekly Idol, and downright terrified when he got lost in Los Angeles as a little boy. Meeting Yongguk left him with knots in his stomach, especially when the older man didn’t warm up to him right away. But like every other thing that has ever worried him, it proved to be nothing less than a step up in his life - except for maybe getting lost.But now, on the day of his high school graduation, Moon Jongup is feeling more stressed than he ever felt. Yesterday had been his 19th birthday and while it was one of the greatest, though briefest, that he had had thus far, it left him little preparation time.He couldn’t find his tie in the morning until it had mysteriously showed up under Daehyun’s pillow. Himchan had woken up so early in the morning to cook a large breakfast that he had made himself sick and couldn’t attend the graduation. Yongguk, who had been the most excited second to Jongup, didn't get to bed until he had only three hours of sleep and looked about ready to keel over. Youngjae even pointed out that he had fallen asleep in the van twice before they got to the school.His only relief had been Junhong who had thankfully locked the dorm door and brought Jongup his mp3 player which he had nearly forgotten..Halfway through the ceremony his eldest brother Jongkeun sent him a message saying his parents wouldn’t be able to make it to the school, but he and Jongwoo were standing with his members and were buying a recording of the ceremony for their family.The dancer cracked his knuckles again and again as he made his way onto the stage - nearly tripping on the second step - to receive his certificate of graduation. His heart was hammering in his throat and he bowed, mumbled a shy thank you, and turned to the crowd. Everyone was staring at him, their eyes glinting in the brought light and once again he felt the terror he felt in Los Angeles - he couldn’t see the members or his brothers anywhere.Jongup froze and tried to swallow. The entire room jeered in celebration but nowhere could he see the people he was desperately searching for.Did they leave? he thought; he felt like crying until a long waving arm caught his attention in the back. Jongwoo was waving frantically in his excitement and he could hear his brother’s both cheering “Uppie” despite them being so far back in the auditorium. Jongup found his smile again as he bowed and walked off the stage to join the rest of his classmates.His heart was thundering in a good way now as he found his seat and laughed with his friends who all congratulated him, and the ill feeling in his stomach melted away when his accomplishment finally sank in.Moon Jongup, despite his demanding schedules, had graduated high school.“Hyeong, we can go, you look like you’re going to fall over.”Yongguk looked at the young man still holding his diploma to his chest. He had written off his graduation as ‘cool’ but everyone could see how excited Jongup really was - he wouldn’t even let his brothers hold his diploma, though he had gladly handed over the bouquets and other gifts for them to hold.“No, go talk to your friends. This is your only high school graduation; I already had mine, so go and enjoy yours.”“You said that an hour ago. Everyone has already left or is leaving, it’s fine, really.”He wasn’t lying, the courtyard that had been full of eager tenagers had been dwindling rapidly since the ceremony had been let out and of the students left Jongup had already spoken to everyone.“Hyeong and I have to get going as well, so we can drop these off in your car,’’Jongwoo announced and motioned to Jongkeun who nodded. Yongguk broke down and agreed, and everyone left in the direction of the front lot.Jongwoo joked around his his younger brother in front of his car while Jongkeun was helping Junhong position the flowers in the rear cargo without crushing too many of the petals.“So, have you heard from her recently?”Jongup shook his head and looked over to where Youngjae was loading up in the TS Entertainment van. “I haven’t told them either. I don’t know how they would feel about her . . career.” Jongwoo nodded in understanding and kicked at the ground.“She should be coming back soon, though. Her sentence was for five years and knowing her, she’ll be trying to get back as soon as possible.”“Are you talking about ‘her’?” Jongkeun joined his younger siblings after thanking Junhong. Both brothers nodded, pulling a sigh from Jongkeun. “And you haven’t told your company, knowing you.” Jongup shook his head.“I don’t how how they would feel,” Jongup reiterated. “It’s not everyday you come up to your friends and say ‘oh yeah, by the way, I’ve been hiding this person from you that I probably should have told you about but I didn’t because you won’t like her?’ How would they see us then?”“If they love you like I think they do, they won’t care.” Jongkeun looked his youngest brother in the eyes and laid his hand on his shoulder. Jongup had to admit, he was right. B.A.P had become his second family; they were with him through his youth and if could have his way he would be with them for the rest of his life. It was Yongguk’s stance on crime that scared him.The Incheon native had a strong dislike of violence and anything related to it. He never raised his voice or raised a hand to anyone and his image of an ideal society was one without violence or injustice. Breaking out the news that he was related to one of the most powerful people of the Korean underground would not work in his favour, no matter how much he and Yongguk had gone through his five and a half years of being a trainee.“If you ask me, telling them now would be the best thing to do.” Jongwoo gave his brother a brotherly hug and Jongkeun followed suit. Before leaving, Jongkeun presented his youngest brother with an envelope and Jongup was shocked to find four yellow 50,000₩ notes. He tried to refuse, but Jongwoo wouldn’t let him and only pulled his brother back into a hug.“Happy graduation, Uppie.”Once again that day, Jongup felt close to crying.The closer the van got to home the larger the buildings got. Being the last stop on the bus route to Hanlim their dorm was one of the farthest away from the school. This, in Daehyun’s words, gave Jongup more time to decided where he wanted to feast that night.“Our schedule is clear anyway so we celebrate your birthday and graduation.”“But we already had a party for my birthday.”“You went to bed at 22:00 last night. That doesn’t count.”Himchan was waiting outside for them when they finally returned home (though no one could get out of the van until Yongguk was shaken awake). The visual looked almost pitiful with a duvet wrapped around his body waiting in the snow-bare driveway of the large building - admittedly he was just too lazy to put a coat on - but he still greeted Jongup with a bright smile.“Look at this kid, all grown up!”Jongup looked down to hide his shy smile.“And look at all this stuff he got!” Junhong called out, him and Daehyun rummaging through all the goods in the back. Youngjae looked at them disparagingly.“Yah! We still have dinner tonight, don’t eat anything! Besides, those are Jongup’s gifts, not yours!”Yongguk, still half asleep, herded everyone up towards the building. “Go inside, it’s too cold out here. Himchan and I will get the gifts, go sleep.”Everyone laughed at Himchan’s whining but walked inside anyway. Admittedly it was a lot warmer in their dorm and Jongup hadn’t realized how cold it had actually been. The adrenaline from the whole morning had worn off and he realized now how actually tired he was.“I’m going to sleep,” he mentioned to Daehyun who had seated himself on the settee. He could hear Himchan and Yongguk entre the dorm not by the sound of the door but by the sound of Himchan’s voice as he complained about the cold.“Then put on a jacket before going outside,” Yongguk scolded his best friend. Being the courteous man he was, Yongguk knocked before entering the bedroom. “Jongup, your gifts are in the living room and the flowers are in the sink.”“Okay hyeong,” Jongup called back, muffled through his shirt.“There’s also a letter for you. Himchan said it was in the delivery box when he woke up, do you want it now?”This was something Jongup wasn’t expecting. Being dressed, he opened the door to talk to the leader. “Letter? Who is it from?”Yongguk, who had the letter in his hand, read the name. “Someone named. . .Junko? A friend who wasn’t at the graduation?”Jongup felt his heart fall into his feet. Chills radiated from his head to his toes and Yongguk looked alarmed at the sudden change in mood.“Jongup-ah? Jongup, are you okay?”He grabbed the letter from the older man and looked over the front in a panic. It was true, on the front in neat English letters was the name ‘Moon Jun Ko.’ This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen, the hyeongs weren’t supposed to know, Jongup thought in worry.The alarm in Yongguk’s voice had brought everyone else to the hallway, craning their heads to know what was going on. Jongup hadn’t looked up from the letter, he only back up and sat on Himchan’s bunk. His hands trembled as he held onto the letter and for the first time that day Yongguk was truly awake.Himchan grabbed Yongguk’s arm and turned the brunette to look at him. “Is it the letter? Who is it from? What’s wrong?” Yongguk just shook his head.“It’s a letter,” Jongup spoke up; his voice quickly drew everyone’s attention to him again, and somehow he had found relief in the panic he felt. “It’s a letter I’ve been waiting for.”“What is it, a college letter?” Junhong asked, his mindless innocence going without comment.“No.” Jongup look up at everyone crowded around him, looking each male in his brown eyes before he dropped his gaze back to the paper in his hand. “It’s more important than that. It’s a letter I’ve been waiting five years for.” The statement only made everyone else that much more confused.“Well, what is it?” Daehyun pushed, sitting on the floor.Jongup slowly ripped a short end of the envelope off and pulled a  single sheet of folded paper from the opening. There was a bulge in the centre of the folds and from the paper fell a rectangular white piece of card stock straight into Jongup’s lap; everyone felt their hands twitch with the desire to grab the card.“It’s an invitation to dinner tonight,” Jongup chirped, and everyone felt their blood pressure rising.“But who is it from?” Junhong whined in annoyance.Jongup looked up and smiled at everyone in the room. He felt the irony of the situation sinking in and had to wonder if Jongkeun and / or Jongwoo knew this was going to happen. It was probably the reason the two were interrogating him so thoroughly after the graduation; knowing how the two were he did not deny it. And now seemed as good a time as any to let loose the secret he had been forced to keep since he had become a teenager.“It’s from Moon Junko. My big sister.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides" --André MalrauThe dorm sat in silence as everyone dressed. Despite the fact everyone had a million thoughts between them, no one would speak except to ask what combination of clothing looked good. Jongup told them in a hushed voice that casual would be okay, his sister would feel awkward with anything less, but saying the phrase over and over was beginning to cause him pain, the very word 'sister' stinging his throat.No one was making eye contact with him, though Himchan, Daehyun, Youngjae, and Junhong had no problem asking his advice for the night. What truly had Jongup on edge was how far Yongguk had gone to distance himself from him; everyone knew that Yongguk hated lying, but Jongup technically hadn't lied. No one had asked if he had any other siblings other than Jongkeun and Jongwoo, and he hadn't said they were his only siblings. He hadn't really lied.He just withheld the information.Jongup looked himself over in the mirror again. He was worried he was overdressed (if white skinny jeans count as overdressed) when three honks sounded faintly outside. He knew it was their chauffeur and once again his heart throbbed in his ears."Are they here to pick us up?" Daehyun asked loudly, his faced pressed against the window overlooking the street."It's almost 21:00 like the letter said. Why?" Youngjae stood next to Daehyun at the window."Because that car looks really expensive . . . "Himchan, Junhong, and Yongguk were already out the door looking back at the other three still lagging behind. The walk to the elevator was quiet, and the ride down even more so, despite the fact that nearly everyone has bouncing on the balls of their feet. Jongup all but raced outside hoping to see his sister waiting by the car but was met instead by a muscularly overweight man with a shaved head."This car in huge," Junhong exclaimed walking around to distance himself from the intimidating driver. "Es-cald-day?""It's an Escalade," Yongguk corrected the youngest with a tone of wonder in his own voice. "I've never really seen one in Korea before."The driver cleared his throat, "Miss Moon insisted on this one, sir." His guff voice matched his gruff appearance; he had the voice of a smoker and the appearance of a thug, but his chivalry in opening the door for the pop group was almost surprising.Himchan whistled from the middle seat, "Miss Moon? Is your sister a gangster or something, Jongup?"Jongup sneered from his spot in the back seat, "Don't be weird, hyeong." He hoped the panic wasn't too evident in his voice. He glanced at Yongguk seated next to him; the older man had his head turned toward the window and was watching the blur of neon lights. "Yongguk-hyeong," Jongup said quietly. Even though he felt that he had done nothing wrong he knew that Yongguk was upset and he didn't want those feelings to carry over into their dinner."I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my sister. When I joined TS I promised I wouldn't say anything because her li-"Yongguk raised his hand to quiet Jongup. "I'm not mad at you. I'm a little upset but it's only because I don't like secrets. I understand you made a promise, and I respect that, but at the same time I'm not entirely pleased. Just. . I would say don't do it again, but the point of a secret is to keep it a secret. I'm not mad at you, though, okay?"The rest of the car ride went by quietly, all conversations extremely hushed, but Jongup was just happy that his apparent fight with his hyeong was nothing more than a minour clash of moral preferences."Gentlemen," the words sounded awkward coming from such an intimidating man, "we've arrived."Any feeling of relief left Jongup in a moment. His legs trembled in excitement and Junhong found himself nearly shoved out of the SUV when the dancer vaulted himself out of the backseat."Why couldn't he have been this excited for his graduation?" Daehyun laughed and stretched his entire body. Everyone was stiff with an odd mix of excitement and distress - you don't have a meeting with a person you've never heard about sprung on you everyday, after all. "Where did he go?"It wasn't any easy question to answer; there was a large crowd of luxuriously dressed people standing in front of the building. The women wore dresses that showed much more than they covered even despite the dreadful cold and the men by their sides had more jewelry made of various precious metals and stones showing than they did skin. It hardly seemed like the place for a boy band to be gathered, and the fact that one of their youngest was lost in such a crowd had Yongguk almost sweating. The crowd itself seemed to be zeroing them out and a tremour of whispers swept through them. The awkward situation actually ended up working in their favour as the lack of people made it easier for Junhong to zero out Jongup standing near the door and even more so for slipping past the parted crowd who once again coalesced behind them."I'm sorry, I thought she'd be here waiting for us. I forgot how bad my sister is with time." The phrase still sounded foreign, even to Jongup, no matter how many times it was said. The boys stood huddled close, finding comfort in the fact that everyone was distanced from them, and even found the chance to laugh when Himchan's stomach voiced it's annoyance at being kept from a meal. No one noticed when the crowd once again erupted into whispers, not until a boisterous voice called out,"Wah, Moon Jongup of B.A.P! I'm such a fan!"Jongup prepared his usual 'thank you, I'm happy you like our music' response - Youngjae preparing his own 'why this kid?' response - but before he could even speak his feet carried him past the members and into the arms of a woman whom he soon all but engulfed into himself.The rest of B.A.P stood their ground, dumbfounded. What did you do in a situation like this? The boys all thought the reunion was going to be dramatic - tears, yelling, something. Not just Jongup standing there hugging who they assumed was his sister. They wanted to see what she looked like, but they didn't want to separate the two, just like they wanted to talk to her and get to know this mysterious person. But that would all require breaking their moment up, and that would make a terrible first impression. Lady Luck seemed to be on their side because Jongup pulled away when the pale hands tapped on his back."Yah, I love you, but believe it or not people have to breathe; that's a little hard if you're squeezing me like that." At least she had a sense of humour. The mystery woman stepped around her brother and bowed to the men in front of her, showcasing a smile mirrored of Jongup's own. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. My name is Moon Junko, and I'd like to thank you for taking care of my brother."Junko smiled happily at her guests when they were seated at their table. Jongup claimed the spot to her right and Himchan bravely claimed the spot to her left. As soon as the chairs were scooted in she found herself being bombarded with questions; 'when were you born?' 'where have you been?' 'what's your favourite song?' 'why do you have such a big car?' 'do you dance like Jonguppie?' 'what music do you like?' 'are you a fan of B.A.P?' Youngjae gave Daehyun a smack on the thigh for the stupidity of the last question; "Of course she's a fan, her brother is our member."She laughed, the sound bringing relief to the whole group. "Well, it's nice to meet you all too. Uhm, let me see, I was born May 1st of 1990 so I think that means Yongguk-ssi and Himchan-ssi are older than me. My favourite song is Keep Your Head Down by TVXQ, I have a big car because it's a nice one and I could afford it, I dance like an old man, I really like rock music and gospel, and yes, Daehyun-ssi, I am a huge fan of B.A.P."Her bright eyes turned to Yongguk and the rapper almost felt surprised, as if he didn't expect to get so much attention despite the situation. "May I be honest? I'm a huge fan of your lyrics, it's amazing what you come up with, it really stands out from everything being produced."Yongguk gave as deep of a bow as he could whilst sitting. "Thank you, it means a lot."The compliments continued around the table and slowly everyone become more comfortable with this woman they had only first heard about hours before. Any bad thought they had about her flew out the window and they began to wonder why they had even thought such things in the first place. It was obvious that being warm hearted was a family trait; though the price of a single meal was enough to feed a single person for a week Junko insisted that it was her treat, dessert included. Yongguk tried - and failed - to convince her to let them pay her back."If you want to repay me then allow me to stay with you for the night. I have a home in my name, but it's been sitting for five years and is having some work done. I won't overstay my welcome."For being gone for five years she was definitely more well off then he would have thought. Suspicious thoughts invaded his mind, but he forced himself to forget them. She was way too well mannered to be of questionable intent, not to mention suspecting a member's family was more than rude.But as they ate he couldn't ignore the fact that patrons facing their table would turn the completely opposite direction before drinking anything, and as they left he couldn't help but notice everyone they approached lowered their head, conversations that roared around them spiraling into silence in the presence of this girl."This is the recording studio. Yongguk-hyeong writes almost all the lyrics here and he mixes all of our songs too. This is the bedroom. We all sleep in the same place because it's more comfortable, and because Himchan-hyeong gets scared.""Yah, you punk! Don't do that to my image!""This is the living room. Junhong-ah, Youngjae-hyeong, and I play video games here a lot. And this is the kitchen. It's where we eat."Junko laughed, "wah, my brother is a genius."Jongup whined as he finished his tour of the dorm. Everyone had gathered in the living room to continue their conversation but it was not hard to see they were beginning to grow tired. It was already 01:00 in the morning and Junhong was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Jongup, the self-proclaimed night owl, was even beginning to show signs of fatigue, his excitement leaving him exhausted. His head landed heavily on her shoulder after minutes on the settee; he had to be half-carried to the washroom by Junhong to prepare for bed despite his whining.Left with the older group Junko could only smile. "He gets a bit difficult when tried, doesn't he? But he's really grown a lot, and with such manners. Thank you all, really, for taking such good care of him. It's really easy to see how happy he is."Himchan, walking in from the kitchen, nodded curtly. "Of course. He's a great kid, we're happy to have him. Here, I'll get the spare bedroom ready." Junko insisted on helping, and both left to said room while Yongguk followed Daehyun and Youngjae to the washroom."What do you think, Hyeong?" Daehyun looked at Yongguk's reflection in the mirror while both brushed their teeth."I think she's a generous person and a good sister to Jongup. I don't know why he didn't mention her before, but that's Jongup's business."Youngjae leaned against the door frame, already dressed in his sleepwear. "They're really close, that's easy to see. Jongup's happy. I just . . I get the feeling I've seen her somewhere before." Yongguk quirked his eyebrow, but quickly forgot when Himchan whined for his turn in the bathroom. Sharing just wasn't his style.Assured that everyone was in their beds sans Jongup, Yongguk knocked then peeked in next door to the spare bedroom. Junko was sitting up in the bed tying her long hair into a braid and she gave a little wave not being  able to speak around the hair tie in the mouth."How's the room, is it alright?" He asked, standing in the doorway. She nodded happily and finished tying her hair off."It's very nice, thank you so much."He nodded and turned to leave before a sight caught his eye. He turned back and stood a little closer to the bed. "I'm sorry, do you have a tattoo on your left arm?"Junko blinked in surprise. "Oh, yeah, I do." She rolled up the sleeve to the shirt she took from Jongup. An ornate half sleeve snaked its way down her arm to her elbow, a skull surrounded by waves of tribal lines. "I have another one here to," she chirped revealing a similar pattern of lines bordering the image of a dragon's head on her right arm. "I got them both the day I turned eighteen. I'm pretty good with pain, but this had to be the worst experience at the time."The art on her skin distracted Yongguk from the meaning of her words, and while he didn't want to get too close he also did appreciate the intricacy. "I didn't think someone like you would have tattoos, especially ones like this.""My noona is actually a really scary person," Jongup laughed as he walked into the bedroom. The dancer threw himself onto the bed beside his sister and grabbed at her waist to pull her down."Yah, I'm having a conversation here, you butt," she hissed, poking her younger brother in the abs repeatedly.Yongguk straightened his pose and waved his hands. "No, I should really be getting to bed, I'm sorry for keeping you up. Goodnight, Junko-ssi, Jongup-ah." He made his way out of the room as the siblings called back goodnight to him.Everyone else had fallen asleep by the time he reached his bunk, and when the light in the next room shut off, the whole dorm fell into it's own sleep. Yongguk, though, was finding it hard to follow suit. He was still thinking about what Youngjae had mentioned about seeing Junko from somewhere before. He couldn't help but think back to the actions of the other people in the restaurant when Junko had passed by them, and a woman with her manners and etiquette did not seem like the type of person to have tattoos in the manner she did.Something about Moon Junko did not sit right with him, but he could not put a finger on it. An hour had passed before he crawled out of the bed  for water, his inner dialogue keeping him from sleep. He couldn't stop his eyes from straying into the room's open door, hoping he could find something that would prove his inner feelings right, as much as he didn't want them to be right.All he was met with was Jongup curled tightly around his sister's sleeping body, the two forming a tangled mess of body parts as Jongup made sure there was nothing keeping him from being completely pressed against her. Yongguk felt shame creeping up his spine as he traced the peaceful grin on Jongup's face, the image mirrored on Junko's own face, and as he left he failed to see the polished silver of the handgun peeking out from Junko's purse on the floor.But that was probably for the best. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "When you're a kid, getting lost isn't just an event or a situation, it's like a career move. You get this thrill of anxiety and fear and a feeling that you've done something that can never be undone." --Ryu Murakami, In the Miso Soup Youngjae groaned, his sleep sore arms fumbling for his mp3 player discarded on the floor. 07:24 was a good time to wake up considering he had fallen asleep at 01:30. Everyone around him was still asleep and moving into the hallway he could see that Jongup and Junko were also still asleep. Looking at the way she cradled his head to her chest made Youngjae wonder what about her seemed so off-putting. He had surely never met her before, he hadn't even heard of her existence before yesterday, so there was no way she could have this much of an impression on him already."Maybe she just looks like someone else," he mumbled to the coffeepot much too tired to think without caffeine. "Aish, where are the cups?" When he turned to the sink, Youngjae's attention was caught by the bathroom door quietly swinging open. Curiously he watched Junko, asleep only minutes before, step out and stretch her arms up. Having caught sight of him she gave a curt little wave and joined him in the kitchen."Good morning, Youngjae-ssi." Her voice was a raspy whisper, and she smiled shyly before clearing her throat."How did you sleep?" He offered her a mug of coffee that she gladly took and followed him in sitting on the barstools once he grabbed himself another cup."I slept nicely, thank you. I can't sleep very long, beauty rest isn't really my thing," She pulled her braid over her shoulder and unwound it carefully, letting the long black strands fall over her shoulder."Well, I wouldn't say you need anymore, you're already very pretty."Junko looked at him through her eyelashes, "yah, I thought Himchan-ssi was supposed to be the greasy one, you're the smart one." Youngjae began to feel embarrassed before she assured him with a pat on his forearm. "But no, thank you very much. I'm sure you thought I'd look different being related to the 'least attractive member of B.A.P,' " she purred amusingly, hooking her fingers into air quotes.Youngjae smiled and attempted to hold a laugh, "Well, you really don't look that much alike. Did you take after different parents?""Well, truthfully when I was sixteen I was in a really bad accident; almost everything from mid-maxilla up was broken in some way," she swept her hand from about the bottom of he nose up to her partially exposed hairline. "I won't go into detail, but it really wasn't pretty. The bone work was easy compared the plastic surgery, but I'd say it's pretty acceptable, don't you think?""That's terrible. The story, not your appearance. How did you get into such a bad accident?" And how did you afford all of the work?For a moment Junko's body tensed, and in that instance Youngjae felt the overbearing feeling of unease he had experienced before, the feeling that he and she should not be in the same room unless he wanted something bad to happen."Noonaaa," Jongup croaked from the guest room; both could hear him fumbling with the comforter which Junko had to admit he had tangled himself in during the night. Catching his gaze, Junko excused herself, and in that moment of watching her leave, Youngjae remembered how to breathe.Yongguk turned away from the hands pushing into his arm and voiced his discomfort in a throaty whine. "It's the morning, the morning is for sleeping.""It's 10:00, hyeong." Junhong really didn't think the time would make any difference but it seemed like a good way to get Yongguk out of bed. No breakfast until he's awake, Himchan's words repeated in his head and made him shudder in dread. "Come on, Noona cooked breakfast and she made a plate for you."Yongguk groaned, rubbing at his hair as he slowly sat up in bed. Junhong stood beside him and offered a bottle of water which Yongguk gladly took. "Noona? You're already speaking comfortably?"Junhong nodded, "she told me to, she thought 'Junko-ssi' made her sound too old." He turned to leave before the elder could hear his stomach growl, but turned back just as soon. "Oh yeah, she and Jongup-hyeong went out for a while. They're coming back a little later because she wants to take hyeong and me to the new comic shop.""She really is keen for spoiling us, hm?""Maybe she's trying to make a good impression. Or she's really thankful for us helping Jongup-hyeong."Maybe he's right, Yongguk thought as he tossed the comforter to the side. Maybe I'm thinking too deeply into this whole thing. Maybe Moon Junko is actually a really nice person and I'm just looking for a reason not to like her. It was not like him to act this way towards people he had just met; he assumed the upcoming song release coupled with Jongup's graduation had caused him more stress than he had previously assumed. Throwing their meeting into the mix had not done him any good. "I just need more sleep. . . ."Looking out the window to the snow-heavy clouds dragging across the sky, Yongguk sighed deeply.Today was supposed to be a beautiful day."Ding dong deng! The time is 11:48 on Wednesday, February 8th! Be prepared for sporadic snowfall through the upper Seoul area-!" Junko threw her head back onto the seat behind her, the slouched position she sat in not quite high enough the reach the headrest."It was supposed to be such a pretty day, why does it have to snow now?" Her whines continued as she took her anger out on the traction control button."It's just a little snow. It's not really that cold." Jongup's words fueled her annoyance and earned him a half-assed punch to the arm."Hey punk, you were born in the cold. I was born in May when you can start wearing cute clothes again.""Your sweater's cute, noona.""Ahh, look at you. My little brother is a lady's man."Jongup could only smile. The streets around them were filled with all kinds of people; couples young and old walking hand in hand, families walking with a child between them, people by themselves almost all of whom were clutching a warm drink. A fortune teller sat in a thick coat near an alleyway and the line of people before him stretched nearly around the corner, eager to hear if their Valentine's wishes were finally going to come to fruition. A little girl sat with her father at the bus stop. She used the little bit of the snow that gathered under the bench to build a small snowman. Even without hearing them Jongup knew her father was praising the handiwork of the lopsided creation.The longer they sat the itchier Jongup's throat became until it was at the point of unbearability that could no longer be withstood. "Junko-noona." His voice was quieter than he would have liked."Hng?" She kept her eyes on the road until they reached a red light, but even then Junko did not look at her brother."Do you have to go back?"She shot him a questioning glance from the corner of her eye. "Go back? Where? Camp Humphreys? Well we're going there now, but I won't have to stay. I just have to get my personal effects.""I mean back there."The pregnant pause that filled the car was absolutely deafening. To the untrained eye Junko had no reaction, but Jongup could see the telltale twitch of her right ring finger on the steering wheel that let him know she was deep in thought."You know I have to. I have a responsibility, Jongup. I can't turn my back on the House. They've been nice enough to give me time with you before I have to reclaim my seat." It wasn't an easy thing to have to tell her brother, and when he didn't say anything back to her Junko reached out and held her brother's hand; Jongup squeezed hers in response and it made her heart chill."I just get scared. I never know if the next time I see you it's going to be in person or a picture on the news. I had to keep you a secret for so long, and now that you're back I'll have to find a new way to hide who you really are."The Escalade pulled into the parking lot of a coffee shop and Junko killed the power; with no fair warning she pulled her brother into a hug, pushing his face into her shoulder. He embraced her back with hesitation."Jongup, I'm sorry. I- You know I'm not good with words." From the crook of her neck Junko could feel him nod.Jongup felt like he was a child again.Being the youngest he was always cradled between family members and especially between his siblings at home; Junko being the oldest she always stayed around him to make sure he was happy and cared for, even when he didn't need it. When he cried she was there with her favourite stuffed rabbit, when he was angry she held his fists so he couldn't hit anyone, and when he was sad he knew her bed was the first place he could go - the affection made him feel smothered.When he was old enough to understand, Jongkeun told him about when he was lost in Los Angeles and how Junko had cried her throat raw looking for him, screaming for him until she had given herself a nose bleed from the stress. Knowing how she hadn't cried since Jongwoo had been born, Jongup couldn't describe how bad he felt; he never took her intense affection for granted again.Now, being cradled into his sister, Jongup felt like he was five again; he felt like the helplessness from being lost, the shock from his first fireworks show. He felt the happiness of getting a new toy, and the anger of seeing that toy in another child's hands. He felt the timidness of starting school, and the joy of seeing his siblings waiting to take him home.But most of all, Moon Jongup felt scared. The same feeling he felt being caught in his first thunderstorm, the same feeling he felt waking up alone in his dark bedroom, the same feeling he felt jumping into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim. Jongup felt scared, but the thing he was scared of most was thinking that the next time he saw his sister, the one who had taken care of him, kept him happy, the sister who always loved him, could be seeing her picture in the news and paper, the headline "Wanted Gang Leader Dead" screaming back in his face.And that was the worst fear of all. Yongguk pulled his head out of his notebook, three soft raps from the studio's wooden door drawing his attention to it. The handle turned, the door opened, and Junko's head popped out from around the corner, eyes nearly closed in a bright smile."Are you tired of seeing my face yet?"He chuckled and shook his head, setting the notebook down. "Should I be?" He stood and opened the door the rest of the way to welcome her in, "No, like I said at dinner you're completely welcome to stay around. Especially if you're going to keep spoiling us."Junko made her way into the room, looking a little closer at the equipment she had only had a glance of yesterday. She held two bags in her hands, one a large white one and the other a typical black convenience store bag. Yongguk eyed them curiously before she turned around to face him, clearing his throat quietly in surprise."Speaking of spoiling, I picked something up for you today," she moved the white bag from around her back and held it out to him; Yongguk hesitated in surprise before taking the bag from her grasp. It had some weight to it and when he look in he could see the the spines of five different books looking back at him, three of which were titles he had been meaning to read."The comic store I took Jongup and Junhong-ah to was connected to a bookstore, and Jongup told me there were some books you were looking for. The other two are some of my favourites I thought I would impose on you. Lame gift, I know," Junko reached into the other bag. "I realized I didn't know you that well for staying in your house, so I thought we should get to know each other a little better," pulling her hand back from the bag, Junko showcased a six-pack of imported beers. "You don't mind Asahi, do you?"Books in hand and bag discarded, Yongguk could only offer a shy grin as he shook his head and offered her a seat at the faux leather sofa in the back of the room. "I feel bad that you keep spending so much money on us. You must have a very nice job." He accepted the open can Junko offered him before taking a drink as she opened her own. The beer was dry yet surprisingly smooth and he inwardly appreciated that she had good taste in alcohol.Junko nodded, wiping her lips before she spoke, "I worked as a mechanic since I was fifteen while attending school. It was more of an apprenticeship, but the shop worked on a lot of expensive cars, so I got a percentage for my work. Since I was still a kid and my parents were paying for Jongkeun and my high school, I didn't have a lot to spend on."Yongguk hummed in understanding; it explained how she had the money to spare, but it didn't mean that he felt any better about her spending it on him. "Did you two go to the same high school? You are the oldest, aren't you?""No, Jongkeun went to a technology high school in Siheung-si while I went to a criminal law high school in Taean-gun." Yongguk cocked his brow, causing her to pause; if she had learned anything about the rapper it's that he wore his interest on his sleeve."Criminal law? What were you studying?""Well, I started with just basic criminology; I was keen on a job in forensic psychology, but the idea of having a faux 'desk-job' became less and less appealing, so I began focusing on drug enforcement. You know, a job I could take right away without necessarily needing college." Junko took a quick drink, pointer finger extended to Yongguk when he gave her a slightly quizzical glance, "don't get me wrong, I wasn't going to forgo college altogether. Besides, between studying at school and working in the garage plus recovering for the time lost from school because of my accident," Junko waived her hand on front of her face as she said the two words, "I just needed time to be, you know. Junko."Besides her she saw the movement of Yongguk nodding his head, only then realizing during her tirade that her eyes had strayed to the front of the studio room; she felt as though she had been exposing herself to the cold metal and plastic rather than the much more interested person besides her."I heard about that from Youngjae this morning," Yongguk spoke softly, preoccupying himself with the tab of his near empty can. "You're a busy person. No wonder Jongup was so eager to see you again.""Nope. He missed me because I've been in the army for the past five years stationed at Camp Humphreys," she jumped slightly when Yongguk jumped, his hand slapping harder than he meant it to against the pleather couch cushion. Judging by his embarrassed recovery and the fact he still had beer in his mouth, Junko took a swing in guessing what he wanted to know, a small smirk playing at her lips at the same time. "No no no, the only thing I'll tell you is that I was discharged as a sergeant." Empty beer can placed on the table, Junko hopped up and left the studio, gone for only a few fleeting seconds because of the studio's proximity to the guest bedroom she was occupying.When she returned she held a black dress zip up bag in her hand which she held in front of him to give him the chance of opening it. Yongguk pulled the zipper cautiously, as if he were handling an antique, and once the garment bag was completely unzipped Junko urged him to reach inside and pull the clothing out which he did with eagerness. The green camouflage uniform was softer than he expected it to be, but still the same tough and durable material one would expect from a military uniform. Junko took the pants from his hands and set them between her and himself as Yongguk unfolded the jacket, locating the front by the patches.The top one, a standard name tape read 문 준 코 - Moon Jun Ko - guaranteed the garment was indeed hers. On the reverse side was a branch tape, three upward swooping arrows, of which he guessed was the patch of a sergeant like she had said. The rest of the symbols were on the right sleeve, which surprising to Yongguk, had two flags - a South Korean flag followed by an American flag. These were both followed by the Camp Humphreys unit patch. Besides this, the jacket was bare.Yongguk whistled lowly, laying the jacket in his lap. "I honestly never would have guessed you were in the army." He turned to Junko, who had a curious look on her face, before showing her a shy smile, "Well, uhmm. Thank you," he spoke softly and looked back to the jacket in his hands.Besides him Junko chuckled softly, opening another two cans of beer before handing him one. "You don't have to thank me, but you're welcome. I was fortunate to not have to fight, but if the time comes, you know who to root for." She smiled again when Yongguk looked up at her and pushed his shoulder lightly before tapping their cans together in a small cheers. She tipped her head back, inhaling half of the liquid - and whining over a developed case of hiccups - before looking into Yongguk's eyes for the first time that night. "Now, enough about me, tell me about yourself, Mr Bang."Her voice was light and her body language relaxed, but as he spoke about himself, Yongguk felt a churning in the pit of his stomach. He had never felt this way before and the wave hit him again when a long strand of her black hair brushed over his arm whilst she braided it. It radiated through his arms, his legs, up his back, leaving gooseflesh as it passed over him, until finally, this feeling settled in his heart. All at once he felt tense, but relaxed; he felt anxious, but he also felt at ease; he felt as though his muscles were clenched and his throat squeezed, suffocating him - but at the same time he felt melted into place or as if he was so free he could leap through the clouds in one swift bound.And as he stumbled through his life story Yongguk understood what he was feeling, this primal emotion that had caused his heart to leap into his throat every time Junko met his eyes. Yes, Yongguk knew.It was fear. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper.” --Wilkie Collins, The Woman in WhiteWhen Yongguk woke the next morning everything around him was very quiet, leading him to believe that he had woken up much earlier than he normally did. A quick glance at his tablet on the other hand proved that it was just a little past noon - normally this would have worried the leader, but the few days of down time they had been allotted before One Shot promotions started again had left him relatively without worry. One quick shower later, he dressed and joined Youngjae in the living room who greeted him with prospects of breakfast in the refrigerator courtesy of Junko."Did she leave already?" He asked from the kitchen; Youngjae joined him at the island so as not to keep yelling across the dorm.The vocalist shook his head, "She took Himchan-hyeong and Daehyun with her to the grocery store. Before, she took me with her to buy a cell phone; apparently you aren't allowed to have one at Camp Humphreys." Youngjae gave his senior a quizzically excited look, as if he couldn't decide how he felt about the information. "Did you know that's where she was for the past five years? She was in the army the whole time."Sitting in front of him Yongguk nodded, stirring an egg into his rice, "she told me last night. She showed me her uniform and discharge papers too." He took a bite before continuing, "it was surprising to learn, but the country has become more lenient on gender roles. Or maybe she was really persistent."Youngjae shrugged and scrolled through his cell phone. "That's probably how I remember her." Yongguk cocked a brow, prompting Youngjae to elaborate, "this whole week I've had the feeling that I've seen her somewhere before. If she was one of the first women trained in the Korean army she must've been on the news."In ront of him Yongguk nodded then flashed the vocal a shy grin around the food in his mouth, "Or maybe she's just so charming you want to believe you know her from somewhere.""Did you just call Jongup's sister attractive, hyeong?"Youngjae laughed and got up from the kitchen island, leaving Yongguk and his stream of denials behind him as he picked a bottled water from the fridge. "I'm going to help Jongup and Junhong outside. Noona promised to show her 'grilling skills' as long as we vacate the kitchen."Yongguk snorted as the balcony door slid shut, pinching the salmon on his plate apart with the metal chopsticks in his hand. No wonder Jongup is so patient with Himchan, he thought amused; he's practically had to grow up with the visual's twin.Everyone in the dorm knew the trio had returned before they made it to the door; if the sound of the SUV's large engine wasn't loud enough, their yelling was definitely enough to alert everyone to their presence outside - especially Junko's loud "Jung Daehyun, you punk!" Yongguk threw on a coat to help them carry their purchases - feeling as though he was the only one who had sat around all day, he thought it was the least he could do.He passed the other two on the stairs leading to the dorm, the only one left at the car being Junko sticking halfway out of the SUV's storage. "Need a third hand?" He mused behind her. Junko looked back and smiled through the long strands of hair falling in front of her face."I need an extra metre; just strap me onto Junhong-ah's shoulders and I'll be happy."Yongguk snorted and motioned for her to hand him the remaining bags which she gave up after reassuring that he didn't mind. Enough meat for the entire Korean army in hand, he made his way up to the dorm, Junko trailing behind after locking her car up. "You weren't lying when you said you would go out with a bang," he held the door open for her with his foot and closed it in the same fashion."You would know all about that, wouldn't you?"He groaned painfully at her pun as Jongup slipped past him into the tight kitchen. "Well, after the great dinner you treated me to yesterday I thought I would be nice and do the same for you. Especially with promotions coming up again you boys need all the pre prepared food you can get." Junko looked back at him whilst patting her brother's back affectionately. "Besides, no matter what you say, I still have to pay you back for taking care of this one." The shy grins she got from both males made her laugh before she ushered them out of the kitchen. "Go, go do what famous people do! Himchannie already promised to help me, you don't have to worry."Jongup raised his brow quizzically at his sister, "you're already calling hyeong 'Himchannie?' " His sister just shrugged and smiled."Just go and dance or something, you butt."  Night fell quickly over Seoul, and the new Moon made only the brightest stars and planets visible through the haze of city lights. Junko sat out on the balcony of B.A.P's dorm, the cold cylinder of an electronic vapour cigarette balanced between her fingers. She had been forced to stop smoking real cigarettes when joining the army - having picked up the habit her second year of middle school - and the electronic versions to her seemed not only a cheaper, but a safer alternative as well. Now she just had to get used to the taste.Behind her the glass door slid open on it's track and slid closed just as quick; she looked back to see Jongup flash a quick smile before sitting himself next to her and burying himself deeper into his parka."Yah," she pushed his shoulder lightly and watched him rock slowly, "what happened to the guy defending the cold weather earlier?"Even from only seeing his small eyes Junko knew her brother was grinning from beneath his layered collar. "I wasn't full of Noona's cooking and tired then." The dancer scooted closer to his sister when she opened her arms, awkwardly laying half of his body into her - the struggle of having a short cuddle-hungry sister. She rubbed her hand over his arm before kissing his temple and earning a well deserved groan."If you're tired then just go to bed. You have a schedule tomorrow anyway."Jongup shook his head and turned his body so he was laying in her lap looking at the sky. "You have to go tomorrow, don't you?""Yeah, but I'm taking you to your schedule. Himchan cleared it with your manager, said his sister was taking you all." She heard him hum thoughtfully from her lap. "Besides, you know you can always call me or visit. No one knows you except for Heesung and he would never think to defy me." Again Jongup just hummed.He closed his eyes and focussed on the feeling of his sister's hand running soothingly over his arm. Ear pressed against her stomach, he could barely make out the soft thumping of her heartbeat. Jongup always wondered how she could always be so calm living the way she did, what with the way his pulse always raced even thinking of going to a fansign. Maybe it was growing up the oldest that made her like this, or the fact that she was the only girl out of the four of the Moon children. Whatever the combination was, he thought, it had made out for a great older sister. He opened his eyes when the hand stopped moving, looking at his sister quizzically.Junko looked down at him with a soft smile and changed rubbing his arm to give attention to running her fingers through his hair; Jongup closed his eyes again, appreciating the motion. "Do you like it here, Jongup?"After a pause he nodded. "The hyeongs treat me well - really well. Yongguk-hyeong is a good man, he's really selfless and pays attention to us well. Himchan-hyeong reminds me of you. He's really touchy and funny, and even though he's a lot older than Junhong-ah and me, he plays with us and is really generous. Daehyun-hyeong and Youngjae-hyeong are like that too, but not as touchy. They both are really helpful, especially with singing and school work or if I have a lot of chores. Daehyun-hyeong is really fun to go places with too. Junhong-ah and I talk and hang out a lot. He also tells me about new animes, so that's really cool. It's also fun to have someone younger than me."Opening his eyes again, Jongup could see his sister was still watching him, a small smile gracing her face. "That's good," she murmured, stroking the short hairs on the right side of his head. "I'm glad you're so happy and so successful. That's all I wanted for you - you, Jongwoo, and Jongkeun." She took a moment to gather her words, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. "I am a little jealous, though. The whole world gets to watch you grow up now, not just us. And you're growing up so fast, god. I can't believe it."Jongup sat up quickly and moved forward, pulling his sister into his chest like she had done to him so many times. She melted against him almost instantly and cherished the change in positions."You talk like you're my mother and not my big sister.""That's because no matter what happens you're always going to be my baby, Jongup. I know I'm overbearing sometimes, but that's because like every big sister I worry about my brothers, especially when they're famous."From above her Jongup snorted, hugging his sister tightly for a moment more before standing up as smoothly as he could while keeping his grip."Let's go inside, it's too cold out here."Junko nodded, reluctantly pulling herself away from her brother to stretch and clear the tears from her eyes. Still a baby and acting so mature, she thought, dusting the imaginary dirt from her clothes. "You need to go to bed, especially with how hard it is to wake you up."Walking inside they nodded to Daehyun who blinked in acknowledgement over the rim of his water glass, wondering if the siblings knew how much of the exchange he had witnessed from inside the kitchen, and wondering if they knew how grateful he felt at the young member's words.  Himchan was beginning to love waking up to the smell of food, especially when the scent wasn’t burnt. Everyone else in the room was asleep, something he wasn’t used to. Then again, he also wasn’t used to waking up to a woman cooking for him. What with how many times Jongup attempted to do the same thing, the visual just assumed it had to be a family trait.Thankfully, he remembered to put clothes on - as a good host should -  before going out to the kitchen. Junko was exactly where he expected her to be, shifting her weight between her feet standing in front of the stove. He could see her peek at him with the slightest turn of her head once he entered the kitchen.“I’m hungry,” he croaked, the raspiness of his own voice surprising him.There was enough Kimchi rice to feed them for a week, a pot of soup with what looked like medicinal herbs, a mountain of steamed eggs, and, judging by the smell, fish roasting in the oven.She must have been up since four making this, he thought to himself nearly feeling bad. But it was too early in the morning to be feeling anything besides his empty stomach. Himchan draped himself over Junko’s back awkwardly, arms hanging down limply and chin hooked on her shoulder.“Hungry, or tired?” She asked with a small chuckle ; her back stiffened under his weight. Himchan only hummed a soft agreement, as if he hadn’t even heard her question. “You still have thirty minutes before I planned to wake you up, why not go back to bed?”Himchan only hummed again, pulling another chuckle from her. The female lifted the spoon resting in the steamed eggs to his lips ; without opening his eyes Himchan took the food into his mouth. She could feel the chewing motions of his jaw on her shoulder and the bobbing of his Adam’s Apple on her back when he swallowed. Junko did this twice more before shrugging him off her back with the ultimatum of either taking care of the food or watching it burn.“I have to go make a phone call real quick,” she murmured while he opened the oven door.Once she was sure the patio door was secured and that Himchan would not be able to eavesdrop, Junko pulled a flip phone from her pocket, dialed the only number on it, and listened the the nine monotonous rings before the other end of the line opened. There was so sound coming through the receiver, not even the sound of breathing ; as it should be, she thought."The dragon wing of night o’er- spreads the earth," she breathed, and listened to the receiver close before setting the phone on the concrete of the patio before wiping it on her coat and stopping on it multiple times. The plastic covering shattered, leaving only fragments, the motherboard, and the battery. She shifted through, taking the sim card, before sliding the remnants off the patio into a bush below.Still playing with - and eating - the food, Himchan did not look up until she patted his forearm."Go wake up the boys," she chimed and pulled the spoon from his hand. He shuffled away to the bedroom and Junko took the moment to release the breath she had been holding, calming herself down when footsteps raced to the kitchen.Daehyun was upon her in a second, practically drooling over the spread. His hair was still messed up and he was smacking his lips to get rid of the taste of sleep in his mouth."Yah," Junko whined and pressed the handle of the spoon to his chest. "Go wash up and then come back, it'll still be here, goof." He raced away just as excitedly, being replaced by Yongguk who stood just outside of the kitchen, smiling sleepily."Good morning," he grumbled, barely audible. She offered a good morning back, flipping off the burners and sliding the food onto serving dishes. He helped carry the food the table just as Junhong stumbled into the room, immediately taking a seat and hanging his head still drifting in and out of sleep. Junko pat his back softly as everyone seated themselves, save for Jongup not yet out of the guest room."Feel free to serve yourselves," she chirped, depositing filled coffee and water cups onto the table before slipping down the hallway.Jongup was sleeping sitting up now with his legs crossed ; he snored lightly and grumbled when she shook his shoulder. "Five more minutes," the dancer whined, trying without conviction to push her away. Still she shook him, cooing his name as a minute passed without any progress. Seeing she was getting nowhere, Junko bent at the knees and slipped her arms around his back and under his knees, rearranging her ragdoll of a brother before lifting. Her legs strained for a moment before getting accustomed to the weight, and, thanking her army training for the muscle, carried him to the living room before tossing him ungracefully onto the sofa.From the dining room Youngjae made an exclamation of amazement while Jongup finally pulled from his sleep, pushing away from the couch when his sister massaged her nails into his side in a tickle, before the pair joined everyone at the table. Himchan had already made two plates for the both of them which the younger of the siblings happily dug into once he saw it. None of the boys were awake enough to make anything other than small talk, but Junko was no better, the thought of how much weight Jongup had lost eating away at her mind. Coupled with her racing pulse at the thought of what she had just caused downtown, she could almost feel her composure beginning to slip.Before Junko knew it she was turning the ignition over in her car and watching the weary boys stumble through snow before climbing into the SUV. Yongguk gave up the seat in the front he would normally take so that Jongup could sit next to his sister one last time before their schedules consumed all their time again. Instead, he found himself back by Junhong who looked at him inquisitively for a moment, then in understanding, then not at all when he was drawn to his mp3 ; Yongguk took the opportunity to sleep for a little bit more before having to get hair and makeup done.Just as he had reached the state between sleep and consciousness he was shaken awake by Himchan. The visuals eyes were wide open as he stared out the window besides where Yongguk was sitting. He glanced to his right, confused, seeing the Seoul Metropolitan Police Station like they did every time they drove from the dorm to the studio.Then, with a cold shock running through his chest, Yongguk saw it. Nearly the entire staff of the building was standing outside, marking the area off with crime scene tape. Most of them were squawking into their radios, more than likely calling other police stations in the area. the glass in the front door had been busted out and there were thick black chains wrapped around the handles of the doors. Stretched across the front of the building in purple spray paint was a message:THE KING IS BACKThe car was still with shock, no one chancing to say anything in the fear that they, like their pounding heartbeat, would not be able to stop once they started.Junko slowly drove past the scene, their vehicle being waved by by an officer with a light baton. She did not once glance at the building. The Escalade stopped around the corner from the building and the boys slowly filed out. Junhong was murmuring in shock about the state of the police station while Youngjae searched fervently for any information he could find. Junko stood by the side of the car, offering a stiff smile from behind the collar of her parka.“Well, it’s a dramatic goodbye, at least,” she half joked, bowing to a perfect 90 degrees. They all bowed back, even Jongup, and one by one she sent them off with a small personal goodbye.She shook hands and bowed once again with Yongguk, making sure he had the correct cell phone number written down. Youngjae had prepared a gift of a list of books and films he thought she would enjoy and Junhong much the same with the promise to fill her in if he found anymore good anime series he thought she would like. Daehyun hugged Junko shortly and thanked her for all the food she had prepared for all of them in the short amount of time and Himchan gave her a hug as well, just because he knew that she, like him, appreciated skinship even with those not too familiar.The five of them waited by the side of the building while Jongup gave his last goodbyes, trying to convince themselves not to listen into what the siblings were telling each other - it would be hard even if they had wanted to, both brother and sister shared a soft-spoken voice.Near the car Jongup hugged Junko tightly, nearly lifting her off the ground. He sighed lowly and let her go, wishing he didn’t have to ; he knew that with what she had caused at the Police Station she wouldn't be too willing to come near him again until the sensation had died down.“Thanks, noona,” the teen mumbled, looking to his shifting feet. He wanted to go with her to the warehouse at least, go see Wooram like he did when he was younger, telling their parents that he was going to a friend’s house after school. But now he knew with how successful B.A.P had become, he probably wouldn’t be able to show his face around the area again without the media erupting into a frenzy.Softly Junko punched him in the chest, pushing him back a step. “Your fans are waiting for you, Uppie. Don’t keep them waiting like I kept you waiting." She pulled him into another embrace before sending him to go to his waiting members, bowing to all of them once more before climbing in her car and leaving.She waited until she rounded the corner to wipe the tears threatening to fall. The whole building was buzzing with hushed voices ; those standing mingled awkwardly with each other and those who had found spots to sit looked down at the others nervously. The warehouse had been sleeping for the past five years, growing the desolate grime of time passed on the walls and handrails, half of the people there could barely remember what it had looked like so long ago. Everything had been left open to the elements, save for the office jutting out from the centre of the catwalk, hanging stoically above their heads.A guy in the back told the one standing besides him that he had seen three people go into the office around midnight. The news had made its way to the front until the telephone game had left the entire floor abuzz with anticipation. They had been standing there for more than half an hour already, and in the back, patience was starting to wear thin. They had not been told why they needed to be at the location at such a late hour, they only knew it had been an order from the head, so it had to be important.From above, the thick metal door creaked open, and at once everyone was silent, All eyes were pointed up, all hearts falling into their feet. In a moment, three figure began to make their way down the stairs ; a woman followed by two men made their way down, step by agonizing step. The men followed her closely down the metal stairs, and all eyes followed the motion of her legs. While they had been ready for anything, they had not been expecting a woman, and especially not a shorter woman.The three made their way atop the metal platform in the middle of the far wall, glaring lights from above making her face illuminated to all of them. Most mumbled to each other, eyes still no the trio in front of them. A handful murmured in recognition, their tensed muscles easing as they looked onto her. An older man in the back reassured a younger boy in front of him.Slowly she looked them all over, making eye contact at least once, staring at the few who tried to hide their defiant gaze. Clearing her throat, she raised her head and spoke as imperiously as she could.“I’m going to make this easy on all of you,” she began stridently. “My name is Junko, the Dragon King and leader of Zero Line, Vanguard of the Thousand Year House ; I have been a part of this family for seven years. Despite this, I have no doubt that most of you are older than I am. As such, if there is every doubt about how Iead you or the decisions that I make for this family, I wholeheartedly implore you to question my logic ; no subject that is brought up can ever be taboo and I guarantee all of you my attention.“Nonetheless, you will all give me your respect. If you find you cannot treat me as you would your leader or your mother, then I give you express permission to leave now.” Junko motioned to the door, pleased to see that no one moved. “With that in mind, I’ll leave you all to get accustomed to this place or leave if you so wish ; i’m not here to force you, I’m here to guide you.”Beside her the taller of the two men chuckled under his breath, and Junko restrained from digging her elbow deep into his side. The crowd in front of her waivered where they stood, looking around to murmur amongst themselves before wandering from the floor. One voice in the back, though, stood out above the others.“So what, is that fucking it?”Junko, who had been heading back to the hanging office with the two men, turned to look at the direction of the voice. No older than Junko, a man with spiked blonde hair leaned against one of the shipping containers in the far end of the warehouse. He had a look of dissatisfaction spread across his face, arms crossed guardedly. He stared at the three expectantly.“Ain’t we gonna go do shit? Steal cars, wreck shit, show e’ryone who not ta’ fuck with?” The man threw his arms in the air expectantly, making his way through the crowd. “Or are ya’ scared? Little bitch got ‘er panties in a twist? How the fuck you think you can lead us anyway?”Besides her the older man tensed, fists clenched tightly at his hips, but before he could let his anger out, Junko raised her hand to silence him. By now the blonde had made his way onto Junko's perch, approaching her with his hands in his pockets."Ha' 'bout this, little girl : I'll be king a' this little sausage fest and I'll let ya' play princess, just 'cause ya' got some great legs on ya'." The man's face contorted into a snarling grin, and the closer he got to Junko the more teeth he showed before he was practically breathing down her neck, knee slipped between her legs. And while Junko didn’t react to the advances, the entire building was alive with hushed whispers, angry murmurs, and advocative jeers.The sound of gunfire filled the blonde’s mind before the pain registered. Once again the warehouse was eerily silent, all eyes tracing the polished silver of a handgun sitting in the female’s hand, vision jumping from his leg to the splash of blood slowly forming on the ground. He crumpled, crying out in shock and holding onto his bleeding thigh, the red life oozing from between his fingers.“You bitch, what the fuck was that for!?” He stuttered between tears and rolling on his back, leg to his chest. No one else dared to even breath as Junko waved the gun in front of him.“Ah, now you can speak properly,” she mused, sitting on her heels in front of him. The blonde pulled himself back away from her as quickly as he could, pulling a smirk from her. “You’re crying like that from a little .22? What a pussy.” The two men dragged the whimpering blonde away as Junko turned once again to face the crowd, turning the gun on them.“Everyone,” she roared, features contorted into rage ; those who were not ducking already joined their comrades closer to the ground, “what is the first rule of this family?”“Give the King your respect!” they all called back, afraid of becoming her next victim. Slowly, Junko lowered her pistol, her vehemence turning once again into a sly smile.“You’re goddamn right it is.” Turning on her heel, Junko made her way back to the suspended office, sliding the firearm back into a misfitting holster bouncing against her ribs. “Adjourned!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “You realize that you habitually thought of Mom when something in your life was not going well, because when you thought of her it was as though something got back on track, and you felt re-energized." --Shin Kyung-Sook, Please Look After MomNine knocks resounded on the door and then it opened ; Junko turned from the sneering demon face of the o-yoroi standing tall to the left of the desk to gaze at the figure filling the door. Wooram immediately bowed his head to her, closing and locking the door behind him before looking back up. His brown eyes glittered in amusement as he closed his arms, shifting all his weight onto one foot and cocking the other knee, resting the foot behind the weight bearing one."Was that really necessary?" He hummed, flipping his short black fringe back into place across his forehead. "Shooting him for calling you a princess?""I didn't shoot him for calling me a princess. I shot him for not respecting his mother."Wooram could only chuckle at the woman standing in front of him. He couldn't help but see all the change she had gone through, the physical and the intangible. She was still the same Junko, petite and feminine, a hint of an animal inside, but the aire around her was different, mature and cold. And regretful. He knew she had gone to see her family.Moving forward, Wooram pulled her into a hug which Junko happily reciprocated."I'm glad your back. It's been too quiet without you around."Junko pushed him away with a short laugh, slinking back to the desk and running her fingertips over it. She reveled in the cold kiss of metal running up her arm. She grabbed a picture frame sitting in the centre, looked at it once, and set it face down back on the desk."Aren't you older ones supposed to like silence? Peace, serenity, a world without crime?" She stared with a stoic gaze into him, features graced with a hollow smile. "Leaving a good world for the younger generation?" She didn't let him answer, instead grabbing the thick black parka discarded on one of the lone black leather chair sitting in front of the desk. "I'm sorry, I don't have time to catch up, I have a meeting with the Primordial King. You know I can't afford to be late."Even for a woman she was being uncharacteristically short with him ; Wooram wondered if he had done something to offend her, overstepped her boundaries somehow, threatened her reign. No, if that had happened he was sure that she would tell him.Wooram remembered when she had first walked into that warehouse -- she had only been sixteen and fresh into high school, yet she had found herself in the seedier part of Seoul, sitting legs crossed on the hood of a 1986 Toyota Corolla that looked like it had some work done on it. Her gaze was fixated to the flip phone in her hand, thumb moving rapidly sending text after text. How a student found where they were hosting the races he would never know, but if she was so willing to lose her car, he would let it happen.The more the night progressed, the more pink slips they amassed and the more cars they added to their yard. When it came turn for Wooram to earn his victory, he was surprised to see the Corolla pull up next to him. The two cars contrasted greatly, the faded white of the Toyota next to the chilled black of his 2006 Nissan Fairlady 350z was comical to say the least, but being the man he was, he was not going to disrespect her, so he stepped from his car when she did and shook her hand with a small bow. The woman acting as flagman approached both of them, hand out. Wooram pulled the pink slip for his Fairlady from his pocket, Junko producing hers from her bra. He peered at her dark irises once more before climbing back into the driver's seat.Even the sounds of their engines were drastically different, the quiet hum of the Fairlady was just about drowned out by the rumble of her Carolla, but he could not help but appreciate the power behind the sound. The flagman looked both of them in the eyes, hand in the air, before throwing it down quickly.Wooram wasn’t surprised when he reached the first curve before she did, spotting her car not too far behind him. A least she was able to keep up, he thought. The parking pawl he had installed the previous week worked flawlessly, locking the transmission; once he felt his rear wheels lock, Wooram floored the accelerator and ripped the steering wheel to the side. The crowd roared for him, jumping and waving their arms, distracting him long enough to miss the white Corolla slipping through the curve past him.“Shit,” venom dripped from the curse as he pulled his head back into the race. In the little amount of time that he had been looking at everyone she had managed to overtake him thirty feet down the stretch of the parking garage. He couldn’t catch up to her in time to make the next turn first, but by some grace of God he was able to take the inside corner, and in the next stretch he was in front of her again, placing himself in the centre of the pavement to prevent her from passing him again.Frustratingly, her face seen from his rearview mirror remained stoic, as if he wasn’t even there in front of her. It’s fine, he thought, I’ll be the winner anyway, always am. A fatal mistake, he watched her face longer than the road, and the screams of the crowd became mistaken for the cheers he heard before. Behind him, Junko’s face became panicked. Finally, he sneered inwardly, she realizes how badly I’m going to beat her ass. Wooram looked back to the road and realized why she looked so panicked ; he had slowly deviated to the left while he was staring at her, headed straight into a wall that had been lined with people before.Curses flew from his mouth as he ripped the steering wheel to the right. The Fairlady’s rear tires locked and his car drifted just past the wall, fender tapping against the concrete wall as the entire vehicle skid to a halt. Wooram’s pulse slammed in his ears and his mind drew a blank until he watched the Corolla drift the corner ahead of his and it’s driver flashing him a smirk as she pulled further towards the finish line. The race isn’t over, he told himself twice before shifting back into drive and taking off after her. He wasn’t going to win, she was too far ahead of him, and by the time he had gotten to the winding ramp that lead to the rooftop, he knew he was much too late.The Corolla was sitting next to the white RX-7 that he knew to be his boss’, he and Junko standing in front of them. Wooram cut off his engine and walked forward with the Fairlady’s keys in hand. He was fuming, but he knew she had beat him, his pride getting a hold of him in the worst moment. He held his hand out to her, keys dangling from his pointer finger. But she didn’t take them.Junko’s fingers pressed into his cheek, turning his head side to side, up and down.Wooram looked at her bewildered, “what are you doing?” She looked his over again, circling before coming back to look at him.“Are you alright? You almost crashed. I was worried, but you looked fine.” He stared at her, trying to determine if she fucking with him or not. Even past the coloured lenses her gaze looked sincere.“I’m fine,” Wooram grumbled, before dropping the keys into her hand and stalking back to the crowd. Junko watched him leave before the older man standing next to her drew her attention back to him.A male grinned deviously in front of Wooram, watching his every step the closer he got. Just as he stepped besides him, the younger male leaned forward, his words ghosting past Wooram’s ear.“The poor yazi beat in his own game. How pitiful.” The racer glowered at the other male, watching as his lips pull into a bigger smirk.Wooram planted a hand into the other’s chest and shoved him, the other stumbling back a few steps with a snicker, watching the Zero Line member stalk away.“Piss off, Heesung.”Seeing Junko again the next day was not Wooram’s idea of a good time. But there she was, standing in the boss’ office suspended in the warehouse they called their post. He bowed to the head, the Dragon King, a well kept man well into his forties. Everything about the man was peremptory. His single breasted suit, the silk purple shirt underneath, the snarl of the dragon peeking around the nape of his neck, the pale scars littering his features. Hell, the grey contacts he wore felt as cold as the steel blade set on the wall behind him. Wooram didn’t stand until his leader told him to do so.“I’m sure you recognize her,” the Dragon King asserted, motioning to Junko who bowed. “And I’m sure you know why she is here.”Wooram could only nod. Like him, there was no doubt that she had been brought here because the leader had become impressed with her ability, and felt she would make a good addition to Zero Line. Wooram was not very surprised, he had been impressed with her that night.“She will be our new bi’an.”His blood ran cold. “Father!” He stammered, his hands coming around from behind his back. “Bi’an? What happened to being a 49?”In front of him the Dragon King stared into his eyes, his annoyance boring into him. Wooram ducked his head and dropped to his knee, bowing not only from respect, but fear.“Yes sir,” Wooram said quietly. He knew from the other man’s silence that he was to leave immediately. Outside the closed door, he could hear the muffled conversation within, and when Junko emerged, she greeted him again.“Brother,” her voice was as strident as the leader’s, “thank you for welcoming me to your family.”He nodded, and led her back into the heart of warehouse. Wooram looked around the office again, eyes stopped on the desk Junko stood at before. Without thought he approached it, grasping and turning the picture frame resting on the desk. His eyes wandered over it, looking at the three smiling boys staring back at him, and he had to wonder how much she regretted that day. As the black sports car made its way into Seoul, shores turned into skyscrapers, headlights of oncoming cars, and neon signs beckoning passersby into their shops. Businessmen stood spaced apart at bus stops casting glances to phones and watches when not watching for the scheduled bus. Tired youth made their way to schools, cigarettes and toast balanced between their lips. Finding this day warmer than the last, a worker abandoned his parka in lieu of a thick materialed coat. Along with these other drifting impressions, a woman pushing her baby in a tram disappeared behind the car window, swallowed by the quiet engine rumble.Behind the wheel Junko sighed ; she knew she would have to come back to the city, no matter how much she really didn’t want to so soon. Glancing at the clock it had only been five hours since she had dropped Jongup and the others off. I wonder if they’ll see me, she thought solemnly, knowing how erroneous she sounded. They’re working a real job, an honest one. They earn their money like real citizens of Korea.She shook the thought out of her head and turned away from downtown, following the emptier roads until the glass front of the insurance firm towered over her car. How ironic.In the underground parking a man in a double breasted suit stood against one of the concrete walls. Unlike all of the other areas, this wall was only occupied by four other cars all set apart from one another. She took the one in the centre, void of six spaces on either side. Before she could push the seat belt off of her chest the man was next to her door. She couldn’t see his eyes past the sunglasses he wore.The door between them pushed away from the chassis and tilted 90 degrees until they sat vertically, pushed by the hydraulic hinge that connected them to the car. Her heels clicked against the pavement and she grabbed the hand he held to her and stepped away from the car.“I’m glad to see you’ve spent your money well. 2004 Koenigsegg CCR? It must’ve run you a billion won,” he mussed, large hand pressed to his chest as he dropped to a knee and bowed.“Don’t talk to me,” her words were flat, Junko turning away and stalking towards the elevator, leaving her escort behind.He only chuckled and watched her leave.She didn’t understand the need for the metal detectors leading to the top floor. Of course she had metal on her. Removing the jewelry she wouldn’t have worn before was a pain, but the gazes she caught laying the Ruger SR22, K5 Triple Action, and .357 Magnum onto the table besides the device was less than flattering. Nevertheless, the over-sensitive alarms sounded above her head, and with a discontented look to the guards, she lifted the back of her shirt to show the two metal balls pierced into her dimples of venus. Waved through, Junko replaced her firearms and continued to the looming cherry wood doors at the end of the tiled stretch of hallway.There were no men standing at this door, odd considering what was taking place behind it, but the concern of eavesdropping was understandable. She rung the buzzer, something that felt to foreign after five years ; the receiver at the other end opened.“A flood visits the Dragon King Shrine not recognizing one’s kinsman." Again a wash of discomfort flooded her being, and Junko did everything within her person not to let the emotion show on her features.Black painted walls greeted her on the other side, and welcomed by no one, she made her way to the unfriendly tempered glass table in the centre of the room. Four males watched her approaching figure, each one she knew well, each she shared a different part of her life with, both pleasant and not. She took the seat that had been given to her the first day she set foot in this room. Like that day, she could feel the tangle of emotions pooling in the pit of her stomach. Looking side to side, both seats surrounding her were empty - perhaps the Flower King had taken her place of being the last to show.Across the table a man stared at her, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. His vision traced over every feature of her face, seeing what had changed in the woman. She didn’t look much different, he had to admit ; her features were all relatively the same. But behind her grey contacts, he could see how much she had aged. An old soul in a young body, he mused to himself, a sad thing to see here.Her eyes flickered to her silent admirer.“Brother,” she quipped, “I’m ecstatic to see you too. But the longer you stare, the less I will be willing to drink with you later tonight.”He could only chortle at her claim. “At least my Little Dragon didn’t change too much while defending our country.”Junko threw him a chaste smirk.Somewhere a door opened, and at once all the members rose from their seats and dropped into a ninety degree bow. A chair slid almost silently across the wooden floor, but no one rose, not until the gravely grunt of a man who had seen everything allowed them to do so ; everyone sat.Despite his age their leader was a handsome man ; shaven, kempt, and learned, he exuded an aire of power and trust, a hard thing to come by in the business they ran. His dark eyes landed on Junko, who quickly bowed her head to him.“Father,” she greeted warmly, smiling to him as she always did. This was the man that she held close to her heart, the one who had welcomed her and rebuilt her, the one who made her the Dragon King.He smiled back as a man who smiled to their toddler. “Junko. I’m so glad you are safe and back to us. We’ve waited for your return, and welcome you back gladly.”She couldn’t tell him how much she hated how formally everyone spoke here.The leader’s gaze continued around the table catching the gaze of everyone who sat in front of him. “I’m glad to see all my children, sons as well as daughter, and I commend you for keeping your faith in the loss of your brother.”That’s why the seat besides her was empty. Junko thought back to the man that normally sat besides her, Mung Jibae, the Flower King. It explained all of the foreign yet familiar faces she had seen in the warehouse earlier ; they had been the former members of Y-Den, the gang he had been in charge of before his death.“Junko,” she broke from her daze to look back at him, “I hope you will pay your respects to your lost family soon. And as Vanguard, I hope you will have no objections to taking the duty of Straw Sandal as well. Your syndicates are closer, so taking control of Incheon and Gyeonggi should be no problem.”Junko pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. This was arguably the last thing she ever wanted. She had no problem taking the duties of the liaison officer - more often than not her original Vanguard duties crossed into those of the Straw Sandal - but taking control of Gyeonggi was what bothered her. Despite how big of a port and transportation city Incheon was, the work wasn’t hard, but most idols weren’t based in Incheon.“Daughter,” once again the commanding voice of the Mountain Master pulled her from a daze.“Yes Father, I have no qualms,” she assure instantly, bowing her head to him and then smiling. He did not return the expression, instead turning to the man one seat away from her.The rest of the meeting proceeded quietly even with the thoughts of panic screaming in Junko’s head. Her discussion was distracted, answers absentminded, but if the others noticed no one paid it any heed. The only strong voice she possessed was used when she bid her leader farewell, the both of them pressing a soft kiss into the other’s cheek before she left the room. Bidding her other brother’s farewell she waited outside the door until the one seated across from her emerged from the meeting room.He cast her a tempered smile and led the way to the elevator ; neither of them spoke until the door opened to the parking garage.The guard who had welcomed Junko set his gaze on the male once before entering the elevator and leaving to the upper floors. Alone, Junko sighed in relief and grabbed onto his arm.“These heels hurt,” she whined to him ; he laughed in return and supported the smaller female to either of their vehicles.“Then don’t wear them. We know you, you’re scary enough without being three inches taller.” Watching the hydraulic powered door of Junko’s car opening he could only whistle, taking her hand to support her as she sat back into the driver’s seat. “Realm?”“Realm,” she sang back to him, waving as the door lowered between them. She watched him get into his own car and smiled fondly.Geum Hyunbin was her fellow Thousand Year House member. Known as the Tiger King, Hyunbin was the leader of Absolution and arguably the only person she could consider her rival. Towering over her, Junko could not deny that he was an attractive man ; his grey blonde dyed hair complimented the honey tone of his skin handsomely and his slim muscular build was a magnet for the other women around him. If not for his smug and childish demeanor, she would gladly ask him for a date outside of their daily activities. But she got the feeling such a playboy would not make a good boyfriend. Regardless, this did not stop either from their bouts of cordial flirting.The streets haven’t changed at all, Junko thought to herself as she followed the white 1997 Mazda RX-7 weaving through traffic. The meeting of the Thousand Year House leaders had lasted much longer than either of them had thought and now the only thing on their mind was food. Positioned around nearly every street corner was a police interceptor - she could only smirk at every glance she caught from the officers. Even if they knew it was her who ordered the chaos at the department building, there was no chance of a successful chase - limited to 215kmh the only thing they would hope to catch is the glimmer of their taillights.Yongguk dabbed at the sweat running down his neck. He could feel the music broadcast through the huge stage speakers in the hallway lined with dressing rooms. Inside their own his members sat in all different locations occupied in different activities, save for Himchan who had left with a coordi noona for a coffee run. The leader sat next to Youngjae who occupied the cheap leather couch against the wall, eyes glued to the screen of a tablet.“Anything good?” He questioned the younger male absently, leaning back and closing his eyes in hopes of a nap. Instead the metal edge of the device tapped against his hands. Yongguk opened his eyes again, looked quizzically to Youngjae, then back to the tablet placed in his hands.“I found her.” Youngjae’s voice was nothing more than whisper, for privacy or from surprise neither of them were sure.On the LED screen was the image of the woman who had dropped them off earlier. Initially, Yongguk thought nothing of it. This is probably what the vocal had mentioned before, an article showcasing Junko as the first Korean female trained in the army, But the more he read on, the more his heart sank into his stomach.  Chosun Ilbo Seoul Metropolitan Area : Suspected Gang Member charged with third degree murder pardoned of jail time, will serve army training as punishment MOON Junko (18), on trial for the manslaughter of confirmed gang leader OH Changkil, has been pardoned of jail time and will instead serve five years training on the US Army Garrison Camp Humphreys on charges of racketeering Following the discovery of the corpse of OH Changkil (47) after a suspected gang dispute, teenager MOON Junko (18) was arrested and charged with voluntary manslaughter, being found with the handgun suspected of being the murder weapon on her person. The handgun in question was wiped of fingerprints and no bullet casing was found. With no concrete evidence linking MOON to the crime, the courts acquitted MOON of the charges. Instead she will be serving five years punishment training with the American and Korean soldiers station on US Army Garrison Camp Humphreys located near Anjeong-ri and Pyongtaek metropolitan area. Citizens have voiced outrage over the ruling, claiming it to be too lenient of a punishment for the crime committed, while others claim the charges have no basis and are too harsh considering the lack of evidence. There has been no information regarding the family of MOON or persons involved. MOON is to be released in 2012.  Yongguk stared at the screen, scrolling through it again and again as if it would cause the information to change. Silently he dropped the device back into Youngjae's lap, standing and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.From a makeup station Jongup stared nervously at Youngjae, trying to read the elder's expression. Finding nothing, he stood from the plush chair and followed the leader out the door, afraid of what he would find on the other side.Against the opposite wall Yongguk leaned his forehead onto the cool pressed material of the wall. Jongup approached him apprehensively standing an arm's-length away from the older man. No one dared speak a word, both choosing to breath silently in the tense environment.Yongguk broke the silence."Did you know?""Yes." Jongup answered truthfully, voice but a murmur caught in his throat. "I saw the article when it was published. Noona didn't have the chance to tell us herself.""Is this why you kept your sister a secret from everyone?""Yes.""Would you have told me?""No."Yongguk pulled his head from the wall, looking solemnly to his dongsaeng ; Jongup fought the urge to avert his gaze."You wouldn't have told us? That you brought a criminal into our home? A murderer?" His voice stayed low and baritone. Even as enraged as he felt, Yongguk could not justify yelling at his band member."Noona didn't kill anyone. She took the fall for someone else, someone else in the gang." Jongup struggled to defend his sister's actions, hands clasping nervously at his sides. "Changkil was already bleeding out. He asked another member to kill him, to preserve his honour. She took the fall for him so he wouldn't go to prison . . ." His voice spiralled off into silence.The rapper's eyebrows furrowed as he turned to the shorter male. "Oh, she's not a murderer, she just protected one? She was in a gang, Jongup. Is she still a gangster?" He watched Jongup's mouth open, then close, the dancer's eyes falling to the floor. "She is, isn't she?"Jongup didn't see the point in lying, his hyeong already knew everything he had tried to hide."She's their leader now."Yongguk combed his fingers through his hair, feeling the bonds of the hair gel breaking between his fingers. Maybe he did fall asleep on the couch. Maybe this was all a sick dream. He truly hoped he was right.Behind them the dressing room door burst open. Daehyun stared at the two, out of breath and brown eyes bugging out of his skull. "Hyeong!" He screamed. "Himchan hyeong is hurt. He hurt his hand - he's going to the hospital right now!"Yongguk looked from Daehyun to Jongup. "We'll finish this later," he breathed before taking off after the vocal down the hallway.Jongup wiped his eyes before chasing after the four other males. Junko slammed her glass onto the wooden table and threw her arms into the air, breathing hard out of her nose. "Fuckin' first! You need to catch up, hyeong, you can't drink anymore."Across the table Hyunbin set his glass down more gently and sighed. "Yah, don't call me hyeong, it's unlady like. Call me oppa, oppa," he scolded childishly. He grasped another piece ojingeo bokkeum with the metal chopsticks in his hand and tossed it into his mouth, chewing aggravatedly.She scoffed at the male and poured another round of soju. "You wish I would call you oppa." Leaning over the table, Junko parted her lips, and with heavily lidded eyes mocked the sound of moaning. "Oppa, oppa," she teased, drawing out the last syllable.The other gangster hid his face and whined. "Stop. You're a baby, you can't be sexually active." Junko laughed at his reaction and picked herself back off of the table. Grasping the glass and holding it to Hyunbin, she smiled warmly, cheeks flush in a light pink."I'm sorry, I've just missed teasing you for the past five years. Besides, I have to take on double duty starting tomorrow, I want to have as much fun as I can. Cheers, Oppa?"Grimacing Hyunbin raised his own glass, tapping the two of them together before downing the volume."You've ruined that word for me forever." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- " I heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Life seems harsh, and cruel. Says he feels all alone in threatening world. Doctor says: "Treatment is simple. The great clown - Pagliacci - is in town. Go see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. "But doctor..." he says "I am Pagliacci." Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drum. Curtains. " --Rorschach, Watchmen (2009)The Seoul National University Hospital was old but durable. Standing twelve storeys tall, the 'X' shaped building housed all kinds of patients: Minour injuries, broken bones, burn victims, birthing mothers, newborn babies, and the generally ill. It even had a counter for those passing through to pick up their prescriptions. Being the largest room, the lobby connected to the kitchen, cafeteria, and all of the wings. In the back was the entrance for ambulances and, not by coincidence, all of the emergency treatment rooms. The wing directly opposite housed the patients with non-fatal injuries. This wing was were Himchan was laying in his room, doped up on painkillers with a cast wrapped just past his mid-forearm.Across the hall Jongup sat stiffly next to Yongguk whose head was laid back against the wall. Daehyun, Youngjae, and Junhong had sensed the tense atmosphere, later excusing themselves to the cafeteria for coffee and discussion. Eight hours had passed since Himchan had slipped getting into a company van. Having misplaced his foot, he stretched his right hand out to catch himself against the steering wheel, and ended up with a dislocated ring and pinky finger, and an impacted fracture in his fourth metacarpal. There was nothing the hospital could really do other then set the bones, wrap him up, and help ease the pain with a cocktail of drugs.In the time he was being treated, Jongup had spilled any and all information of his sister to the leader. He told Yongguk about how she began taking an interest in cars around the time he was born, how she had gotten in trouble in school for fighting the students that bullied others, how she had both gained and lost friends for doing so. He spoke about how their uncle in Los Angeles let her stay with him for her last year in middle school so she could help out at his auto body shop and how they had been robbed about a month after her arriving - around that time was when she took an interest in becoming a police officer because of how they had saved them from the situation and arrested the man in front of her. He explained how she had to be hospitalized after being stabbed by one of the high schoolers who she stopped from harassing her new friends."Noona still managed to come out on top," he chuckled blankly.Jongup recalled how she had gotten in trouble for skipping the high school entrance ceremony in Taeun-gun to get a tattoo, a batman symbol above the scar of her stab wound. Their father found it not only amusing but fitting, their mother not so much. He informed the leader how she had gotten in trouble not too much longer for taking up a job in another auto body shop near the school, but was forgiven after making up a sob story of their family being poor and earning money for not only hers but their living as well. In a much more solemn voice he disclosed Junko's battered face after her accident (which he was not as open about as all of his other stories) and how Jongkeun and Jongwoo had let him cry in their room after he saw her bandaged up in the hospital.It was around the time that Junko had moved to Taeun-gun by herself that she became involved in Zero Line. None of the family had any clue she had joined a gang until the police commissioner from Taeun showed up at their front door. He told their parents what she had been arrested for. that since she was so young with no prior record the charges would be lenient. He told them that she was crying, how she pleaded and begged that her family would not be involved and that their relationship not be disclosed. He took pity on her, not as a police officer, but as a man and a father. On his word there would be no mention of them, not in the records, reports, or to the media.Jongup told Yongguk that all he could fully remember from that day was how his mother sobbed in the kitchen late into the night, Jongkeun taking his brothers out for dinner with his own allowance.Now, Yongguk found himself at a mental impasse. He knew Jongup would not lie to him, he never had. He also knew that Junko was a criminal, a gang leader, and as noble as her actions seemed, she was still breaking the law. But in the back of his mind a thought gnawed at him : he had seen how she acted acted around her brother and the rest of the members, how attentive and patient she was with all six of them. Putting the label of criminal to Junko seemed so foreign, a judgemental faux pas to put the woman who had showed them so much kindness and charity on the same level of the kkangpae plastered across the nightly news. Miffed he ran his hand through his hair again and stood from the bench."I'm going to go grab a muffin from the cafeteria. Do you want anything, Jongup-ah?"The younger gave him a grateful smile. "No thanks. I'm going to check on Himchan hyeong." Inside, Jongup was relieved that the rapper seemed to hold no resentment towards him.Luckily, the word of Himchan being hospitalized had not spread to the media yet, and being six in the morning there were not many patients yet up and around. Stretching silently in front of Yongguk, the hallway was without another soul, so he used this time to brood.As if the stress of his best friend being injured wasn't enough, Yongguk fought with his heart, and prayed that the rest of this day would unfold as uneventful.Even the lobby was relatively empty. The nurses waved at him and he waved back, approaching them to ask exactly where the cafeteria was located. The male pointed down the hallway with a warm smile while the female did her best to hide the shy smile that graced her features. Thanking the both of them he made his way wearily down the direction he was pointed, walking through the swinging doors.Daehyun was the first person to spot Yongguk when he walked through the door, but seeing as though the room was empty of anyone other than staff and the singers, he could not say he was too surprised."Hyeong," he called out and raised his arm as if the leader couldn't see them. Yongguk nodded to the vocal and grabbed a muffin and coffee, happy the little bit of money he had was enough to cover the cost. The seat besides Junhong scraped noisily against the cheap linoleum when Yongguk pulled it out to take a seat. No one spoke a word until he had torn a bite of the pastry off and tossed it lazily into his mouth."Is Himchan-hyeong awake yet?"The elder shook his head and washed the sweetness out of his mouth with a gulp of lukewarm coffee. "Still out of it. Jongup is sitting with him now, he didn't want anything to eat, so he decided to watch over him." He watched the three others nod, the whole table turning to silence once more.Yongguk debated silently whether or not he should tell them what Jongup had disclosed about Junko. They should know, but was it his place to tell them? No, he thought, it should be Jongup. Even though Youngjae knew, Yongguk could tell from the worried glances from the vocal that he had not let a word about what he had shown the rapper hours before ; whether it be out of anxiety or respect for the younger's family, he couldn't say but had a feeling it was the former. He sighed inwardly and traced over the empty muffin cup in front of him with his gaze.For once his thoughts had become as silent as the room around him ; all of his thoughts melded into nothing, all of the emotions he has felt before disappearing into a state of quietude he only found in slumber. Yongguk wasn't sure if he had found peace or had fried his mind, but there was one thing he knew for sure. He needed sleep.Absently the four of them continued in their small talk. They didn't stay on a single subject for long before another one popped up and took it's place. A single glance at the clock showed that they had managed to kill an entire hour and a half before Junhong pipped up besides Daehyun."We should go back to the room," he mentioned shortly. Nodding, the three others stood, pushed in their chairs, tossed their trash in a nearby bin, and ambled through the lobby. Even now there weren't many people about, and after taking a small moment to great a father bouncing his newborn in his arms, they turned through the yawning double doors to stop just as they began down the hallway.In Front of Himchan's room was Jongup standing stiffly, gaze bearing down onto his feet, the first time the four had seen him look uncomfortable in front of his sister. Saying they felt any different would be a lie."Hyeong," Youngjae choked out quietly besides Yongguk who made no motion to show he had heard him. The image in front of him was so unlike the one he remembered that it made his mind spin even more. The jeans and hoodies were abandoned for a toothsome white pantsuit, crew cut tees and covered skin traded for plunging necklines and overly generous cleavage, sneakers exchanged for heels, parka foregone for a fur trimmed coat, bare face masked with makeup, innocent disposition cast away for sultry intimidation. The only thing that remained of the woman he thought he knew was the waterfall of black hair - even her eyes seemed so foreign, unreadable behind the grey contact lenses she noticed him with.Junko's expression faltered when she met gazes with the rapper. Slowly, unsurely, she smiled and began to approach them. "Ah, Yongguk-ssi."Just leave, he screamed silently."And Daehyun, Youngjae, and Junhong too." She was twenty feet away.Never come back, his still hands motioned."I heard about what happened to Himchan." Thirteen feet away.You're a monster, his quiet gaze bellowed."Is he alright? I didn't go inside. Uppie said he was asleep." Six feet away.I want to hate you, his pounding heart whispered."How are you all dealing with it?" Junko was practically on top of them.Disappear, his motionless figure demanded."I hope everything will be alright." She smiled blankly at the four of them, casting a quick glance back to her brother who stood his ground. Even without much being said the tense atmosphere developing between the two oldest spoke volumes to the other's about her reception. Daehyun, Youngjae, and Junhong cast worried glances between the male and female, looking to Jongup for any cues in his body language of which none were found.Yongguk took a step closer to her and kept his adamant gaze. "You shouldn't be here." He didn't know why he expected Junko to give a reaction to his words, and he had to wonder again why he wasn't surprised when she didn't. "Jongup told me. He told me everything about you. I-" Looking down at her, Yongguk found he had lost the words he worked to prepare all morning.To say he knew something like this would happen would be a lie ; the man was not a clairvoyant, he could not plan out the actions in his life like the author of a story. Being one to live in the present, he found himself often not planning for the future, something that had gotten him in different stages of trouble in the past.But unlike then, he was not just caring for himself. He was not the youngest anymore, he did not have parents or siblings taking care of him. Now Yongguk was taking care of five other men, men who did not need to be taken care of, but at the same time would be lost without his succor. And while it was not his job, Yongguk felt the need to protect them, protect them from stress, from failure. Protect them from harsh words and harsh actions alike. Protect them from things he could not stand any resistance to. And now, protect them from their own families.But looking down at the petite figure before him, he felt an overwhelming sense of weakness. Yongguk could stand up to the world for the sake of the five men he had grown closest to, but standing up to Moon Junko felt impossible in the most unlikely of ways."Everything? What's everything?" She didn't meet any of their gazes, staring just past all four of the gazes locked on her. "I'm just here checking up on Himchannie. It's terrible what happened, especially after a comeback."“How did you know he was in the hospital?”Junko raised a brow, gazing back through him. Yongguk wondered if she could see his unease.“What do you mean? It’s - ““No one but us, our manager, and the people who were working on the comeback stage know that Himchan is hospitalized. The company and the hospital know better than to release the information, and none of us have a personal phone. There is no way you could have know we were here.” He paused.For once their short time of knowing each other, Yongguk watched Junko squirm uncomfortably. There was no way he could have know that she was a terrible liar - being in the army made the impossible task that much harder for her - and he couldn’t have possibly learned all of her ticks by now. The twitch of the finger, the toss of the hair over her left shoulder, the shifting from foot to foot, Jongup is the only person who could have seen these minute changes in her that gave away her dishonesty and even then it had taken him years to grow familiar with them.Junko drew herself out of her stupor by looking down at her feet, hair falling back from over her left shoulder to shield her face. Looking back up just as quickly, she could see her brother now standing behind his bandmates, away from her. This drew a smirk.“I knew you were smart from the moment I met you, Yongguk.” Arms crossed guardedly, her smirk turned into a frown and puckered brows. “I’m here collecting money from the hospital, their shobadai. This building was built with the House’s money, way back in 1947 when they first started constructing the new building after the Japanese left. We even made the memorial for the massacre victims.“We have a very good relationship - we helped them build, expand, manage. Hell, we even bailed them out of the financial crisis in ‘97. In return, they give us a monthly allowance and don’t ask if we have to bring someone in. This is a good hospital, they have to stay open, for us and for the people of Korea. I mean, they did do a wonderful job on me.” Mockingly, Junko traced her chin with a thin hand, head tilted up as if she enjoyed the feeling. “At least, I think so. Don’t you?”Her attention shifted to Youngjae, arms once again wound in front of her torso. “While we’re asking questions, let me ask you something, Youngjae.” The young vocal stiffened.“Remember filming the music video in Manila? Pretending to take a beating for the camera?”He stayed quiet.“Do you?” She hissed again. Youngjae nodded. “Did it hurt?”Again no response.“I asked you if it hurt!” Junko’s voice was a bark now, brows knitting further in annoyance.Youngjae managed to choke out a quick no.“I bet it didn’t. You’re a good actor, but there are some things you can’t pantomime. Fear is a good example of one of those somethings.” She turned her attention to the group as a whole again. “Let me tell you, there is nothing enjoyable about being held and beaten against your will. I can remember feeling the bones cracking, my face swelling with every new broken blood vessel and structure. I can remember choking on my own blood as I tried to scream and sob for them to stop. Thugs don’t listen, it’s almost universal knowledge. But when you’re sitting there, battered and broken, asking yourself and God whether you are going to make it out alive and back to your family, you try anything.“I remember asking myself if it would be worth it to live. God, that was a real tough one. I still don’t think I’ve reached an answer. I still had so much to do, I thought. I wanted to graduate college, get married, have children. But in that moment all I could think about was the pain and how I wanted it to stop, how I wanted it to end, whether it be with their boredom or my remaining life.“In the end it happened to be their life that ended. Like some real wild west bullshit, I was saved, guns blazing and blood flying. All for me and my inability to protect myself. They didn’t even ask for a ransom, I knew they just wanted to make me and the rest of my gang suffer at the results. Let me tell you, we did, it was quite the shock what some people can stomach doing to a teenage girl. I was surprised they didn’t rape me. Lord knows I wouldn’t have fought back. Maybe they just didn’t have the time.”Junko’s own statement sent a chill through her body that she hoped the others were not able to see. Junhong looked down at the ground with a grimace ; she had nearly forgotten how young he was and how the subject was no doubt something he was heavily disturbed by.“But,” Junko continued with a carefree motion of her hand, “just one little pop into this hospital and a few weeks of lying in a sterilized bed, and bam.” She snapped. “Little ol’ Junko is good as new, brand new face and a brand new life. At least, a little newer.”Silence permeated the hallway around them, suffocating all six bodies. No one met Junko’s burning gaze, not even Jongup who stared at his fidgeting hands held at his waistline.Yongguk was looking to the door of Himchan’s room, Junko’s words causing him to wonder if it was okay for him to be in this hospital. If what she said was true, this was a gang hospital, something he thought only existed in movies. He sucked his lip into his mouth, fists clenching. It was frustrating, knowing he had no influence over his best friend’s well being, but as long as the company was the one paying the bills, it would always be their word over his, not matter the reasons he brought up with them.A man rounded the corner. He wore an expensive suit and was balding, an older gentleman with an uneasy expression. He approached Junko, finally drawing her attention away from the group.“Dragon King-ssi,” he man muttered, bowing until the bald patch on the top of his head was completely visible. He presented what looked like a small travel bag to her, not moving from his bow.In return Junko laughed loudly, clapping the elder on the back - he stumbled slightly. “Drop the ‘Dragon King’ nonsense, I told you just call me Junko. After all the years you’ve know me and all the things you’ve done for me it’s not like we’re strangers. C’mon, lighten the fuck up.”Standing up straight, the man still did not smile. He passed the bag to her which Junko gladly took. Casting one glance at the boys, the man shuffled back off around the corner.“The hospital director,” Junko introduced to them as if they were old friends, but no one gave her a reaction. “Well, since I have what I came for, I guess I should leave before someone calls the police. But don’t think it will help, most of them already work for us.”Junk did not want them to know this was a bluff, so she waved the bag in front of her face to hide any unwanted expression that managed to creep over her features before sauntering towards them.They moved as a wave, shuffling backwards towards the shut door of Himchan’s room as if a barrier to whatever calamity her motion brought. Jongup on the other hand stood his ground, glancing to his sister. His eyes held a myriad of expressions that she found she could not read. It pained her to know she was causing her brother this much trouble and pain. This is the last thing she wanted, dragging her brothers into the problem that was her life. If only I could stay in Incheon, she thought. If Junko was a believer of God, she would’ve been sure that their constant meetings was His way of punishing her for this lifestyle.But she did not know the comfort of religion, and as such did not have anyone to blame but herself.Jongup stayed still as she combed her fingers through his remaining long strands of hair, breaking the hairspray that kept its form, before pushing his head to her level. Her lips met his forehead for a fleeting moment before she released him again.“I love you, Jongup.” Any more words would have surfaced the sob pressing into her Adam’s apple.There were no more words between them, no more looks, no gestures, no acknowledgement of each other’s existence, and it would have stayed that way if Yongguk didn’t step forward.“Where are you going?” He demanded, wishing he had just let her walk out the far door.“Incheon,” she called back, not stopping her canter. “It’s where Zero Line calls home. But don’t worry, we’re not near anyone you love.” With that, she left without a glance back.Yongguk felt his heart drop into his ass. He didn’t know what was worse ; her being based near his family, or the fact that she knew he had family and where they were. Yongnam and Natasha both lived in Seoul, but his mother, father, and grandmother still lived in Incheon. Gangster or not, he would hold her to her word, knowing how important family was to someone like her.Someone like her, he thought to himself again. What type of person was that? A criminal? Murderer? Liar? Woman? He wasn’t sure anymore. Behind him he heard a sniffle - he knew without looking it was Jongup. He was astounded by the strength the teen was able to show.From beside him Daehyun grasped the back of Jongup’s head and pressed his face into his shoulder. The younger didn’t fight back, accepting the vocal’s grasp as quiet tears blurred his vision. Junhong set his hand on the shorter dancer’s shoulder and Youngjae shuffled around the three awkwardly but wanting to show his care.Brooding, Yongguk moved to the bench he had been sitting with Jongup and picked up the book he hand been holding before any of this happened. The Five People You Meet in Heaven ; The words stared back at him. It was one of the books she had given to him, the one she had stuck an adhesive notecard to with a star. It was his bookmark, and when he flipped to the page it was stuck to, the message there made him feel sick. “I’ll try my hardest to make it there with you.” He tossed the book into the garbage. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "You are the sky. Everything else - it's just the weather." --Pema ChödrönIt had been nearly a month since Junko had last seen BAP in the hospital. She lay on the loveseat against the wall, comforter laying across her hips. There was not yet enough light filtering through the high rise's top office for her to make out much, but sitting up the beach a handful of miles away was still visible through the full length windows. Waves lapped lazily at the sand, wearing it away decades at a time.She gazed through the wall of glass, listening to every breathe drawn, thinking back to the last holiday she had been there with her family - her real family.Way back when Jongup was little they had driven out to the Incheon coast, car loaded to the brim with tents, toys, and enough fireworks to charge admittance. Their mom and dad worked to set up two large tents and a sun canopy while Junko and Jongkeun set up the folding table and chairs near the firepit. Jongwoo and Jongup watched everyone do their part, talking excitedly about the fireworks they would shoot and the food they would make together. It was Jongup’s first time actually using fireworks instead of just watching them, and the boy couldn’t wait for the sun to go down.“Noona, Hyeong!” Jongwoo called as he skipped up to Jongkeun and Junko sitting panting in the sand after a tussle with the plastic bench.“Yes?” The twins called back, turning their heads at the same time. They were much more in tune with each other as children, watching the same cartoons, dressing in the same colours when they didn’t mean to, waking up at the same time and wanting the same thing for breakfast. The only thing they didn’t have in common anymore were school subjects ; Jongkeun beat out the school in history whereas Junko had placed in all the math competitions to date.Jongwoo jumped onto the older twin’s lap when he reached them, Jongup followed suit but just choosing to stand near Jongkeun until his brother pulled him into his empty lap anyway. In Junko’s lap Jongwoo wiggled excitedly.“Can we do the fireworks yet? Mom and Dad said that Jongup and I can do them if you help because you’re old.”Jongkeun laughed loudly at the middle sibling’s words, patting his head from where he sat in the sand. “Older, not old. Why don’t we wait until the sun goes down so you can see the fireworks?” Looking up Jongkeun could see their mother smiling fondly at them as their father pat the sand off his knees.He had cleared the firepit of old wood and burnt beer cans, mixing the ash left behind before getting ready to look for driftwood. The man knew his youngest son would love to see the show of different colours the wood would put off as the metal salts reacted with the fire, but he would have to remind them to be extremely cautious of the smoke.Looking to his wife he couldn’t help but smile, pulling the giggling woman to him so they could both admire their children playing happily together in the sand. They let Junko wrestle Jongwoo into the sand until Jongkeun finished the countdown before Mr Moon called the boys to help gather firewood and Mrs Moon had Junko help prepare their dinner for roasting.As the afternoon wore on the children grew tired of making sand castles and hunting for new shells buried in the sand, but not nearly as drowsy as their parents. Their father would sneak away every once and awhile for half a cigarette, and their mother would have been napping if she weren’t checking the kimchi stew over the fire every couple of minutes. Jongwoo swore he had caught them kissing, but at eight he didn’t know much about love, just that it was something parents did.Before they knew it the sun had disappeared, and with full bellies they watched the stars erupt into view, a new distant galaxy popping up the longer they gazed into the darkness above.Preoccupied, they didn’t notice their father sneak into the back storage of the family car until he dropped a footlocker full of pyrotechnic surprises at their feet. Jongkeun didn’t have to look to know his brothers were shaking in excitement - even Jongup, the shyest of the siblings. Mr Moon handed Jongkeun the butane stick as Junko gave her younger brothers a crash course on fire safety and corralled them closer to the wet sand and waves.An hour had passed before the firework supply had a decent dent in it. Jongkeun and Jongwoo chased each other along the shore with Roman Candles. About 10 feet away Junko sat on a towel, her ankles crossed around Jongup who sat in her lap with a sparkler in his hand. His eyelids were drooping after his escapade with the low grade explosives, head bobbing as he tried to stay up with his older siblings. Smiling, she ruffled his dark hair, watching the last bit of ashes fall off the end of the sparkler and into the sand.“Noona?” His lethargic call was met him a low hum. “Do you think we can do this every year? With you, and Jongkeun-hyeong, and Jongwoo-hyeong?”Junko rested her head on top of her brother’s and smiled wider when she felt his small body relax further into her’s. “Did you like the fireworks that much, Jonguppie?”“I do. But I like being with you and the hyeongs more.”Her hold tightened around Jongup ; the steady rise and fall of his chest slowed against her arms as he slipped further into sleep. From down the beach Jongkeun and Jongwoo raced after each other to where their other two siblings sat. Jongwoo opened his mouth widely, preparing to let loose a mighty roar, but when he saw his younger brother sleeping so soundly he swallowed the mouthful before it could surface.“Noona!” He whispered loudly, half out of consideration and half because he was out of breath. “I love fireworks! C’mon, let’s do more!”The eldest shook her head as lightly as humanly possible. “Uppie’s already asleep, and Mom and Dad are getting ready for bed. We can finish them tomorrow, okay?”Jongwoo sighed lightly before smiling and nodding - beside him Jongkeun laughed. The twins maneuvered their limp sibling until he was resting soundly in Junko’s arms. She carried him gently into the children’s large tent and set him down on the sleeping bag near the centre. Junko had to sleep in the middle of her brothers otherwise a ‘wiggle-fight’ would break out in the middle of the night between the youngest and oldest brother. Jongwoo liked sleeping on the edge of the four because he seemed to give off more body heat than the others and as such got hotter when he slept. Jongkeun slept on the other edge, effectively sandwiching Jongup between him and Junko.Teeth brushed and water bottles lined up nearby, the twins sat just outside the opening of the tent. Jongkeun braided Junko’s hair while she watched the two younger ones ; Jongwoo had fallen asleep as soon as he had laid down. Junko could tell he was trying to fight off sleep just as hard as the youngest. Even if he was two years older than Jongup he still had a bit of growing up to do before their similarities would completely disappear.“Keunnie.” A low hum came from behind her. “Did you and Jongwoo burn each other?”Jongkeun laughed quietly, tugging a strand of her hair and earning a small yelp. “Not too badly. Just like when you and I shot each other with Roman Candles. Remember? When I accidentally lit part of your hair on fire?”“Why do you think I was so hard with them about fire safety? I had to cut the rest of my hair to even out the length. It was the shortest I had it since we were born.”As if he knew what she was going to say, Jongkeun tossed the finished braid over her shoulder. “Is that why you always make me braid it?”Both of them dusted the sand off of their legs. Junko flashed her other half a bright smile, twirling the thick braid clumsily around her finger. “No, that’s just because my arms get tired.”“Then cut it off, you don’t really need it.”“Then you cut your dick off.”Jongkeun cast her a wild look before looking to their parent’s tent across the fire pit. “Don’t cuss! Mom and Dad might hear you!”Junko covered her mouth to keep from waking the younger two with her laughter. “What? That’s a name in English, you know.”“Really? Who’s named Dick?”Both of them settled down around Jongup who turned towards Junko. From behind her Jongwoo moved back just far enough so that his butt was pressed against Junko’s, the closest he would ever get while they slept. She could do nothing but smile, wrapping her arms once again around Jongup.“Batman’s sidekick, Robin. His real name is Dick Grayson.”Scoffing, Jongkeun stretched his arm over Jongup’s side until his hand rested on Junko’s elbow. “That’s not fair. Robin isn’t real, you just like Batman too much.”“Fine, then you can be Dick.”The memory replayed in her mind the whole drive to Seoul. Junko hissed a sigh and composed herself the best she could, pulling into a parking spot in the far end of a flower shop’s lot. The shop, though large, was rather inconspicuous and made the perfect location for what was to again become the base of a 1000 Year House faction.Since the passing of Mung Jibae, the number of men Junko commanded had become overwhelming. Zero Line was the smallest faction of The House as far as numbers went ; the Vanguard was in charge of assisting the Incense Master, so despite being on the same level of Deputy Mountain Master and Incense Master it could be said that she was not as big of a cog in their wheel of malfeasance.But a few days ago, word had gotten to her that Y-Den was to be rekindled. Ho Seyoon, Zero Line’s Straw Sandal, came to her with news that a man was to be made the new leader of the former gang, and as such she had to make arrangements for the induction ceremony.A young woman was pruning roses at the counter when Junko entered. The woman glances up quickly before frantically dropping her shears and shuffling around the counter. She dropped into a deep bow as Junko closed the door.“Dragon King,” she greeted stiffly.Junko shuddered both at the title and the artificial chill of the shop. “Just call me eonnie.” The young woman straightened and smiled, returning to the flowers.“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”“Since I was been arrested, right?” Junko leaned on the counter, watching the other woman’s precise movements with the clippers. A thorn landed near her arm which she flicked across the counter. “How has business been?”“Quiet. Not nearly as many repeat customers.”Junko knew what she meant by this. Because she was acting as the Straw Sandal to make up for the late Flower King, all of their informants and protected businesses had been coming to her office instead of the shop. Few civilians came to this shop because of their high prices for the low standard flowers, and that was exactly as they liked it.“Business will be picking up again. We’re planning a party pretty soon, and I heard this shop will be getting a new owner. You won’t be bored anymore.”The florist chuckled sarcastically, moving onto the next rose in the bouquet. “Bored? Nothing is ever boring here, especially with you here.”Before a retort could be made, the door to the flower shop opened again. Not expecting another customer, Junko turned lackadaisically towards the door - and soon regretted it.A man the young leader had grown very familiar with stood in the doorway, looking just as shocked as she before their expression changed to a mix of anger and humour. With his hands tucked arrogantly into his pant pockets Detective Mok Cheolki leant against the shop’s glass door.Middle aged, his hair was swept back, neatly groomed and trimmed. His suit fit nicely, the jacket open to expose a crisp white shirt and his badge hanging in the middle of his chest from a chain. If it weren’t for their rocky relationship, Junko could have considered him decent.“Well, well, look at what dragged its way back into town. It’s nice to see you again, Junko.”She returned his gaze with a glare and turned until the small of her back rested against the counter. “You’re greeting is a little late there, Detective. I’ve been back for a while. Did you miss me?” Junko slid her hands into her own pockets mockingly. Cheolki moved to cross his arms.“That’s a nice suit you have there. Lawbreakers like you live better lives than us. Right?”“Of course. It’s only natural. We do this with our lives at stake. We’ve got to be good at living.”He leaned away from the door and took a few steps forward hoping to use his height as an intimidation tactic. “You’re right. If you want to stay alive.”Junko could practically smell the minty musk of his breath as he stood not five feet away. “We’re not guaranteed a tomorrow. Why not have fun today?”In a flash Cheolki gripped Junko’s bottom jaw in his right hand, putting enough pressure on it to cause her discomfort. On the other side of the counter the young woman slapped her shears onto the counter, hand jutting towards the area below the counter, but before she could grab anything Junko motioned for her to stop. Head angled upward her lips curled just enough to form a grin.“Your grip has gotten weak, Mok. Didn’t have me to throw around for exercise? Or is Momma being too soft on you?” Her voice was wavering with her throat torqued into an awkward position.Cheolki gave her a quick once over, turned her head side to side pulling a growl from the bound woman. He knew how easily he could turn the situation and decided to end it before he did anything to get written up for. Instead, he opted for an easier option ; tightening his grip on her maw, the officer pulled the woman away from the counter and gave her a hand shove backwards. The top heavy throw sent Junko tipping off her feet and into a plastic stand holding vases of bright blossoms.Glass smashed on the tile floor as flowers and water flew. Junko sat in the middle of the mess, head down as she felt the water creep through her layers and hair.At the counter the woman flung her hand towards the door, glaring deathly at the man. “Get out of here. Now.”Without a glance the detective reached into his suit and produced a wad of multi coloured bills, tossing them onto the counter and turning to leave without a glance at the two women. “Hope today isn’t your last, Moon.” The door eased shut behind the retreating figure.The florist sighed and grabbed the money, counting it quickly. It was more than enough for the damage done.“Not a boring day. Especially with you here, Junko.” From the floor she heard a snort.Junko wished for nothing more than a boring day.Hongdae is one of those places that has more people at night than they do in the day. Neon lights paint the streets in a psychedelic glow and the number of people stumbling or being carried far outnumbers the amount of people walking straight. The problem was, this was one of the only areas where one can find a bar with private, rent-able back rooms for drinks. Which is exactly why Bang Yongguk is staring out of a heavily tinted window, watching the people pass and hoping he didn’t anyone looking back - he knows there’s no chance that anyone could, but the mind is not too easy a thing to fool, especially his.The far door swung open and his brother walked in, all smiles and handfuls of beer. Yongnam set a trio of Sam Adams in front of his seat and a matching set of Asahi Super Dry in front of his twin. Behind him was a man carrying a tray of drinking snacks, and after he unloaded the grub he bowed and left, shutting the door softly behind him. The older of the twins popped open a bottle of each with the opener supplies before settling down on the floor across from the other.“Since when does my little brother drink Japanese beer?”“We’re 12 minutes apart,” Yongguk retorted with a small smile and lifted the bottle to his lips, reveling in the smooth, dry flavour.“Well, I need something to brag about.” Yongnam took a swig of his own drink before handing the other male a pair of metal chopsticks who gladly accepted. Yongguk, though, didn’t follow Yongnam’s lead in digging into the arrange of food, and this set something off in the older. He glanced at his brother staring whistfully at the grey label of the bottle in his hand. “Are you still thinking about your contract?”Yongguk shook his head without a reply. It was true, his contract with TS had gone south once BAP had been formed. None of the six boys were allowed cell phones, and if he hadn’t lied about serious family trouble, Yongguk would not have been allowed out to see his brother. Discussions had been had amongst all the members in private, but until Junhong turned 19 in Korean age, there was nothing they could really do. The young rapper had been nearly brought to tears with guilt, cursing his age for their predicament, and the others reassured him again and again that it was not his fault, and that it would never be his fault. No one blamed him, so he should never blame himself.Yongnam brought him back out of his trance. “So, is it a girl?” He secretly hoped it was.Yongguk shot him what was supposed to be a pointed look. “No,” he hesitated, “I mean . . . yes?” He raised his hands defensively. “Yes, but not romantically.”There was a look of shallow disappointment on Yongnam’s face. Yongguk could only sigh.“Look, if I tell you anything about this, you can’t say a word. To anyone. Promise?”“Of course,” Yongnam reassured completely serious. Yongguk sighed again before launching himself into a lot rant about what he had been keeping in for the past month.“I mean, I should have seen. Jongup was so helpful and creative. I thought he had just gotten a lot of ideas from a manga. Even before we debuted he came up with using “the king is back” as a catchphrase. Was I just being a bad leader? Not listening to them enough because I’ve been focussing too hard on our music?”Yongnam watched his twin inhale half of his third beer while he still turned the bottle of his second one, still cold, in his hand. “Yongguk, you’re not a bad leader. You even said Jongup didn’t say anything about even having a sister until she showed up. You read the newspaper every day, but there is no way in hell you could know they were related, especially when they didn’t mention her family in the article you showed me. I mean, how many people in Korea have the name Moon?“Besides, how can you tell if someone is a gangster, especially a woman? Unless they have something like a huge ass scar over one of their eyes, it’s damn near impossible.” Yongnam finished off his second beer. “I feel like you’re fretting over something you have no control over like you always do. I know, you have a hard on for the law, but what can you do realistically? You’re doing nothing but keeping yourself up at night.”This sent Yongguk into another long bout of silent thinking. Yongnam let him have his moment of internal struggle before offering an ideo he had been mulling over since all this information was dropped on him. “Introduce me.”The rapper sent the rocker a bewildered look. “What?”“Let me meet her. You know I’m a better people-person than you. You’re a great guy, but you’re shy. Besides, it’s the least you can do for missing my birthday.”“Our birthday,” Yongguk corrected.“Our birthday,” Yongnam repeated. He watched his twin shake his head and bring the beer bottle back up before realizing it was empty ; he set it harder than he meant to onto the table.Yongguk shook his head, eyes closed. “I don’t know if I’d be able to see her again.”“Is she ugly?”For the first time in the last 20 minutes Yongguk laughed, albeit dryly. “That’s the thing, she’s gorgeous. She has manners and is well spoken too. I just don’t understand why she turned into a gangster, especially while studying the law for Christ’s sake.” Yongguk fished the mp3 player from his pocket, his only means of messaging his family and friends even if it was dependent on wifi. With a swipe he unlocked it and hunted for the picture he couldn’t bring himself to delete. Junko and Himchan had forced everyone to take a group photo to commemorate the dinner they had made together the day before she left.He slid the device across the table to his brother who scooped it up quickly. The female in question was front and centre with the visual, both smiling brightly. Yongguk was at the far end of the table looking like he was truly enjoying himself at the faux family dinner. Yongnam whistled lowly and zoomed in for a moment before passing it back.“You’re right, she is pretty. All the more reason for me to meet her.”Defeated, Yongguk shook his head and looked his sibling dead in the eyes. “I can’t tell you no, but I’m not introducing you. She lives in Incheon, that’s all I know. With how gangsters are today I have no doubt they have a business office with their name on it somewhere. Just look for that, but look for it alone. I’m not even supposed to be here, let alone in Incheon.”Yongnam nodded in complete understanding. He could read the worry on the other’s face from a mile away. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll Skype you whenever I leave so you can know I made it out alive.” The relief that spread through him when Yongguk smiled was palpable throughout the whole bar. “Now, why don’t we actually talk about something fun. But before that,” Yongnam hopped up to his feet and moved to the door. “More beer!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "We stopped looking for monsters under our bed when we realized they were inside of us." --Charles Darwin “Now put your finger into your mouth, and tell me how it tastes.”Junko watched the half naked man in front of her, kneeling on a large piece of white paper, do just that. He was Japanese, of average height, and had no tattoos anywhere on his slim pale body. The man looked up and answered confidently that it tasted sweet.Another man, this time standing in front of the other, did not waver. This man was Jin Hanseong better known as the Heaven King. Within Thousand Year House he was the Incense Master and as such it was his duty to be leading this ceremony.The location of the ceremony was the basement of the flower shop she had just been in earlier in the day. After a quick change out of her soaked clothes, Junko returned accompanied by the other other leaders and their leader, the head of The House who stood just a few feet behind her. The room itself was bare of any furniture save for the red covered table separating the Japanese man, Hanseong, and her from the others in the room. On the table itself was just a few things ; burning joss sticks, a pin she had used to prick the mystery man’s finger, a knife, a paper doll in the shape of a man, and the newly replaced glass of wine. Otherwise, it was just as barren as the rest of the room.Hanseong went to explain that one should never rat out their brothers - and sister, in this case - for any amount of money or other bribes. “If one of your brothers is in trouble and the police are seeking him out so desperately that they are willing to pay for information, would your rather have money or your brothers?”“My brothers,” the man once again answered without hesitation.Junko reached behind her for the knife on the table, grasping it firmly before approaching the man. He looked up to her briefly before Junko swung the blade sideways, smacking the man across the face with the flat of the blade. She returned to her previous spot and handed the knife off to Hanseong who in turn used it to begin slicing the paper doll into pieces.“This is the informant. He ratted out his brother, and in return his punishment is death.” The last bits of the doll fell around their feet. He spoke in an old Chinese dialect to the man who repeated it - this went on for a while more before the ceremony was done. Everyone in the room wet their pointer fingers and thumbs with their saliva before snuffing out one of the eight joss sticks. It still burned, but Junko did her best to not show the pain.Their leader called the now dressed man aside while everyone else reconvened outside of the closed door.  Junko was the first to speak.“Finally, I can stop having to run my ass off between two provinces to make up for a hole in the group.” She sighed in relief and pulled the slim metal e-cigarette out of her pocket, taking a drag of fake tobacco flavoring into her lungs.Hyunbin slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. Junko was too tired to fight back, mind blank and full at the same moment leading to exhaustion.“Don’t worry, Little Dragon, you can get your cat naps and manicures in now.”The other men laughed and carried on with meaningless conversation. They were cut off when the door eased open ; everyone bowed deeply to the two men standing the opening and did not straighten until The House leader cleared his throat.“This,” he pat the back of the Japanese man who smiled too fondly, “is Sone Terumoto.”“That has to be a pseudonym, right?” Sun Ilha, the Sun King of Lion Dawgs, spoke incredulously while looking him up and down.Junko put the back of her hand against his chest. “No, Terumoto was a feudal lord who built Hiroshima castle. Sone-ssi was probably named after him.”Terumoto turned his smile to her and nodded appreciatively. “You’re right, Dragon King. And please, don’t feel the need to use formal language with me.”Then don’t call me by that stupid fucking name, she thought bitterly. Physically she just nodded and returned half a smile.The leader continued. “He will be our new Straw Sandal. Daughter, you are relieved of your duty and men. Continue with your work as Vanguard from this day forward.” She nodded wordlessly again ; the elder turned to Terumoto. “As leader, you have the power to rename your title and group. Do you choose to do so?”Terumoto didn’t hesitate to give a response. “Yes. Flower King does sound nice, but I don’t feel it really suits me.” He chuckled quickly before straightening his expression. “The Glass King has a nice ring to it, I feel. Y-Den, though, can stay.”“Then it’s decided. Children, please welcome your new brother among us.” He nodded his head to the group as a whole who bowed deeply making, taking his leave until stopping. “Ah, yes, my age nearly made me forget. Why not have a show of skill amongst you? In two days time we shall host a race. Junko, this will give you ample opportunity to become acquainted with Terumoto and have your men spread the word. Y-Den could use some fresh meat.”She nodded again, dropping back into a bow with the men until the door up the stairs shut firmly. One by one the other men excused themselves until only Hanseong, Terumoto, and Junko were left. Hanseong bid them farewell and retreated back into the ceremony room.Left outside together Terumoto offered his hand to Junko who kindly accepted. He supported her up the stairs and out into the parking lot where their cars were parked side by side, the only two remaining in the lot. Beside the Koenigsegg was a black Honda Civic Type R. The red interior shone dimly through the tinted windows and made the car that much more alluring. Judging by the smaller frame and higher spoiler, the car was the FD2 model popular in the world of Japanese street racing.Junko pulled her hand from Terumoto’s and whistled lowly.“I’m guessing that means you like it,” he quipped bemused.“Yes like. Very much like,” Junko didn’t know whether to blame the attractive car or her physical weariness for her lack of sentence structure.Quickly coming up beside her Terumoto spoke lowly, almost whispering, “Well, maybe you can see what more it has to offer in a few days.”She couldn’t place it, but something about his words and voice made Junko uneasy. She sidestepped away from him and flashed a soft forced smile. “Maybe. If you can get ahead of me, that is.” With each word she took a step towards her own vehicle until there was a fair distance between them. The door began to lift away from the car as soon as she pulled the handle, and Junko wasted no time taking a seat and closing it again.Pulling out, she lowered the window and waved to the man still standing beside his car.“I’ll see you then, Terumoto.” She gave a tentative wave and pulled away without waiting for his response. Mind aflutter, Junko ran two red lights and merged without signalling, only the honks of the cars she nearly ran off the road pulling her back from the fog in her mind. Too unnerved to drive, she pulled over and made a quick call to Wooram back at their office.“I’m going to the warehouse, I have too many things on my mind to be at that building right now.” Wooram gave a short reply and hung up.Whenever Junko was in any state of duress she would return to the warehouse where she had begun her criminal lifestyle. Back then Zero Line did not inhabit the office building, it had been a new addition made while she had been in training at Camp Humphreys. To modernize and accommodate, the Primordial King had said, whatever that could have meant. She didn’t need an office, she needed a space to work out of. She didn't care for the flashiness, the power, the high standard they were expected to hold. She just wanted a ways out, a way to make the change she wanted to see in the world.Junko had realized all too late that the route she had taken from school was not going to do her any good ; the police in Korea were no better than hall monitors. They didn’t carry guns, they didn’t chase criminals, they couldn’t even lay their hands on a suspect without worry of the precinct being sued, all because of South Korea’s worry that they would become like their neighbouring northern dictatorship. But that had led to a downfall of citizen who assumed that they could get away with anything. Unless someone was killed, the police were going to do nothing, even if the evidence came and slapped them in the face.But now, Junko found that she could do the things she had set out to do, even if it was only in an allotted area. It was painfully ironic to her that the only way she had been able to make change was to join the side that she had grown up hating. The amount of drug trades she had shut down shocked her. The amount of crimes by loan sharks in her area had dropped such a staggering amount that the news couldn’t wrap their head around it for a whole month. All because she realized that the side she had been fighting for was the losing one.Businesses were no longer targeted by petty criminals because of their influence. A chunk of money went to Zero Line and the rest stayed in the owner’s banks were it deserved to be, not in the veins of a junky looking for a ways to their next fix. Junko didn’t like the word criminal, she thought of herself as a vigilantly, almost - at least, if she lied to herself enough, she began to believe it.And she almost stayed believing it until she met Sone Terumoto. There was something there, something she could see in him, something she felt when he held her hand that led her back to the idea that she was doing something bad with her life. You are a reflection of the people you have around you, and Junko knew that if she stayed around Terumoto that she might end up seeing something horrible in that reflection.Before she knew it, Junko was sitting against the hood of the Koenigsegg, the large garage door of the warehouse open towards the shore. She could see the piers from where she sat, smell the waves, feel the salty breeze pepper her arms with goosebumps. She just needed to get under the hood of a car to clear her mind.A few feet away was the Fairlady she had won from Wooram all those years ago. Just recently the transmission had blown and was in need of rebuilding, and nothing cleared her mind more than tinkering with the chrome maze that was the car’s engine. A quick change of clothes and she was delved into her work, tools scattered and grease splotched.Nearly half of the way done, a knock on the thin inner wall of the warehouse had her pulling away from her slouched position over the wooden workbench. There was a figure standing in the opening of the garage, she could tell, but the lack of natural light outside drew her attention away. How long had she been working on the transmission that she had lost such a huge chunk of the day? Junko shook her head and turned back to the person - a man - that had come to her.In an instant she was caught off guard, but just as quickly relaxed.“Can I help you?” She stood from the bench and wiped the lubricant off her hands with a rag that had been there longer than she had.A familiar smirk flashed across the face of who could be considered a stranger. “What are you talking about? It’s me, Yongguk.”Junko shook her head with a smirk of her own. “You are not Bang Yongguk.”It was true. The man in front of her looked strikingly like the singer she knew, but there were minute differences that painted the picture of a completely different man.“Hey, I know we haven’t seen each other in a month, but you couldn’t have forgotten.”“I know you and have never met. And if you honestly think that Yongguk would seek me out, you are completely out of your mind.” Junko eased herself away from the workbench and held up a hand as soon as he opened his mouth again to speak. “You must be Yongnam. Yongguk’s twin, right? Sure, you look and sound alike, but take it from someone who also has a twin. You are definitely not the same person.” Now standing in front of him, Junko held out her hand. “But it is still a pleasure to meet you, even if you tried to trick me.”Knowing his cover was blown Yongnam smiled sheepishly and reciprocated the handshake. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I - “ He found himself at a loss for words. He understood all too late what a dangerous situation he had put himself in. Yes, Junko was smiling at him, and yes she was more than half a foot shorter than him, but it didn’t dismiss the fact that she was a dangerous person. What his brother had told him about their first few days together had lulled him into a false sense of security that if he wasn’t careful could prove deadly.“Don’t worry.” Junko released his hand when she caught him staring apprehensively at her. “I know Yongguk told you about me. I know that’s why you’re here. If I know anything about him it’s that he wouldn’t tell his brother about a girl just because she’s cute. He is a man, but he is also not the type to do something like that.“And I’m not going to pull a gun on you either. It’s not that I don’t have one, it’s just that I can tell you’re too smart to do anything dumb.”Yongnam could only half appreciate her joke. He watched her turn and walk away from him before turning back after a couple of steps. “C’mon, let’s talk. Get properly introduced and all that.”In reality Junko couldn’t care less about Yongnam being there, she was just happy to talk to someone who wasn’t in the same line of business as her. These types of thoughts were detrimental to her state of mind ; it led to her doubting herself and her responsibilities. And gave her a massive headache. Touching her forehead softly, Junko turned back around to face Yongnam who stared back startled.“I’m sorry, but would you like to have a drink with me? I have some things on my mind that I could do with forgetting, at least for a little while.”He cracked a smile that she found herself needing. “Coming on to me already? I’m flattered.” Yongnam waved his hand at her pained look. “All jokes aside, I’d love to. I have to say that I’m a bit surprised at how friendly you are. It’s not like what the movies taught me at all.” He followed her into the main building of the warehouse, looking at the barren space as they climbed a flight of stairs to a loft overlooking the main area.Junko fished a couple bottles of Asahi Super Dry from a mini fridge in the corner and sat with Yongnam in a pair of plush chairs. “What did the movies teach you? That I’m supposed to be dragging you into a dark area of this place and interrogating you about knowing where I was? Chopping you into pieces and feeding you to pigs?” She handed him a bottle and took a long drink of her own. Yongnam understood where Yongguk had acquired his taste for the Japanese beer.“I hope you know we’re not all like that. Gangsters, I mean, not women.” She laughed along with him and sat in silence for a while. “Go ahead, ask what’s on your mind.”Yongnam stared at the bottle for a while before looking up. “I really don’t want to ruin this image I have of you now.”“It’s going to be ruined one way or another, so let’s get it out of the way now.”With that the two sat and talked, exchanging fleeting glances from across a small coffee table and words between a barrier of distrust. Slowly they found their unease melting away whether it be from the alcohol or banter.Finally, in the early hours of the morning Yongnam moved to excuse himself, a little tipsy on his feet. Junko in the same state followed him down the stairs and back to the front of the open garage door.“I look forward to seeing you again,” she confessed slowly, sending a quick text for a ride for Yongnam - any cab running this late into the night would be charging an arm and a leg to get to and from anywhere.“Ditto,” Yongnam shot back a cheesy grin. He suddenly remembered the promise he had made to Yongguk and produced his mobile phone from within his jacket pocket.Junko held up her own phone to interject. “I already made arrangements for a ride back home.”Yongnam shook his head, maneuvering through apps until he found the one he was looking for. He reached out and coaxed Junko to stand next to him. She followed his lead as he held the device above their heads, the forward facing camera capturing both of them on the screen. “I told Yongguk I’d tell him if I got away safely.” With that he snapped a quick shot of the two of them smiling though Junko’s looked much more troubled than his own.A black Escalade pulled up in front of them and the same large man that had picked up the other six boys stepped around the hood to open one of the back doors. Junko gave Yongnam another handshake and waved him off as the car pulled away.From inside Yongnam watched her slide the garage door shut, staring at the building until it faded away from view and turned his attention back to his phone. Yongguk was still awake judging by the fact that he was still logged into Skype. Yongnam tapped his name and waited for Yongguk to accept the messaging invitation before sending the picture. Safe and sound, just like I promised. Yongguk took a long moment to type his response before sending it off. Good. Junko talked about you a lot, you know. He knew this caught his brother off guard. About me? Why? He considered his words carefully. She’s sad that you think badly of her. She knows why you do, but in her words ‘it’s painful to have someone so trusting and who thinks the best of people to see you as what’s wrong with the world.’ Yongguk stared at the message presented on the soft glow of the computer screen. He didn’t know what to say. All this time he had been associating Junko more and more by what she did than for the person she was. He didn’t even really know what she did, he could only assume. What Jongup had told him at the showcase repeated in his head.‘Noona didn’t kill anyone, she took the fall for someone else.’For years now he told himself to be as open minded as possible. He never judged the customs of a culture or their actions to a degree. Yongguk, who appreciated people in all walks of life and from all different eras, who understood why things in history happened and the changes that those actions caused. Que sera sera, as people said, whatever happens happens for a reason.And yet here he was throwing her under the hypothetical bus for something he wasn’t sure if she actually did. Even when they saw each other in the hospital he could see how tired and troubled she was. Could there be a chance that she didn’t like what she was doing as much as he? The more Yongguk thought about it, the harder thinking actually became. He rested his head in his hands and massaged his temples. Another chime came from his computer and he raised his head to read the new message. You should try talking to her again, just in case. Really talking to her. It wasn’t a bad idea, but a bad time. BAP had an event soon at a primary school that he had to prepare for. I’ll think about it. I have to go to bed, we can talk again soon. Goodnight. Night~ Yongguk smiled at his twin’s carefree message. Those 12 minutes he had on Yongguk didn’t seem to have an effect on his maturity. Or it might have been the weight on his own shoulders that made him seem more cold. He shook the thought from his head before shutting everything off and heading to the collective bedroom. The room would’ve been silent if not for the soft squeaking of Jongup grinding his teeth.Jongup. He thought of how selfish he had been this whole time ; Yongguk felt like his whole life was in tatters from having a run in with one supposed criminal when Jongup had been living with this reality his whole adolescence. He would have to properly apologize to the young dancer for not trusting him when he found the right moment. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "And they say if we only avoid any direct confrontation with the enemy, he will forget his evil ways and learn to love us." --Ronald ReaganYongguk stared apprehensively through the window of the taxi as Seoul cityscapes slowly turned into Incheon ports. The nearly hour long ride was nearing it’s end, and he found the closer they became the harder his heart began to pound. It was a ride he was familiar with seeing as it was the same drive he took in his trainee days to go see his family. He remembered how excited his mother would become when he talked about coming home, the shy woman’s voice sounding more youthful over the phone and even more so in person. Even his father would stand outside of their house in order to welcome his youngest son back home.When the children got older, and Natasha and Yongnam moved out to Seoul on their own, the visits grew fewer and farther between until they only saw each other on Christian holidays and for ancestral rights. Yongguk would have to pay them a visit after finishing what he had set out to do.Tomorrow BAP was having an event at an elementary school. The students had managed to donate the most gently used clothes and toys out of the other schools in their district and were being rewarded with a visit by the most charitable music group readily available. Because of this and Himchan’s injury, the company decided to give the boy’s a free day to go and do what they pleased in order to get everything together and rearrange their schedules around what the visual could manage physically.Originally Yongguk had planned to stay at the dorm with his friend in order to make sure he didn’t overexert himself, but Youngjae had instead offered to stay with Himchan to catch the finale of a drama they enjoyed together. Daehyun, Jongup, and Junhong had gone out together to just enjoy being away and Jongup to help the non-native Seoulites become better acquainted with the smaller parts of the city. This left Yongguk with almost no other options but to take his brother’s advice from the previous night and go to meet Junko once again, no matter how much he felt he didn’t want to.“We’re here.” The taxi driver’s voice pulled him from his musing, and with a shy thank you Yongguk moved to produce his wallet from his pants. Wordlessly the driver waved his hand in dismissal. Yongguk hoped he was not going to give him a free ride because he was an idol.“Don’t worry about it,” the older man spoke softly, looking back to flash a warm smile. “Your dad is an old drinking buddy of mine who tips way too much. Now, if you want to pay for the ride back, I won’t fight you.”Yongguk laughed shortly and handed the man a green 10,000 won bill regardless. It wasn’t enough for the normal fare, but would make a fine tip.“Like father, like son,” the driver could only chuckle as Yongguk closed to cab door.Taking a deep breath, Yongguk looked over the warehouse in front of him. It was eerily similar to the one where they had filmed in Manilla - he found himself glancing over both shoulders in case a large man with a steel pipe came rushing him from behind. With no such person in sight, he mustered up the courage to approach what he could only guess was the front entrance. There was an older style intercom to the right of the door sporting nothing but a single button and a simple metal speaker cover. Yongguk fought the urge to run away now before pressing the small button.There was a pause before a familiar voice answered him from the other side of the system.“May I help you?” There was no doubt it was a woman’s voice, but it sounded raspier than he remembered.“Junko?” Yongguk asked cautiously. There was another long pause before he heard the door unlock.Junko stood before him looking just as guarded but offering an attempt at a smile.“Long time no see.” Her voice was just as raspy as before and her hair was still in a long braid over her shoulder leading Yongguk to believe that he had woken her up. It was earlier in the morning, him having left Seoul by eight, but just waking up now was very uncharacteristic of her. Yongguk shuddered at the thought of him knowing so much about her more intimate habits.“Would you like to come in? I was just making coffee.” She stepped out of the door’s opening as an invitation that he had to accept, though he stepped just inside of the building so she could close the door. Seeing his trepidation, Junko moved past him and back to the faux kitchenette against the back wall she had passed before. The sound of footsteps following close behind let her know that Yongguk had accepted that he was there and had no choice but to follow.She motioned towards a set of stairs near where she stood, not turning away from the coffee pot. “You can go up there, there are chairs and a table so we can talk.” His footsteps sounded again, but this time moving up and away. Junko set the finished coffee set on a small tray along with fruit she had in the mini fridge below the beer. Yongguk moved to help her with the tray once she reached the top of the stairs, but she merely shook her head and carried the tray to the coffee table between chairs.“You and your brother have a habit of showing up at odd hours.” She filled the two mugs she had brought and offered one to him who accepted with a small bow. Yongguk, however, did not reply, something that did not surprise Junko too much.”To what do I owe this surprise visit?”Yongguk looked down at his reflection in the dark coffee filling half of the mug. He thought for a moment before setting the cup down and looking up at Junko. “I wanted to apologize. About what I said at the hospital.”“Don’t.” Junko pulled her legs to her chest and rest her mug on top of her knee. Unlike Yongguk, she did not attempt to make eye contact. “I appreciate it, but you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Still, you have a lot of guts to say sorry to someone who does nothing but wrong.”“But you’re still a woman and a human being, so I shouldn’t have said something like I did.”She chuckled lowly, looking nowhere in particular. “Thank you for the flattery, but I think that might be an insult to the human race.”Yongguk scoffed at her pessimism. He didn’t know why it suddenly bothered him so much when in the heat of the hospital moment he had been thinking almost the same thing. But seeing her now in such an unsullied state, he started to think that there existed two different Junko’s. He held his mug in the air between them, finally pulling her attention to him.“I doubt that someone who would serve me coffee in a Pokemon mug is the scum of society.”There was some truth in what Yongguk said, even if the proof was the purple grinning face of a Koffing with ‘KOFFEE’ written beneath it. She looked at her own cup, an orange Seaking face with ‘TEAKING’ written along the bottom.“You know, Team Rocket uses Koffings. They’re a bad Pokemon, poison type too.” Junko heard him sigh aggravatedly across the small space no matter how much he tried to muffle it. “So what you’re saying is that my love for a children’s series means I’m an innocent, loving, law-abiding citizen of the fine nation of Korea?”Yongguk didn’t respond, just sipped his coffee to make up for the awkward silence.She took it as a cue to continue. “But I can see where you’re coming from. And I really appreciate you coming over to speak to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to the amicable front I put up, and that that front isn’t the same as who I really am. I shouldn’t have tricked you, or given you all this stress you didn’t need. I should have stayed out of your life.” Junko’s foot slipped on the pleather seat, stalling the flow of her unintentional verbal diarrhea. “But I guess that’s just what I do. Lie to make a living.”“At least you’re not cutting me up and feeding me to pigs.” Yongguk flashes a wry smile as Junko laughs, nearly spilling her coffee on her loose shirt.She jabs a finger in his direction. “So Yongnam told you everything? Figures. Fuckin’ twins.”“You’re black.” This brought another bout of giggles and Yongguk inwardly appreciated the fact she understood the underlying ‘pot meet kettle’ joke. “Well, I can’t exactly trust my brother to a dangerous stranger.”“A murderer.”His face fell quickly. “I never said that.”Junko waggled that previously pointed finger. “I know you know. Why else would you act so apprehensive? Besides, you’re smart, people like you do research. And Jonguppie isn’t exactly the type that can handle confrontation. A little bit of pressure from someone he respects and he’ll crack.”Yongguk didn’t deny anything because he didn’t see the need to lie about something they both know - there had been enough lying between them. “He told me that it wasn’t you. That you took the fall for a man with a newborn.”“And that’s why you think I’m a good person now? Because I wanted a child to have a good life with both parents?” She shrugged and flopped her cramped legs over the armrest. “I like kids, and it was an honor killing. I don’t see it as something illegal, but coming from me I guess that doesn’t mean anything.” Junko polished off the rest of her coffee and offered Yongguk more who quickly refused - he had drank at least four cups working up the courage to come see her.She went on. “As surprising as it sounds. I want children. I do, but I don’t think I’ll have any.”“Why’s that?” Yongguk asked, question punctuated with a quirked brow.Finally eye contact was made after what seemed like years. “I like kids, that’s why. I don’t want to punish them with a terrible, violent mother. Thankfully I’ll probably be dead before I can even dream about finding a man.”Heart throbbing, Yongguk felt his blood run cold. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Cynically thinking, footmen could be replaced. There wasn’t a shortage of foolish young men who wanted to show they were ‘hard’ by being part of a gang, living the life of a criminal to show they were independent even of life’s rules. Even the higher ups could be replaced with time. But a leader is something you have to work for. Sweat, tears, and what he can only guess a copious amount of blood got you there, as well as being diplomatic, yet unrelenting.But that also meant you were the most desired target, the one that, once killed, got you the real street cred.“Then why do it?” Yongguk surprised himself with his own outburst. “Why live like that with the fear of dying without being able to really live?”“The fact of death is what what makes living so dear and precious to us.” Junko smirked, not making a move to look at him but unravelling her braid as an excuse not to. “Because I feel that I’m helping someone else to live their life without fear. Here me out,” she quipped suspecting Yongguk would make another sarcastic noise. “Funny as it sounds, this area used to be a lot worse. Zero Line is, in the timeline of Korea’s underground, still in it’s infancy. I’m only the second leader they’ve ever had, Changkil being the first. Like him, I like to think I’m kind. When I said I was collecting money from the hospital, I wasn’t lying - it’s just another part of the job, though that wasn’t my territory. I collect money from businesses and families in Incheon, but I never do it through threats. I’m not a loan shark, and I don’t steal.“At the same time, it’s exactly what you think it is : protection racket and loans. We get a share and in return we tell others to keep away, that we’ll know who they are and we will punish them. Flash a little tattoo and people really don’t want to mess with you. Or if they need money to get themselves off the ground or keep themselves afloat, we’ll help when the banks turn their backs. I believe that everyone deserves a chance, and I want to give them that. I mean, I don’t want to brag, but the standard of living around here has really gone up. Like, seriously.”Hair out, she gave it a little shake that sent wavy strands everywhere. “Maybe it’s because I’m a woman, but it just feels like people trust you more when you flash a smile and not a pistol.”Yongguk still wasn’t convinced. The money had to have come from somewhere in the first place, and you can’t just take money from people saying you are going to keep them safe. This wasn’t a security company. He didn’t feel like arguing, though.“Then what are you?” The question left his mouth before he had time to think about it - it was probably the question his inner being wanted answered the most but knowing would make the situation all too real.Junko tossed him a questioning look from across the space. She stared into his eyes, searching for what he could mean, then looked back into her empty mug when she felt she had an understanding. “I guess you could say . . . A mix. Between the Triads and the Geondal.” Knowing he had no idea what she was talking about, Junko began to expand on the statement.“As you know, most of what Korea is today is basically an evolution from everything Chinese. Well the same goes for The House. It began as a branch of the mainland Chinese triads called Hóng Huìxīng. It wasn’t as big as 14K or Wo Shing Wo, but it was there and could not be ignored. Focussing mainly on prostitution and extortion, Hóng Huìxīng quickly branched out into Vietnam, Malaysia, and Korea, changing their focus to human trafficking and smuggling.“Around ‘68 there was a great war between rivalling gangs in Korea, around the time the Tet Offensive was launched. Hóng Huìxīng was smuggling weapons to the Việt Minh as many of the Vietnamese factions were fighting for the North during the war. Being so spread out and focussing so much of their energy on the profit being made in Vietnam, they really did not stand a chance in the fight and were eventually absorbed into the Singsangsapa. From there it’s really just geondal history until 1975 when Singsangsapa’s New Year party was - for lack of a better word - crashed by Beonhonampa and dissolved.“With the developments under the Park Chung Hee’s administration, many different gangs rose in Korea as I’m sure you know. In 1977 The House was officially formed by surviving Singsangsapa and Hóng Huìxīng members, gaining influence from both styles of gangs until what we have now was formed - kkangpae following the structure of triads with a little bit of their own personality mixed in. Kind of like the Dollars.”Junko laughed inwardly at Yongguk’s slow nods, proud of herself for getting him to believe an anime reference as part of official history. When she would tell him she didn’t know, but it would sure be an event.Outside the sounds of daily life were starting to grow. Fishermen called out every once in awhile about the deals they were advertising and which fish were the freshest. The subtle sound of a child begging their mother to buy them something rang out, it being the weekend and most children enjoying a day without studies and school. In the distance a church bell rang, signalling the start of mass.It had been a while since Yongguk had been to church. Between practice, performances, and everything else an idol had on their plate, there was not much room left to practice faith. He would just have to settle with frequent prayer.“Why are you comfortable telling me all of that?”Junko, nibbling on a strawberry, shrugged her shoulders in an exaggerated manner. “Who are you going to tell? The police? They already know all about me. I have as many past charges as you have awards. My Captain at Camp Humphreys wouldn’t care since I’m not in the army anymore, and I doubt that your bandmates don’t already know about me, let alone your family. I just don’t really have anything to worry about.” She held up the bowl of strawberries and jostled it until he took one.“Really, I guess it’s just because I like you. You’re very welcoming.” She flashed him a teasing smile that Yongguk didn’t know if he should return. Enough doubt, he thought, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. This pulled a soft laugh from Junko. “Why don’t we talk about something else if you’re done with your notes? Any new songs in the works?”Suddenly feeling as though he were in another interview, Yongguk straightened slightly and looked up with a subtle gleam of pride in his eyes. Junko raised her eyebrows in amusement, lips wrapped around another strawberry.“I never really stop writing, though recently Jongup and I were talking about a couple of ideas he’s had. He’s really shown an interest in lyric writing since we’ve debuted.”From across the table Junko nodded, a look of pride in her own eyes. It was amusing to see, really, this woman who had so many things under her belt and so many things to worry about be so innocently happy when her brothers were mentioned. Even if the age gap was so small, she always had a sense of motherly duty when it came to the younger ones, following their mother so dutifully in hopes of learning anything she could that would help qualm this ever-present desire to take care of those around her. Lunches, helping with homework, praising them when they did something good. Despite coming to terms with the idea she should not have kids, Junko was sure she was born to be a nurturer, accepting this reality as the grand punishment for the life she had chosen to lead.The two spoke on about B.A.P, what he hoped for their future as well as Junko asking about the more intimate secrets of being an idol and an international icon.“Isn’t it weird having so many girls doing things like waiting for you at the aeroport, worshipping pictures of you, and saying naughty things towards you online?”Twisting his lips Yongguk hummed while thinking of a response. “It was really strange at first, but having so many people pay attention to you suddenly is also a bit strange. I appreciate all of our fans and their quirks, though. They’re so talented and nice.”“But it’s like having thousands of people flirting with you all at once. Isn’t that weird?”“It’s kind of flattering in a unique way. Not like you would know what it feels like, right?” He tossed her a sly smirk, hoping the sharp comment would be taken like the joke it was meant to be.Junko tossed a similar look over her shoulder having been putting the bowl of remaining strawberries back in the mini fridge. “Son, have you seen me? I am beautiful, an angel of purity and grace.” She did a little twirl, long strands of hair curling around her waist before collapsing with a too loud laugh at the action. Yongguk looked down with a similar action, giggling embarrassedly at the show in front of him.Slowly he rose to his feet, stretching a bit after sitting for nearly four hours. The time was just past noon and he needed to get back to the studio for last minute rehearsals. Sensing he was looking for a way to break the ice, Junko offered her hand to him for a farewell handshake.“Thank you for coming to see me. It was nice to be able to talk again. I would tell you not to be a stranger, but . . .” she let the sentence hang.Yongguk took the chance to look around as she escorted him to the door. Despite having as much money as she claimed, the warehouse wasn’t as spectacular as he expected it to be. Sure, it was a warehouse of all things, but it was mostly barren. Two cars sat near the far wall, one covered by a tarp while the other one, quite expensive looking, had the hood open which led him to believe it was out of commision. Behind them was a single large toolbox.Even the landing they had been sitting on had just a cheap couch, two seats, and a coffee table found in any discount furniture shop. He wondered if living humbly was just a show she was putting on, or a deterrent if the warehouse was ever raided by police. Or maybe, just maybe, she was content with the ‘mission’ she claimed to have for the area and didn’t have any desires for wealth. Knowing Junko, it was the latter.Farewells exchanged, Yongguk walked the few feet down the street to a shaded bench, pulling a ball cap over his head to hide his identity from anyone who might recognize him. Behind him a group of children played on a playscape, laughing and calling out amongst each other. He listened to them with a small smile on his face, leaning his head back to enjoy the clear sky above. It was really a beautiful day.A honk drew him out of his reverie - a cab sat pulled up to the sidewalk in front of him. Yongguk hopped up and entered the door open for him by the same driver who had driven him here from Seoul.“I take it you had a good time?” The older man asked once he had pulled back onto the street.Yongguk, casting a glance at the warehouse as they passed it, grinned shortly. “Something like that.”“Ah, so you visited that place, huh?”This drew his attention to the driver. “You know about that place?”The older man cast a glance at him from the rear view mirror. “Yes, I know all about it. We might not seem like it, but us old folks do pay attention.” Yongguk waved his hands in defence but the old man just laughed. “Everyone in this area knows about Miss Moon, she is a very popular young girl. She helped my business stay afloat and keep my friends and I able to feed our families, even helped me send my youngest one to university. This area owes her a lot. Funny isn’t it? Kkangpae helping little folks like us?”From the back he just hummed, catching the shrinking reflection of the warehouse in the side mirror. Just before it faded from view, Yongguk caught the image of Junko exiting the building, slipping something silver underneath her blazer near her ribs. Something he knew had to be a gun.“My grand-daughter prays for her every night. Thanks God she isn’t afraid of walking to school anymore, says she wants to be a police officer like eonnie. If only she knew, huh?” A small sigh escaped the driver and he shook his head.Yeah, Yongguk thought, if only she knew. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Fear is the pain arising from the anticipation of evil." --AristotleMoon Junko was beyond furious.“I don’t fucking care, Hyunbin, you can’t do something like this in the middle of the day!” She howled at the tall man in front of her who stared back shocked. “What happened to secrecy? You know, hiding in the shadows, keeping the fucking public out of what we do?” Her arms moved wildly, enraged gesticulations forcing him to keep his distance. Wrenches were thrown across the garage as Junko continued her fit.Hyunbin sighed deeply and backed up towards the open garage door. “I’m sorry, Little Dragon, but there’s nothing I can do. It’s our order.”The woman whipped back to his direction. “Stop. Calling. Me. That.” She hissed at him between her teeth. “I have no problem with a race. I already have the Blue Lanterns out spreading the word about it. But I swear to God that if we continue with it the way it is, me and my men will not be there.”She wasn’t lying. Nothing got Junko’s blood flowing like a good race, the shifting gears and roaring engine sending chills through her body like nothing else could. But their races had always taken place in a controlled environment, and more importantly at night. For a reason unknown to her the Thousand Year House leader had decided to host this race just before noon, when the streets of Seoul were that much busier. “I mean for Christ’s sake, what if someone gets killed? An innocent fucking person.” She shuddered at the thought and collapsed on the workbench stool that had nearly become the next object of her fury. She held her head and tried to slow her ragged breath. “I don’t know what in the fuck got into that old bastard.”Approaching her slowly, Hyunbin reached out and pushed her drooped head into his stomach. All at once Junko collapsed into him. Hot puffs of breath brushed over his skin through his shirt, and if not for the fact that it stayed dry he would have guessed that she was crying. He hated to see her like this.He had been part of The House when Junko was still in middle school, and he could still remember when she first appeared before him on the roof of the parking garage after her first race. Young and full of what used to be ambition, his first thought of her had been sour. She doesn’t belong here, he repeated the silent mantra to himself for days. She was too young, too naive, too hopeful and caring. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Hyunbin expected to see her dead by the end of the month.But Changkil had seen something in her that he said reminded him of himself - at least, this is what the past leader had told him. Hyunbin had just assumed he took her in because her birth year ended in a zero. Sure, in fights she had been able to hold her own for long enough, and she worked hard beside them all to raise herself up from Blue Lantern to Deputy Mountain Master. Even if he wasn’t part of Zero Line itself, he was part of all of her promotion ceremonies.The day he heard of Zero Line’s partial collapse he had felt a dread the man had never experienced before. Wooram came to him with the rest of Zero Line and spilled it all ; Changkil was dead, victim of a mercy killing by another member after a long battle with a rival Yakuza faction. From what he heard that member was a new father, and if he had been arrested there was no doubt he’d never be able to see his family again. So Junko took the charge for him.She had no prior record, a clean slate and a perfect decoy. She forced the man to leave and stayed at the scene, acting the aggressor and being put away for five years. The action did nothing but confirm his thoughts that she was not cut out for this life.And now staring down at the crumpled girl in front of him, he could think no different. Hyunbin didn’t want to admit why his heart ached seeing her so distraught but deep down he knew the reason. He ran his hand over her hair.Junko turned her head to the side so she could talk, finally feeling calm but not moving. “I’m sorry. I just . . I don’t want to see someone hurt because something that I do. Pretty stupid, huh?” She attempted a laugh but nothing came out. “I’ve done nothing but hurt everyone around me. I’m sure I’m giving you a headache now too. And Changkil-ssi must be rolling around in his grave right now. “Finally she pushed away, standing on wobbly legs to put some distance between the two of them.“Junko, I don't like it as much as you do, but there is nothing we can do about it. Any order from the Head is an order we have to take unless we want to be killed. Besides, why should you care about the public? They do nothing for us.” Hyunbin didn’t want to be hard on her, but this was the only thing he could think to do.She whipped around to look at him, a ferocious look in her eyes. “Don’t do anything for us? Do you need some kind of reward to treat people well? I mean Jesus Christ, you’re 30 years old, why are you still thinking like a teenager? Did you forget you used to be a regular person? A part of that society you seem to hate so much and have no problem throwing away?!”Junko closed the distance between herself and Hyunbin, grabbing the front of his red shirt tightly and yanking him down to her height. “If you kill someone that could mean nothing to you, but to someone else, you could destroy their whole world! Why do you never think about other people?”“Why do you?” He barked back, slapping her hand away violently. “Why do you care so much about those people? You don’t even know them! And yet you act so soft, caring about every person you come across! Newsflash, Junko, you’re a fucking criminal! The worst of the fucking worst! And yet you still try to act like a goody-two-shoes.” He brushed a hand through his hair aggravated and stalked away towards the open garage door. “Try and grow some balls by tomorrow, Dragon King.” With that he left, speeding off him a shriek of rubber on pavement.Alone with herself, Junko wandered back to the landing she had sat with Yongguk earlier in the day. She thought about how disappointed he would be if he found out about what was going to happen. Why does that matter? She thought, shifting onto her side.The two cups they had drank from still sat on the table. She thought back to their conversation, how easy it had been to talk with him, even about the difficult things. He had judged her, sure, but he had every right to do so. But why did it hurt so much to think about? Hyunbin had not been lying, she was a criminal, a gang member, a gang leader. People talked foully about her day in and day out, from dawn till dusk, to her face and behind her back. Yet none of that really had an effect in her until someone her youngest brother happened to know had a problem with what she did.Now all of a sudden there was a vice around her heart and a bottomless pit seemed to open in her stomach. Junko’s bottom lip quivered when she thought about it. What was this feeling? Remorse? Disappointment? She felt like marching into a hospital to see if she could get her heart replaced with that of a serial killer’s - then she wouldn’t have to worry about all these emotions plaguing her every time Bang Yongguk crossed her mind.Her phone buzzed softly in her breast pocket, the soft beat of Rain Sound playing through the speaker, Jongup’s few lines flowing through her mind. Junko answered it quickly.“Mother, you’re needed at the office,” Wooram requested shortly. She hummed in response before hanging up and sliding back onto her feet.Jongup. He had to be disappointed in her too, more so than Yongguk. But the thought did not upset her nearly as much. Maybe it was because Jongup had been disappointed in her for so long that it didn’t hurt as much.Junko knew this wasn’t true, but it sounded good enough for the time being.“We have a lot of people planning to show for the race tomorrow, and the route has been already planned out. Word is that some Chil Sung Pa will be scouting the area, and of course some Ssang Yong Pa.”Junko nodded to the young man standing before her desk as he traced his finger along different points on the paper resting on the desk. He was a Blue Lantern and probably not much younger than she, a small dragon tattoo tracing his right eyebrow telling her he was at least 18.“Good. Be sure to watch out for the Ssang Yong Pa, they always try to start some sort of trouble with us,” she mused from her plush seat. “They can’t stand to share the dragon with the other boys and girls.”Junko could see the young man’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. She shifted the paper to the side and threaded her fingers together atop the desk.“Please tell Seyeon to deliver the reports from the game rooms and karaokes by the time I’m back. We should change the IP’s for the gambling sites about now as well. One of you Blue Lanterns can take care of that, you young kids are good with technology. Report to Munhee for details about the security contract we have with the Killer Whale’s assistant coach - it may be your time to switch with one of the other boys. Be careful out there.”“Yes, Mother.”She leaned up and rested a thankful hand on his shoulder with curt nod, dismissing the young man. He closed the door without a sound, drawing a short chuckle from her.I’m glad I stayed away from a desk job, Junko mused internally glancing at the short stack of papers on the far left side of her desk. Leading a gang wasn’t all glamour and representation ; when the weather began to warm up, people became looser with their money. Outdoor sports starting back up meant the illegal betting sites they ran opened back up and the luck of others was the easiest way to make money.The season of giving and adoring couples was now over, and men were beginning to look for the affection their significant others didn’t care to give anymore. Karaokes that doubled as brothels and kissing rooms were bound to get busy, and there was no shortage of college girls looking for extra money or girls just too promiscuous for their own good. Christmas bonuses were well spent and game rooms started looking more and more appealing to the salary workers headed home after a long day of kissing their boss’ ass in hopes of change being thrown their way.But as appealing as the surge of cash sounded, it brought with it a surge of another kind : paperwork. Being the head meant she was the one who had to mull over everything. Seyeon, Zero Line’s White Paper Fan, was technically the one to organize and monitor all the activity, but the bottom lines was Junko’s word was law. And that also meant all the paperwork landed on her desk and her desk alone.Wooram entered without knocking at the same time Junko stood from her seat, sauntering over to the wide window behind the desk. He watched her stare out the window for a moment, knowing she was watching the people walking on the sidewalks below.“Hyunbin was here earlier,” he murmured taking a seat in front of the desk.Junko glanced over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the view, this time zeroing in on the cars stalled in traffic. “Did he tell you about my hissy fit?”“What else was there to talk about?”Turning back, Junko placed her hands on the cold wooden desk and hung her head. “A girl can’t show some emotion once in awhile?”Wooram just shook his head. “I’m not really in a position to chastise you, am I? Kids aren’t supposed to talk back to their moms.”She chuckled darkly, moving away from the desk before plopping onto the cheap settee catty corner to the desk. “At least you’re a good boy. Now be a real good boy and let Momma sleep, yeah? I have a lot to think about.”“It’s not even 22:00.”“Hey, having to deal with you brats all day? I need as much relaxation as I can get.” Junko tossed Wooram a playful smile from her position on the couch ; he just chuckled and took his leave, excusing everyone still in the office for the day.As much as she tried to sleep, Junko could not stop her heart from hammering. She fished her cell phone out of her breast pocket and logged into Skype, tapping on one of the only three names in her contact list. Why he didn’t just call or text was beyond her, but Junko didn’t see fit to argue. My Uppie, did you finish practice? Jongup’s reply came moments later. Yepp. We have an event tomorrow, so I had to take sure all the hyeongs remembered our choreography. Don’t go killing Himchan-ssi, now. I’m sure that would be back for your ratings. He replied with a multitude of laughing emojis, even a humorously edited photo of himself lying in his bunk which Junko was not ashamed to say she saved. You know I love you, right, Jongup? Of course. I love you too, noona. Always. She smiled fondly at his reply and laid the AMOLED screen against her forehead for a moment, thinking if it would be a good idea to pour her soul out to him in an attempt to make herself feel better. She settled with a kissing emoji and a loving goodnight, getting a grossed out face in return before Jongup logged off.Only one name had the green active marker next to it anymore. Junko hovered her finger over it, contemplating if she should start that conversation. Instead she tossed the phone onto the floor - the swarm in her stomach making it feel impossible to talk to Yongguk again. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "In the real city you… you walk. You know? You brush past people. People bump into you. In L.A. nobody touches you. We’re always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much that we crash into each other just so we can feel something." --Graham Walters, Crash (2005)Hundreds of tiny cries filled the air. Little arms waved ecstatically and names were thrown around so quickly that no particular one was distinguishable from the others. Behind the curtain of the quickly constructed stage Yongguk smiled to himself and cast a glance at Himchan to his right. It was the first activity he was able to participate in after his minor accident. His arm was in a sling and a constant pout seemed to be ever present on his face, but the magic of children had brought a smirk to the visual’s face that the leader hadn’t seen for a while.“Everyone, please sit lineup. When you do, the BAP oppas will be able to come out!” One of the teachers announced in a cheery voice. The children quieted down a bit, but being so young the concept of quieting down was still a bit foreign.The stage hand a few feet away peeked out from behind the curtain once before turning and giving the group of six boys a thumbs up. They exited in order of age, all smiles and waives as the children once again erupted in cheers and excitement. Behind them their parents and siblings chuckled, snapping a few pictures and waiving a few fan signs of their own.Yongguk took the microphone offered to him by the blushing teacher and gave her a quick bow before checking if the rest of the boys were lined up. “2, 3. Hello, we are BAP, yes sir! It’s nice to meet you.” The singers clapped and waited for the children to quiet down once more - Yongguk took this time to prepare a confident tone.“Thanks to everyone at Incheon Cheongra Elementary School, many children have new clothes to wear and toys to play with. Without your help they would not be able to have these things, and for your generosity we want to thank you all very much.” All six men gave a deep bow to the children before them and gave them a round of applause for the selfless act they had taken upon themselves.While the children were corralled into a proper line once more, a second stage hand led the group to a long table for autographs and meeting. A group had begun to gather behind the ropes arking off the event, buzzing with as much excitement as the students. Daehyun gave the onlookers a large wave, garnering even more outcries.With time a steady flow of children was established, soe bringing up multiple albums and posters that obviously belong to other members of their family. To the boys, this was not a problem - their income being so heavily restricted by their contract to TS Entertainment was a huge blow to Yongguk’s wish of donating to multiple charities. Signing a couple of extra items was no cost at all in exchange for the sheer amount of effort the school put into their sizable donation.Further down the table he could hear Youngjae speaking enthusiastically to a young boy who shared his desire to be an idol. Junhong was thanking a little boy for the Dooly plush that was presented to him, and Himchan jerked slightly when Jongup tried to dot his cast with his permanent marker.Above them clouds rolled lazily across the crisp blue sky, pushed along by a soft breeze that tickled Yongguk’s ears.“Oppa,” a soft voice in front of him pulled his attention back to the event. A little girl with big eyes and black hair just reaching her waist stood shyly, hugging a Shishimato plush close to her chest.“Ah, hello,” Yongguk chirped softly and reached out to pat her hand. The girl, who introduced herself as Jiseo, giggled shortly before holding the doll out. He took it gingerly and uncapped the silver marker sitting next to his hand.“Yongguk oppa is my favourite,” she confessed quietly. Jiseo’s skirt twirled as she twisted her body side to side, looking away to hide her smile when Yongguk looked up at her from the doll in his hands.“Really? Well Jiseo is my favourite too.”She hid her face and giggled loudly, turning to make sure her mother was still standing in the back of the crown for support.Yongguk held the now signed doll up to her, humming and waiving it slightly. “Thank you for giving other boys and girls toys to play with, Jiseo-ah.”Jiseo didn’t say anything and moved onto Daehyun beside him. “Daehyun oppa is my favourite.”Yongguk could only laugh to himself at the little girl’s cheeky comment.For a few hours more the event continued on like this. The children calmed down quickly when in front of the idols out of pure shyness. It was one thing to see your favourite singer on television and the internet, but being in front of them was something completely different. It was nothing new to the boys, but to these children it must have meant the world. Knowing that made all the difference to an idol.“Alright,” the principal took the microphone in his hands, holding a hand up to signal the students to calm down. “Everyone please say thank you to BAP for coming to visit us today.”Again the crowd erupted into cheers and cries of their names.The boys stood up from the table and dropped into another bow.The principal waited for a moment before holding the mic up again. “As a surprise, BAP has agreed to perform one song for all of you because of how generous you were! I want to say thank you to all of my students for setting such a good example for the other students of Incheon and students for all of Korea!”Clearing away the table, the boys took position on the stage. The upbeat rhythm of Crash burst from the speakers and all at once the performance took off. To accommodate Himchan’s injury and the age range of the audience, the boys had decided on a lighter song versus the heavy meaning of One Shot or the hip thrusts of No Mercy.Sucked into the atmosphere of performing, Yongguk’s body seemed to move on it's own. He couldn’t really remember when this had started - he had been a bit clumsy during their first performance, though the stage breaking during the stomping part of their choreography didn’t exactly help. His nerves would try to get the best of him, but he wanted to be the proper leader he promised the others he would be, and this resolve brought a new level of focus he appreciated more than he would admit. Before he even knew it, his damp left hand was entwined with Himchan’s, their temples pressed together as they smiled out to the audience of youngsters cheering emphatically.All six artists panted happily before the sound of screeching metal and rubber filled the air. Was the stage collapsing? The thought ran through nearly everyone’s mind at least once. Heads jerked in every which way direction before the source could be located ; it wasn’t very far away, just around the corner and down the street.A full minute hadn’t passed before people leapt to their feet, natural human curiosity propelling them away from the event and towards the ruckus. Even the six performers found themselves pulled into the flow of the crowd and towards the wispy pillar of smoke slowly blotting out part of the perfect sky.In the middle of the road a sleek black car lay on it’s top amidst a sea of broken glass and bits of the vehicle’s body. The car was a mangled wreck, curved around a massive dent in the passenger’s side of the vehicle. Behind it sat a white car just as exotic as the wrecked one, it’s entire front end dented in some way, and behind them even more sightly vehicles with no damage done. The whole scene looked more like a car show than an accident.Gasps permeated the air, everyone wondering what had happened to cause the accident and more urging their friends to call 119 as they snapped pictures and video.Yongguk, on the other hand, felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. “I know that car.”That’s not the sky.That was the first thought that ran though Junko’s mind. For a moment she didn’t know where she was or how she had gotten to where ever it was she happened to be. All she could see was her hair, glass, and pavement where the sky used to be.She traced back into her fuzzy mind for any information that could help her figure out what exactly was going on.Today was the day of the big race to introduce Terumoto to Thousand Year House. Junko had protested it with every fiber in her being, but the race continued on anyway. They had arrived to the starting location and had been given a GPS pre programmed with the route that had been determined.“It’s a low traffic area,” her leader had reassured her. “Even if their is anyone there, they’ll be easy to avoid.” The conversation - if it could be called that - ended there. His tone made it very clear that if she did not show, there would be heavy consequences. Thus, she had arrived in a foul mood and even more determination to win.High ranking members of Ssang Yong Ppa were waiting for her at the mouth of the intersection that acted as the starting line. “Moon,” a particularly large man sneered. His appearance garnered him the name Sphinx, all of his hair had been removed down to the eyebrows with what was rumored to be laser hair removal.Junko didn’t care to cast him a glance. “Don’t fucking talk to me, kitty cat, I’m really not in the mood.” She raised her middle finger to him, slowly raising her hand as she rolled the window of her Fairlady up. “When you can take this Dragon King title from me, then you can speak.” It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hear her, just being nasty to someone made her feel better. His shouting was drowned out by the rumble of her engine while she waited for the event to start.Casting a glance to the right she caught Terumoto’s gaze. He stared through her, the grin on his face sending cold shivers through her whole being. A sick feeling began to settle in the pit of her stomach. It had been there before, but something about the way he looked at her agitated it. All at once she felt like a child ; she wanted to whip her car around and run home, even drive all the way down to Seoul just to hide in her father’s arms like she used to in grade school.No, Junko, just race and get it over with. She repeated this mantra until the GPS started beeping. The countdown on the screen started at five, all at once accompanied by the roar of six other vehicles revving their engines. Milliseconds before the word go appeared on the screen Junko smashed the accelerator.Everyone followed suit, flying down the road at dangerous speeds. Hyunbin overtook her on the straight away, but the parking pawl he had installed on the vehicle years before gave her the upperhand on the curve. To her relief there were no other cars on the road in front of them. All at once her apprehension lifted, focus switching to making sure she stayed in the lead. She had only lost a race twice and she wasn’t too keen to make this her third.Every few seconds she cast a glance at the GPS to ensure she was following the track. Incheon was her territory, but she had never been too good at remembering all the different little roads in the city. They were to stay close to the coast and through alleys.  The small spaces practically secured her first place position. Sure, everyone was competitive and eager to please their leader, but risking a multi million won car was not worth first place.It wasn’t until the route suddenly changed that she became suspicious. Instead of staying near the coast the course took a sharp right and headed into the city. Junko knew this was not the same map that had been displayed before, but when everyone began to anticipate the turn she felt as though she could do nothing but follow suit. She assumed her mood had made her read the map incorrectly just because of the pure anger that had afflicted her before.Seeing the sudden swarm of cars in front of her let her knew this was incorrect. Out of shock she slammed on the brakes, Hyunbin and Ilha zooming past her.“No, no, no,” she hissed, forcefully shifting gears and taking off again before she came to a complete stop. The Fairlady groaned in protest of the abuse, but Junko paid no mind, forcing her way between the two men in front of her. Ilha honked angrily when she all but forced him off of the road. In the rearview she saw Terumoto quickly overtake him.It struck her as odd that he always stayed behind her despite being in such a street ready vehicle, but that thought was quickly pushed from her mind when she inched past Hyunbin. The map led them deeper into the city, her eyes darting between cars, pedestrians, and street signs. This couldn’t be right, she was positive the race was supposed to pass behind her warehouse right before the finish. Now they were nearly 10 miles away and making no sign of heading back.Thankfully, the end was now in sight, the blue arrow blinking just a bend away. Before that, though, sat a school. She recognized the name instantly. It sent her into hysterics.The road ahead of her was clear and behind her Terumoto was just 15 feet away. Just a ways away music vibrated the ground they were on. Without a second thought, Junko stomped on her brakes and ripped the steering wheel to the right.She watched the accident happen in slow motion. Terumoto was on her in a second - the slim body of his white Aventador was just low enough to wedge underneath her Fairlady. Glass burst through the cab as her body was pitched harshly to the left, then whipped to the right at concussive speeds. Ungodly screeching of metal on metal mingled with the crunching of the Fairlady’s carbon body.A feeling of weightlessness took her over as her car was thrown off of Terumoto’s. The inertia of the impact carried it over 15 feet away before it landed on the pavement with a sickening crack and skid even farther down the roadway. Junko thanked the roll cage she had installed months after she had won the car ; Taking the whole vehicle apart had been a pain, but she had it to thank now that it had saved her life. She opened her eyes once the grinding of her roof against pavement stopped, said pavement now staring back at her where the sky had once been.Junko had a moment to catch her breath before pain slammed into her all at once, ripping said breath from her lungs. Looking up - or rather, down - she could see her arms hanging limply above her head. A steady trickle of blood made it’s way down her pale skin and dotted the sea of glass that had settled on the grey fabric roof. A strangled cry shook her body as she raised her arms and grasped at the seatbelts that inverted her.Amidst the crash she retained the thought to pull her feet away from the pedals as not to break her ankles and tangle her feet around the accelerator or each other. Aside from the scratches and aching all over her body, there was no discernable damage done.“Jesus, Buddha, whoever is up there, please don’t let me break my neck.” Junko offered a silent prayer before releasing the seatbelt. Pain blossomed in her back as she landed on the shards of glass. It brought forth another stream of cries and curses which continued as she turned onto her stomach and dragged herself from the crumpled vehicle and onto the sun heated pavement.Hyunbin was at her side in a flash, supporting her as she pulled herself onto wobbly legs. He tossed her left arm haphazardly around his shoulder, earning him a loud growl and a punch to the ribs that only served to push glass deeper into Junko’s knuckles.“Why the fuck did you do that, Junko?” The opposing gang leader demanded, stumbling as Junko tried to find her footing and make her way towards his car.She let out a strangled laugh and attempted to blow the hair away from her face. “Look behind you.”Quickly, Hyunbin tossed a glance over his shoulder. A sea of wide eyed children stared back at them, adults in their midst snapping photos and video. Just behind them sat a street sign - there was a school not too far away, no doubt where these children had come from. In the very back of the crowd he recognized a handful of faces. He scoffed as he turned back to his wounded comrade.“A bunch of idols? Typical for a goody-two-shoes.”Junko hissed as he set her in the passenger seat of his Skyline. “Yeah, a bunch of idols and kids, that’s all.” She set her own sights on the mingling mob as Hyunbin pulled away, catching a familiar gaze staring at her through the window. Looking away in shame, she pulled a sliver of glass from her palm. “That’s all.”“- reports say a single female was pulled from the wreck and fled the scene with a male. The two have not yet been identified and neither have the five others at the scene. The vehicle had no registered owner and is suspected to be stolen. If you have any information on this event, please call the Incheon police department at -”Junko switched the television off and tossed the controller to the side. “It wasn’t stolen, I just didn’t bother to register it.” She jerked as another shard of glass was slipped out from her back. “Can’t you be a little nicer after what you did to me?”Behind her Terumoto just chuckled, dropping the sliver into a stainless steel bowl. “Last I checked, Sister, you pulled out in front of me.”She hummed in return and turned her head, resting it against her bandaged arms. “You didn’t have to hit me, though.” Her aegyo didn’t come out as nicely as she intended, voice laced with pain as he rubbed an antibiotic salve over her back. “Who would’a thought you would have any sort of medical knowledge.”Terumoto pat her back a little harder at the comment - Junko yipped and turned to glare at the Japanese man who held up his hands in surrender.“I just thought it would end up useful. Wouldn’t you say so?” He was greeted with a quiet grumble. “Now, please stand up so I can wrap your wounds.”Achingly, Junko pushed herself up from the covered table and faced him, arms held out as he pulled one of the two gauze rolls from the counter. She looked away as he got closer, shy that she was completely topless and exposed in front of him. The desire to cover her breasts was strong, but with the punctures on her back it was impossible to keep her bra on while heeling. She wasn’t ashamed of her body ; her breasts weren’t too small nor too large, but the fact was she had never shown them to anyone that didn’t have a medical doctorate.In front of her Terumoto chuckled and began to gingerly wrap the gauze over her entire torso. “You won’t need any stitches, but don’t try to do anything too crazy. Come to me to change your wrapping in two days. It shouldn't take more than a week to heal completely, but I’ll have to wrap your breasts since you won’t be able to wear a bra. Unless, of course, you would rather be all natural.”She snapped her eyes open a glared at him in embarrassed incredulity. “No thank you.” Again she turned away until he finished. The ghosting of his fingertips over her skin sent shivers down her spine, but he was quick and professional, for lack of a better term. Second bandage secured taut to support her upper half, Terumoto replaced her unbuttoned blouse over her shoulders.“That should do fine. I’ll leave you to rest.” He tossed the bowl of glass into the garbage along with the curved tweezers he had used to extract the glass before turning towards the door of her warehouse. “Remember, two days,” he called over his shoulder, turning back to her when he opened the door. “And sorry about your car.”Once the door was shut, Junko tossed the button up from her shoulders and turned to the kitchenette. A glass of whiskey - or five - and her bed were practically screaming her name. She sighed when she realized she would have to sleep on her stomach, but that was the price she paid for her decision.From behind her a soft melody cut through the silence of the garage. It was her phone, the soft melody of Rain Sound once again drawing her attention to it. Glass in hand, she gingerly picked it up and immediately wanted to drop it. Against her better judgement, she answered the Skype call, voice only.“Are you alright?”Junko was a bit surprised to hear the concern in Yongguk’s voice, expecting something more along the line of disappointment or anger. It was a welcome surprise, to say the least.“Ah, Yongguk-ssi. Yeah, I should be alright. Just some scratches and bruises, nothing life threatening.”The other end of the line was quiet for a moment before a long sigh slipped through the speaker. “That’s good to hear. That accident looked life threatening, I’m not going to lie.”“I installed a roll cage in the car for just such an occasion. I can be smart sometimes as shocking as that seems.” Junko laughed shortly and stared into empty space. “ . . . Did you tell Jongup?”Again the other side stayed quiet for some time. “I didn’t. I thought you should be the one to tell him. He hasn’t said anything to me, so I don’t think he knew it was you.”Clutching the edge of the counter, Junko settled her body onto it, gripping her forehead with a hand shaking in relief. “He has bad eyesight. I keep telling him to wear his fucking glasses or contacts or anything!” It surprised her how angry the statement came out. “I’m sorry, it’s just . . I’ve been telling him for 17 years to wear the damn things, otherwise his vision is going to get worse. Cheeky punk never listens to me.”“That sounds like the pain talking, Junko. Are you sure you’re alright? Did you go to the hospital?”“No, mother, I said I’m alright.” She downed the rest of her glass. “I appreciate the concern. You can still buy me flowers or something for a get well present, if you want.”“What caused that accident?”Junko was taken aback by the question. She stumbled with her words a bit, turning her torso to pour another glass. “Just a casual drive?”Yongguk scoffed almost inaudibly. “Just a drive with some friends, right?”“How did you know I was with friends?”“That many exotic cars in one place? I doubt it was just an innocent drive.”Another glass of liquid courage down, she stared at Yongguk’s icon on the bright screen, black and white like every other photo he seemed to take. Should I tell him the truth? The question burned, white hot fear tickling her heart. There was no doubt it would make him angry. But lying would make him even angrier when he found out.“It was a race,” she uttered all at once. “One that was supposed to be small and out of the way. Something went wrong, and it headed into the city. I had to stop it before anyone got hurt.”“But you got hurt, Junko.”Something about the way he said her name brought a smile to her face. “Better me than someone else, right?” Pour. Gulp. Repeat. “I saw the risk and took it. I’m sorry I caused a scene, but it’s better that I was the news story than you or those children.”An agonizing minute passed ; Junko had to check to make sure the call hadn’t ended.“Thank you, Junko.”There went that smile again. “Thank you? That’s unexpected. To what do I owe the pleasure?”“Knowing the risk, you made a selfless decision. You may not think so, but you saved the lives of those children and their families. So thank you. I can’t imagine the pain you’re in.”Junko traced the bandages that ran down her arms with her gaze. “I don’t really know what to say. I guess you’re right, I didn’t think about it like that. I’m happy you’re not mad at me, Yongguk.” It might’ve been because of the alcohol, but a stray tear crawled its way down her cheek, followed by another one on the opposite side of her face. Before Junko knew it, she was full out crying, stifling the whimpers trying to make their way out of her mouth. She held the phone away from her face and barely caught Yongguk’s voice as he spoke again.“Go rest. Maybe I’ll see you again. I can’t promise any flowers, though.”“Yeah, no flowers,” she blubbered into the receiver. Yongguk made a sound of confusion and concern, but Junko interrupted him before he could get a word out edgewise. “Goodbye, Yongguk-ssi, I’ll rest well!” And with that, she ended the call and set her phone down on the counter.Tears still streaking her face and sun still high in the sky, Junko decided to head to bed anyway, for the first time in a while feeling almost enthusiastic about what tomorrow would bring.
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{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Yuri Plisetsky, Mila Babicheva, Otabek Altin, Victor Nikiforov, Christophe Giacometti", "Fandom": "Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)", "Language": "Русский", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by mila007", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-04T00:00:00", "words": "1,554", "Additional Tags": "Humor, Fluff", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Otabek Altin/Mila Babicheva, Mila Babicheva & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Michele Crispino/Emil Nekola", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/M, Gen, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Юра в расстроенных чувствах сидел, закрывшись в номере. Четвертое место на Чемпионате мира воспринималось болезненным поражением. Сам, конечно, виноват, да и Яков Николаевич был прав – нечего было загонять себя и лишними четверками нагружать произвольную. Но… что случилось, то случилось.Бостон за окном отеля кипел жизнью, сверкал огнями и оглушал какофонией большого города. Сердито посмотрев на свое отражение в темном стекле, Юра задернул штору и, по-прежнему не включая света, направился в кровать. Хотелось вырубиться и не думать ни о чем. Что он и сделал. Утром его разбудил телефонный звонок. Юра уже хотел запустить телефоном в стенку, когда увидел, что это Отабек. Кроме, собственно, Алтына, тренера и дедушки, все остальные номера на его телефоне были временно заблокированы – Юра не испытывал желания общаться с кем бы то ни было, а уж тем более принимать утешения от счастливого пьедестального семейства.– Бека, что? – пробормотал Юра в трубку, падая обратно на подушку и зарываясь поглубже под одеяло.– Бессовестная маленькая истеричка! – голос, раздавшийся в трубке, принадлежал отнюдь не Отабеку. Юра аж глаза от удивления открыл. – Я его вызванивала вчера весь вечер, переживала, не натворил ли дурного с расстройства, а ты просто телефон заблочил!– Заткнись, Баба, – пробормотал Юра. Грозность заявления, однако, была сведена на нет долгим зевком. – Могла бы догадаться, что если не можешь дозвониться, то я просто не хочу тебя слышать.На том конце послышалось какое-то шуршание, а потом он услышал голос Милы:– Да что этому паскуднику сделается. Спит он.– Ю-у-ура-а-а-а! – телефон перекочевал к Виктору. – Не делай так больше. Мы переживали.– Пошел на хер, – вяло огрызнулся Плисецкий. Сил злиться на этих идиотов у него не было. А обижаться было слишком по-детски. – И отдай трубку Отабеку. Предатель.– Плисец, – телефон, вопреки просьбе, вновь вернулся к Миле. – Ты сейчас соберешь себя в кучку и спустишься вниз, где мы все дружно позавтракаем, а потом пойдем на репетицию показательных.– Идите на…– И ты сделаешь это до того, как мы с Виктором пожалуемся на твое поведение мадам Барановской.– Сука, – выругался Юра и сбросил звонок. Телефон тут же зазвонил снова. Юра сбросил вызов не глядя и пошел умываться – если он не спустится вниз, с этих дебилов станется вломиться к нему в номер.  Дверь он открыл как раз вовремя – к ней уже приближалась делегация по вытягиванию Плисецкого на божий свет. Виктор с Милой были настроены весьма решительно, а Отабек шел с видом человека, не вполне понимающего, с чего весь сыр-бор. Правда, с ним Юра вчера вечером таки поговорил и даже позволил себя утешить.– А где вы золотую свинку потеряли? – вместо приветствия спросил Юра, осмотрев делегацию.– Они с Пхичитом уже завтракают, – улыбнулся Виктор, делая попытку обнять Юру. Нарвавшись на локоть, метко впечатавшийся в ребра, Никифоров охнул и отступил.Милу, впрочем, никакими локтями на отгонишь – она опытным борцовским захватом зафиксировала Плисецкого и легонько шлепнула по мягкому месту. Юра поморщился – именно на эту ягодицу он вчера приземлился со второго четверного. – Еще раз заставишь меня так нервничать, не посмотрю, что ты ребенок и вас бить нельзя!Юра фыркнул и оттолкнул ее.– Отлипни от меня, Баба! Отабек, как ты мог сдать меня этим идиотам?! – Юра бросил на друга обиженный взгляд из-под челки.Отабек пожал плечами и сказал, как само собой разумеющееся:– Они переживали.Надувшийся для обличительной речи Плисецкий разом сник – прямой и открытый взгляд, которым наградил его лучший друг, подействовал, как всегда, успокаивающе. Мила со смешком показала ему язык и, подхватив Отабека под руку, второй обняла Юрку и потащила мальчиков в сторону лифта. Виктор рассмеялся и, обогнав их, нажал на кнопку вызова. Юра решил, что убьет их как-нибудь позже. Юра как раз переодевался после тренировки, когда дверь мужской раздевалки распахнулась и на пороге появилась Мила. Не обращая внимания на полуголого Джакометти, она подлетела к Юре и запрыгнула ему на спину. Крякнув от свалившегося на него веса, Юрка столкнул Милу:– Бабичева, ты худеть не пыталась? С таким весом как тебя еще лед держит?– Кое-кому мой лишний вес весьма нравится, – кокетливо выгнувшись, Мила продемонстрировала свою достаточно выдающуюся для фигуристки грудь. Юрка вспыхнул, Крис одобрительно засвистел. – Правда, Отабек? – она стрельнула глазками в сидящего на лавке Алтына. Его губы дрогнули в улыбке, но глаз он так и не поднял, старательно делая вид, что интересуется только шнуровкой коньков.– Что ты забыла в мужской раздевалке?– Смотри, что мне добыл Лео!!! – Мила сунула Юрке под нос какие-то бумажки. Когда он отодвинул их от себя на достаточное расстояние, то сумел разглядеть, что это билеты.– Что это?– Билеты! Три штуки! На завтрашнюю игру "Ред Сокс"! – она радостно подпрыгивала на месте.– Ты совсем того? С чего вдруг такое увлечение бейсболом?– Юра! Мы в Штатах! Тут НУЖНО смотреть бейсбол. Ну или американский футбол. Но в бейсболе мне как-то форма больше нравится. И спортсмены. Только представь себе – все эти узкие штаны, обтягивающие накачанные задницы, футболки, подчеркивающие широкие плечи... Мощные руки, уверенно держащие длинные биты... – она мечтательно вздохнула.– Баба, ты сейчас о спорте или о ролике, который ты на порнхабе смотрела? – Юра постарался скрыть смущение за привычным хамством. – Потому что если второе, то я еще не дорос. Ты можешь попасть на статью за растление.Крис, посмеиваясь, натянул свитер и подошел к троице в углу:– Oh, Yuri, you're so funny!– Don't you dare call me funny! Anyway, how do you understand Russian?– Well, I've been very, very good friends with Viktor for a long time, – Крис многозначительно вздохнул и подмигнул. – Just don't tell this to Yuuri.Юра сделал вид, что его тошнит. Отабек покачал головой.– Chris, you are... something, – Мила в восторге посмотрела на него. – Remind me to keep my boyfriend away from you.– You don't have a boyfriend! – фыркнул Юра.– Well, my future boyfriend, – не растерялась Мила, подмигивая мужчинам. – Sorry, Chris, I have only two spare tickets, so I'll go to the game with these two, – она указала на Юру и Отабека.– Oh, no problem. Anyway, we've already made plans for tomorrow evening. So, I'll leave you here. See you at the Gala*, – с этими словами Крис подхватил свою сумку и вышел из раздевалки.– Так что? Вы идете со мной? – повернулась Мила к Юре с Отабеком.– Я не хочу, – фыркнул Юра.– Я бы сходил, – одновременно с ним произнес Отабек.Юра посмотрел на друга, как на предателя.– Ну ладно. Но если что – это вы меня заставили. Бейсбол оказался весьма интересным и увлекательным видом спорта. Юра, правда, скорее бы вышел на лед в чужих коньках, чем признался в этом Миле, но он действительно получал удовольствие от матча. Ему всегда нравилась атмосфера, которая царила на трибунах во время соревнований, и не важно, было ли это фигурное катание, футбол или вот как сейчас – бейсбол. Мила где-то достала им с Отабеком бейсболки, а сама красовалась в футболке с большой буквой "B".– Это та-а-ак круто! – после очередного хоум-рана, принесшего очки "Ред Сокс", Мила от избытка радости повисла на Юре, чуть не выбив у него из рук хот-дог.– Что у тебя за привычка – все время на меня вешаться?! – Плисецкий сделал попытку ее оттолкнуть.– Что у тебя за привычка – вырываться из моих любящих объятий?!Юрка вздохнул и привычно рухнул в очередную словесную пикировку. Мила светилась, как солнышко, Отабек фыркал в ответ на Юркины не слишком удачные шпильки, стадион вокруг шумел. Внезапно кто-то дернул Юру за рукав с другой стороны. Он повернулся и увидел стоящего рядом огромного американца.– WHAT?! – рявкнул Юра в ответ на столь бесцеремонное вторжение в личное пространство.– Hey, guys, look! You're on kiss cam**! – американец широко улыбнулся и показал куда-то за вперед. Юра обернулся и увидел, что они с Милой светят своими лицами на всех стадионных плазмах. Вокруг них сверкала яркая анимация из сердечек и слов "Now kiss!".– Юра! – радостно вскрикнула Мила. – Иди сюда!Отвернувшись от Бабичевой, Юра сделал вид, что его тошнит:– Да я скорее Кацудона поцелую!– Ну и черт с тобой! – с этими словами Мила развернулась и, схватив Отабека за ворот футболки, притянула к себе и поцеловала. Камера сфокусировалась на целующейся парочке, и стадион взревел. Плисецкий повернулся как раз в тот момент, чтобы увидеть, как Отабек обнял Бабичеву и с энтузиазмом ответил на поцелуй.Отодрав челюсть от пола, Юра надвинул кепку на глаза и отвернулся. Он всегда знал, что Бабичева его когда-нибудь использует для того, чтобы устроить себе личную жизнь. Но того, что этой личной жизнью может стать его лучший друг, не представлял и в страшном сне. В лобби отеля было тихо и пустынно, что после насыщенного событиями вечера невероятно порадовало Юру – вряд ли бы он выдержал встречу с кем-то из знакомых. Возвращаться со стадиона ему пришлось самому – Отабек с Милой усадили его в такси и строго-настрого наказали таксисту отвезти Плисецкого прямо в отель. Отабеку перед этим, правда, хватило совести отвести Юрку в сторону и спросить, не будет ли тот против вернуться домой самостоятельно, чтобы они с Милой сходили на свидание. Юра хотел было спошлить, что Мила и без свидания на него вешаться будет, но потом посмотрел на Отабека и махнул рукой – мол, делайте что хотите. Друг благодарно улыбнулся и сжал его плечо. Юра похлопал его по руке. Бедный Отабек, он еще не понимал, на что подписывается.Лифт долго не ехал, Юра нетерпеливо постукивал ногой по полу и яростно листал ленту инстаграма – Никифоров вновь устроил спам фотографиями своего Кацудона с медалью. Звонок прибывшего лифта совпал с отправкой очередного комментария к фотографии. Юра поднял глаза от телефона и тут же, застонав, закрыл лицо ладонями.– Вы все с ума, что ли, посходили?!Эмиль Некола оторвался от прижатого к стенке лифта Микеле Криспино и оглянулся через плечо.– О, Юра, привет! – он жизнерадостно улыбнулся. – А какой это этаж?Плисецкий молча развернулся и пошел к лестнице – дожидаться второго лифта у него нервов не хватит, да и мало ли кого еще он там с его везением встретит...
10501482
Scars
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He’s broken, mangled and unsure of himself anymore. Chase is taunting him still and his mind is blank.“Your crusade is based on a lie.”The silence is deafening. For a second his mind fractures and then he hears it.“Star City is my home.” The voice flutters through his mind and he opens his eyes. There in the corner. “What are you looking at?” Chase turns to the corner and sees nothing.“Star City is my home.”For a second he sees her. She’s different. Dark hair, purple suit but it’s her.“Star city is my home. I will never stop fighting.”Purple suit, hood, mask. She’s standing there in front of him. She looks different, harder but he can see her eyes.“I will never stop fighting.”Oliver gulps as she fades from his vision and he closes his eyes. Keep fighting. He can do that even if it’s just to stay alive and to get out of here. Even if it means accepting himself. She’s waiting.
10553980
Im not just a fuck up Im
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Everything is always a gamble. And Jean-Eric knows full well his enthusiasm for risk-taking and inability to do anything by halves would have him on some tragic rehabilitation scheme within six months if he got into betting, so variable odds aren’t enough to put him off. He read about it on a gossip column, in the end. Which he hates himself for reading in the first place and triply because suddenly it all makes perfect sense that Dan texted him, out of the blue, two weeks previously. “Horner lets slip that Ricciardo single” is vastly too plausible to be discardable, especially with ‘ hey, how are you anyway?’ in his troublingly recent inbox. Fuck’s sake. He doesn’t reply. He’s not that stupid - you do not enter the table not knowing who the other players are unless you’re a complete fucking idiot and he likes to think he’s made losses sufficient to have learnt from that, when it comes to literally anyone connected to Red Bull closer than, say, five police checkpoints and perhaps a few minor wars. So instead he corners his teammate and tells him that if they don’t get smashed as fuck in Mexico then he’s going to fucking send Heidfeld that photo of Sam licking a poster of him from 10 years ago. Good odds. Which is how he ends up with two full glasses of wine, one of which is not the same colour as the half drunk one also in front of him, hoping he isn’t going to fall off his chair. Sam gets back from the bathroom in an ebulliently interrogative mood, which is unfortunate because JEV has just realised he might do some verbal vomiting before he gets to the actual throwing up bit and this is all adding up to bad things. “Stop,” Sam says conversationally, “pining about that fuckin’ Aussie just because you can’t believe you shagged anyone who goes to Coachella.” “I don’t pine-” “Alright Sartre, fuckin’ writing poetry about him or whatever. What’s so bad about him anyway?” JEV feels scandalised by the question. Also by himself. And by this shit that is purportedly a sauvignon blanc, which it certainly fucking doesn’t taste like as he necks the rest of the glass, slightly warm by the time he’s got it into his mouth. Daniel would probably love it. Daniel likes shit things. Bad wine, crap beer, terrible music, awful people. Which makes it quite damning of Jev that Dan also - or at least once - really likes him. Jean-Eric isn't above thinking that, well, it might be a fair assessment because god so help him he's still so pathetically in love with Dan he can stand to watch him succeed, filthily wanking himself off in Ferrari gear when he really fucking hopes no one's looking for him. He attempts to explain this to Sam, which is difficult because he thinks he might be about 50% wine by now. “Sam, I can’t have him texting me out of the blue just because his dick is cold. I don’t want to admit I’m a booty call.” “Oh mate, look. What's the big crisis then? You've been in love with him for years. Just fuck Di Grassi or something and get yourself over it.” Sam looks startlingly sympathetic for someone suggesting Jean-Eric gets into whatever kinky games the endurance lot are into. Jev’s mouth is not working as it should, which might be related to the wine he's just put some more of into it. Which is why he looks straight into Sam's eyes and whines “But I love him.” “Does… ok. Ok. So does he love you?” it's not a question Jean-Eric’s broken heart can even contemplate. “I don't know.” Sam pats him on the hand slightly patronisingly. “OK, well, maybe this is your chance to find out.” He’s not sure he can articulate in English - or, frankly, any language at this point, that the risk that Dan does not love him back is too certainly non-zero for him to take this gamble, that there is nothing short of guaranteed odds that could ever let him go there because he’s so all-in on this he’d be destroyed. Send the mob bosses in to break his heart’s knees already. Shit, he’s drunk. “Please stop looking like you’re going to cry, it’s making me feel like I ought to be emotionally supportive and I know you’ll be chatting shit about me as soon as you’re sober.” Sam pats him again, “You’re such a fuckin’ mess. It’s kind of reassuring.” Reassuring who? And Jean-Eric is not the mess. Dan is the mess. He’s just the room the mess has been made all over. Ugh. Actually, he is nowhere near drunk enough for this, he might need to be clinically dead. Jev wakes up pillowed on Sam's shoulder, both of them mercifully fully dressed. Sam’s nose is in his hair, one arm around his back and the other stretched across himself to pull Jean-Eric closer by his hip, like Sam had to wrestle him a bit to get him to lie down. He’s much too tall to curl round Sam this way, their legs slightly tangled and it’s not comfortable, jeans digging in mercilessly to his hungover bladder. Sam nuzzles him, “Urgh, let’s never do that again.” He definitely doesn’t feel any less like he wants to cry, rolling over to be closer to Sam and trying to ignore the fact he isn’t sure whether he wants to piss or vomit more. Sam shifts like he’s not especially pleased by this snuggly development and Jean-Eric really isn’t convinced he is, either but if he doesn’t cling to something, especially with the way the room is lurching around, he’s definitely going to drown in his own feelings. “Jev. Jev, stop it.” He doesn’t. “Jev, we’re not doing this.” Sam gives him a shove and he whimpers pathetically because there’s not exactly any face left to lose when you’re disgustingly hungover and clinging to your teammate. Sam makes a deeply disgruntled noise and says “Ok fine, but go and brush your teeth first.” Which is a fair comment because he’s pretty sure he threw up in the reasonably recent past, judging by the sickly acid taste in his saliva. Stumbling to the bathroom is a bit of a performance and he doesn’t so much brush his teeth as swill toothpaste around in his mouth, although the fact his toothbrush is here at least suggests they’re in his hotel room not Sam’s. Once he’s had a piss and made some vague attempt at splashing water on himself in a way he feels Sam might appreciate  because jesus christ he is disgusting right now but also he can’t stand how much of his heart he poured down the toilet last night and Sam is if not his first choice at least a safe one. His teammate has kicked his jeans off by the time Jev gets back, is in the process of removing his shirt. “What? I said alright.” Jean-Eric can’t look at him while he’s peeling his own clothes off, notices Sam leaves his fucking socks on and makes a mental note to remove them before they get down to anything serious. He decides not to be coy about it and digs a bottle of lube and a condom he really hopes is still vaguely in date out of his bag as he pads over to the bed, naked and feeling utterly terrible on any number of levels. Sam sighs at him, pushes him down onto the bed with two extremely firm hands on his shoulders. “Are we going to kiss? Or just do this?” Jev closes his eyes and pretends he hasn’t heard the question or Sam’s follow up of “Alrighty then” because that’s just too awful and he needs to be allowed to die in some relative peace. Sam nudges his legs apart and he almost protests that he’d assumed it’d be the other way around but actually this is probably for the best, Sam’s slick fingers working him open while Sam’s mouth kisses warmly over his dick and thighs. He can’t help the whimpering noises that he swears he’s never made during sex before but then the last time someone had their fingers inside him he’d been in love with them and even if Sam is markedly more skillful, the physical memory is like an ache in his balls. Sam leans over him, kissing his chest up to his neck, murmurs, “Oh you are pretty like this.” It’s barely a compliment and Jean-Eric knows he’s being pathetic but he grabs at Sam, half-opens his eyes enough to pull him up and mash their mouths together, spreading his legs whorishly to let Sam finger him deeper. “Mmf, stop it - come on, let me get my dick in you.” Sam sounds kind, pushing Jean-Eric’s legs back as he pulls his fingers out and grabs for the condom packet. Jev takes the opportunity to look at him, kneeling up over him, sculpted muscle and soft, blonde hair fuzzing down to his decently-sized, throbbingly erect dick. At least he knows he’s still sexy, then. Sam doesn’t look at him as he leans fowards, guides his cock into him and Jean-Eric has to close his eyes again, grab at Sam’s shoulders as he pushes in. It’s not that it hurts - Sam was efficiently thorough at prepping him - it’s that the last dick inside him was Dan’s and he hadn’t realised how much it would overwhelm him to feel it again, someone entering him without all the precursory romance and desperation. Well, some desperation still maybe. Sam stops, dips his head to kiss his neck, “You alright?” Jev nods, rocks his hips just slightly because he doesn’t want to try to speak or have to explain what he’s feeling - which is a strange mix of sadness and arousal, like he’s losing his virginity all over again getting fucked by someone who isn’t Dan. And there’s a guilt attached to how good Sam feels inside him, how the gentle rhythm he sets up makes Jev want more. “You’re good?” Sam thrusts a little harder and Jev wants him to take him, fuck Dan out of him, make him have all these fucking awful feelings he’s apparently got sloshing around him. And an orgasm. “Yes - please, more” Sam makes a slightly guttural noise in response, fucks him in earnest and Jev doesn’t want to do anything but hold on and get fucked through the mattress, Sam’s thrusts expert enough to hit the good spots better than Dan ever did, their teenage self-taught kama sutra barely running to ‘managing to have sex without some sort of incident.’ Sam knows how to fuck, though - it’s almost too much, feeling the stretch every time he thrusts and then the blossoming pleasure every time Sam hits his prostate. He wants his dick touched but there’s no way he can interrupt the stream of broken noises he’s making enough to ask for it and anyway he wants Sam to just fucking do him in every way. He clenches, squeezing a moan out of Sam and a grunted “God, fuck, do that again - oh god, you feel great.” Sam’s appreciation spurs him on and he moves to meet every thrust, making it rougher and sloppier between them, Sam moaning against his neck, sucking a hickey he’ll massively regret into his collarbone.  Sam finally moves a hand down between them, strokes Jev’s dick and he thought for a second he’d immediately come until Sam’s other hand is in his hair and he can’t stop either the babble he really hopes doesn’t contain Dan’s name or the sudden tightening in his balls that leaves him panting and shaking against Sam, collapsing onto him after a few more thrusts to get through his own orgasm, still stroking Jev’s oversensitised dick. They nuzzle each other for a sweaty few moments, Jev feeling Sam’s cock soften inside him. He feels weird, not just because the sensation immediately after getting fucked is a strange, slimy, still-pleasurable but gross one. Sam makes a weak effort to get off him, flops down again and tucks his head against Jean-Eric’s neck for a second, affectionate and a bit far-away before he pulls out and Jev curls over on himself, wondering for the billionth time this morning if he’s going to actually cry. “I’m not sure I really like you getting me to do that, Jev.” Sam says, stroking his back. “I’m not some sort of sex therapist.” “Shut up, I’m pretty sure you enjoyed it.” The now-unfamiliar stretched feeling definitely says Sam did. He feels slightly sore and still grottily hungover and he thinks he probably wants Sam to fuck him again, if he can convince him to - only kind of angrily, this time, from behind with a bit of light throttling. “Hmm.” It’s not quite the glowing review of sticking a dick in him that he was sort of half-hoping for. He wriggles round, tugs and wrestles at Sam until he can spoon him, which seems to placate the smaller man. Sort of. “Ugh, you’re covered in come - god, Jev. Urgh.” Sam doesn’t make an effort to move out of his arms, sort of half-hugs the one Jean-Eric has over him and he feels a bit better for giving some comfort as well as taking it. “God, don’t make this a regular thing.” Jev hums against the back of Sam’s neck, clutches him a bit. He feels empty and confused - he doesn’t want it to be a regular thing, either. He kind of wants it to be a thing that has never happened at all, the slickness down his asscrack feeling uncomfortable and as he tucks his knees into the back of Sam’s, grabs one of his ankles with his feet he realises his teammate does still have his fucking socks on. Christ. They cuddle for a few minutes, not talking and deep in separate thoughts. Or well, Sam might be thinking about breakfast but Jev is thinking about how love is a fucking mug’s game and his arse aches and he badly wants someone to hold him later, when Sam’s gone and the temporary enjoyment of being physical with his teammate segues into the inevitable crushing sadness that that’s not Dan anymore. Never will be again. He’d fucked Dany once, both of them drunk and the Russian clearly missing someone of his own. It had troubled him less to top and besides Dan was still around, they’d still been having occasional, intense breakup sex. It had unsettled him for weeks, though and now he’s dreading how badly he’s probably fucked himself up, unable to pretend he likes it casual but knowing, with the sort of certainty you can only really have about self-destruction, that he’s going to fuck a whole bunch of people. Not least himself. His dick twitches at the thought - and the fact it’s up against Sam’s undeniably nice arse. Oh god, is he into the perpetually horny bit of being really miserable? Or just hungover, maybe. He shudders, curls close against Sam and whimpers a bit, so far past the shame threshold he can’t even be bothered to contain his neediness. “Oh god, stop it - seriously. We can fuck in the shower and then it’s time to get you some carbohydrates and a fucking life.” Sam slaps his hand, makes to get up, then just twists round in Jev’s arms to grind up against him, “You are really quite sexy though, once you get the stupid scarf off.” He sends Dan “ Yeah alright, busy - how are you?” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Once he’s finished being the most hungover he’s ever been in his life, which takes about a week to fully clear, he’s on a plane to Melbourne with what could best be described as a head full of regrets. He’s going to have to see Dan. He’s going to have to see now-single, texting him Dan in Dan’s stupid home country and he can’t get the memory of Sam fucking his face in the shower out of his head enough to not feel like it’s written on his forehead. The Ferrari red is not really helping, making him feel out of place - he’s not used to it, definitely not used to being sidelined in the Paddock and everything is still like an open wound every time he rocks up near the F1 circus. Fortunately he can now pair the frustration and pride-burning shame of getting dropped and being willing to do just about fucking anything to get it back, despite everything, with feeling exactly the same way about Daniel. So at least he’s optimised his emotional set-up. Sebastian is polite enough to him while he’s hanging around the back of the garage trying not to feel like a petulant child. They haven’t really spoken for years and Jev’s halfway inclined to go and find Carlos or someone to chat to but he’s technically working, so just tries not to look to useless in any press shots and say nice things in Italian like a good boy, trying not to let the brain spiral take hold. He manages to almost entirely avoid Daniel - or anyone with a Red Bull logo on - for the first 48 hours. He even copes with sending Daniil a not-entirely-the-right-side-of-friendly text about the bad luck side of the garage striking again, as the race starts. Dan knows he’s here, he liked his Instagram and Jean-Eric is pretty sure Daniel still has control of that, not entirely handed it over to his personal branding team or whatever the shit. The idea of Daniel having a personal branding team is ridiculous. The man barely has a personal haircut. He has a massive over-fondness for blowing raspberries on the sensitive skin of people he likes. He’s sent Jev three texts that he hasn’t opened. He lets himself slip into brooding, not really watching the race from the back of the garage. He’s refusing to take his jacket off, feeling weirdly self-conscious about how much his body’s changed since he was last in an F1 Paddock, even if it is entirely for the better. He knows he looks better now - Sam had got quite handsy in the shower, apparently deciding to turn things more sensual than functional as soon as their skin was slicked up, water droplets running across muscle as Jev had lifted him up to grind against the wall. Sam is puzzling. They both agreed it wasn’t a thing, had a cheery brunch where Sam hand-fed Jean-Eric croissant in a way he’d find completely offensive from anyone but the Brit but since Sam was sitting on his lap to do it it seemed somehow more reasonable. Now they’ve gone back to normal, in the sense Jev is still hopelessly moping about Dan and Sam is off fucking Bruno Senna or whatever it is he does. He’s trying to convince himself not to add to his emotional problems by getting jealous about that. He nearly jumps out of his skin, deep in thought, when a mechanic shoves past him to get an extra wrench or something. Oh yes, he’s at a Grand Prix. Maybe he should read Dan’s texts. Jean-Eric watches the screens blankly for the first lap, shifting uncomfortably on sneakered feet that are a frustrating reminder of the fact he’s not in race boots. God, everything’s awful - he’s in this shitty Ferrari garage, trying not to add to his overwhelmingly horrible and selfish feelings by thinking about Jules, being a miserable fuck. And really what the fuck does he have to complain about? Sufficiently peer-harassed by his own thoughts, he digs his phone out and opens the messaging app. And he shouldn’t be holding his breath because this is going to be such a let down, either in terms of awfulness or amazingness and he virtually could have predicted what it said anyway because this is Dan - Hey mate coool you’re here wanna grab dinner Weird seeing you and Seb in red still Fuck me this engine is shit again. Do you want a beer later? Fuck up the winter training lol He resists the brief, hot urge to text back that he’s been fucking racing all winter you sanctimonious top team F1 fuckbag. That probably won’t help anything, least of all himself so he just lets it burn through him, a flash of jealous fury he can’t cope with because Dan is supposed to be nice to him. Dan is supposed to be understanding about it and stand by him and take care of Jean-Eric and be on his fucking side and know about his life. He’s not supposed to have had more congratulatory texts for Formula E podiums from Hamilton than the love of his fucking life. Christ, that’s miserable. He shuffles further back into the garage, as though he can hide from even being at the Grand Prix at all, hoisting himself onto a cabinet at the back to huddle shittily under Vettel’s name - his usual position in Formula 1, even a less bitter man than himself would observe. And in Daniel’s affections, of course. It’s too much. Maybe taking this role at Ferrari was stupid but it seemed like the best chance to cling to so many things he’s psychologically fragile about. He settles in to brood away the rest of the race nursing his injured feelings, his stupid, flimsy pride that he didn’t even know he’d left so open for Daniel to swipe at, clumsy and blundering. He wants Dan back so much it’s fucking stupid and probably not even about the Australian - he just wants someone to care about him when he’s having a shit time, such as right now. Maybe he’s not even in fucking love with Dan. Except Jev’s angry right now so it’s easy not to love Daniel, the white hot rage and embarrassment curling around his brain like a resentful cat tucking in on itself. In two days time he’ll be back to pathetically wishing he could see the Australian, livid with himself that he wasted the chance in Melbourne. Making the first pathetic move to go and seek out Dan, in his different team gear, feeling like an absolute prick, is too much for him though. He should text back. He really should. He doesn’t - in fact, he doesn’t even look at his phone for the rest of the race, suddenly distracted into far less teenage and much sadder preoccupations when he sees Gutierrez and Alonso collide and feels like every drop of blood in his body has turned into icy sludge. He doesn’t really notice it ending, until Sebastian’s side of the garage are suddenly celebrating around him and he feels the strong urge to slip away into the motorhome, find somewhere quiet to sit and have what he realises is a panic attack much too late to stop it. He pushes into a room and shakily gets to the sofa, curling in a foetal position and feeling freezing cold, numb and so full of adrenaline it’s like he’s necked half his old sponsor’s annual output, heart pounding like a warning klaxon. Jev probably should have checked whose or what room it was, before he decided to use it as his personal emotion-hole but he feels like that’s not something most people would begrudge him, even if Britta does look surprised to find him on the sofa. He tries to say something explanatory, fails at more than a few noises. She gives him a sympathetic look at closes the door, says sometime he doesn’t catch, to someone outside, just as the catch clicks into place. He ought to leave but he feels too shitty and overwhelmed, still freezing cold. If he could get himself together enough to text Dan then he wouldn’t even feel ashamed about it, desperately needing a hug. Jean-Eric’s just about mentally righted himself enough to be able to get the passcode into his phone on the third try when Sebastian walks in, justifiably startled to find Jev in the room. Oh, yeah - that would make sense, with Britta being there earlier. He feels sort of dazed, the panic having subsided into an insulated numbness like the adrenaline rush had shut down substantial bits of his brain for awhile. Sebastian looks understandably confused and Jean-Eric cannot for the life of him think of a remotely plausible reason for him being in there, somehow doesn’t want to admit to Vettel that the crash had shaken him up and also desperately not wanting to think about it again. So he does what any third driver does under the circumstances - presumably a podium deserves a celebration, right - and slides onto his knees, tries to make his expression much softer than he feels. “Oh.” Sebastian blushes, “I didn’t know… well, thank you.” Jev’s left thigh is annoyingly twitching, like it’s a friend trying to tug him out of this situation before he makes a series of stupid decisions but listen here, thigh, Jean-Eric is an adult with adult needs and in this case those are to do some emotional self-harm to help himself get rid of some feelings without actually having to think too much. Sebastian strokes his face much more fondly than he ever remembers them interacting and Jean-Eric kind of wonders who Vettel’s really thinking about, as he reaches for the German’s thermals and pulls them down enough to get his lips against Seb’s dick. Seb pushes Jev’s hat off, so he can pet his hair and it’s one of Jean-Eric’s number one turn-offs when giving head so this is already going extremely badly, which is exactly how he wants it right now. Sebastian’s dick tastes disgusting, the inevitable result of several hours in a Formula 1 car and Jev feels like he’s choking on the pheremone-heavy sweat scent as Seb’s cock hardens until it hits the back of his throat. He’s got his eyes closed and he doesn’t want to look up at Sebastian. This is so fucked up - he’d fucking hated the guy for taking Daniel away from him and winning fucking everything and being an asshole and now Jean-Eric’s trying to suck him down hard enough to get rid of the lump in his throat. Seb grunts and thrusts a little into his mouth “Mmm, Jean-Eric, I’m glad I asked for you on the team.” God this is - he’d wanted this to be awful but this is beyond awful. Seb thinks he’s blowing him out of gratitude? He ought to check in with LeClerc and find out what the fuck goes on here, he’d just assumed it would be so straightforward in comparison to Red Bull that it hadn’t even occurred to him to sniff out the fucked up shit. Well, he can certainly smell it now, nose buried in Seb’s pubes. His own dick is much more interested in the fact he’s got a cock in his mouth than he really honestly wants it to be - Sebastian doesn’t know this is kind of kinky, he thinks Jev’s just sucking him off like a good little reserve or maybe that Jev’s always had a secret crush on him or something and somehow that makes it even better, that Jean-Eric is just sado-masochistically dominating himself via Sebastian’s body. He gags, breathing clumsily as Seb tugs on his hair, stroking his cheek to feel his own dick in Jean-Eric’s mouth. He hates the hair-tug - he doesn’t need any further risk of it falling out, thanks but the idea that Vettel’s getting off on how he looks is a nasty turn-on, making him hold the hand he doesn’t have on Seb’s hip to his own crotch, heel of his palm pressing almost too hard. Seb rocks his hips, moans as he chokes Jean-Eric a bit again and Jev’s pretty sure he’s close - he feels like he’s drowning in his own saliva and Sebastian is just straight-up fucking his face at this point and there’s a sort of lack of finesse to it that suggests Seb’s past the point of coherent thought. It’s too hot, with his face mashed into Seb’s crotch and his nose is running in a way he’d find horrifying if this wasn’t all completely disgusting anyway. “Unnh-” Seb pulls his hair harder, forces Jean-Eric’s mouth down his dick and comes straight down the back of his throat, Jev trying not to whimper or gargle too badly. He’s sort of stunned, after - realises he must have actually been choking quite badly, something a little fuzzy around the edges of his vision like the time he’d collapsed from dehydration. Sebastian pulls his dick back, although not totally out of Jev’s mouth, stroking his face and encouraging him to lick him through a few aftershocks while Seb’s mumbling at him in Italian. “Bravo, bravo ragazzo,” Seb looks very fond - it’s making his skin crawl and his dick twitch. “How come I never knew this when we were at Red Bull?” Jean-Eric tries not to totally splutter a reply, pulling his mouth back and swallowing down saliva still, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, ineffectually. “Different times.” Sebastian ruffles his hair again, “Such a talented driver, they wasted you.” Jean-Eric tries not to wonder exactly what Vettel means by that because all of the options are fairly creepy, in context. He’s just thinking he should get up and go and wank off in the bathroom or something when Seb crouches down in front of him, puts his hands straight on Jean-Eric’s waist, pushing his jacket up. “You’re part of the team, now” Oh god, he really wasn’t expecting this - Sebastian doesn’t kiss him but he does push him back until he’s sprawled against the sofa and can mercifully hide his face in the seat cushion because he knows he’s doing that slightly wild-eyed thing people are so keen to turn into fucking memes. Seb strokes his face again, where he’s pressing it into the couch and murmurs “ cosi bello” - if everyone could stop calling him pretty, things would be going a lot better, Jev feels. He’s kind-of-turned-on, kind-of-just-full-of-adrenaline and feeling slutty, not really willing to do anything more than slightly hate himself for enjoying whatever Sebastian’s about to do to him. The German’s fingers are working his belt open, stroking over Jev’s waist and stomach which is the kind of thing he’d really rather people didn’t do because his relationship to his own body has always been a bit difficult and it feels too intimate for a handjob in a motorhome.  He startles himself with the noise he makes by the time Seb gets a hand in his underwear, the other touches having oversensitised him - he doesn’t really want to get wanked off by Seb, he want’s to make love with Dan but one of those isn’t an available option and the other very much appears to be happening so here he is. Sebastian’s hand feels good enough anyway - the calluses are familiar to the point where he can pretend for a few seconds that it’s someone else’s and as confused as he is about the way he feels about the German, there’s an annoying driver thing about the fact a four-time world champion is wanking him off. Seb sort of purrs at him when he arches his back, picks up the pace and Jev’s just heading into the really frantically pleasant part of an orgasm build up, feeling distinctly disgusting and also like he wants Daniel to fucking know when someone knocks on the door and someone’s saying something in Italian and shit it is Arrivabene. He realises he’s opened his eyes in panic when he registers Sebastian is silently laughing at him, looking affectionately amused. “ Dieci minuti” - Seb squeezes his dick as he shouts back and Jev is… he has lost his edge for this. Sebastian strokes his face again, which is about the only thing that could make his dick soften faster than the idea his new boss is outside the door and he feels the blush rising because it’s embarrassing enough being wanked off by a four-time world champion who just fucked your face let alone not being able to maintain an erection while doing so. “Sorry, uhm.” He can’t think of a word to describe “I can’t get myself off about the weird kink thing I secretly had going on here now I’ve realised Maurizio is hanging around and everything feels unpleasantly real and professional rather than the sort of unhinged space I’d worked myself into, please stop touching my penis and let me die here.” Seb smiles gently at him and god, is the face-stroking something he’s really into or something? Jean-Eric’s cheeks feel like they’re burning already, he doesn’t want to be petted. “You’re shy.” He’s… he’s not really. Probably. He kind of is sometimes, maybe. In fact that’s possibly why he was hiding in this room in the first place but he’s not like… a blushing virgin or something. He grunts and wriggles backwards, away from Sebastian’s hands, so he can tuck himself back into his underwear at least. Sebastian ruffles his hair again and god can he just really, really not? “It’s best if you leave first. Don’t worry, Maurizio will be pleased.” Jesus. Jesus, he needs to get out of the whole Ferrari complex extremely fast. This is exactly the sort of thing he hates and he’d been feeling so much less hideously overcrowded by life recently, even if he has been a bit lonely. God, is Formula 1 just really fucked up? He’s absolutely certain it’s not him, it’s them - ok he may have hangover-screwed Sam but that’s just two people who know each other just about well enough for that sort of thing drinking too much wine, not the apparent structural assumption that he’s going to suck dick in return for being allowed to touch the car enviously sometimes. He half-stumbles to his feet, feeling deeply like an idiot and endures a little more petting from Sebastian before he can get out the door, try to walk in some fashion that says he definitely hasn’t just been shagged as he refuses to make eye contact with anyone and tries to remember where the Paddock bar is in Melbourne. His mouth tastes of dick, which is really not that surprising but he urgently needs to put something else in it to get rid of the flavour and he feels like he’s breathing clouds of semen. Everything is the worst. He brushes past Daniil on the concourse, who half-says something to him but he’s really not in the mood for that and also if Dany caught him with cock-breath he’d probably never deal with living it down. He’s the grown-up, classy one - his former teammate is the balcony-shagging Milton Keynes bicycle hire scheme. Or well, he does seem to be somewhat sabotaging his own record lately but he’s still not having it. Except - oh - what Daniil was presumably trying to say to him was that Dan was just behind him and isn’t this a day for wonderful surprise interactions. Jean-Eric stops dead, stares at Daniel. He looks beautiful, of course - more tanned than ever and he’s let his hair grow back to some curls, the way Jean-Eric used to like it when he could stroke his fingers through them, Dan lying against his shoulder. He’s grinning and it’s not the shit-eating grin he just slaps on normally, it’s the one he has when he looks at Jean-Eric and it’s been years since that was uncomplicated, since Dan looked at him with all his emotions so surface-level and open. “Mate! I was wondering where you were-” Dan goes straight in for a hug, of course he does and Jev buries his mouth against the Red-Bull team shirt over his shoulder, tries not to breathe too much. Dan is warm and muscular and as perfect as they’ve ever fitting together against him. He desperately wants to not be wearing his jacket, so they could press up against each other closer but also he wants this not to be happening at all, this is the worst timing and he’s so vulnerable and he’s got Sebastian’s spunk in his mouth. He can’t stop himself wrapping his arms around Dan and this is much too long a hug for public but they were never all that appropriate and he could be congratulating Daniel, after all. Dan’s hands are across his back, holding him close and soothing and he could forgive the Australian everything right now, every time he’s fucked Jean-Eric’s head up, all the years of occupying so much mental energy and the betrayal that he didn’t even care when it mattered. “Gotta go mate, see you later” - Dan pulls back, looking in his eyes while Jean-Eric tries not to smile in a way that involves his mouth opening. The Australian never reappears. He ends up drinking a few beers with Carlos - neither enough to anaesthetise himself nor so little he doesn’t feel a bit dizzy by the time he ends up in bed, staring at the ceiling for restless hours that are probably just jet lag. Of the heart. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Now Jean-Eric’s started sleeping with other people he doesn’t seem to be able to stop. He goes out for a perfectly innocent catch-up dinner with Loic Duval and somewhere halfway through the meal he realises he’s whining about Dan and Loic’s toes are rubbing against his ankle and he’s so absolutely certain he’s going to end up in Duval’s bed that Jev might as well have stripped off there and then and let him fuck him over the dessert. Instead they tumble into Jev’s flat, which actually is much worse than the risk anyone might even care who they are enough to comment on some public sodomy so long as they cleared the plates away first. This is not, in any way, about each other - they’re both missing other people and want comfort - and Jev almost laughs at the parallels; calm, serious Loic pining for furious, passionate Lucas and then there’s him, Monsieur Crise Existentielle, sad because Dan smiled at him genuinely. It’s not frantic - they end up blowing each other, curled around like a yin-yang and Loic’s mouth feels incredible, sucking him so deep he nearly feels like he could lose himself in Duval’s expert ministrations. He doesn’t even mind when Loic pulls his dick out of Jev’s mouth, rolls him backwards and tongues at Jean-Eric’s asshole until he’s whimpering and begging to get fucked. He does very vaguely object to being played open under Loic’s mouth and fingers until he comes on himself, hands clinging to the sheets and back arching ineffectually, pinned under the other driver. But it feels so great he doesn’t care and also, despite everything, he’s 25 - he can go again. And does, Loic’s dick hitting his prostate so expertly, forcing Jean-Eric into the mattress with his weight while he relentlessly works his cock until Jev is an oversensitised, overstimulated mess and just lies there trembling, face down on his sheets in the aftermath, physically and mentally pulled apart, like an intense race that ends in a satisfying podium. He nicks a few drags off Loic’s menthol cigarette - a habit Jev knows he picked up off the endurance lot. He thought about it, after F1 but everything about that Paddock feels too… something. Old school, maybe - he’d got a bit used to being the stuck-in-the-mud one with the caffeine edgelords, he’s not sure he actually knows how to behave. They end up wrapped in dressing gowns on the balcony - Jev not sure he wants to tell Loic he’s wearing his ex-girlfriend’s but the grey silk suits Duval and why the hell does Jean-Eric have that still lying around anyway. “So your Daniel - you will get him back?” Jean-Eric glares at him. Fucking hell, Loic - this was nice, purgative. But Duval looks insecure, as stirred up as Jev felt after he slept with Sam and so he gets up, “We need the brandy for this.” When he resettles, Loic lighting two cigarettes and passing one to him as he fills glasses he’s just been hit by the blinding revelation probably no 25-year-old who’s desperately in love with the kind of idiot who listens to Parkway Drive should own. The cut glass on the tumblers has a green tinge to it, which neither compliments the golden slickness of the brandy nor belongs in this century but it had reminded him of Dan - something a little marine about it, surf photos and sunshine. Jev realises he’s staring into a glass and ignoring what Loic is saying to him on the third repetition, “Hey, I said you know you’re still young, there will be others.” Loic looks kind. Everyone’s been looking way too kind, lately - maybe it’s why he’s being so deliberately foul to himself. He deal with self-care in the face of adversity but if everyone’s going to treat him like he’s soft he’ll fuck himself up just to show them all. He realises he’s frowning at Loic and possibly that’s not quite the right response because he would quite like to be held later and Loic’s current lack of clothing suggests that’s not off the cards. “It’s still… What’s even your problem with Lucas?” Loic shrugs, “I’m not meant to be in love with him, really.” Jean-Eric considers this for a minute, swilling brandy in the stupid sea-green glass. Maybe that’s his problem, too - Daniel’s altogether too easy to fall in love with, he’s not the first and won’t be the last and given that, he’s got a lot more from him than most. There’s been a cruel satisfaction in watching Dany succumb, knowing Dan’s never going to go there. Or at least, Jev hypocritically hopes he isn’t. “How come?” He can’t really imagine why, Loic and Lucas always seemed quite stable - grown up and equanimous whichever series they were in. Jev was a little jealous in a weird way - it’d be nice to have a crush on someone who cares that fucking much about the category he’s ended up in, even if Lucas is way too intellectual for him. He likes feeling like the smart one, sue him. “We’re just meant to be teammates, it’s good, it’s not meant to really mean much.” Loic’s shrug is so gallic Jean-Eric actually feels vaguely emasculated from his own nationality. “But it does?” He doesn’t know why he’s pushing. Loic doesn’t have to tell him anything. “Yeah, of course.” Loic exhales, stubs the cigarette out on the balcony railing and grins very brightly, a little aggressively at him, “You know this.” Jean-Eric swallows. He has to stop telling everyone he knows that he’s a heartbroken idiot. “Bed?” Loic stretches his long legs out, looks up into the night sky. “I should get off.” Jean-Eric doesn’t want to beg, braces himself for the fact he’s going to be miserable in sheets that smell like sex. Loic is in his thirties, he reasons - he doesn’t need Jev’s borderline-teenage bullshit, they were only meant to be having dinner - it isn’t Duval’s fault he’s incapable of keeping his legs closed. Loic pauses in the process of getting up, gives him a scrutinising look as though he’s weighing things in the back of his mind. When he finally stands, he downs his brandy before speaking, his tongue darting out to lick the burning sweetness off his top lip first. “I could stay - but I want to watch you make yourself come.” Jev feels a flush of something, under Loic’s gaze - they’ve always had a platonic relationship, up until now and this is something quite different, he’s not used to being desired this way. He thinks it’s probably Loic experimenting too - although he’s not really sure in what way. “Ok.” He feels kind of small and naive suddenly, takes Loic’s outstretched hand to help himself up and into his own frickin’ flat. Obviously he touches himself all the time - he’s even wanked in front of other people before, once straddling Dan’s lap and letting the Australian hold him, hands almost cradling Jev while he showed off, letting Dan know how much he fancied him. He doesn’t want to think of that right now, as Loic leads him back into his stupid, bohemian apartment and Jev tries not to suddenly feel massively self-conscious about how fucking performative he is. From the battered Houellebecq paperbacks alongside Senna biographies to his ridiculous solid oak bedframe - great for athletic fucking and the smell of warm wood sap on a hot day, useless for tying anyone up. He has a stupid minimalist coffee table with a photobook on it. He’d never actually consciously noticed how much he was turning himself into a parody-grade illustration, a cartoon of the driver just a little too intellectual to be truly successful, a security blanket made of vinyl jazz records. Loic pushes the dressing gown off him, “Kneel on the bed - the way the streetlight shines through the window makes you look beautiful.” Jev tries not to be too awkward or stumble on the mattress, looking down himself to see the stripes of the iron window casing of the door still open to the balcony cross his skin like a cage. Yellow light and deep shadows are making this all seem less real, a tiger-pattern of sleazy bravery falling across him as Loic settles in the wicker chair he got from an antiques shop in Nantes because of course he friggin did. The thought gives him an idea - he doesn’t want to think of Dan but he needs some kind of fantasy to distract himself into doing this. 2014, Hungary - he should’ve been celebrating with Dan but he just… couldn’t. They’d been on the rocks for awhile, Jean-Eric’s hopes fading and seeing Daniel take a race win was a little more than he could bear to love him through. Lewis, of all people, had come to congratulate him - a points finish, a good race, just nothing that could do anything to save him at this point. A podium - fuck, the top step, might not have made a difference, really. Hamilton had always been kind of friendly; fun, small, argumentative - on a losing streak of sorts himself most of the time Jean-Eric had been in F1. And the guy undoubtedly knew how to kind of resent someone you love - steering Jev away from the more emotionally complicated party as soon as seemed reasonable, earnestly embracing Jev and telling him with such absolute faith that Lewis knew he’d get through whatever was about to happen and come out on top. How getting dropped doesn’t mean it’s over, hands on Jev’s skinny waist and smile way too bright. He closes his eyes, traces his fingers along his own hip, threading through his pubes to his cock like he’s following a trail not doing something he’s done a million times. His fingers brush his dick and he’s being much more sensual than he normally would be, listening desperately for any reaction from Loic, while trying not to imagine he’s in the room at all, instead thinking of a gap between two motorhomes years ago. Lewis had wound up against him, one hand on the back of Jean-Eric’s neck and he’d been genuinely shocked because what the fuck but Hamilton looked genuine, had taken off the ever-present sunglasses and hooked them into his t-shirt to gaze up at Jev. He’d thought for a minute they’d fuck, that Lewis would bend him over something and call him Nico or something. Instead Hamilton had quietly put his head against Jean-Eric’s shoulder and he’d realised he should move his hands, scoop Lewis up in his arms like a girlfriend. Their bodies had been warm and close against each other, the Hungarian air dropping chill after dark. Jev could feel his own pulse pound unreasonably across his collarbone, throat feeling slightly too tight as Lewis draped himself on him. Technically, nothing had happened - he’d felt like Hamilton was giving him the choice; they could embrace like racers with respect for each other or they could take things a little further than that. There’d been a few breathless minutes, trying not to move too much or startle the man out of his arms - Lewis fitting so comfortably against him as he felt their bodies almost meld, sharing breathing and pulse and heat. It had startled him so much everything had been more sensual, the line of Hamilton’s jeans against his hips a sharp dig, the feel of their thighs almost tangling and his stomach against Lewis’, their hands on each other. Lewis’ arm, flung round his shoulder, had felt like an anchor and Jev wasn’t sure if he was the port or the storm but Hamilton had been tracing his fingers through the hair at the back of Jean-Eric’s neck, light enough to make him shudder. In the present, his hand stutters on his cock, remembering how hesitant he’d been and how achingly hard. He hears Loic’s breath catch, “Go on.” Opening his eyes for a second he can see that Loic isn’t touching himself, is lying sprawled in the chair with his hands on the arms, as though to remind himself not to even palm his own dick. It’s elegant - the room is in a sort of shadowy twilight and every beautiful angle of Loic’s face is emphasised, his lips a dark stain of shadow across the pout. It makes Jean-Eric look down at himself again, at the way the knuckles of his hand are illuminated, the glint of light off the precome at the head of his dick, the dark stripes of shadow across his thighs. Loic licks his lips when Jev looks up again and he has to look away - Dan used to look at him with heat sometimes, of course and sometimes like he loved him, soft and open and adoring but he’s never really had anyone look at him quite like this, as though he’s a work of art. He closes his eyes again, sinks back into the memory. Lewis had pressed a little closer, like he’d been just making sure Jev knew what he was offering and Jean-Eric was just relieved his hands didn’t tremble, trailing fingers down Lewis’ spine. Lewis had shivered and turned his face up and for a few tantalising seconds Jean-Eric had thought he was brave enough to do it, to take this, to give up on salvaging him and Daniel and aim for something bigger and more terrifying. Instead it was a moment missed, Lewis stepping back a few seconds later - they’d just chatted in the hotel bar until it was so late the rest of the party joined them and Daniel had been so brimming with victory that Jev hadn’t been able to resist falling into bed with him, as though he was the actual reason for the joyful kisses being showered across him. He moves his hand again - this is the point in the memory that’s familiar, pushing his hips up into his own grip because he’d rolled around with Dan, made love and let Daniel fall asleep on him, then waited just long enough to pad off to the bathroom. Leaning against the cool tiles, eyes closed and trying not to hiss where the glass of the mirror chilled his shoulders he’d made himself come over what could have been. That kind of wank calls for the full self-pleasure, touching yourself in ways you never normally would - he raises a hand to trace the back of his neck, in imitation of Lewis’ fingers years ago. It makes him shiver as he trails the fingertips down over his own collarbone, feeling the pulse across his throat and drawing them down his stomach the way he imagines Lewis would have touched him, intense and considered and not-quite-teasing. When he reaches his dick he dips lower, letting his other hand carry on jerking himself while his fingers trace over the sensitive skin of his balls, gasping at the feeling. He knows it would have been sensual, wouldn’t have even minded Lewis getting his fingers in his hair, knowing he would have been gentle with Jev in a way his lovers haven’t always been. He enjoys a little kink, of course but he hates it when people do things he doesn’t expect, can’t react to. The sex would have been put together like a perfect lap, every sense alive with it and working in synchrony. He whines - a little bit for Loic as much as himself - as he adds a twist to the way he’s stroking himself. Lewis would’ve fucked him like an engine he was coaxing the most out of - or maybe he would’ve fucked Lewis, a thought that makes him moan and speed up his hand, grabbing at his own thigh with blunt fingernails for more sensation. He never could have told Dan, except in the heat of a furious row when they were both trying to hurt each other and the white-hot spike of jealousy would have been too sweet, too tempting to resist. He arches his back, imagining Lewis underneath him, squeezing tight like he imagines he’d feel around Jev’s dick - fuck, fuck, he should’ve just gone for it, licked salty hickeys into Hamilton’s collarbone for Rosberg to furiously uncover days later, light shadows on the dark caramel of his skin. He nearly falls backwards, collapsing into a sitting kneel as he gets close, too close to not curl in on himself slightly, hair flopping sweatily across his face and it’s the idea of Lewis looking up at him, pushing it back from his forehead that finally tips him over, breathing like the roar of an engine in his ears. He whines again, working himself through it more than he normally would because fuck he just wanked off to Hamilton in front of Loic and is this actually what he’s doing, now? The bed dips in front of him and he opens his eyes to Loic cradling his face, drawing him in for a kiss, “My god, you’re beautiful.” He can’t help blushing - Loic looks like a model for fuck’s sake. And he’s still panting a little, breathless not from exertion but the thrill of what he just did to himself. Loic draws him down, lays him out beneath him and for a second Jean-Eric thinks he’ll fuck him again, feels debauchedly aroused at the idea but Loic just tucks against him, drawing the sheet over them and spooning him loosely. Jev can feel himself starting to drift - the meal and sex and brandy all hitting him amidst the deep comfort of cool air over the sheet, drying the sweat soaking his fringe and the reassuring heat of Loic’s body against his back. Loic is bigger, more muscled, stronger-feeling than most people he’s been in bed with and he’s not too proud to say it isn’t extremely pleasant, as his eyelashes fall down to his cheeks and he hopes he looks half as pretty as Duval seems to think he is. He’s just falling into a deeply comfortable sleep when Loic whispers “You weren’t thinking of Daniel, were you?” Jev doesn’t dream that night. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Loic gives completely incredible back rubs. It feels like the sort of important information he should save for use at a future time, as though he’s been on some justifiable reconnaissance mission not slutting it up. Skilled thumbs working away tension knots he didn’t even know he’d been holding in his shoulders, hadn’t realised that one bit of his neck was tight again Long Beach comes and goes largely without incident, except the bullshit that he’s started getting serious fed up by. Loic is as blandly friendly as he usually is in the Paddock, no hint of what happened or - as Jean-Eric’s more paranoid 3am ceiling-staring sessions feared - that he’s been telling everyone what Jev looks like when he’s jerking himself off. He’s feeling a little insecure and hungry for company still but your teammate on pole when you’re having a shocker is no one’s favourite option, no matter how nice Sam is. America is weird, anyway. Long Beach is no place to be in a not-exactly-deflated-but-empty mood; it’s too vapid and wafty to be carrying about a void in yourself without the sense things might be seeping into it like a lingering perfume. He’s looking forward to Paris - and frankly, next year, something just not sitting right like his skin’s the wrong size and how on earth has he ended up in another car that mandates borderline-starvation? He’s bored, possibly. Which is how he ends up texting Daniel, having decided he’s being childish about things at some point on the flight. It’s innocent - “ Good luck, have fun x” - he means it, he hopes Daniel does well. He drops virtually the same message to Lewis, a little out of the blue but, well, Jean-Eric has been thinking of him, albeit in ways he’s not likely to divulge any decade soon. They get dragged to the beach for some filming, which is actually fun and he forgets to feel strangely out of sorts for a bit, with the wind in his hair and ridiculously beautiful people all over the place because it’s silly but Sam makes everything feel less ridiculous and it’s not like he hasn’t had to do far stupider things for Red Bull. They stop for coffee after and he tries to ignore the earnestly worried looks Sam keeps giving him or the rather fond hand-rub when his teammate hands him his espresso. He’s fine. Daniel doesn’t text him back until the Sunday. Lewis replied almost instantly with ‘ thanks man, you too. God bless. L x’  - not a surprise really, Hamilton can’t possibly have that big an entourage by being in the habit of ignoring people. Or maybe he has someone to do his WhatsApp for him these days and they felt like being nice to Jev. Daniel’s text is weirder, in that he feels like it ought to bother him. He’s sulking in the sun having an extended breakfast after a fairly shitty Saturday when he gets it - can’t work out where the time difference puts Dan at or if there was a lag on it sending. “ Hey dude, how you doing? Everything here is as shit as always lol. Weird fucking life.” Is… a non-sequitur. Daniel probably forgot Jean-Eric was racing this weekend, in the middle of it all. Which he kind of really cares about and doesn’t - it’s a horrible confirmation of everything he feared and also maybe a break. He can drag his own heartbreak along in the tow of Daniel’s turbo-charged ignorance. He ends up, via some sponsor and promotion faffing, talking to an entirely different Daniel in a bar. He really needs to stop doing this but also why not, really? Abt is cute and maybe exactly the kind of uncomplicated stupidity he can confirm he doesn’t really want in his life. “I just think - in five years - this is going to be so huge, you know? Like anyone who wasn’t here, now, is going to look like such an idiot. I’m really fucking looking forward to it,” Abt smiles toothily, “Gonna be fucking satisfying watching them eat it.” Jev can’t really entirely be bothered with this conversation because it’s too warm and he’s not sure he’s as certain as Daniel about the imminency of anyone in F1 begging to suck his dick, as appealing as the thought is. “I don’t know if they’d ever admit it, it’s not what they do.” Daniel snorts, “Dude they won’t be admitting it, they’ll be being run over by it. They’ll be being dragged through the streets on it,” the grin has turned feral, “It’s gonna be sweet as.’ Jean-Eric feels some kind of yawning demographic gap across the early 90s. But maybe this will be good for him, the shock of the new and all. “How long are you in California?” “Oh, fuck knows, my phone tells me when I need to get the plane pretty much, you know? I gave up trying to follow it years ago. Thank fuck for mobile boarding passes, honestly. But I think, like, Tuesday? How long are you here? You working on that surf look you’ve got going on?” Daniel talks without pausing for a breath, excitable and punctuated more with hand gestures than linguistically recognised inflection. Jean-Eric tries to rearrange his face into the smile that he knows people find inviting, the slight softening of his features that Dan always looked most in love with. “A little longer, yes.” He sips his drink, Daniel having apparently briefly run out of things to talk fast about, staring out across the water for a pregnant second of noise from the bar and of a moth meeting a fluttering, acrid demise on one of the lamps. Jev decides to stop pretending what they’re doing. “Would you like to come back to mine?” He tries to make his voice huskier than the beer he’s sipping really wants to let it be. Daniel looks at him quite bright-eyed, “Oh yeah man, you hosting the after-party? Never seen you go out before, let’s do it sure yeah.” Jev smiles again, knowing it’s the slightly roguish one that he considers his ‘move’ - “Not everyone - just you.” Daniel looks confused for a moment, like he’s trying to work out how a party of two people would happen and struggling with the mathematics. Then his eyes go very wide for a second and he laughs, giggling, “Oh - oh - oh no dude, I’m not into guys but like thank you for the offer.” Jean-Eric feels his insides churn like they are trying to escape - fuck, he was so certain of that one. He’s much more cautious than he’s been behaving but so many people had known about himself and his Daniel, in the end, that so long as someone came to him then the risk wasn’t there. But it’s still this world and this bullshit and fuck, Abt looks like he’s fucked everyone from GP3 to Endurance and back again, for god’s sake. “It’s weird isn’t it? Everyone seems to think I do. I don’t mind it, it’s just not what I’m into - like, I know Lucas is hot for a dude because fucking hell my last girlfriend would not stop mentioning it but he kissed me and I was just like ‘wow, Lucas’ has a really warm tongue’ which is kind of a weird thing but he really does.” Daniel smiles brightly again, downs his drink. “Oh man, maybe we should get you and him together, you’ve got the floppy-haired, angry-about-Formula-1 thing going on.” Jean-Eric can’t resist a laugh at that, through the panic that hadn’t totally subsided under the current of Daniel’s babble. “You do have a nice arse.” Daniel helpfully pinches it as he brushes past Jean-Eric, making him nearly drop his drink in surprise at the sharp physical contact while he's having a (mild, for his scale but nonetheless) mental health crisis. Daniel pauses on his journey to the bar, still somewhat too close to Jean-Eric, “Oh we should totally set you up with Mitch! Evans, we were in GP3 - he's tiny it would look so cute cus you're like, a million feet tall.” Abt’s grin is so delighted with himself for having this thought that Jean-Eric is beginning to realise he may have made a mistake here only in the sense that he was hoping for a sleazy blow job not a personal matchmaking service. But also it's weirdly pleasant to have someone kind of care about him even in this limited, intrusive way so he can't bring himself to make the German  stop. He think he remembers who Evans is, from the Red Bull days - another antipodean might be a step too far currently and if he wants short he's fairly sure he could convince Sam into bed again. Still, it'd probably freak Daniel out, so not worth writing off entirely. He wanders off through the thinning crowd, nodding at current and former team staff and husbands, wives, nieces and nephews, girlfriends and extremely good male friends who share hotel rooms on the team bookings. It’s a weird world - flopping down into a chair he lets go of the brief anxiety-flare from earlier - Daniel won’t say shit and even if he did, no fucker really cares around here. As if to demonstrate his point, Ant and Robin are on one of the loungers, Robin half sprawled on Ant and they could almost be playing, just being physical with each other as part of a rivalry. But Robin’s fingers are under the hem of Ant’s shirt, his head tucked into the crook of Ant’s neck and Ant is holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, tipsy and reverent in the way he’s stroking an unsteady hand down the Dutchman’s spine. They’re the even worse kept Red Bull Junior Team secret, just never quite made it to anywhere prominent enough for anyone to really care. And, to be fair, there is something very wholesome about the way Ant presses his nose into Robin’s hair, smile half-hidden by brown fuzz, that he feels himself and Daniel perhaps never projected. Flopping back into the plush cushioning of the bench he’s on, he digs his phone out and tries not to screw up the autocorrect too badly, not bothering to switch to an English keyboard. “Hey, race sucked. Watching Ant and Robin cuddling and trying not to miss you as much as I do. Hope the engine sucked less.” He hits send still holding his breath and throws the phone down on the couch. He shouldn’t be staring at Frijns and Da Costa but it’s irresistible, watching Robin shift to put his hands on Ant’s hipbones, pinning him as Ant’s hands come up to Robin’s face and guide their mouths together, hot and intimate. He can’t see Robin’s face but Ant is smiling into the kiss, blissfully entranced. He doesn’t feel sad, exactly but definitely introspective - lost in his own thoughts as he sees them turn it into playfighting, Ant rolling over Robin and making them both fall off the lounger in a tangle of mock-outraged limbs. Safely hidden behind the seat, he has absolutely no doubt they’re engaged in some fairly heavy petting - Robin’s hands had been roaming the waistline of Ant’s jeans with serious intent. Jean-Eric isn’t jealous - he’s sure they have their own problems and in any case, he’s had bigger chances than either of them. He can’t really imagine them having sex, so much as just cuddling each other but then maybe he just shouldn’t be thinking about that, he’s sure people thought the same thing about him and Daniel when they were dorky teenagers. But god, they really did used to fuck a lot. The delight of discovering the person you’re trying to convince to have the most possible sex with you is trying to convince you of the same thing is a beautiful and precious time, even if neither of them was that good at getting each other off for awhile. The first time Daniel had been inside him had been awkward as hell and to be honest, the second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth times hadn’t gone that much better but there’d been an intimacy to working it out together, to seeing the very first play of the new sensations across each other’s faces. Daniel was an enthusiastically straightforward lover, with absolutely no regard for grooming situations or cleanliness - it’d led to a few incidents of removing Jean-Eric’s pubes from his braces before Jev realised he should probably just trim. But then Jev hadn’t really got the hang of his gag reflex for ages so he was fairly grateful that Daniel never seemed perturbed by him just having had to run to the bathroom and wonder if he was going to be sick for a few minutes. The thing was, getting all their stumbling first attempts out of the way with each other meant they could be so much less self-conscious, so much filthier with each other. Would Jean-Eric lick his own come out of anyone else’s arse? Probably not, not least because there has to be a fairly minimum standard of of trust involved for that on any number of levels but also he wouldn’t even dare. But making Daniel squirm and beg and finally letting him come with Jev’s tongue up his arse, open and desperate, was one of his favourite sex things ever. Maybe right up there with when Dan had picked him up, 2014-skinny and sad, pushed him against the railing of the balcony in Bahrain and made love to Jean-Eric in the dry heat of the desert night air, halfway hanging over the precipiece of the railing so he was forced to cling to Daniel to stop himself falling and to trust that he’d support him. He’d been well past caring if anyone found out by then, recklessness beyond gone but this was dangerous and fuck but isn’t that what they both love? Between thrust and counter-thrust and sweaty hands slipping on Daniel’s shoulders and his back and the constant feeling that he might fall, that his legs might slip from around Daniel’s waist and then it’d be eight floors to an undignified, naked, broken end he’d felt literally insane with it, like Daniel was a madness he had to anchor to himself. Love like vertigo had always seemed a cliche’d metaphor - love had been more like teamwork, like endless logistics and discovery, like the one solid thing in a life surrounded by furiously moving parts. Maybe because it had always felt like building something with Daniel and this was the tipping point of also being able to tear it down, the fact that they could be a finite road suddenly true in a way they’d never entertained. Daniel’s French had always been shit but he’d whispered “Je t’aime” and “ je t’adore” and “ je te veux toujours ” every time Jean-Eric’s fingers slipped and he clung more desperately, trying to sob English back as their bodies slid together and he had to trust they wouldn’t fall apart. When his orgasm had hit, vulnerability tearing down every shred of sensory inhibition he’d ever had, he’d thought he might pass out - panicked for a second that Daniel would come as well and drop him over the edge, the fear somehow heightening rather than dimming the pleasure. He’d come back to himself with his head against Daniel’s chest, the Australian still hard inside him and Daniel had just clutched them together, carried Jean-Eric back inside, finished with him laid out on the bed, Daniel kissing him in a way that made him feel dazed, like the confused seconds after a shunt. He’d never felt more certain - Daniel loved him, without a single question, his own emotional skittishness about it utterly drowned out. Lying on the bed after, lazily kissing and holding each other, he’d been thinking about coming out - about the idea he could kiss Daniel on the podium, of a beautiful private ceremony and no matter what happened, always this. They’d settled against each other, Jean-Eric blissed out and feeling secure, sure, about this one thing. Daniel had spooned up against him, curled against Jean-Eric’s side with one arm splayed across his chest, sweaty curls leaning against his neck. He remembers this bit in vivid detail because it had been one of the happiest moments of his life, this stupid boy he loves in his arms and them both soaked in the effort that had gone into fucking each others brains out, Daniel’s dark skin shining with sweat when he flexed the muscles of his arm, stretching. He’d giggled slightly, nose nudging against Jean-Eric’s neck and snorted, “Fuck man, you’re heavier than Jemma.” Even thinking about it made him feel the lurch, as though he had dropped from that railing. He sips at his beer and lets a wave of sadness wash over him, not really over Daniel as much as how much of a state he’d been in by that point - he’d just nodded and pulled Daniel closer, let him press kisses against Jean-Eric’s neck and fall asleep gently, sated and content that he’d blown Jean-Eric’s mind with a move he’d learnt. Jev had waited a few days to send the “ we need to talk” text and after that it was just a series of irrevocable events to get to an actual breakup. To lying in his hotel room on his own for far too much of the rest of the season, furious at himself for not at least being able to just stick it out until the end, to not make this more miserable than it has to be. Which was how he’d ended up furiously screwing his teenage teammate one night, his own annoyance at the situation only enhanced by the fact Dany clearly had no intention of staying, resisting Jean-Eric’s attempt at cuddling afterwards and scuttling off to his own room, visibly plagued about something much more worrying than anything Jev might do. He’d felt bad about it for weeks, for himself and for Daniil when they’d all been at some sponsor thing and he’d seen the Russian looking slightly haunted around Carlos. Still, that was all in the past now. And he’s suddenly got a dehydration headache, the buzz from the beer building unpleasantly between his eyes, making him pinch the bridge of his nose and blink a few times like he’s almost about to cry. “Same.” Sam sits down next to him, looking tired and upset but friendly. Jev decides not to ask what it is, having caught Bruno at the bar with a tall blonde woman out of the corner of his eye and put several things together when he’d seen Sam with an uncharacteristic glass of bourbon, earlier. Not that Sam was much for heartbreak so maybe he was just annoyed and looking to blow off, frustrated that wouldn’t involve any actual blowing. Jev moves up, gives his teammate more space and Sam takes the opportunity to lean into him, not exactly snuggling so much as barging his way up against Jev’s chest. “Right, well, let’s just forget this one eh?” Jean-Eric isn’t sure if he means the manly hugging thing or the weekend. “Oh also, what’s all this shit about you leaving? It’s not been that awkward, we can always have a cuddle if it’d make you feel better.” Jev snorts, “It’s not you, it’s-” “Jean-Eric Vergne, if you say ‘it’s me’ I will drag you to the nearest fuckin’ Hot Topic by your Moncler fuckin’ scarf and I will dress you as the emo teenager you are.” Sam pokes him in the chest to emphasise that this is a real and present threat. He gets the feeling Sam is taking care of him and like Abt earlier, he doesn’t mind. Sam takes care of everyone and he kind of needs it, right now. Sam kind of shoves him with his shoulder, “I was hoping you’d stay. Ah well.” Jean-Eric feels moved to put his arm around Sam a little, tug him closer. The night air is starting to cool and he’s feeling wistful - it would’ve been nice to want to stay, too. Sam’s a good teammate and he likes the team, in theory, it’s just… everything. “Oh god, I can’t look at that, that’s too cute.” Sam nods towards the terrace, where a visibly ruffled Ant is leading Robin onto the decking and pointing up at something in the night sky. Jev’s heart suddenly aches very badly, for so many things. He pulls Sam closer again and is only a little bit surprised when the smaller man climbs onto his lap, straddles him for a hug where they both lean against each other, no intent more than support for a few moments. He realises he’s not that far off crying and tries to will away the sting across his cheekbones that says there’s an imminent risk of making an idiot of himself. Sam is warm and nice to hold, though, humming tunelessly against his neck. He lets his eyes roam over scruffy blonde hair and feels small and stupid that he couldn’t have been smart enough to fall in love with someone like his current teammate, instead of throwing it all away on the inevitable heartbreak of the F1 machine. Sam sits back eventually, so they can finish their drinks but he doesn’t get off Jev’s lap until the bar throws them out, Jean-Eric feeling like a prom date when he puts his arm round Sam as they walk past Bruno to leave. He's lying alone in bed before he realises he must have left his phone on the lounger, rolling over habitually to plug it in when he notices he doesn’t have it. The bar don’t, either, the next day and he decides to use it as an excuse for an upgrade he’d been trying to tell himself he didn’t need. It isn’t until he’s on the plane and is halfway through enjoying fiddling with all the settings and trying to get the stupid iCloud to sync on the dodgy in-flight WiFi when he realises his text messages haven’t carried over and he has no idea if Daniel ever replied. He distracts himself from the anxiety with the discovery his luggage hasn’t come with him and he has more immediate pants-related problems than whether his ex-boyfriend is still interested in getting in them. Besides, it’s his home race and over a month until he sees Daniel again and he’s got plenty of shit to be getting on with. Paris is special - the team’s second home, his country and it’s just enough motivation to stop himself thinking of everything else first. He spends a week in the gym, in the simulator, in getting his head down instead of giving it. Losing his phone feels like a weirdly freeing experience, distractions and conversations neatly interrupted without feeling any pressure to restart them. He’s not renewing the Ferrari contract. If he was offered it, which he’s not going to be but this way he’s made the decision himself anyway. He’s done with pathetically hanging around in exchange for a few days of playing a computer game with a car he’s never going to drive and red makes his skin look blotchy. Decision made and podium achieved, he proceeds to get very, very drunk on excellent champagne. Daniel would hate it. And probably that Jean-Eric has given up on F1 but he feels so good, so freed and the fizz is a rush of victory on his tongue. “You are so cute when you're drunk,” Simona is laughing fondly at him, glowing with alcohol herself and clearly a bit giggly. “This is only getting started, I intend to drink a lot more of this.” He gestures at her with his glass and she moves closer to clink their drinks together. “Sante.” “It is very good, I don't always bother with this but it's rude not to go to a champagne party.” He's pleased to have an accomplice suddenly - Simona is perfectly wicked and looks in the mood to cause (mild, non-sponsor-offending) chaos. “Robin and Ant have already fucked off to screw, unbelievable. It's like I've got some superpower for turning my teammates gay.” Jean-Eric looks at her for a moment because that sounds like an invitation and he knows he's not the worst looking driver but he'd always assumed Simona wasn't all that interested in men. She's smiling at him, though, slightly flushed and there's a kind of plea not to embarrass her in her expression. It's been awhile since he had sex with a woman, although his exes bar Daniel all were. And Simona has something of a Daniel-esque appeal, blunt and funny. “We need to see how much more we can drink before we leave - also the olive things, they are delicious.” He feels a little nervous suddenly, running his fingertips very lightly down her arm as a sort of test that he's got the right idea. “You better still be able to get it up when you're drunk.” She's laughing as she steps forward into his arms, one hand tapping at his chest in a warning and it's so direct he can't suppress an ugly snort of laughter that makes her smirk. “For the record, yes.” He bends down to murmur it into her ear and is pleased at the way it makes her shiver. “This is because we're in Paris and I haven't had sex for months, by the way, not because I'm secretly in love with you.” Simona looks competitive, as though this is going to be a gloriously filthy, basic hookup and he's suddenly really into the idea of seeing how many times he can make her come. “That honour is for Nick, no?” She rolls her eyes elaborately and presses a little closer, reaches round to grope his arse and push them together. “I'll be honest, you just look like you can probably give head and Sebastian is busy.” He's confused for a moment, recent oral encounters with another Sebastian too close to the front of his mind, before he realises Simona means Buemi, which is an interesting thought that makes him a little strangely jealous. Well, he's handsome enough and yes he can give head actually so he bends down to brush his lips over her jawline and murmur “I am going to lick you until you come so hard you scream,” ending with a quick kiss. “But first, more champagne.” “Oh, this was an excellent idea - you get the drinks, I'm going to take my bra off.” She touches his jaw and leans upward to kiss him, their noses rubbing as their lips move against each other. There's a trace of gloss on her lips and she tastes of sweet, cold champagne - the first person he's kissed in quite some time who hasn't had stubble, some fresh perfume wafting lightly off her hair. By the time she pulls back he's entirely forgotten what she just said and is embarrassed to realise he's got his hands on her hips, almost possessively pulling her to him. Simona doesn't do this - they all knew she was off limits and he's been as consciously trying not to fancy her as he does with the straight guys but looking down at her now, he's a little unsteady. Right, yes, she said go to the bar. And something else? Jean-Eric decides he must have misheard that last bit when his head clears enough to get a bottle uncorked. He's pleased - and just a very little overwhelmed because he's been doing quite well lately but this is quite a power hookup and he doesn't want to seem like a fumbling teenage boy - to discover she wasn't joking, her plain black dress outlining taut nipples. He's French, give him a break, the provencale look is hot - he's slightly hoping she has armpit hair. She immediately pushes him into a booth and he's slightly relieved to realise he doesn't need to drive this. Two of the media team are at the other side of the small table and Simona immediately starts chatting with them while stroking her fingers up his leg. It escalates, every drink a new level of them touching each other. He feels like he's won when he manages to get his hand up her dress and stroke his fingertips against her - surprisingly, lacy - underwear but she immediately responds with a hand down the back of his jeans and a finger playing down his crack. Fuck, yes. Eventually he can't take it, with her sitting on his lap and tweaking the almost painfully hard nubs of his nipples through his shirt “I want to take you home.” She gives him a mocking look “One more glass of champagne and then I'm doing anything to you.” He's about to complain that that's not how the phrase goes but he also suspects that is indeed how it's going to work. By the time they fall into a taxi she's got his shirt halfway off, neckline torn and looks delighted by how disarrayed his hair is. And he's rucked her dress so badly he can get his hands over the perfect, hard curve of her thighs, tanned and smoothly gorgeous and he wants to lick. They make out like teenagers on the back seat of the car and the hotel elevator, hands everywhere on each other. He has to take a slightly steadying breath while she opens the room door and he tries to resist the urge to rub his cock against her arse through their clothes. “Please tell me that was not a lie about you giving head.” she's pulling her dress off already and he takes a moment to appreciate how fucking hot Simona is, a fantasy of taut muscle and the curves of womanhood. “I will tell you between your legs,” he pushes her gently, eagerly to get her to sit on the bed so he can kneel in front of her and go straight to teasing his tongue along the seam of her underwear, getting a delighted gasp in response. He wants to eat her so badly he's salivating, mouth as wet as he hopes he's about to get her. Jean-Eric knows he's good at giving head - it's one of the elements of sex that rewards a slightly thoughtful approach, a steady teasing to work out what someone wants, how much pressure and stimulation they need, which gear it's best to take that corner in. He’s not 100% sure he's not going to suck at any actual fucking - it's been really quite a while since he tried to make a woman come with his dick but his mouth he's much more certain with. He licks everywhere he can reach without taking her knickers off, musky scent and the slight taste of salt to her skin immersing him completely as his tongue traces patterns so nearly where she wants it. He can't stop a wave of smugness within the arousal when she arches her back slightly and reaches down to shove her own pants aside when he kisses over her clit through them. “Oh fuck, you are good,” He dips his tongue between her wet folds and licks a stripe all the way along, teasing upwards to her clit, the taste as addictive as the champagne. He doesn't think he's going to make her tremble - he's not idiot enough to think he can do what a corner at 300 kilometres an hour doesn't - but it's very satisfying when she spreads her legs more, wriggling against him for a better angle. “Better than Buemi?” he can't resist asking, lapping his tongue broadly over her as punctuation. “Mmm, we'll see” and he knows she's playing him but well, challenge accepted. He sucks on her clit as he plays fingers through her folds, deliberately licking wetly because lubrication is a wonderful thing and he loves when girls get completely soaked. His nose is pressing into the soft hair that trails down to her pussy and it’s not that sucking cock isn’t fun but this is the best. “Stop fucking around and finger me,” Simona sounds pleased, giggly and he smiles against her, pushes one finger into her soaking cunt and has to palm himself through his pants because fuck yes he wants to be inside her, to feel tight wet heat around his dick and try to make her come. Which he ought to do now, really, crooking his finger to rub upwards and make her gasp as he carries on licking her clit, juices heavy on his tongue. He'd missed this, fucking women, what with all the gay angst but he's pretty sure he'd happily do this again as he feels her clench and flutter around his finger and his mouth is flooded as her thighs tense. “Oh god, yes.” She flops back for a minute before propping herself on her elbows to look down at him, “Get naked.” He scrambles to get his shirt off, kicking off his shoes while she lazily strips off the last of her soaked underwear. “God, you're really fit.” He’s so pleased she didn't say “pretty” or “fey, angsty fucker” he blushes while he's taking his jeans off. He crawls over her up the bed to kiss her, sharing her own taste and she licks into his mouth like she's hungry for him. He's slightly surprised when Simona flips him onto his back but also she'd probably be the top of any list of “drivers he definitely couldn't take in a fight” so he tries to not panic when she pins him down. “Oh shit, condom.” she looks down at him regretfully, pinning his wrists above his head and for a second he thinks it's game over because his are in his own hotel but she just grinds against him slightly and hops up. “One second.” She returns from the bathroom with the correct foil packet and he's profoundly relieved because otherwise he'd probably have to make himself come by humping the carpet or something before he left, dick achingly hard. Simona looks incredible above him, strong thighs framing his hips, feet tucked beneath his legs to get her better leverage when she rolls the condom on and sinks down on him. Jev’s moan is broken - he's so desperate for more he doesn't know how to articulate it, drags her down to a kiss where he can feel her smiling wickedly at how much of a mess he is already. Every shift of her hips feels incredible and he wants to fuck her until she comes, thrusting up in a way that makes her moan and pant and murmur encouragement to him. Simona's body is pressed flush against his, her breasts rubbing over his chest and her hair fallen like a curtain around his face, silky and sensual where it brushes over his skin. He can't resist palming her arse, rubbing his hands over her and feeling every perfect line. She feels as athletic as Sam against him, as lithe and small, powerful - and as keen to make it fun, their kisses more a play fight. When she reaches back to rub his balls he retaliates by giving into the temptation to palm her tits like he's 15 and just discovered them, makes her laugh breathlessly into his mouth while he’s teasing sensitive skin, wishing he’d had a chance to suck and lick at her pert nipples. Maybe it's that he hasn't had sex with a woman for so long or that she's so strong, battling him for control of it in a fight to see who can make the other pant the most but he's really into it. “God, fuck, you're incredible.” Simona surprises him by looking pleased by the compliment, blushing slightly and grinding down on him hard - but then confidence can be faked as a self-protection method and he hopes he doesn't have the sort of reputation that wouldn't let her trust him but men in general definitely do. Jev pulls her down for a kiss again, tries to show his appreciation of how good it feels being under and inside her. Jev’s caught between chasing his own pleasure in tight wetness and wanting to draw more whines out of her, make Simona claw at his shoulders and ride him harder, biting his lips. He trails a hand down her, pinching at her nipples and stroking the sensitive skin over her abs to rub his fingers over her drenched pubes to her clit, trying to push her over the edge before he falls. She gasps “yes” and also some garbled French and German and he smirks into her mouth, pushes his fingers deeper to where they’re joined as he palms upwards at her for the friction she needs. Touching his own dick where they’re sliding together is so hot he can’t hold back anymore, moves his hips more forcefully and for a few hard thrusts it's a perfect, brutal rhythm before she clenches, he feels his balls twinge and everything is just incredibly good for thirty seconds or so. He nuzzles her hair, feeling slightly vulnerable and hoping he did a decent job, trying to stop Simona getting off him while he feels a few final curls of pleasure, shuddering a little and wetly playing his fingertips over her clit to draw it out for her. Simona kisses him again - which is nice, people haven't been kissing him much - and then pulls back to look at him, her hands against his cheekbones. For a second he thinks she's going to tell him he's pretty, which he might not even mind right now but instead she shifts off his dick, strokes his cheek fondly and says “I'm going to sit on your face” and Buemi can get fucked he is totally winning this. Jean-Eric falls asleep against her, tipsy and exhausted, with her arm around him. Of course it's stupid to feel better admitting sex makes him a little needy with a woman but he can barely handle dealing with the contents of his own head let alone thousands of years of heteronormativity. Simona is warm and doesn’t seem to mind him cuddling, shifting sleepily into a spooning position so he can curl around her and bury his face in her hair, breathing her in as he slips into a deep, dreamless sleep. She's in the shower already when he wakes, which is a shame as he'd been slightly hoping for another round, morning erection pressed against the mattress where she'd been. He feels somewhat fuzzy but the wonderful thing about champagne is avoiding the cheap booze headache, rubbing his face on the sheets to shamelessly breathe in the smell of Simona quite enough to placate his hangover. He's not sure if he ought to leave while she's in the bathroom - Simona had been quite clear about this being a hookup of convenience not something she had any interest in pursuing but he wants to be as emphatic that he respects that, respects her. He knows what it's like being marginalised, to some extent and he doesn't want her to be worried about what he'll say, spends fifteen minutes angsting about what the right thing to do is before she re-emerges and the choice is taken away from him, still sprawling naked in the bed. Simona looks beautiful, fresh out the shower with dripping hair, wrapped in the hotel towel as she bends down to kiss him chastely. “It's a great shower, I highly recommend it.” She’s right, it is - and when he catches her quite shamelessly watching him while drying her hair he feels nothing but satisfaction at a job clearly well done. This feels less weird and sleazy than a normal one night stand, his usual insecurities buried beneath just feeling really good about having had great sex. He ends up borrowing a t-shirt from her when he sees the state of his from the night before - there's the walk of shame and looking like you're in a 90s boyband video. He’s quietly pleased to have an excuse to talk to her again once he’s washed it - Jev is good at hookups, slightly less good at conversing with his peers like a normal person and he doesn’t want this to be awkward. Simona stops him for a kiss in the doorway, looking slightly devious, “Robin’s mind is going to blow when he finds out you're not gay.” He’s stunned for a minute - he'd assumed he must never tell anyone under pain of death and he thinks that's probably still the case but Simona can own her own reputation. He's smiling genuinely when he says “Oh yes, only half” with a semi-apologetic shrug. She gives him a shrewd look, “Well, with that tongue if you ever find a boy who wants to play I could be into it.” He has a weird burst of thinking how his life would be so much easier if he married Simona and woke up every day to her hair tickling his nose and the smell of her shampoo and maybe having filthy sex, like, all the time. Jean-Eric suspects it wouldn't do anything for her life having some needy 25 year old rubbing his dick on her when she's trying to sleep, though, so decides to repress the urge to ask her to come for breakfast with him. Jev ends up room servicing himself on the balcony of his own room, looking out across Paris and feeling very calm about things. He almost decides to ruin it for himself by texting Daniel but manages to control the urge - it’s still another race before he has to see him - and he does have to see him in Monaco, it’s not like there’s anywhere in the Principality to hide. Besides, everything at Red Bull seems even less well than usual and he has no idea whether to text Daniil commiserations or possibly call Daniel and ends up doing nothing because he needs to not think about the whole thing. Berlin is fine. Well, no, it’s not fine at all, except by averages - pole is a high, losing four places in the race sucks shit. He doesn’t want to party afterwards, he wants to lick his wounds and sulk. He’d been seriously hungry for a win, Paris had re-ignited the thirst for podium champagne and to end up fifth is just shitty. And then it’s Monaco, which is not the mood he wanted to head to the Principality to be on shitty media duty in. Two days in the simulator beforehand is an annoying distraction from getting on with the Formula E negotiations he really needs to move forward with and he’s fed up of the sight of anyone with a Ferrari logo on them. The drive into Monte Carlo feels like approaching doom, despite the Mediterranean sun. His itinerary is a constant whirl of being wheeled out with special guests so the real drivers can get on with thing and he can stoically not be allowed any of the champagne on a superyacht because there’s some vague rumor he in theory could possibly have to drive. “ This place is stupid. Good luck x” - he doesn’t expect a reply from Daniel, Jean-Eric knows entirely how busy Red Bull keep you in Monaco and also that Dan is suddenly facing a precipice Jean-Eric is very familiar with and which leaves no space for anything else, if you're going to not get dropped over it. He let's himself have some bitter thoughts about how he'd still made time for Daniel and that was probably what finished him off but honestly he's so done with this entire shitshow. Getting wheeled out to impress celebrities because look, we have so many Formula 1 drivers we keep this sad French one as a pet is just demeaning. His heart swells when Daniel takes pole - even as he’s seething with jealousy at not getting to drive in the Principality. It’s a special race, it somehow hurts more to miss it than the others, feeling useless and sidelined on a superyacht under an umbrella being forced to describe an experience he’s desperately bereft of not getting again. He’s tempted to try to find Daniel, feeling happy enough to see him on pole that he’d be fine with getting on his knees and showing him how fond he still is. Instead he’d ended up drinking endless glasses of champagne that never seemed to quite get him drunk enough before being bunged off to the team hotel - not, he noted, actually in Monaco; that’s for real drivers. Race day is a rainy horrorshow - he knows in theory he’s meant to give a shit that Raikkonen crashes but he can’t concentrate on anything other than the fact Dan loses the pole and he’s so furious he can’t breathe, wants to run down the pitlane and punch Christian himself, barely resisting the urge to scream as he watches the disastrous pitstop. The injustice is too much - Red Bull can be as fucked up as they like but this is just amateur and they’ve always been so professional at cruelty. Jean-Eric anxiously hangs by the podium ceremony, entirely abandoning his scarlet duties because he couldn’t give a shit less about Paris Hilton and he desperately needs Daniel to know he’s there, that Jean-Eric is waiting for him. Daniel looks so broken - it’s horrible. He smiles and nods at Lewis, doesn’t even have to control a blush over the number of times he’s thought about Hamilton like that over the last few weeks, he’s so distracted by Daniel. He’s not seen that expression since they sat down and he watched the love of his fucking life try to calmly process that Jean-Eric was breaking up with him. Daniel doesn’t really understand negative emotions, they jar so utterly with his disposition that he doesn’t have a way of dealing with them, can’t process the feeling any way and even if it wasn’t exposed-nerve-raw right now he’d have it sloshing around him like dirty bathwater that won’t drain. Jean-Eric’s eyes meet Daniel’s and he sees the slight shock in the Australian’s expression, notices the tiny nod as though Daniel is agreeing something more with himself than Jean-Eric. Jev hopes the team realise there is no way on earth he’s doing anything else for them today - they’ve got Kimi if they need a racing driver to put on a boat - because he needs to be with Daniel right now. He pushes his way to the door of the press conference shack, shoving photographers and journalists not quite high-ranking enough to be allowed in the room aside with a degree of malice he’d normally reserve for people with energy drink logos on them. He needs Daniel, before the team get to him, before he’s whisked into the press pen, before anything - Jean-Eric needs to touch him, to feel that spark they always had. They can’t kiss, even though he wants nothing more than to crush their mouths together, share breath, release everything in Daniel the way he always could. He expects them to barely touch, for Daniel to be immediately swept away from him - instead, he finds himself pulled in, through the door by his sleeve almost on top of a frantic Red Bull PR he can’t remember the name of. “He asked for you,” is all Jean-Eric gets told before he’s virtually shoved into Daniel and hears a door click closed behind him. “Shut up” is all Daniel says before he’s not even sure who launches themself at who - all he knows is he’s got Daniel’s tongue down his throat, he’s gripping Daniel's face and there are fingers digging painfully into his own shoulders. Daniel grunts into the kiss, pushes them roughly together and Jean-Eric can feel the fragility in him, that just-post-race exhaustion that means Daniel can’t be anything but rough, no finesse left. He feels wrung out himself, the familiarity of being in each others’ arms overwhelming, the feel of Daniel’s body against his, of sweaty thermals and grimy overalls and every horrible racing smell so familiar and jarring, with him in jeans and sneakers. Daniel kisses him like he’s drowning, like Jean-Eric is his source of oxygen. “Fuck - come back to mine, fuck this.” Jean-Eric looks him in the eye for a measured second. They’ve barely touched in two years and now his Ferrari sweater is soaked in Daniel’s sweat and champagne, Daniel’s saliva wet on his lips and he feels wild, unbalanced. He’s fantasised about this so often - of some reason to reconcile, to get over himself about it and accept he might be second-best to Dan but he hasn’t got the other now and Jean-Eric’s not sure he even likes being the only thing, suddenly. Daniel closes his eyes, looking exhausted, “I wanna be inside you so bad, Jev. Fuck.” Against some kind of warning better judgement he feels blood rush south so fast it’s probably dangerous. “Yes - anything. Yes.” Daniel palms him roughly through his jeans, grabs him and drags him out, stopping every few places to mash their mouths together again as though he literally cannot breathe without. Jean-Eric can’t work out why he feels like this is a terrible idea - or maybe not even a terrible idea, just something that’s going to be terrible. He realises much too late that they're heading for the Energy Station, somewhere even Daniel's hands on him can't distract him from his dislike of. He doesn't want to think this through too much - he knows he's being comfort to Daniel and probably shouldn't because a few disparate texts don't mean this isn't going to break his heart but he isn't prepared to stop it, either because he can't let Daniel feel worse. He gives Dan a questioning look that gets ignored in favour of grabbing him and quite deliberately, passionately tonguing into his mouth by the door of the motor home. Fuck. It's what he'd kind of always wanted and an oncoming panic attack at the same time. Daniel tastes, smells, feels familiar - he's as beautiful as always, dull, post-downpour light making his eyes look golden. Jean-Eric closes his, tries to not think about where they're doing it and just try to convey how much every attempt at distancing himself, getting over Daniel, has failed and his heart still aches for him almost as much as his dick does. “Missed you,” Daniel grabs roughly at him, keeping their faces close in an embrace and Jean-Eric refuses to open his eyes, presses his face against Daniel’s shoulder. If Christian’s standing there glaring at them then he can, “God, Jev, I’ve missed you so much.” A tiny part of Jean-Eric’s heart ignites because it sounds like Daniel means it and he's so desperate for it to be true. But also he can feel eyes boring into the back of his neck and it's quite possible Daniel isn't lying without meaning it only for him. He can’t help turning round, despite the fact Daniel’s trying to gaze into his eyes and when he sees Max he has this sudden revelation that he’s being played. He’s always been being played. He doesn’t even know what over, this time but the erection that’s pressing painfully against his jeans feels shameful because for fuck’s sake, no good was ever going to come of this. Jean-Eric’s cheeks are burning when he looks back to Daniel. “I should go.” He sees something quite a lot like realising he’s fucked up in the background of Daniel’s expression, “Dude - Jev, I really have missed you.” Jean-Eric isn’t sure if he’s sad that he’s not blinking away tears when he says “I know” and steps forward to hug Daniel, pulls them tight against each other and tries not to let the heartbreak totally consume him. This is it - it had been it, years ago and it’s the same now and he’s not sure Daniel quite understands but at least his own mind is set. It’s not whether Daniel loves him or not - or even whether Jean-Eric loves him, it’s that there are some tables that are so stacked against you you shouldn’t deal yourself into them. It’s that there are some risks that you get habitually used to and it seems normalised that you’re getting hurt. It’s that he’s not this desperate, in the end; he owes it to Sam and Loic and Simona and his fucking self not to be so pathetic as to pretend he doesn’t know this is a terrible idea. When he leaves Daniel’s apartment the next morning, unshowered and with a hickey on his collarbone, he texts him to say he’s got the train. Tells him when he gets on his flight. He feels numb and strange but not unpleasant - he’d had fun, of sorts, the previous night - Daniel does know how to get him off, still and it had been nice to have that closeness, to share a beer on the sofa and fall asleep next to each other. Daniel gives head just as badly as he ever has and Jean-Eric still doesn’t really know what to do when the Australian comes inside him and he’s not quite there yet, although coming on Daniel’s face was quite fun, Simona having given him ideas. And now he needs to find his hotel and his car and his fucking life because the one thing he knows is that he can’t go back now. Two weeks later, ink fresh on his Techneetah contract, he gets a strange text from Lewis that seems almost like a cryptic attempt at sympathy - “Im sorry man, it might get better or they might not but you’ll be alright. L x” He’s coming out of the gym when he reads it, wet hair dripping onto his new (ish, now) phone. The odds are not in his favour, he feels, of things somehow magically resolving themselves - there’s a reason he’s prone to anxiety and it’s that his life has a tendency towards, if not the worst possible thing then some things that are substantially sub-ideal happening. But Jean-Eric has stuff to do, right now. And whether he’s lucky or not, there’s no choice but to roll the dice - he doesn’t want to do it alone, never did but he thinks he probably can, now. Or at least, will have to and he’s not so pathetic that he can’t at least stand up for himself that much. After London, Sam cuddled against his arm in a slightly champagne-sticky mess, he deletes Daniel’s number. Life - and somewhat inevitably, his slutty tendencies, Sam rewarding him with a particularly expert blow job - actually will go on, no matter what he feels like he’s giving up; there’s no face to be lost, on some things. At testing he gets a message from an unknown number, just saying “ Congrats man, I always knew you were fast.”
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Shadows that Follow
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski, Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Chris Argent, Gerard Argent", "Fandom": "Teen Wolf (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Wanderer (Straggler)", "chapters": "12/12", "completed": "2017-07-02", "published": "2017-04-04T00:00:00", "words": "43,274", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Violence, POV Stiles, POV Derek, Multiple OC's, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Panic Attacks, POV John", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Wait for the Dust to Settle", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The nights are the hardest – the moments where he succumbs to his body’s desires to rest, falling into dreams of fire, smoke, cinders – and they are by far the worst. He dreams of how the flames burns his skin, how the smog blinds his eyes and how the ashes choke him until he can’t breathe and he wakes gasping for air. His heart beats a thundering rhythm in his chest and, even though he knows it’s impossible, he holds his hand over his ribs so that it may still, so that it won’t break free.It’s ridiculous.He’s never been without his nightmares but now he believes he’ll be forever cursed by them.----- Chapter 1 -----He wakes to the feeling of a sharp knife’s edge digging deep into his chest, cutting through his skin and making him bleed rivers of red. It feels new and fresh every time despite that he’s been off the operating table and out of the surgery room for over a week, recuperating at home rather than in the pale, white rooms of the ICU that the hospital offers, smelling strongly of antiseptic and not much else.His room is still dark, the first greys of a coming dawn just making its way across the skies. He can already hear the songbirds calling out and the sound of it grates his ears but it could be more from the pain he feels growing in his body than his irritation at the waking world.Stiles groans as he reaches over on the table beside him, fumbling for a bottle of painkillers that doesn’t do much in comparison to Vicodin. He swallows down two pills with a gulp of cold water, washing down the dry taste in his mouth along with it and vainly hoping that the medicine will kick in with the same kind of efficiency Vicodin does but it’s a fruitless endeavor. It’s fitful, but he eventually manages to slip back into a light doze, occasionally coming back out of it with a slight pain-filled jerk of his body.The Vicodin bottle is sitting empty in the trash. Melissa told him that if the pain was too much, if he needed more, then she could get some prescribed to him at no extra cost. He could – normal painkillers don’t exactly cut the cake – but with werewolves coming in and out of his room at least twice a day he figures he can forego gaining an addiction to the little white pills.It’s a few hours later when he next fully wakes up, the skies a bright blue with light traffic along the road outside the house as people rush to get their kids to school or themselves to work. As he lies in bed with his eyes closed he belatedly notices the gentle breeze coming in from the window, the one he remembers he’d shut the night before going to bed.‘Yes?’ He mutters as he cracks open his eyes and catches a blur of messy blonde hair beside him before deeming it enough to have an idea of who his early-morning visitor is. Her hair is in a ponytail, but the elastic is so worn that it’s barely holding it together.‘Good morning,’ she says softly and it’s not long before he becomes aware of the tips of her cool fingers grazing along the skin of his arm. It’s then he realizes the pain in his chest is at its minimal. He sighs his thanks and turns his head to face Erica, eyes half-mast to stare at the dark smudges beneath her eyes and the tight look around her chapped lips. She’s out of her makeup and she looks every bit the young and vulnerable girl, looking worlds different compared to the image of confidence she boasted when he first met her all those years ago.They’ve come a long way. Sometimes it feels like a completely different universe.‘How long have you been here for?’ The room feels just on the right side of cold now that he thinks about it but he can see the goose bumps peppering along both of their exposed arms.‘A while,’ she hedges as she shuffles just a little bit closer to his bed, dragging the wheels of his swivel chair nearer. ‘I woke up when it was still dark and I couldn’t get back to sleep so I...’ she trails off, eyes shifting to the side before looking back at him with a slightly sheepish expression.He snorts and mumbles under his breath, knowing full well that she’ll have no trouble catching his words, ‘What has Derek been teaching you lot.’Erica laughs quietly, her nails digging into his skin just a little bit in jest as she breaks out of her meek behavior and hooks one leg over the other with a little smirk growing on her lips, but it doesn’t last. The smile slips off and she uncrosses her legs again, slipping her toes in-between the mattress and the box spring. It jostles the bed and he can just barely feel the movements of her toes as she flexes them.‘I’ve been talking to Derek,’ she starts telling him softly as she makes idle patterns over his skin while her other hand follows the dark lines going up her own arm.He hums and nods, waits for her to continue talking as he shifts on the bed, feels a low-level thrum of pain burning in his chest. It’s not all from the painkillers, he knows.‘I’ve been getting nightmares since mum died,’ she continues, her voice cracking at the end as she presses her lips together to stop them from shaking. Erica takes a deep breath through her nose and holds it for a half-minute before exhaling quietly. ‘It feels like they’re memories, like I’m living through them as they happen, so I asked if it’s a normal thing that happens for people like…us.’Werewolves handle deaths differently, and it’s something he’s seen firsthand; they feel it on a more visceral level, like losing a part of themselves, like losing a limb. It’s hard enough dealing with death as a human – dealing with death as a supernatural creature is a whole other ball game.‘Any good advice?’She snorts and quips back, ‘From Derek?’It prompts a laugh out of him but he quiets down almost immediately, wincing at the pull of his skin as he lays a hand over his sternum as though it might help soothe the ache. He catches her apology but he waves it off – it was worth the pain to hear Erica cracking jokes again.The first time they’d talked about her mother she’d been distraught and barely coherent. She dreamt of someone holding a pillow over her nose and mouth, pushing down, down, down on her face until she couldn’t breathe and how no matter how much she tried she couldn’t move her arms enough to help herself.Stiles remembers the report detailing Maria Reyes’ death. She’d just come out of surgery, still groggy from anesthesia, high off morphine, and with one arm held in a cast that’s still setting there was little to no chance of her being able to fight off Kate.There’s still a low simmering of anger deep in his gut whenever he thinks of Kate and how he’d been too slow to figure everything out until it was almost too late.‘I don’t like it,’ she whispers, the small shake in her voice making him move his arm away to catch her hand instead, holding her trembling fingers still in his grip. She’s not the only one.‘What did you see?’ He asks her, squeezing her hand when he notices the first signs of tears appearing in her eyes.She shakes her head, her lips forming in a mirthless smile as she looks away from their intertwined fingers to tell him with an unsteady voice, ‘I saw broken glass and twisted metal, all of them digging into my skin and making me bleed. I couldn’t move and I woke up screaming.’Stiles thinks back on the car crash on Wimbley and Alcott, the sirens of half the police cruisers, ambulances and fire brigades available in Beacon Hills all converged on the cordoned-off intersection. He can still remember the crunch of metal as the firemen used the “jaws of life” to save Erica’s parents, the sound of her mother’s screams as they tried to get them out of the wrecked vehicle.It’s almost ironic.--When Katherine Argent’s cadaver was no longer needed and with most of the investigations pertaining to her over and done with, they released her body to Christopher Argent. He chose to have her cremated and after days of deliberation decided to bury the urn containing her ashes in their family plot.Allison doesn’t like it, and as the groundskeeper piles shovel after shovel of dirt over the tiny burial, she tells him as much with clenched fists and a pinched look.‘The dead can’t harm the living,’ Chris tries to console her but there’s still a lot of hurt left in her, not just from the betrayal of Kate but also from the death of her own mother and the manipulation she suffered under Gerard’s hand shortly after.‘Depends on your definition of harm,’ she retorts as her eyes drift to Victoria Argent’s headstone instead, more hurt in her voice than any barbs meant to wound.Stiles looks over towards Derek whose body is coiled up tight, ready to snap, and from the mixture of expressions on his face – pain, hate, anger and guilt – he knows exactly what she means.As much as Derek deserves closure, he doubts the man will take it.--He feels stiff in his suit, but he can’t tell if it’s because of the material itself or if it’s because the last time he’d worn it this many times was a few years ago during the trials regarding his kidnapping and Gerard’s eventual incarceration. He has a feeling it’s both.The sound of Derek’s car rumbling down the street fades into the distance by the time Stiles trudges his way up the stairs, fingers pulling at the tie that’s been steadily choking him ever since he first laid eyes upon the plain white urn. He pulls it off his neck roughly and throws it onto his bed, popping the first three buttons until he doesn’t feel as though he’s being constricted. Stiles takes off his jacket next, opens the window as wide as he can when he starts to feel the beginnings of sweat gathering across his forehead and warming his skin too much too fast. His head hurts, had been hurting since the morning but now it’s beating a steady thump-thump-thump in his skull and he hates the drumming sensation.A sudden screech of tires just a few houses away shocks his attention, jolting him, the sound of it like a horrible stab into his brain. His chest aches, but he knows that not enough time has passed since he’d taken the last two pills and he knows he has to wait for another hour or so before he can swallow down the next batch.He can hear a vehicle, his dad’s cruiser, pulling up into their driveway through his open window, shortly followed by the sound of the car door opening and closing and the jangle of keys.His hands are so cold but the rest of him feels too hot and he has a sick, sick feeling in his stomach that he knows exactly what this is, what he’s going through. He can hear his name being called up the stairs and he doesn’t realize why the world is tilting until he finds himself staring up at the ceiling and clutching weakly at his chest as if it might help him draw in a decent enough breath.‘Stiles!’ John is calling out for him again, urgently this time, as he helps him sit up from where he’s fallen onto the floor. ‘Breathe deep, breathe deep,’ he repeats and tries to lead by example. ‘Bear with me, Stiles.’His vision is blurred but he makes use of his hearing instead, listening as his dad breathes and holds it in before exhaling slowly and repeating the process. He tries to mimic, but he finds himself taking four short breaths in the space that his dad takes one. He perseveres, keeps trying and trying until he takes three as his dad breathes in deeply once. He tries again, takes two as his dad draws in one slow lungful of air. It takes time but he eventually manages to copy his dad action for action, one inhale and one exhale for another. He calms.‘I take it the funeral didn’t go too well?’ John asks as he continues to rub his hand along Stiles’ back despite the sweat now soaking through it.‘Went without a hitch,’ he says hoarsely as he fumbles with the buttons on his cuffs on either hand until he can roll the sleeves up to his elbows. ‘It was just the four of us: Chris, Allison, me and Derek.’‘Then what did I just witness?’‘I don’t know,’ he replies honestly as he gets up from the floor only to collapse onto his bed on top of his tie and jacket with a shaky sigh. ‘Just one of those days, I guess,’ he shrugs, although most of the motion is lost to the covers surrounding his body.‘Just one of those days, huh?’ He shakes his head as he takes a seat next to Stiles and pulls out his tie from under him, folding it neatly in half.He feels insurmountably tired suddenly and he just wants to close his eyes and sleep what’s left of the afternoon away but his dad just got home from a 10-hour shift down at the station. The least he can do is have a late lunch/early dinner with him before he retires to bed to start it all over again the next day.He doesn’t realize he’s actually got his eyes closed until he feels his dad tugging at the jacket that’s buried under his head and shoulders. ‘Get up; if your mother were here she’d throw a fit over the wrinkles you’re putting on your suit.’ Stiles groans but complies, pushing his body until he’s sitting up next to his dad to stare at the slight creases on the black material.‘You better iron it before you hang it back up again.’‘Tomorrow,’ Stiles promises as he undoes the rest of the buttons on his top and is satisfied when he doesn’t spot a hint of red coming through his undershirt. He thought he’d done some damage to the sutures when he started clawing at his chest during his panic attack but is thankful to see that it’s not entirely the case, even if it does hurt a little more than it did just minutes before.‘Looks like we’re both having an early night, huh?’ His dad says as he stands up and hands the jacket back to him.‘Yup,’ he finishes with a pop of his lips as he rolls the jacket around his arm and holds it over his knees.‘Have you told Derek about his house, yet?’He shakes his head, ‘No, it wasn’t a good time.’John sighs tiredly. ‘Tell him soon, because there’s not much more I can do to help stop it.’‘I will,’ he says as he gets up and unfurls the jacket over the back of his computer chair, catching the roll of his dad’s eyes as he exits the room. He follows him out, notices the takeaway boxes lying on the floor in the middle of the stairs and can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. ‘Nice of you to drop dinner off.’‘Shut up and eat your chicken cashew fried rice,’ he retorts without bite, handing to Stiles a clear plastic takeaway container with a spork taped to the lid.He grins, thankful that most places don’t serve their food in styrofoam boxes anymore, otherwise the stairs will look more like a culinary disaster.--While he’s on sick-leave, Stiles spends his days with varying levels of pain. It’s worse in the mornings after he’s woken up, tapers off into the kind of ache that’s still noticeable but not completely hindering during the afternoons and early evenings. He always wakes in the middle of the night, sweating through his shirts and grappling mindlessly for his painkillers again so that he might be able to sleep for more than just a handful of hours.Melissa told him that this is a normal part of recovery; that it’s nothing unusual and nothing to worry about, but he’s constantly exhausted, constantly on edge, and constantly in pain.Sometimes, and this is something that’s beginning to happen more and more frequently, he wakes at some midnight hour to a warm hand on his chest with lines tattooed all the way up the arm until it disappears under the hem of a shirt. He sees Derek with a haunted look on his face, the shadows beneath his eyes a stark contrast against the shine coming from the light of the moon outside the window.It’s nights like these that he doesn’t wake to the feeling of knives cutting into his chest and digging deep.‘You’re a pill, you know that?’ He says not unkindly, sleepy grin on his face as he settles a hand around Derek’s wrist, feeling the pulse point beating strongly beneath his fingertips.‘Either you’re calling me a pain, which is ironic, or you’re mixing up your slangs,’ he tells him, looking away from the window to fix Stiles a stare that’s a cross between incredulity and indifference.‘No, seriously; you and your werewolves are my personal walking-talking Vicodin pill.’He huffs, rolls his eyes to look back out the window, thankfully shut to ward off the cold evening air. ‘Go back to sleep.’It’s only then Stiles notices the way Derek is sitting in the chair beside him with half of his body hunched over the bed, shoulders tensed and eyes too wide and too focused on an enemy that’s no longer there. His lips are held together in a thin, pale line and the furrow between his eyebrows is turning into a permanent etch on his skin. Stiles tries to sit up but the hand over his sternum is a persistent weight holding him firmly, but carefully, down.‘Hey,’ he starts as he squeezes Derek’s wrist in his hand, waits for him to look back before telling him with as much conviction he can muster despite the slur of sleep still evident in his voice, ‘she’s dead. You can breathe easy.’Derek doesn’t say anything but Stiles can see the tenseness in his body gradually loosen enough that he doesn’t immediately look like he’s in his usual fight-or-flight mode. It’s not much – he’s too tired to do more – but he calls that an accomplishment and leaves it be.He falls back to sleep with a warm hand on top of his chest and the steady beat of Derek’s heart on his fingertips. He always wakes up alone after Derek’s night visits, but the pain is minimal and he can still feel the heavy press of a hand and the warmth seeping through the bandages on his chest.-----As Head of the House, there are certain rules and guidelines to follow, more than what is already bestowed upon a Hunter. They are not just soldiers, they are also the second-in-command; the fallback should the leader find themselves incapacitated, temporarily or otherwise something of a more permanent nature.He knows the Code: he lives it, he breathes it, and by God, he will die by it. If there is only one thing he knows in this life, it’s the Code. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The mirror cabinet lining the wall of his bathroom is bare save for an electric razor, shaving cream and aftershave. It used to be full of orange plastic containers and dark brown glass bottles filled with artificially flavored syrups meant to mask the acrid aftertaste but he’d thrown them all out the day he returned home after the Reading of the Will. Despite doing all this, despite that the house no longer carries a single prescription, he can’t stop dreaming of them.His nightmares come in the form of white ash covering his skin, coating his tongue and clogging his throat. It blinds him, burns his insides, and when he wakes, no matter how much water he swallows down, he can never make the bitter taste in his mouth disappear along with it.Boyd prays, and hopes that his grandmother is at peace, even if he doubts he’ll ever be.----- Chapter 2 -----There’s a different ache in his chest, the kind that comes from knowing that there’s nothing holding the closed laceration together even though it’s been two weeks since he’d gone under the knife. There’s fear, too, at the thought that one wrong move would rip it right back open even though it’ll take a large amount of force to do that kind of damage. The sutures are gone and all that’s left on his chest is an itch he can’t scratch and a long, scabbed line that will eventually heal and fade into an ugly scar.The tight sensation he’d felt across his chest is gone, too, only to be replaced by tension in his shoulders as he fights against his body’s need to relax against the strain even though it’s a necessity. He knows there isn’t any grounds to be this anxious about it, that he can still go about his daily life as normal (or a normal as one can be), but it’s odd: there’s a thrum echoing just beneath the bones of his ribs, quivering in his lungs. He doesn’t know what to make of it so he continues to keep rigid, as if it might help the rest of his body get on with the program.The television is on mute, showing a replay of a tennis game, and he can hear his dad’s snoring since his bedroom happens to be right above the living area. He takes comfort in the noise, although it isn’t as entertaining as the grunts and shouts the tennis players make whenever they return a hit, but his snoring is a good sound nonetheless: reassuring.Stiles remains seated in the middle of the couch, taking up a majority of the space, his back sinking into the creases of where the back cushions meet to assist with his worsening posture. He’s almost certain he’ll end up with a permanent slouch before the month is over if he were to continue on this way. If mum were alive to see him behave in such a manner she would most likely be clicking her tongue and shaking her head in dismay, forcing his back straight with a light reprimanding pat on his shoulders.He doesn’t know for sure, though, because all he has of her are video tapes and photo albums that’s he gone through countless of times over the years as well as the rare conversation from his dad here and there about how she used to be. Sometimes he wonders if dad’s snoring had driven her crazy at some point in their lives that they had shared together as husband and wife. Sometimes, and this has been happening more often these days due to the fact that he suddenly has a lot of free time on his hands, he thinks about what kind of person his mum was.The videos and photographs: they don’t help; they only show the maternal side of her, a woman who smiles and laughs and cries tears of joy at the little boy in her arms. The attic hides away all her clothes, shampoos and makeup, her personal diaries, collection of foreign coins as well as her finished and unfinished DIY projects.Stiles only ever went to his dad’s bathroom out of childish curiosity once but once was enough for him to find a single bottle of perfume standing next to a bottle of cologne that he knows his dad no longer uses. He wonders if his dad still keeps a drawer of his mum’s clothes in his room, or her favorite dress in the back of the closet next to his pressed suits, maybe even a pair of heels kicked under the bed and semi-forgotten.He breaks out of his thoughts at the sound of a particularly loud snort and switches the TV off just as his phone starts ringing. He picks up after a cursory look at his caller.‘Hey, Scott, what’s up?’ He asks as he shifts forward on the cushions before taking his time pushing himself away from the couch, turning towards the kitchen and shuffling his way there.‘I heard you got your stitches out,’ he says in lieu of an actual greeting, some static coming through that sounds as if Scott’s facing the wind as he speaks into his phone. ‘Heard it through the grapevine?’Scott lets out a loud huff of a laugh in agreement. ‘If that’s code for “mum” then yeah, totally; we talked earlier this afternoon when she was on her lunch break. How’re you feeling?’The noise from Scott’s end of the conversation quiets down, followed by the closing of a door and a light tinkle of keys as it’s dropped onto a wooden surface. ‘I’ll be fine, eventually. Did you just finish class or something?’ He changes the subject eagerly, not quite keen on delving into the topic of his health.Scott’s quiet for a moment but he takes the cue without question. ‘Yeah, just got back from the lecture hall and man, as much as I’m excited for break I’m not too keen on going back to work.’‘I thought you liked working with old-man Orville,’ he brings up as he opens the fridge to peer at the shelves before pulling out the vegetable drawer in consideration of what he wants to snack on. Carrot sticks and a hummus dip, maybe?‘Yeah, man, I totally do, but he’s retiring soon and he’s giving his business away to an old friend of his. The handover will be done with by the time I roll back into Beacon Hills so that means I won’t ever be working with him again,’ he grumbles, sounding disheartened. ‘He told me the guy’s nice though, and they used to work together, too, but…yeah…’ he finishes with an explosive sigh.‘Think of it this way,’ he starts as he picks up the gallon of milk and swings the door shut, deciding to finish off what’s left in the bottle instead, ‘if the two of you hit it off, maybe he’ll give you the business when he retires, yeah?’Scott laughs into the phone and Stiles can’t help the answering grin on his own face at the sudden enthusiasm coming from the other. ‘That would be so awesome.’‘Imagine your name on the front window,’ he entices as he unscrews the plastic cap and starts drinking straight from the bottle.‘Very awesome,’ he says in agreement. ‘I kinda hope the new guy will be as nice as old-man Orville but I guess I won’t know until I work with him.’Stiles hums in agreement as he swallows down the rest of the milk, licking the last of it from his lips before tossing it into the trash along with the cap. ‘You’ll both learn a lot about each other when you have to work with one another during stressful situations,’ he tells him as he makes his way out of the kitchen, past the living room and up the stairs towards his room.‘Yeah, it’ll probably be pretty intense, but hey, I have to go; I’ve got this paper due in three days and another one due next week,’ he finishes with an obligatory grouse. ‘I just wanted to check up on you before I hunker down and do my assignments but I’ll see you again during break.’‘See you then. Good luck with your papers.’‘Thanks a lot, dude.’He hangs up and stands by his bedroom door, listening in on his dad’s snoring just echoing around from down the hall. He lets the sound of it soothe and ease the pressure he feels in his gut before he grabs the doorknob and turns, stepping inside a room with its lights on even though he’d been downstairs when the sun had just set.Stiles immediately catches sight of Derek sitting on his computer chair, facing the closed laptop with a hand just idly resting above his chest. He stops when he notices the placement of Derek’s palm, settled directly over the spot where the bullet had stopped just half an inch into his body after it had gone through his own back and chest.‘You said you’ve healed,’ he says, worry and anger tinting in his voice as Derek suddenly breaks out of whatever thought process he’d been going through.I have,’ he reassures as he drops his hand away, the motion all too obvious and far too conspicuous, and Stiles can’t help but narrow his eyes at the other as he points a finger at him.‘Lie,’ he calls out on him but doesn’t force Derek to explain as he closes the door behind him with a soft click and walks pass him to lie back on his bed, leaving his phone on the bedside table. ‘What’re you doing here?’ He asks instead, knowing Derek won’t be open for questions concerning why he looked as if he was still hurting from a bullet wound that’s long since healed.‘You got your stitches out,’ Derek answers simply as he turns his chair to face the bed with his fingers curled shut above his knees. ‘I heard it through the grapevine.’Stiles laughs but winces when it aggravates his lungs too much. ‘Don’t be cheeky,’ he reprimands half-heartedly as he rubs gently along the skin around the laceration. His phone chimes a tune to alert him of a message but he ignores it. ‘Answer the question.’‘Nothing else to do at the motel,’ he says with a casual one-shoulder shrug, ‘it kind of smells.’‘Understatement of the week,’ he snorts as he pulls himself up on his bed until he’s sitting with his pillows bracing his back against the wall. ‘I’m guessing your apartment-hunting didn’t go too well.’‘No,’ he says with a light huff. ‘A lot of the landlords think I’m prone to creating fire hazards and aren’t willing to let me rent. My credit history is good but it’s not enough to convince them.’‘What bullshit,’ he swears, ignoring the phone when it chimes a second time, suddenly feeling more anger well up in his stomach, vibrating beneath his ribs at the thought that some people would be ignorant enough to think something as stupid as that. If anybody had done any proper fact-checking then they would’ve known that both of his homes were burned to the ground by a now-dead Kate Argent.‘It’s fine—’‘It’s not fine.’‘It’s fine,’ he insists around a slight grit of his teeth, his fists tightening to the point where his knuckles pale. ‘I have two more appointments set up for tomorrow late morning and early afternoon. Maybe I’ll find someone willing to let me rent then.’He nods but Derek doesn’t sound convinced and if he’s not convinced then it’s almost certain that his luck wouldn’t hold out long enough for him to sign a lease. Given that he’s been looking for a place to stay for the past two weeks since his loft burned down it seems as though the odds are stacked against him. Stiles honestly doubts Beacon Hills has that many apartment complexes to begin with and he can’t help but wonder what Derek is stalling for.‘You have other options,’ he tries to suggest but Derek is quick to shut the idea down.‘I’m not taking up your guest room.’‘I’m not offering you the guest room when you’ve already said no to it once before, asshole,’ he snaps without meaning to, feeling frayed around the edges thinking about Derek’s current living situation. Derek won’t take the guest room, or stay with Boyd, or room with Isaac in his dorm. He understands why the older man won’t take up on anybody’s offer of a place to stay, even if it’s just temporarily, but it’s not charity, or pity – it’s what friends do; it’s how they look out for one another; it’s pack.Derek exhales through his nose, his expression settling back into his usual perpetual frown as he waits with his thumb tapping an idle pattern across his jeans impatiently.‘There’s a good plot of land out in the preserve – don’t give me that look,’ Stiles points at him when the thunderous glare makes a reappearance. ‘I’ve seen the papers; there’s a petition going on for the county to take back the property since you’re not doing anything with it.’‘It’s private property,’ he grinds out from between sharp teeth.‘You think they give a shit? They don’t, Derek. You want to know what they’ve been saying? “That piece of rot is ruining the integrity of our land,” is what they’ve been saying.’‘It’s private, property,’ he stresses, his canines slowly lengthening as his mood spikes.‘You have, at the most, three months before your lack of participation makes you forfeit the rights to that land. They’re going to take it back, they’re going to bulldoze the house, and they’re going to clear the space to merge it with the rest of the preserve. And there’s nothing you can do about it once your time is up.’A quiet growl makes itself heard, rumbling from within Derek’s chest as he breathes deeply in an effort to contain his emotions. Stiles can see his anger clear in his posture but he can also see his despair, his guilt, and his fears in his eyes, in the downturn of his lips and the white knuckles of his tight-fisted grip.‘My dad has been trying to get them off your back; to buy you more time but it’s been years, Derek. The house is condemned and the whole place looks like a God-damned mausoleum. You think that’s a mark of respect? It’s not; it’s a mockery to your family.’‘You’re one to talk,’ he seethes suddenly, voice quiet and slowly gaining momentum as he stands from his seat, fists clenched and looking ready to fly. ‘How many people have you killed? How many families have you torn apart? You don’t get to talk to me about respect and how I’m a mockery when you’ve been in the business of lying your way in for practically your entire life.’The abrupt shift in mood catches him off-guard but he’s quick to get on the defense. ‘How the fuck is this suddenly about me?’ He demands as he gets up to his feet, legs apart and braced for impact as he glares unblinkingly back into Derek whose eyes are constantly shifting back and forth his normal hue to blood red.‘You don’t get to tell me to move on when you haven’t made that move yourself.’It feels like a physical hit right into his sternum and he can’t help the flinch as his mind blanks.A double knock on the door takes their attention away from each other to the entrance of the room where his dad is now standing looking at them with a slightly peeved and bleary-eyed expression. Derek looks over for only a split second for turning away again, resolutely facing the closed window and the latched lock.‘Either the both of you take it downstairs or be quieter about it. I’m off-duty and I don’t want to have to bring you both in for creating a domestic disturbance. Don’t think I won’t,’ he threatens with a pointed finger.‘Sorry,’ Stiles apologizes as he settles back on his bed, suddenly tired and drained of all adrenaline. He doesn’t even know how their conversation escalated the way it did.John sighs long and hard as he mutters under his breath about “youths these days” before shutting the door behind him. Derek doesn’t stay for much longer, already moving towards the window and sliding off the bolt keeping it shut.Stiles can hear the rustle of jeans and the creak of leather as Derek positions himself for a two-storey jump. There’s an ache in his chest suddenly but he knows it’s not at all from the injury. ‘All I’m saying is: your family is dead; the land is dead, but that doesn’t mean you have to be,’ Stiles tells him without turning around, keeping his gaze focused on the carpet beneath his toes as he listens to the squeak of wood  readjusting itself to take on extra weight.‘My answer is still no.’‘At least think about it.’There’s no reply and no noise for a long time. Stiles doesn’t hear that thump to indicate Derek’s landing on the grass so he knows the older man is still there, hanging outside his window, looking like the world’s craziest robber for trying to make a B&E on a sheriff’s home whose son also happens to be a police officer.Eventually, Derek replies, voice soft and worn, ‘I don’t want to watch my home burn down a second time.’The confession catches him by surprise as he lifts his head towards Derek. ‘The loft doesn’t count?’‘The loft didn’t matter.’Between one second and the next, Derek’s gone from his window, leaving behind a cold draft and an even colder feeling in his body.‘Lie,’ he calls out on him but he’s not around to hear it.-----Nobody notices it at first – the slight discrepancy in the upkeep of their storage system – but there’s a small, miniscule gap of where they know something used to be; the numbers aren’t adding up. They can’t remember who it involves, or what details it contains, but they know it must pertain to some kind of important knowledge if it’s suddenly gone missing.They can’t find it anywhere within the station; not on anyone’s desk and it’s not stuck in-between tables that are wedged together to save and create space. When they go to check the records they discover that there hasn’t been any foul-play. Their instincts, of course, tell them otherwise. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- He’s tired from the visit to the hospital, feels even more tired at the thought of returning back to the place he’s called home for over four years.The walls are drab and grey, the seats are unforgiving and the metal surrounding his wrists and ankles even more so. The road is bumpy; a combination of poor planning, tree roots forcing its way through concrete while also being pockmarked with one pothole after another, the constant vibrations well on their way to ruining the bones of his spine. There isn’t anybody else sitting in the back with him and the only thing he has for company are the snug pieces of cuffs keeping him chained and contained.He keeps his feet apart, braced for more, and it’s not long before the transport vehicle lurches to a dead stop and he smiles at the sudden screech of tires peppered with gun shots, the crack of glass and the twang of metal denting under pressure. He hears people shouting, people calling for help and the sound of their request dying on their lips.The doors open to reveal more grey but it’s the kind of grey that makes him think of freedom, and as he steps off onto the asphalt he can feel it rejuvenating him down to his core.He is free.----- Chapter 3 -----He jolts awake, his mind struggling to separate his dreams of sizzling skin and bone-shaking agony from his physical, undamaged body. The living room is dark, it’s 4 o’clock in the morning, the couch is uncomfortable, and just one room over is Isaac, heart-rate spiking and body thrashing amongst rumpled sheets, his throat making aborted sounds of pain and distress as he struggles within his nightmares.Derek continues to fight against the sensation of choking on ash but it’s not long before his mind fully disconnects from his REM cycle to the living world. He throws himself into an upright position as he makes his way towards the closed bedroom door, eyes quickly readjusting to the dark lighting until he’s twisting the doorknob open and hovering over the bed to shake Isaac away from his dreams.The blond comes to with a throaty gasp, eyes wild and full of fear, guilt and tears. His body shakes uncontrollably, his features all too human although his claws are out, ripping through Derek’s long-sleeved henley and digging into his forearms without thought as he tries to breathe past the panic and adrenaline still coursing through his body. Eventually, he calms but the tremors don’t fully fade away, and he avoids eye-contact as his body radiates shame.‘Get up,’ Derek tells him as he straightens, ignoring the healing pinpricks of pain and the tickle of blood going down his arm, wetting the material of his sleeves. He waits for his words to be obeyed before leaving the bedroom towards the kitchenette, going through the familiar motions of retrieving a glass of water from the jug in the mini-fridge and handing it over for the disheveled blond to take. He watches Isaac drink all of it; slow, tentative sips at first before he gulps the rest down without pause for breath.Isaac’s heartbeat settles, faster than its normal rhythm but slower than what it had been when he was trapped within the turmoil of his mind. Of what, Derek doesn’t ask. Instead he says, ‘You have class in three hours; try and go back to sleep.’The blond nods, but he seems edgy, unsure, and cowed as he places the empty glass in the sink, gives his bloody fingertips a thorough wash before rinsing out the glass and placing it on the dish rack to drip dry.‘Sorry,’ he says tentatively as he eyes the bloody trails on Derek’s arm even though they’ve healed. Isaac meets his eyes haltingly before leaning back until he’s supported by the countertop, arms crossed tightly across his chest and shoulders hunched until he’s almost bowed over.Derek shakes his head; wants to tell him that it’s nothing to apologize for but Isaac is the kind of guy who will make one apology after another, even for something that isn’t his own fault. It’s moments like these that Derek wishes someone had found Isaac sooner, someone better.‘You’ll be fine,’ he tells him as he rolls his sleeves up and gives his arms a quick run under the cold water, just enough to get the smears of fresh blood off his skin.Isaac is staring at him when he’s done wiping his arms dry with the hand towel, bemusement coloring his expression in replacement of his earlier fear and shame. Now, for some odd reason, he looks hopeful, eyes wide and bright.‘Does it get better?’ He asks as his visible hand grips tightly onto the sleeve of his t-shirt. ‘Do the nightmares get easier to handle? Do they stop?’Derek’s mind blanks and his body stills as he takes in the rapid-fire questions. He wants to say “no” to all of it because they’ve never gotten better, they’ve never gotten easier, and they’ve never stopped, not for him at least. He doesn’t say any of that, but he’s not one to create false hope, either.‘I don’t know,’ he answers honestly because, truthfully, he’s been having the same nightmare of fire, ash and smoke for years. They never change and he doubts they ever will. ‘I don’t know,’ he says again as he puts the hand towel back onto its’ hook next to the dish rack to dry, ‘maybe they will.’ He wants it to be true, for Isaac and everybody else in his pack at least, the young adults who don’t deserve to be plagued and chased by nightmares.When he next looks up, the blonds’ gaze is still hopeful, not so weighed down around his shoulders. His hunch is straightening out and his heart is calm once more.Derek moves his way out of the kitchenette, places his hand on Isaac’s shoulder as he passes him to get to the couch where his jacket is hanging off the arm. He rolls his sleeves back down, ignoring the rips in the fabric and the blood marking them before slipping his jacket back on, relishing the feel of the cool material wrapping around his body.‘You can stay, if you want,’ Isaac says hurriedly as he follows Derek into the small living room, arms hanging loosely by his sides. ‘It’s still the middle of the night.’He can’t believe he managed to fall asleep on the couch in the first place, though it’s not that surprising; he’s surrounded by the familiar smell of pack, of safety; infinitely better than the stench of piss, stale alcohol and sex-soaked sheets beneath the industrial detergent. The last thing he remembers doing was watching some late-night TV while Isaac multi-tasks that with his laptop work, fingers tapping diligently away on the keyboard for a paper that’s due in less than a week’s time.‘I’m going to make my rounds,’ Derek tells him as he steps towards the door, turning the knob open and pushing the lock back in. ‘We’re still on for lunch with the others.’‘Oh, okay,’ he relaxes, already appeased by the prospect of it.Derek nods as he leaves, makes sure the door is firmly shut and locked behind him before heading towards the stairwell, opting to walk down the four flights of stairs rather than take the noisy and sometimes temperamental elevator.The car, when he starts it, is uncomfortably loud in the still night but he keeps it to second gear as he makes his way out of the parking lot towards the preserve, passing by Boyd’s house while en route and idling for a few short minutes to count the deep, even breaths and the occasional loud snore. The longer he stays, the longer he listens to the calm heartbeat, the looser the tension in his shoulders seems to ease up.He leaves shortly after, rolling as quietly as he can down the street and remaining respectful of the speed limit until he’s parking his car on the very edge of the woods, deciding to do the rest of the round on foot instead.Erica is sleeping when he makes it to her house, though her heart rate is elevated slightly and he can smell the salt of her tears coming out through the slight gap of her open window. Her breathing is heavy through her mouth, her nose obviously stuffed from another hard night of crying. She’s not in the throes of another nightmare so he silently bids her a good night, hopes it stays that way, before leaving towards Stiles’ home.He’s half a block away when he realizes that Stiles isn’t asleep – heart rate going too fast to be considered as such – and not only is he completely awake but he’s also typing furiously into his laptop. As soon as he’s just two houses away he can already see the dim light coming through the gaps of his closed curtains and the slight murmurings that he can hardly discern.His body moves on memory, making the easy jump until he’s latching onto the ledge, knocking on the glass just once before sliding the window open, pushing the curtains aside and stepping through without trouble. Their conversation from yesterday still stings, fresh and raw, but he pushes his personal feelings aside for the bigger picture: he knows something is wrong.Stiles is already turned around in his seat, posture tense and knuckles white as they eye one another. The screen on his laptop is displaying a familiar site and he can see the BHPD logo on the top left corner, followed by a badge number and log-in name. He doesn’t know what Stiles is working on but if it’s important enough to make him stay up at all hours of the night then it’s not something to be taken lightly.‘Working from home?’ Derek asks even though he knows Stiles has been assigned to three months of paid leave. He remembers the sheriff forbidding his son from entering the station and more than happily threatened to extend his desk job by double if he so much as steps one foot inside the building when he’s meant to be on the road to recovery. Of course, John never considered Stiles’ prowess with technology.‘Something like that,’ he tells him with a stiff shrug as he picks up his phone from beside the laptop before handing it over for Derek to take. ‘This was sent to me yesterday early evening.’He takes the phone and eyes the picture detailing a familiar crest that suddenly makes him see red. He frowns as he looks away from the photo back to Stiles. ‘Allison has something like this,’ he doesn’t mention the last person who owned the necklace before her, though he has a feeling Stiles more than understands.Stiles nods, looking disturbed as he runs a hand through his unkempt hair before rubbing along the side of his face. ‘Yeah, it’s the Argent family crest; she wears it around her neck. It signifies leadership and it’s passed down from one matriarch to another.’‘What does the ring signify?’ He asks, nodding down at the phone.‘The soldier; Chris wears it now, as Head of the family.’Stiles looks as if he wants to say more but minutes pass and not another words slips past his mouth. ‘Is he in trouble?’ Derek asks as he turns his attention back to the photo, eyes lingering on the curves and sharp turns of the crest. He doesn’t have any ill feelings towards Chris, although the same can’t be said for his father and his sister. Between the two of them they ruined more lives than Derek is capable of counting.‘It’s not Chris we have to worry about,’ he says as he stands from his seat, takes the phone back and swipes through a new set of commands to bring up something else before handing it back for Derek to see.It’s a message, reading: Be careful. Prison bars and security guards won’t hold forever.He feels his breath dissipate from his lungs, body tensing up in preparation for an unseen enemy. ‘Who sent this?’‘It’s a burner phone; I can’t trace the number,’ he explains as he gestures to his laptop. ‘At this point I’m going to assume it’s already been discarded.’‘Does your father know?’ He asks and listens as a familiar car makes itself known less than a dozen houses away. ‘If this is a threat—’‘It’s not a question of if,’ he grinds out between clenched teeth as he turns his attention to the window to where he can now hear the police cruiser rolling up into the driveway and the harsh crank of the handbrakes pulling.Both of them listen as the front doors open and close a bit too loudly, followed by footsteps hurrying up the stairs possibly by taking two or three steps at a time before the sheriff is barreling through  the door, breath short and eyes wide with worry.The older man takes in the sight of Derek with only a slightly bemused expression but it reverts back to one of agitation as he tells them, ‘We just received news that Gerard Argent’s transport vehicle didn’t make it back to prison from the hospital.’Something cold settles in Derek’s stomach, the feeling spreading all too quickly along his arms, legs and body as he stares numbly at John. He can hear Stiles’ heartbeat ratcheting up and his lungs rattling beneath his rib cage.‘Two officers are dead and there’s no sight of Gerard anywhere – he’s gone.’Stiles swears loudly as he runs his fingers through his hair again, pulling at the strands as he falls back into his computer chair, body shaking and chest heaving loudly. Immediately, John kneels in front of Stiles, prying his fingers away from his hair and holding onto his wrists tightly, telling him to breathe and bear, breathe and bear.Derek watches as Stiles spirals into a full-blown panic attack, fingers opening and closing on thin air, lungs working furiously to keep up with his body’s demands. He watches him come back out of it, looking worn, pale and ragged around the edges, still shuddering uncontrollably as he counts his inhales and exhales with stutters. He watches John the same way, catches the dark smudges beneath his eyes, the tight lines around his mouth, the deep furrow between his eyebrows and the tremors in his shoulders as he holds his son close to him.His chest aches at the sight.-----She asks him the same questions every visit, calmly and with hardly ever a shift in her professional tone, never mind that he has made somewhat irregular visits to her office ever since their last psychiatrist retired and he was promoted to the roll of Deputy. Her walls are lined with framed copies of her credentials as well as inspirational and motivational quotes. There’s a plain black, laminated A4 sheet of paper with white font tacked to the wall behind her: If you’re going through Hell, keep going.It’s protocol, absolutely mandatory; to attend therapy sessions with the psychiatrist to make sure he’s of sound mind, so he can return to his office and inform his crew, without a shred of doubt, that his psych evaluation is good; better than good – they can depend on him. He has seven more therapy sessions to go before they can finish conducting their business.He doesn’t regret shooting Kate down to save Stiles. He only regrets he didn’t get there fast enough to save his son the added trauma of suffering through a back and chest injury. Privately, as a Sheriff, he doesn’t regret taking away his subordinate’s gun, but as a father and a parent, he wishes he hadn’t done so.But just when he thought he was done worrying about the Argents who ruined his son’s life, another problem comes along in the form of a prison-break. He wants it all to be done, but he worries it’ll come at a high cost, one he’s not sure he can pay. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- She wakes up tied to a chair, bound at her ankles and with her wrists held together by a tight knot behind her. There’s a single bulb hanging right above her head, swaying noiselessly and casting eerie shadows around the area of where she sits. She can’t see beyond where the light shines but she can feel that she’s not alone. Somewhere, beyond that circle of light, someone is watching her every move.Her body is shaking and it takes her several deep breaths to calm and several more to remember the lessons her father taught her. The first lesson: never go anywhere unprepared.----- Chapter 4 -----His dad only stays long enough to make sure he’s okay, to give him what little information of what he knows about what’s going on with Gerard Argent who’s suddenly gone off the grid, before leaving to go back to work the rest of his double-shift. He casts Derek furtive looks every now and again but he doesn’t seem too put-off by his presence at what is essentially 5 o’clock in the early morning.It’s still dark out but he can already hear the birds waking, breaking the tumultuous silence between them with their morning song.‘I’ll be fine, dad,’ Stiles tells him when his dad hovers by the top of the stairs, looking emotionally troubled and hesitant about leaving the home. He doesn’t blame him; he feels the same way.‘One more thing,’ John mutters as he passes Stiles again, walking down the end of the hall towards his bedroom and disappearing inside.Stiles follows him but keeps near the threshold of the room, not quite able to make that tiny step inside, still reeling from the findings of his first and only visit. He watches as his dad pulls open the bedside table cabinet to reveal a small personal safe. He doesn’t manage to get a glimpse of the combination but he catches sight of a gun, a folder of documents and the corner of what looks to be a jewelry box. John takes out two items from within the safe before snapping it shut and turning the dial to a random number. Stiles can’t hide the surprise on his face when his service pistol is given to him, handle first.‘This isn’t permission to go after him; you understand me?’ His dad warns sternly. ‘This is for self-defense only.’‘Yes, Sir,’ he tries to say with as much resolve as he can muster but it comes out shaky, too full of emotions he can’t pin down long enough to express his gratitude at the trust his dad is still willing to bet on him. That said, he won’t make promises he can’t keep – if there’s a chance, however slight, that he can end everything with a single bullet then he’ll take it.‘I’m not ordering you as the county sheriff; this is me trying to look out for you as a father.’Stiles tightens the grip he has around the handle of the gun, suddenly heavy in his hands, growing heavier when his dad lets go and holds out the magazine to go with it. He nods in understanding and watches his dad mimic the movement, stiff in the neck, before putting the gun back together, checking and re-checking each component and making sure the safety in on before pointing the barrel downwards, away from any body parts.‘I’ll give you an update as soon as I get it,’ John tells him as he holds onto Stiles’ shoulders and squeezes tightly once, ‘don’t go anywhere without somebody else with you. Make up a buddy system.’He can hear the pleading in his dad’s tone, can feel it in the squeeze of his fingers, tight and desperate.‘Yeah, I will,’ he says with another small nod, trying to be as reassuring as he can be in that small gesture but he can’t help but tighten his fingers around the handle of the gun as he thinks about all the risks and dangers around Gerard Argent being currently loose in the state of California.‘Stay safe.’‘You, too,’ he tells him, his voice lowered down to a scared whisper as John gives his shoulders one last squeeze before passing him. Stiles listens as his dad makes his way down the hall and down the stairs, out the front door and right back into his cruiser, the rumble of the engine turning over before fading into the distance. John had barely been at home for a half hour.The service pistol has never felt so heavy in his grip before in all the other times he’s kept it strapped to his holster. It’s been his constant companion for the past 4 years, not including all the other weapons he used to carry on him, but now it feels so much more difficult to hold onto. His hand is shaking when he looks down at it, his body betraying him for the second time in as many hours as he takes in the cold, black metal and everything it symbolizes – protection, corruption, trust, betrayal – and he hates how something as small as this, barely even a significant portion of his body weight, is enough to bring him to his knees.His head hurts, his chest hurts, his vision is blurring and he can’t breathe. The metal is digging into his palm, his hand a pale and stark contrast to the weapon he’s holding. The safety is on but he doesn’t feel safe, he doesn’t feel right, he doesn’t feel in control. He’s not okay.Stiles hears his name being called to him the same instance he sees a hand encircling his wrist, holding on tight enough to ground him back to the here and now. The gun slips out of his grasp and falls to the carpet with a light thud as he listens to Derek repeat to him what his dad told him – breathe. There’s a warm hand on his shoulder, a faint echo of where his dad held on, and the weight of it makes it easier to inhale deeply and hold it in.He stays where he is, kneeling in the doorway of his dad’s bedroom with his eyes firmly focused on the carpet fibers and not the gun in front of him. Derek’s fingers are still wrapped around his wrist, his hand a solid weight on his shoulder, and it’s only now that Stiles takes in their awkward positioning in-between the doorway and the building cramp in his knee joints.‘Thanks,’ Stiles murmurs as he looks at where Derek is crouching in an uncomfortable stance behind him. The older man takes it as his cue to straighten up, give him back his space but he doesn’t leave him alone in the middle of the hallway.He forces himself to pick up the service pistol and get back on his feet before traversing the short distance towards his bedroom. The gun makes a heavy thunk when he leaves it on his desk and he’s careful to keep his eyes strictly focused on his periphery rather than what’s in front of him as he sits back down and rubs a hand along his chest. It comes away clean.‘I didn’t know you get panic attacks,’Derek says abruptly, standing near the window and opening it just a crack to let in some fresh air.‘I’m a mess,’ he tries to joke but it comes out too heavy and too full of resentment to make the cut. He sighs and he wants to drop the subject but talking about it, about anything, is better than being left to his own thoughts, jumping from one worst case scenario to the next.‘It’s nothing new; I’ve been having them since I was a kid. I thought I was getting better,’ he finishes quietly as he rubs the hem of his shirt between his fingers.Derek doesn’t say anything else. Stiles doesn’t expect him to.--The buddy system isn’t difficult to figure out – it’s the anxiety that comes from waiting for something bad to happen that puts Stiles on edge. It’s not paranoia, he doesn’t think; it’s a sense he developed over the years from working as both a hunter and a police officer and he’s always considered it as a part of his survival instincts. He knows, without a shred of a doubt, that it’s only a matter of time before Gerard throws a wrench into their lives.If he hasn’t done so already.Scott doesn’t pick up his phone, not even after the third try.  It leaves an unsettling feeling in his gut but Stiles decides to leave a message for him anyway, letting him know about Gerard and telling him to break the dorm rules and bunk with Allison for however long he can manage to get away with.There’s only less than two weeks left until break – their RA can afford to be lax about the rules.‘Try not to get caught,’ he ends the message with a half-hearted smirk before hanging up, staring intensely at the screen of his phone as it fades to black.Derek is not quite pacing the room from corner to corner but he seems tense and uneasy as he explains the new situation to Isaac with an occasional hand gesture, relaying the same information they got from John about Gerard and repeating most of it word for word. It feels like they’re both a broken record, first with Erica then with Chris, saying the same lines over and over and over again, but it’s a necessity if they want everybody caught up on what’s going on.‘Find Erica and Boyd,’ Derek says into the mouthpiece, stopping beside the window and eyeing the horizon that’s lightening up, ‘stay with them. If you see any group of hunters that aren’t led by Chris then go the other way: do not engage.’While Stiles isn’t particularly gifted with exceptional hearing, even he can hear the derisive snort coming from Isaac’s end of the line. There’s even the barest hint of a smirk on Derek’s lips as he tells the other to be careful before ending the call and going through a list of commands to execute another one.It’s a little after eight in the morning and Stiles is exhausted from a combination of a screwed-up body clock as well as lack of sleep from the previous night. The text messages he received yesterday coupled with the knowledge that Gerard Argent is no longer in a secured jail cell feels like an ominous black cloud hovering over his head, one that’s about to let loose a torrential storm.He tries calling Scott one more time but it rings through until he ends up in voicemail again. His unease over the situation doubles at the sound of Scott’s cheery voice telling him to leave a message after the tone even though it’s not the first, or the second, or even the third time the other has forgotten to take his phone with him while attending his lectures. He’s worried, because Gerard is somewhere out there and nobody, especially him, wants a repeat of what happened with Kate.Stiles doesn’t want anyone else to die because of him.‘I can’t reach Boyd,’ Derek says suddenly as he hangs up and tries again.His heart skips a beat and he can’t help the way his eyes follow Derek’s every move as he tracks a path back and forth the carpet in front of the window. He watches Derek attempt to connect a call two more times until suddenly, without any warning, the older man stops in the middle of his room, mouth agape and posture stiff even though the slack in his fingers is enough for his phone to slip out of his grip and tumble under the bed.Stiles is up on his feet before he knows it, stopping a careful distance away from Derek whose breath is coming out short and whose eyes are wide and red and feral with his gaze focusing on the middle distance, completely inattentive to his surroundings.‘What’s going on?’ He demands and watches as Derek’s throat clicks repeatedly over words that don’t seem to want to make itself heard. He doesn’t know what’s happening so he asks again until Derek’s eyes shift to meet his, skin pale and looking far too vulnerable.‘Boyd is dead,’ he tells him, voice hoarse and expression pinched while Stiles’ stomach lurches at the news, his fear of losing more people renewed.The cold press of terror in his gut comes back ten-fold, this time over Scott’s lack of reply from his earlier calls and text messages. He worries that calling Allison will give him the same result and he worries that whatever happened to Boyd is going to happen to them, too, or maybe it’s already happening.It doesn’t matter that Scott and Allison are two and a half hours away by car from Beacon Hills – in the grand scheme of things a little distance never bothered Gerard from doing whatever he wanted.His phone starts ringing in that instance and one look at the screen tells him that it’s Isaac calling him. When he picks up all he can hear is the other yelling for why Derek isn’t answering his phone and why his connection with Boyd is suddenly gone.‘What the fuck is going on?’ Isaac shouts, his voice sounding strained and unsteady.‘I don’t know,’ he says with a shake of his head as he crouches down beside his bed and stretches for Derek’s phone until he can reach it. A quick swipe at the screen tells him that there are four missed calls within seconds of each other, two from Erica and two from Isaac himself. ‘Find Erica and rendezvous at my house. Don’t try to look for Boyd,’ he tells him even though it pains him to say it but, the truth is, they can’t do anything until they’ve gathered everybody else to form a solid plan.‘She’s not there and her window is wide open. I smell a lot of wolfsbane here and some blood.’‘Whose?’ He asks just as Derek takes his phone and starts telling Isaac to run for cover and to avoid the main roads but to also steer clear of going too deeply into the preserve surrounding the town.‘Stay on the line and get here as soon as you can,’ Derek orders just as his eyes flit over towards the window and Erica clambers through it not half a minute later without any shoes on, looking disheveled with her braided hair in complete disarray.‘You didn’t tell me shit was going to hit the fan this soon!’ She shouts at the both of them as she tries to keep her tears, anger and fears at bay. ‘You told us to watch out, to buddy up; you didn’t tell us they’re already here!’Erica is still in her pajamas of a loose shirt and thin shorts, grass stains on her knees and dirt between her toes. Her braid is coming apart and she looks ready to scream or cry or maybe even both. She’s shivering but he honestly doubts it’s from the cold but he offers her a jacket anyway, one she takes but folds in half and holds close to her chest instead.Stiles catches Derek hanging up before making another call on his phone, only just starting to talk into it when Isaac is suddenly scratching his way in through his window, falling in an ungainly heap beside Erica and trembling along with her as he holds onto his phone tight in one hand. His eyes are wide and he looks pale but he takes Erica’s hand when it’s offered and neither of them let go.‘Boyd can’t be dead,’ Isaac mutters under his breath repeatedly as his phone cracks under the pressure from a force greater than that of a human’s capability. Erica and Isaac’s joined hands are white at the knuckles and if it weren’t for their shared strength or fast-healing then it wouldn’t just be a broken phone they’d have to worry about.Stiles returns his attention to Derek whose back is turned to them, and he can see the tension in his shoulders and the way his arm flexes as he squeezes his free hand into a tight fist. He can’t hear what Chris is saying but he knows the older man isn’t blaming Derek for whatever battle they’ve all unwittingly signed up for.‘We can’t contact Scott or Allison,’ Stiles tells the others and he can barely keep the guilt out of his voice but Derek gives him a sharp look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed and fierce as though daring him to put the fault all on his shoulders. He doesn’t care what Derek thinks – the blame is all his.‘They’re not even in Beacon Hills!’ Isaac outrages as he gets to his feet, pulling Erica up with him as they stare helplessly at the both of them.‘We’re operating on worse case scenarios now,’ Stiles says with a shake of his head as Derek continues to stay on the phone with Chris. ‘Boyd is dead and we have to assume that Scott and Allison are both taken.’‘Oh, my god,’ Erica says over and over again as she angrily rubs at the eyes as though it might stop the tears. ‘This is insane, this is so fucking insane. We’re not even over the shit that bitch put us through and now this?’Derek abruptly hangs up with barely a word of goodbye as he runs out of Stiles’ room and thunders his way down the stairs. Stiles doesn’t know where the sudden shift in mood came from but Isaac and Erica are quick on his heels, just a few seconds behind before they’re also rushing their way towards the first level of the house.He hears Derek’s voice first, calling out for Boyd, loud and desperate. He hurries his way after them towards the back of the house where the kitchen backdoor is wide open and all three of them are standing just outside, blood staining the woodwork, the steps, the welcoming mat, their shoes and, in Erica’s case, her bare feet.Stiles barely has the presence of mind to run back upstairs and push the dresser away from the wall to pry at the loose wood hiding away his stockpile of weapons and ammo. He’s not sure if he’s got the right strain of wolfsbane on him and there’s a chance he might have to go through a good portion of the bullets he has before they find the right one to apply to Boyd’s injuries. He counted at least three bullet wounds and he hopes he has enough to help as he rushes back downstairs but not before grabbing a spare lighter from his desk drawer.‘Isaac, get your lighter out; I need you to split the workload with me,’ he pants as he kneels down beside Boyd on the opposite side of Derek who’s still working on trying to get the bullets out. There are two shell casings lying in the blood next to him and he’s digging his fingers into Boyd’s thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery, to pull out another one. ‘Erica, you take half and try to see which strain works.’The most common type of wolfsbane used is generally monkshood but there are groups of hunters out there who like to experiment, combining different strains of wolfsbane together to give a bigger bang for their buck. It’s starting to become obvious after their third attempt at burning out the ash in Boyd’s body that this could be one of those cases, up until one of them starts to work more effectively than the rest.‘Thank God,’ Isaac breathes out as Erica grabs a couple more bullets to empty out into her hand before burning it right in the middle of her palm and spreading it into the four bullet holes on Boyd’s chest, arm and leg. As soon as it’s done Derek tries to wake Boyd who’d remained unconscious since the moment he dropped in a dead heap on the steps of his back porch. It bodes ill for how well he’s faring.‘How many were there,’ Derek repeats while Boyd’s head lolls around, his eyes barely focusing on the people around him as his body heals.They’re all covered in various amounts of blood and Stiles doesn’t have to look down to know that his sweatpants are practically soaked in them. He keeps his fingers poised over Boyd’s weak pulse and holds his breath and tries to make sense of the words coming out thin and hoarse from his lips.‘Four,’ he manages to say before slipping back into unconsciousness.Stiles swears – if there are four hunters here in Beacon Hills then there has to be at least that many more where Allison and Scott are. He worries they aren’t just dealing with Gerard Argent leading a small team of hunters: he worries that they’re dealing with a man who’s cashing in all his favors and that, possibly, he’s got the whole San Francisco network backing him up.He doesn’t know if they can make it out of this alive.His phone chimes and he looks at it from where it’s lying in Boyd’s blood and catches an unknown number flashing across the screen. It’s with trepidation that he opens up the message and loads another photo, this time of a necklace he’d seen around Kate’s neck before it was passed down to encircle and choke Allison.If they hadn’t been sure about either Allison or Scott before, they are now.-----He wakes up on the floor of a jail cell – a squat little thing that takes him all of two large steps to walk across – and the whole place smells like old blood, stale piss, rust and a lingering stench of fear mixed with the barest hints of wolfsbane.There’s a large door opposite the bars holding him in, spanning the entire length of the wall, and the sight of it confuses him because, honestly, why would anybody install a metallic sliding door where the fourth wall should be? Scott doesn’t pay the niggling question too much mind, which is his first mistake.He doesn’t see what’s aimed at his back until he feels the stab and shock of electricity surging through his body, turning his legs into jelly. He falls into a spastic heap on the ground, his teeth clattering uncontrollably, tries to clear the sudden flash of color in his vision and breathe around the pain but he can’t.The smell of wolfsbane intensifies, and the door is the last thing on his mind. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- There’s a warm hand on his chest, rubbing soothing circles above his heart. He’s immediately transported back to a time where his grandma used to care for him when he’d fallen sick with a combination of a chesty flu and a runny nose, but that was years ago, back when he’d yet to hit his double digits and before he’d been given the bite.He misses her, suddenly, and he doubts he’ll ever stop missing her but as he opens his eyes to the sight of Erica lying in bed beside him, who’s outside of her dark mascara, glossy red lips and artificial blush, wearing an oversized t-shirt with the collar slipped over one shoulder and oversized track pants slung low over an exposed hip, he also doubts he’s ever woken up to anything more beautiful than her.Boyd smiles, and she returns the same shy look.----- Chapter 5 -----The back porch is a literal bloody mess and smells strongly of burned cigarettes. John had expected to return home early from a long double-shift to find Stiles either working on his laptop or sleeping to make up for lost hours. What he hadn’t expected to find were bloody rags of torn clothing in a tied up plastic bag stuffed in the rubbish bin of his downstairs bathroom and a guest room occupied by not one, or even two, but three young adults on the small double bed.Frankly, he’s amazed they managed to fit themselves on the mattress and still look comfortable with the arrangement even though Isaac looks to be on the verge of slipping off.Stiles and Derek are caught red-handed in the middle of clean-up, figuratively speaking, but there’s still the odd smear of blood here and there on their clothes and on their bodies. Stiles is a mixture of guilt, fear and worry as he holds onto a dripping hose while Derek continues to keep up his usual neutral expression even though he’s kneeling on the stained wood with a wet dish rag in hand that’ll most likely be tossed away later.At first, after seeing all that fresh blood, he’d been afraid to find Stiles bleeding on the floor, the laceration on his chest ripped wide open – a nightmare he’s had more than once – though, he can’t say this is all that much better. The blood on his son’s ruined pajama pants do little to stop the image of him strapped down on the gurney fighting for his life but John does his best to push the mental assault aside for more important business.He doubts any amount of therapy with Morrell is going to stop them from coming. It’ll get better but it won’t ever go away.‘I want to pretend I didn’t see anything but there’s too much going on and there are a lot of lives at stake, so,’ John doesn’t sigh but he can’t help the slow, tired exhale as he rubs the skin between his eyes, ‘I want you to explain to me what happened in the mere 6 hours I was gone.’He watches Stiles exchange a look with Derek who only gives an unhelpful shrug and a single nod of his head. Eventually, Stiles turns his attention back to him and says, ‘Yeah, just let me hose down the rest of the porch first.’‘Fine,’ he agrees and hopes Mrs. Wiltkinson has been too busy with her TV drama re-runs to look outside her window to what looks to be a bad Halloween setup even though it’s nowhere near the season for it.John had been planning on making a quick bite of food to eat before heading off to bed but after seeing all that blood on the knees of Stiles’ sweatpants he’s not quite feeling up for it anymore. Instead, he goes into the kitchen and pours himself a small glass of scotch, then a little bit more, and considers whether he wants to take the whole bottle to keep him company at the dining table or not.He shoves it back into its usual place in the cupboard instead, deciding he’ll need all his wits about him if he’s to survive the rest of their conversation.It only takes Stiles fifteen more minutes before he’s back inside, a little wet and looking more than a little tired, but he dutifully pulls out his usual seat across from him and sits down, water-wrinkled hands tapping an idle pattern on the tabletop, leaving wet smudges in its wake. John expects Derek to come inside after him but a couple of minutes passes before he realizes that the other man won’t be joining them.‘Your friends in the guest bedroom,’ John starts to question, idly playing with the rim of the glass as Stiles’ eyes flit over in the general direction of where Erica, Boyd and Isaac are.Stiles draws in a deep breath and tells him, ‘Boyd was shot this morning.’He jolts in alarm but he remembers the way all three of them were sprawled across the spare bed when he looked in through the open door. If Boyd was shot then it’s obvious he’s long since healed from it. If all that blood on the porch belonged to him, which there was much of, and if Boyd had been any normal human being, then it would’ve been more than enough to warrant admission into the hospital. It’s highly possible he wouldn’t even make it in time, just another DOA statistic.‘And?’ John prompts, taking another long sip of scotch to calm his nerves. He knows his hands are shaking from a combination of far too much caffeine, too little sleep, too much nerves and dread boiling away in his stomach, but there’s a smudge of blood on the underside of Stiles’ chin that he hadn’t noticed before and now he can’t help but focus his eyes on. It’s not Stiles’, he prays and tries to convince himself, but he’s still not over the sight of his son bleeding out in the basement of the burned down and recently collapsed Hale house.‘Allison and Scott aren’t picking up our calls,’ Stiles mutters quietly, as though he wants his words to be missed and barely heard. But his ears are keener than that and he knows that whatever Stiles is saying, he’s implying more.He draws in a long breath and puts his half-finished glass down, but it rattles against the wood from the shake still in his fingers and he has to place them flat on the table to stop them fully.  ‘Here’s what we’re going to do,’ he starts as he pulls out the notepad from the inside lining of his jacket and begins to pen down a list, the first item being the arrangement of protection detail. ‘I’m going to call in the boys and I’m going to let them know what’s going on.’‘What? No!’ Stiles shouts as he abruptly gets up, the legs of the chair screeching horribly against the polished wood of their dining room, almost toppling over but settling back down. ‘Dad, this is completely beyond what the police are capable of.’‘Only because I’m the only person caught up on all things supernatural-related. Once the others have been informed then we have a better chance of implementing a system to better protect everybody in Beacon Hills,’ he’s not quite sure how to begin organizing it but he knows Chris Argent will be more than happy to consult with them.‘I told you all of that in confidence,’ he says slowly, with only the slightest of tremors in his voice, though it doesn’t stop him from sounding betrayed. ‘This isn’t something you can just tell anybody.’‘This isn’t just about you, Stiles, or about me. I’m trying to protect—’‘I don’t need you to protect me.’John’s eyes move of their own accord, zeroing in on where he knows Stiles will be scarred forever. When he next looks up, the look of nervous betrayal is gone from Stiles’ face and replaced with indignant anger instead.‘What about Allison and Scott, then? What about them?’ John brings up, pen poised over the page just as he was trying to jot down the second point.‘We’ve already told Chris what we think is happening.’He doesn’t like where this conversation is heading. ‘I’m going to assume police involvement will be at its absolute minimum.’‘Yes.’‘This isn’t a good idea, Stiles.’‘It’s not a question of whether it’s a good idea or not, but if you involve more people into this then you’re going to expose a lot more than the fact that Allison and Scott have been taken. We blow this out of proportion, we end up wasting time, and neither of them can afford that.’‘What are you planning to do?’ He doesn’t want Stiles to do anything while he’s barely even half a month into his recovery period and the thought that he’ll willingly put himself in the middle of danger to find his friends while trying to fend off the return of Gerard makes him almost physically ill. John doesn’t want Kate’s psychopathic father to get anywhere near his son. It almost took everything in him not to assume the worst of both Chris and Allison – the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all.‘What I’m trained to do,’ and it’s obvious from the way he says it that he doesn’t mean the six-months he spent in the academy.Sometimes, John still wonders how much of Stiles made it back to him. It’s times like this that makes him feel his boy never made it back at all, and it’s moments like these that make him think of his wife and the broken promises laid out between them.‘Duke it out as a vigilante?’ His voice resolutely does not crack. ‘This isn’t a movie or a TV show, Stiles; the hero doesn’t always win and come out on top.’‘I never said I was a hero.’His chest aches suddenly, because he can still remember his five-year old kid listing down “Batman” as what he wants to be when he grows up. In a way, he fulfilled that childhood wish but at a cost that took away more than just his innocence and his carefree smiles.‘How long ago did you find out?’ John asks, feeling incredibly exhausted as he tries to ward off the oncoming headache.‘We started calling everybody at around 7 o’clock; everybody but Allison, Scott and Boyd picked up. It wasn’t until maybe a quarter-past eight that Boyd showed up on our doorstep looking like death warmed over.’A quick glance at the clock tells him that it’s been just over three hours since then and he can’t help the rising fury at the fact Stiles deliberately chose not to tell him; hoping to clean up the mess before it’s noticed by metaphorically sweeping it under the rug. ‘You were never going to inform me.’Stiles, though sheepish, remains resolute as he shakes his head. ‘I wanted to keep you out of it.’He narrows his eyes and can’t help but snark back at him, ‘Because ignorance is bliss.’‘Things were better before you found out.’‘Better?’ John almost shouts, his feet firm on the floor ready to push away from the chair.‘It was better but it didn’t make it easier,’ he argues, breath short as if it took a monumental amount of effort to say those words out loud.All those times Stiles looked as if he was swallowing down a secret – the stilted lulls in conversation not just within the office but also at home – it’s only now that John is able to match it to what it actually is. Ever since he found Scott, Allison, Isaac and Erica behaving bizarrely at the burning building of where Derek Hale lived, the revelation of Stiles’ double-life is both more than he imagined and worse than he anticipated.He doesn’t know what to do anymore. He doesn’t know how to protect his son that doesn’t want, or need, his protection. He can’t help as a father, but he has more than enough power behind his badge and absolutely no shame in abusing his authority as a sheriff.‘I don’t want you to go after them.’‘Dad,’ he fumes.‘I lost you once.’Stiles chokes on his next words, his expression crumpling in pain.‘I almost lost you a second time,’ he stands resolutely, eyes unflinching as he meets Stiles’.  ‘I refuse to let there be a third. Gerard is obviously a dangerous man; more than I’d originally anticipated, and if he’s somehow managed to get Allison and Scott then it’s not a farfetched guess to assume he’s going to come after you, too.’‘Don’t waste time, dad.’‘Don’t you dare tell me that keeping you safe is a waste of my time,’ he yells and feels momentary guilt at the look of shock on Stiles’ face before it disappears quick as it came. ‘I’m going to make a call,’ he continues in a normal voice, ‘and we’re going to set up rosters to keep an eye on the house and an eye on you.’‘I don’t need a protection detail on our doorstep.’‘Good thing it’s not up to you to decide that,’ he picks up his glass and dumps the rest of his drink down the sink. He’s got calls to make and it’s obvious the both of them are going to need a lot of space to deal with their new predicament. Derek has yet to come inside but he’s not foolish enough to think the man didn’t hear every single word that was said. Whether or not Derek is for or against what’s already been decided isn’t up for discussion.Stiles looks positively livid when he passes him again on his way out of the kitchen and it’s not that he’s adding insult to injury but he wants to make this absolutely clear: ‘Your friends are welcome to stay; to come and go as they please but you are under house-arrest from this day forward,’ he tells him just as he pulls out his phone to start dialing in the number for Jones and rope him into doing a couple extra hours of work.‘You’re wasting my time,’ Stiles snaps just as he’s walking away.He stops, and feels his heart skip and stutter with him at the tone of Stiles’ voice.‘When you were bleeding out in the back of the ambulance you barely had any left,’ John won’t lie and say that it doesn’t sting to hear his son talk to him that way, and he knows he’s pushing Stiles away by forcefully taking away his freedom, but the most important fact is that he doesn’t care, not as long as Stiles is alive to push back.With the way things are going Stiles is more likely to squander than savor the numbers left to his name but John is going to make damn sure he’ll do whatever it takes to preserve the rest.--It’s been a little over 30 hours since the news of Gerard’s disappearance and John has only slept for five of them, but he’s run on less fuel than that before; he can make do.Stiles hasn’t spoken to him since their last conversation and outright refuses to be in the same room as him. It’s not out of the question to think that he’d refused to be in the same building altogether but he’s more or less chosen to confine himself to his bedroom instead. There’s a part of John that think it’s outrageously childish of Stiles to behave this way but there’s the other part of him that takes giddy pleasure from it. The silent treatment reminds him of the boy who used to act out and who’d throw tantrums when he didn’t manage to get things to go his way.However, the fact still remains; Gerard is on the run, Stiles is in danger, Allison and Scott have been reported missing and there is a group of people within Beacon Hills attempting to kill or severely harm Derek and the Betas of his pack.Undoubtedly, he has a feeling all of his hair is going to grey before the week is out, and that’s not even including whatever else is going on with his deputies and Stiles’ former training officer.He’s not oblivious to the looks his co-workers have been giving him as of late but at least Elliot is out keeping an eye on the house and all its occupants so it’s one less look to worry about. However, it doesn’t stop the tingle of suspicion going up and down his spine whenever he catches sight of Jones and Rodgers watching him. They’re obvious about it but John doesn’t want to be the one to make that jump – he’ll wait for them to find him first.Still, their eyes constantly follow him whenever he makes his way across the station floor and it nags him.The deaths of the two people who’d been in the prison transport vehicle with Gerard Argent as their precious cargo make it into the news. Condolences to the families and friends of the victims are shared over the media release but it does little to help ease the pain of loss. Pictures and descriptions as well as the number for the police hotline for anything and everything to do with Gerard are also posted up on various bulletin boards, front page news, and is mentioned on every broadcast at least twice. The amount of false leads they receive are hard to sift through, always is, but it’s better to get wrong information than none at all.It’s not long into the shift before there’s a knock on the door and John looks up from his work, red marker in hand, to find Rodgers standing at the threshold with Jones flanking him, shutting the door behind them after they’re both inside.‘Any updates on Gerard Argent?’ He asks as he goes back to his case files, trying to line up the “sightings” they’ve gathered from the hotline onto the map. He rules out the one from all the way in Maryland with a large “X” because not only is it impossible for the older man to make the flight, what with his face plastered on practically every news channel, the time doesn’t match up with the moment he disappeared either. It would take considerably more than 30 hours to get there by car.Rodgers shakes his head, looking aged despite the recent dye-job, as he runs a hand through his hair, messing up the gel work as he goes. ‘Still sifting through the tips we’ve got on hand but we’re not here to talk to you about that.’‘Well, if it’s not a top priority then we’ll table it for now,’ he tells them as he crosses off another false lead that contradicts with the facts they’ve already gathered.‘This isn’t something we can just drop, John, not when you’re hiding things from the rest of the team.’He stops in his work as he eyes the men in his office, their tone full of accusation, and he can’t stop the unbridled anger building up in his system. ‘Excuse me?’‘The missing files,’ Jones interrupts with a narrowed-eyed stare, ‘the ones about Dylan O’Brien; they’ve gone and disappeared.’‘Disappeared or misplaced?’ He shakes his head and changes the focus, dropping the marker onto the table. ‘O’Brien barely had anything on him, unless you want to count the handful of parking tickets he got for leaving his car right outside the station,’ he says as he switches off the monitor and flips close the files laid across his desk all the while trying to separate the teenager they’re talking about to the man they’re all working with. ‘Why were you looking for it? His records should’ve been sealed.’‘Fine,’ Jones concedes with the slightest of aggrieved huffs, ‘say that his records are sealed and we can’t access it without plausible reason, what about the fact that all of the hardcopy folders regarding what little information we have on him are gone?’‘Have you checked between all the desks? It’s not an uncommon thing to happen.’‘John, we know he’s your boy,’ Rodgers snaps as he stalks over to the desk until he’s looming over it, his voice lowered and gaze firm, ‘but you’re deliberately tampering with evidence and we know it’s not something Ms. Argent did with the intention of framing you.’‘The dates don’t line up,’ Jones intervenes easily, ‘and for all the paranormal activity TV programs I watch even I wouldn’t chalk it up to “ghosts in the machine”.’ he finishes, his tone and posture a juxtaposition to Rodgers’.John actually starts laughing, not just because of their unintentional “good-cop, bad-cop” routine but also for the mentioning of “paranormal activities”. His reaction is obviously not one that either of the men had been expecting and their traded looks with one another tells John as much as he quickly calms down. He settles back in his seat and refuses to admit anything over what they’re accusing him of.  After all, he can still claim plausible deniability.He gets a lucky break in the form of static coming over the radio transmitter, drawing all of their attention away from the conversation as Elliot’s voice breaks through the buzz and crackle.‘I think I just saw Stiles disappear into the woods, running off into the goddamn sunset.’So much for a lucky break, John thinks as he grabs the radio clipped onto his belt and pushes down the button with a little too much force, ‘You think you saw Stiles disappear into the woods?’ He repeats through gritted teeth and hopes to God and Claudia that it’s not true. But knowing Stiles, nothing short of handcuffing him to the radiator will get him to stay in one place for long. When he sets his mind to something, there’s little to nothing that will actually stop him from doing it, even when he was a child.‘With Hale.’‘You’re sure?’ He asks as he stands up and pulls his jacket back on, already moving around the desk past the two men in his office for the door, keys ready and on hand.‘No. The hood was up and I didn’t get a clear look. It could be Lahey for all I know.’They have the same body type – tall, lithe, broad shoulders and narrow waists – so he’s not surprised that, from a distance, it’s hard to differentiate the two apart. ‘I’m on my way. Stay where you are; don’t leave your car.’‘Yes, Sir.’The radio switches off just as Rodgers tries to block his path on his way towards the station doors but he manages to sidestep him and tell him at the same time, ‘We’ll talk later.’ A part of him hopes they won’t bring it up again but with his luck going downhill and snowballing out of control, he highly doubts it’ll lighten up. For now, though, he has to go back to his house and hope Stiles won’t test his patience.Unfortunately, it’s an empty home he returns to and his fear over losing Stiles for possibly the third time grows ten-fold.Elliot joins him by the front door, hand resting on his belt next to the radio, staring into the quiet home with a calculating look as if he’s searching for more than just for clues as to where Stiles decided to run off to. It’s not much longer after that another police cruiser parks itself behind their cars and both Jones and Rodgers exit the vehicle with the same look as they’d worn back in the station.‘What is it?’ He demands, feeling frayed around the edges as he takes in his co-workers, feeling surrounded by the men who’re supposed to be his partners.‘We figured you’d want some help picking up clues as to where Stiles has gone,’ Rodgers replies as he turns his attention to the other deputy, ‘whereabouts did you see them disappear off to?’Elliot points a finger to the back of the house to the trees beyond the back porch. ‘They shot off in that direction, but they could’ve changed course once they’ve gone deep enough to lose any eyes on them.’‘You’d think the kid would lay low after getting shot,’ Jones says with a shake of his head with a worried expression and a gnash in his teeth.‘He’s never been one to take kicks when he’s down,’ John is scared for Stiles, and furious at the same time. It feels as though all of his plans for keeping his son safe are unraveling right before his eyes, pushing him back to square one, but he doesn’t think he can figure out a better plan, not when he hasn’t got any time left to work with. John decides to put an order out for all patrolling units to be on the lookout for Stiles and any of his friends, after that he turns back to the others and tells them to prioritize on locating Gerard Argent, ‘leave Stiles to me.’‘We’ll talk later,’ Rodger repeats his earlier words with a nod before heading off with Elliot while Jones stays behind.John feels on edge, even though he considers Jones to be one of his oldest friends, but he can’t help tensing as the other man lays a hand over his shoulder, squeezing once in solidarity. ‘He’s a good person, disregarding his sketchy past and missing years. None of us cared about his records but they’ve gone missing and we can’t overlook that,’ he tells him before leaving, a warning clear in his words as he closes the door behind him.A dry laugh escapes him as he mutters beneath his breath, ‘I hate irony.’The house is eerily silent and he’s immediately reminded of the years he spent alone, mourning the death of his wife and drowning himself in cheap alcohol over the loss of his only child. But he refuses to turn to the bottle, not when he needs a clear mind and a clear direction to go.He doesn’t turn when the door opens up behind him again, thinking it’s just Jones unable to leave things well enough alone, but he catches a glimpse of a square-shaped shadow from the corner of his eyes and unintentionally breathes in as the cloth is pressed down over his mouth. There’s a sharp snap on the back of his knees and he falls, feels three muscled arms holding his hands in harsh angles and choking him with the sickly sweet stench. His vision blurs, the room spins and the last thing he registers is the unsightly mould gathering around the crack of his ceiling in the corner of the living room.--His back and neck hurts, a sign he’s getting too old to get away with sleeping in a chair instead of a bed, but when he tries to stretch he feels the rope around his wrists, ankles and chest pull taut. He jerks to full awareness and regrets the abrupt movement, feeling sick and dizzy from it. With the exception of the light shining above his head the rest of the room is bathed in shadows. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be, either, and it takes him longer than he likes for them to readjust enough to catch the barest of shapes hiding beyond the light. It takes him longer still before he realizes the shape is human and all too familiar.The old man is sitting behind what looks to be a desk that seems as if it was taken from a classroom. He’s holding something in his hands and every once in a while John catches a faded glint of metal followed by the quiet snap of the safety being clicked off.There’s no telling how many hours has passed since he was last home or whether he’s still even in Beacon Hills or not. The room is lacking windows and John guesses there’s only one exit and that way is being blocked by Gerard Argent.‘You received a few nasty bumps on the ride here,’ Gerard drawls out as he tables the gun and leaves the barrel facing John, ‘but that’ll be the least of your problems.’‘Save me the villainous monologue,’ he says flatly as he tests the strengths of the ropes but they’re snug around his wrists and the continual tugging only makes them grow tighter.‘Werewolf sympathizers are almost as bad as those wretched beasts themselves,’ he spits as he gets up, shoulders hunched and looking older, as if he’d been gone for a decade instead of just four years.‘They’re far more human than you,’ he wants to call him a monster but he has a feeling Gerard would get a kick out of that.The old man laughs anyway, loud and malicious, as he picks up his gun and retreats further and further away until there’s the smallest sliver of light coming into the room. John can see the door but it’s far beyond his current reach.‘You’ll change your mind in a minute,’ he says sincerely, his face illuminated by the corridor’s light and John doesn’t think he imagined the look of wild cruelty in the man’s eyes.The door shuts again and he immediately begins to try his hand at loosening the knots tying him to the metal chair. It’s only now that he noticed the legs are bolted to the floor with multiple scratches lining the metal that look not too dissimilar to claws. He tries to breathe around the building panic as he eyes the brown, rust-colored stains surrounding him in a dried puddle.His wrists and ankles hurt, the ropes chafing more and more as he shuts his eyes against the growing pain to push and pull. He just needs a small gap, enough to free any one of his wrists but before he can get any further on trying to make good on his escape, the doors open up again to allow entrance to three shadows; two men dragging in a third.They throw the body down in front of him, the head cracking harshly against the concrete, and it’s with a lurch that he realizes it’s Scott; unconscious, bruised and looking as if he’d been beaten to within an inch of his life. The men quickly retreat before he can shout profanities at them and he doesn’t think oddly of it as he tries, futilely, to shuffle himself forward to get a better look on the visible parts of Scott he can see.‘Scott,’ he calls out as he eyes the claws. His hair is matted down with blood and sweat and he reeks of it, too. The clothes on him are torn in several places and falling apart in others. John shouts his name again only to hear, instead of a voice, a growl in answer.The boy’s movements are sluggish, pained, and with the occasional full-body jerks that can’t be controlled, but it’s not the blood or the injuries that worries John anymore; it’s the bloodshot look in his eyes and the animalistic twist in his face.‘Scott, listen to me,’ he tries again, softer this time, but his voice is lost over the loud roar as claws slice through his clothes and into his skin, tearing through meat and muscle and re-coloring the floor around them.Through it all, he doesn’t blame Scott. Not even once.-----He opens the door expecting to find the police on the other side, faces grim as they inform him the old news concerning his daughter having been taken. It’s Stiles and Derek, which is both the right and wrong assumption to make, but he doesn’t waste time with pleasantries before letting them inside and shutting the door behind them.The opening to their conversation isn’t with words but simply a text message. Stiles hands the small device over, smudged with dried blood in the cracks, and he feels his heart sink at the photo image of the familiar piece of jewelry adorned with the family crest.Wordlessly, Stiles scrolls down and he can’t stop the lurch in his stomach as he reads the words: Blood is thicker than water, but that does not exempt one from paying the price of betrayal.If Chris had any doubts as to Gerard’s involvement then this is all the proof he needs to expel them in a blink of an eye. He’s convinced, and he’ll do whatever it takes to bring Allison back home, even if it means killing the man he once considered his father. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They don’t discuss it, simply because Derek doesn’t know what to say and because Stiles always smells like anger, fear and shame whenever he calms down from another panic attack. After seeing him go through two it’s easy for Derek to pick out the early signs.It begins with a stutter in his heartbeat, an uptick that doesn’t slow or settle and it’s followed by a pale look in his face, growing paler as the seconds go by. It goes on to a wheeze in his lungs, a hitch in his breathing, as though there’s something physically clogging up his throat or squeezing up his airways.In all the years Derek has known Stiles he’s never seen the younger man experience panic attacks before, or in such frequencies, and to see Stiles struggling through trying to draw in a decent breath makes him feel altogether useless and frightened that something as small as this is capable of bringing Stiles to his knees.But Derek learns, and he finds that a grounding touch and a simple order to “breathe” is all Stiles needs to come out of his panic attacks, to calm down and to move on. It’s the best he can offer, and it’s the only thing he can do.----- Chapter 6 -----The numbers from the burner phones, Stiles finds, both have the same area code residing somewhere in San Francisco and as much as he is loathed to return to that city he doesn’t have a choice, not if he needs to find Allison and Scott and bring them back home alive. He has an idea where they might be but it makes his stomach churn at the thought of where they’re both holed up, held against their will, in a place Stiles grew up thinking of as Hell.‘I have to make a call,’ Chris says as he turns to leave them in the study, face strained but eyes determined.‘For some favors?’ Stiles asks as he looks up from the enlarged map of downtown San Francisco and a printout of the street view on the apartment block where he used to live. Four years later it’s even more rundown than he remembers and he isn’t surprised to see a condemned notice stuck on the graffiti-splattered front door leading into what used to be the main foyer. Even so, despite that it’s fenced off from the public, he doubts the building is truly empty.‘Something like that,’ the older man answers as he brings his phone up to his ear and walks away, leaving the door open behind him as he goes. Stiles can’t hear either sides of the conversation but he trusts Derek will let him know if it’s anything they need to ponder over. For now, they both continue on trying to work out a plan of action.‘You used to live here?’ Derek points at a blueprint of the building, detailing all the entries and exits via fire-escapes and underground sewer systems. There are only nine levels available as printouts even though there are two extra basement levels not registered in the plan, having been done without permissions gathered. Stiles has to give a rough sketch from memory, all harsh lines and sharp angles, and even though he hasn’t really thought about that hellhole in years he can still remember most of the details if not all of it.‘Seventh floor,’ he tells him as he goes through the pile and pulls out the floor plan wedged between two other pages and jabs the tip of a marker pen to a room furthest away from the elevator and the stairs. ‘Not the best living conditions but you eventually learn to adapt.’When he was younger he once compared the apartment building to a castle, a dilapidated one at that, where his room was located in the second tallest tower guarded and patrolled regularly by a nest of dragons. The worst rooms, though, were underground and he truly thought of them as dungeons.And that’s where he knows Allison and Scott are both held captive. It’s not so much an inkling as it is the undeniable truth – he’s been down there and he’s intimately familiar with the processes and goings-on in those two levels.‘We kept the wolves we don’t kill here,’ he explains as he shows Derek the sketched row of cellblocks that he recalls are barely more than 6 by 6 feet wide. There’s a long corridor along one side of the floor plan that leads to a set of stairs and on the fourth wall are large metal doors that lead to a big, empty block of space.‘What’s in this room?’It’s not a room. ‘Are you familiar with what the Roman Empire did for entertainment?’ He asks as he turns his eyes on Derek in wait for the shifts in his expressions.It’s a bad memory he’d rather suppress to the furthest part of his mind but he had grown up in that kind of environment for over half of his life – some things can’t be easily forgotten, no matter how hard he tries.‘They pit them against each other?’ Derek’s tone is a mixture of anger, shock and bewilderment.He nods, and even now he can still recall with vivid clarity the screams and howls of each person they drug to the point of incoherency and make them fight to their deaths. ‘They used to make me watch and learn,’ he tells him as he points at the walkway that’s about three-quarters of the way up from the ground with bulletproof glass reinforced with wire mesh to keep the wolves out. ‘I was so stupid; I used to think they let the winner go but their prize turned out to be nothing but a bullet straight to the head.’Sometimes, if Gerard were in a particular mood, he’d be the one to land the killing blow. Not with a gun but with a sword that Stiles had barely been able to properly lift until he was thirteen years old. Even then, he could only hold on for a few minutes before the strain in his muscles became too much.‘You were just a kid.’So were you, Stiles wants to say but instead shakes his head as he places both pages of the basement levels side by side. ‘They’re both here somewhere; separated, most likely. Allison will be in one of the interrogation rooms.’Chris scoffs as he re-enters the study, ‘That’s one way of putting it,’ he says as he slips his phone into his pocket and joins them back at the table.  ‘Don’t need to sugarcoat the truth for us, Stiles.’‘It’s a fine line, I admit, between interrogation and torture, but we’ve crossed the lines so many times that it might as well not even be there,’ he ignores the look Derek is giving him and keeps his eyes focused on Chris instead. ‘Any luck on those favors?’The older man shakes his head as he tells them, ‘We’re on our own, but word’s going around that Gerard has assembled a small team of eight people split down the middle to tackle two different objectives.’‘Taking Allison and Scott as one objective.’‘Killing the pack and I as the other,’ Derek intercedes with a small scowl.Chris nods, ‘They can’t tell me much more than that but if I know my father then we can be sure he’s got more planned than just kidnapping and eradication.’‘We’re not going to get anywhere on guess-work so this is what we’re going to do; this is our way in,’ Stiles begins a rough plan as he points at the first basement level to the boiler room that also has a maintenance hatch. ‘But to get there we’ll have to go in through the sewers which we can access from the underpass about six blocks away. We’ll be breaking a few locks and bypassing a few rudimentary security systems but it’s not something we haven’t done before,’ and then he turns to Derek, ‘we’ll mostly be relying on you and your senses to tell us whether it’s clear or not.’‘I might not be able to differentiate that many people. More than ten and the heartbeats will just turn into white noise.’‘This is just one plan. Do you have any suggestions?’ He asks Chris, knowing he ought to give the older man some say considering that they’re trying to get back his daughter.‘I’m not familiar with any parts of that building, let alone San Francisco; it’s all on you for getting us in.’‘No pressure, then,’ Stiles quirks the corner of his lip up in a facsimile of a smirk. ‘Give me an hour and I’ll refine the plan. The sooner we prepare ourselves, the sooner we can make way towards San Francisco and the sooner we can get to Allison and Scott.’‘One hour,’ Chris repeats as he begins to straighten up the papers on his desk, eyes lingering on the first basement level to the square block of rooms where it’s assumed Allison will be held.‘Who else is coming with us?’ Stiles asks as he and Derek both make their way out of the study and out of the house. ‘Or are you going to get them to hold down the fort?’‘They have to stay, not just for Boyd but for everybody else, too,’ he replies as he pulls out the keys to the car and unlocks it with a click of a button, sliding into the driver seat and waiting for Stiles to get in before turning the engine over.‘The hospital and the police station are probably the two safest places in Beacon Hills right now,’ although he doesn’t mention the hacked systems within the police department which almost resulted in his dad losing his job, and worse, his reputation, or the fact that Erica’s mum died in her hospital bed – Kate was an anomaly and practically suicidal in her mission for revenge. ‘Get us to the safe house; we’ll need to stock up on some things before we hit the road.’Derek signals and turns out into the street easily, leaving the suburban streets behind a little too quickly in his haste to move out. A cursory glance at the speedometer tells Stiles more than what Derek is willing to show and there’s a part of him that wants to let it go – he’s only 5 miles over – but there’s the other part of him that tells him they need to be careful, and lay low. ‘I’m supposed to be on lock-down; if we get pulled over because you’ve literally got a heavy foot then I’d rather walk than waste time over paperwork at the station.’ To his relief, Derek eases off the accelerator as they turn into a street leading to the more rural side of the county, mostly trees along both sides of the road with long, rough paths leading up to old houses with enough garden space to fit two more residential homes on the same property.It’s a more isolated part of Beacon Hills, quieter with little to no traffic. There’s a car heading their direction and slow going but Stiles ignores it in favor of pulling out his phone. There’s a message he hadn’t noticed earlier and he can’t help the slightest of upticks in his heartbeat as he takes in the unknown number, another one from San Francisco, and opens up to find a cropped image of the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s badge.‘Holy shit,’ he swears under his breath and looks up just in time to see the other car abruptly switch into their lane barely more than 50 yards away from them and hear a loud rev of an engine. Stiles braces his hands on the dash in front of him as Derek simultaneously brakes and swerves the car away from a head-on collision. All his common sense tells him it’s a bad move but it’s hard to think straight when there’s another vehicle trying to make one with Derek’s Camaro.The screech of brakes is deafening and the harsh jostle of the tires leaving the asphalt makes Stiles’ shoulder impact against the door, his head cracking once on the window. They both careen into the ditch instead, the hood of the car crumpling against a thick tree trunk with a large enough force to set off all the airbags.His head hurts. His ears and chest hurts. His hands are shaking and he can’t find his phone anywhere. There’s a muffled noise on his left and he feels more than he sees when the seatbelt suddenly gives way and he’s slanting across the center console because of the weird angle of which they’ve crashed from.Derek leans over his body, claws out and eyes red, raining blood on Stiles’ clothes as he pushes the door open with a hard shove and gives Stiles an equally hard shove out of the totaled car.‘Run. We have to run,’ Derek says breathlessly as he holds a hand against his ribs and simultaneously tries to limp and drag Stiles along, further and further into the preserve away from the road.There are people shouting behind them and it’s not until he hears the tell-tale snick passing in the small space between their bodies that he realizes the people behind them are Hunters and that they’re shooting at them.Stiles wipes at the sweat stinging his eye but finds his hands coming away red with blood. He feels breathless, nauseated, but forges on as Derek continues to pull him in random directions, weaving this way and that in order to disorient their pursuers. Stiles can’t help but feel disoriented himself as he tries to keep up with the speed of their run, gaining momentum as Derek’s limp heals to practically nothing, although he’s still holding a hand to his ribs as if it’s all he has to keep them where they are.They burst through the tree line and onto incoming traffic. For a moment Stiles is bewildered because Derek should’ve known better than to involve civilians. He definitely should’ve known better than to involve the police.‘Freeze!!’ Two of the officers shout as they stand behind their opened doors and aim their guns at them.They can’t stop, though. His mind is whirring in all directions, and it’s not until he catches the familiar dispatch number on the police cruiser that he realizes its Rodgers and Elliot, looking at them with a mixed look of horror and fierce determination.‘Shit, is that an arrow?!’ Elliot shouts as he stares at Derek with wide eyes, his gun lowering ever so slightly as he takes in the sight.Stiles notices it, too. Two of them sticking out of Derek’s back and coating the leather jacket in thick rivers of black.‘Get it in the car, get in the car!!’ Rodgers shouts as he changes trajectory and redirects his attention to where both Derek and he had come through the preserve. They can all hear the shouts now, coming closer, and Elliot quickly unclips his radio transmitter to start calling in for backup.‘We have civilians under attack, both injured, we need assistance. I repeat, we have civilians under—Stiles!!’They’re both running again because it’s all they can do. Neither of them can afford to get the police involved anymore than they already are and if the Hunters have any brains about them then they should’ve known to back off the second they stumbled across a patrolling unit.He can still hear both of his colleagues calling out to him, to both of them, but there’s an unsettling amount of cotton building up in his ears and he can barely focus on keeping one foot in front of the other. He spares a moment of worry that they’ll call in his dad but there’s an uncomfortable stitch in his side and an even worse pain blossoming across his chest that takes precedence over everything else. The shirt he’d worn when they left the house had been a plain grey in color but is now bordering on black. The sight alone is enough to send Stiles’ into an even worse state of panic.‘Breathe,’ Derek snaps as he continues to pull him along, righting Stiles every time he trips over a tree root, knees shaking from exertion.Eventually, they make it into the industrial park after miles and miles of almost constant running, to a mostly deserted area of Beacon Hills. Stiles can hardly breathe but he continues to take in one wheezy inhale after another as Derek leads the way again, slower this time, taking him by the arm. It feels like they’re both going around in circles, up and down and all around. His head is spinning and he feels sick in his guts, made even worse by the stench of old oil, decay and fumes surrounding the entire abandoned lot.He trips again and this time he can’t stop his knees from shaking as Derek holds him up.‘We’re almost there,’ Derek tells him, his tone a combination of concern and desperation. ‘It’s just in the next building, come on.’With more effort than he’d like, he forces himself to stand fully on his own. He can’t help being sluggish, dragging his feet along as they eventually make it to a steel door held shut with a broken padlock. It’s not until they’ve got the door swinging open that he remembers the set of stairs they’ll both have to traverse down to get to the abandoned subway cart and he can barely suppress the groan. They make their way down, inch by grueling inch, and it’s with relief that Stiles collapses on the very bottom of the stairs now that he’s no longer in danger of breaking his neck trying to get to ground level.Derek leaves him sitting there, already heading towards the subway carriage with the slightest drag and stumble of his feet. It’s not until he emerges from inside carrying two boxes of their version of a first-aid kit that Stiles finally notices the pale sheen on the older man’s face, looking dead on his feet as he settles in front of Stiles and clumsily looks through the items for whatever it is he needs.‘Turn around,’ Stiles tells him and waits for the other to do as he said before placing one firm hand on his shoulder, squeezing once, and wrapping a hand around the bolt. He gives a count of up to three before he pulls.Derek doesn’t make a sound but his entire body grows tense and he bows over in pain as Stiles throws the arrow to the side and moves on to pull out the second, his fingers slipping once before he has to wrap the bolt with the hem of his jacket to help with the blood. It’s deeper than the first by maybe an inch more and this time Derek can’t hold back his howl.‘Take off your jacket. How are your ribs?’ He asks belatedly and watches as the older man draws in one heaving breath and painstakingly pulls off his outer garment. Derek’s back, when Stiles lifts up the shirt, is tattooed with lines of black going around in all directions and he knows with the amount of running they’ve both done the older man hasn’t got more than an hour left before the wolfsbane reaches his heart and stops it from beating again.They use the same type of wolfsbane that worked on Boyd but they find that it’s not healing Derek at all. Stiles curses under his breath as he burns one strain after another, going through their stash too quickly for comfort. They don’t know which strains to work with and it takes trial and error before they find the right one to apply to both wounds.Derek looks deathly pale and for a moment Stiles can’t help but worry about the others. ‘They don’t think you’re dead, right?’‘No. The connection we had with Boyd became so frazzled and disjointed that it was easy to assume he was killed.’‘Where’s your phone?’ He asks as he slowly pulls off his own jacket, grimacing when he finds that his shirt has decided to stick onto his body like a second skin. ‘Break it before they trace our GPS.’ He can’t find his own phone so he’s going to assume he either lost it in the chase or it’s somewhere in the foot well of the Camaro.Derek wordlessly takes his phone out of his pocket and throws it to the nearest adjacent wall, the plastic and screen shattering at the impact and showering the littered floor with small metallic pieces and now-useless technology. ‘We’ve got one-third of an hour left – we need to move.’‘Does this look like I need stitches?’ Stiles can’t see the head wound without a mirror but it won’t stop bleeding and it hurts every time he gets too close to the cut. It feels inflamed but he knows he doesn’t have a concussion.Small mercies.‘No,’ Derek says as he douses a cotton ball with a generous splash of antiseptic before bringing it up to his head. Stiles can’t help the initial flinch but he soldiers on as Derek cleans up the cut while he tends to the reopened wound on his chest.‘I think this definitely needs stitches,’ he grumbles as he goes through the first-aid kit for a needle and thread. It’s not as bad as he’d expected but he’ll still need about six to close it up. It takes him a while, with clumsy fingers and the unhelpful shake in his body, during which Derek has gone off to look through the rest of their hidey holes for a stash of spare clothes. Stiles ends up giving himself ten stitches because it’s been too long since he practiced the art of suturing. By the time he’s done Derek’s already changed into a new shirt, although he’s back in his ruined jacket, and he’s got a change of clothes ready for Stiles as well, a plain white t-shirt and a thin grey jacket.They put all of their dirty clothes in an old metal drum, along with the broken pieces of Derek’s phone, the two bolts and the used items from the first-aid kit they raided before burning it all.‘We need to get to the safe house. I’ve got a couple of burner phones stashed there and we need to fill the others in on what happened before we leave. Our hour’s up.’They’re running low on time and Stiles has a bad feeling they’re not the only ones running out of it.--The safe house isn’t exactly a safe house. It’s more like an underground bunker that’s been long since out of use and has been commandeered by Derek and his Betas instead. At first, it had just been a place to store weapons they got from every Hunter they come across and pried from their fingers gone stiff due to rigor mortis. It wasn’t until Stiles came along that he decided to make it into a work station of sorts for emergencies only.This is one such emergency.‘Here,’ Stiles throws a burner phone in Derek’s direction and slips another one into his own pocket along with two more handheld devices. ‘Contact the others. We’re not on DEFCON 1 but we’re getting close to it,’ he says as he starts stockpiling on a satchel of mountain ash, guns, knives, a modified taser and a pepper spray. He exchanges the jacket he’s currently wearing for a Kevlar vest, one that will afford him some amount of protection against bullets and bolts aimed for his body. Then he pulls on a different kind of jacket, one with pockets lining the inside he can hide another knife in. He trades in his sneakers for a hardier pair of boots and slips another dagger between the straps before tightening it up and stomping once on the floor to make sure nothing slips.Derek sounds as if he’s getting into an argument with the others but he leaves it for the older man to handle as he pulls out the phone again, fingers hovering over the number pad indecisively. He makes up his mind and inputs a string of numbers he learned to memorize within the first half year of regaining back his life.‘Hello?’ A scared voice greets him.‘Melissa,’ he starts to say and immediately there’s a sigh of relief from her end as she fires one question after another, all of them involving her son, Scott.‘I should’ve known something was wrong when he didn’t call in at lunch time,’ her voice breaks at the end as she pulls in a shaky gasp of air and begs, ‘Please tell me you’ll help, please tell me you’ll find him.’‘We will,’ he promises, his resolve solidifying in the face of her tears. He can’t afford to doubt himself, and he can’t afford to waste more time. ‘Stay at the hospital; don’t go home, but if you do then keep your bat with you at all times.’This prompts a watery laugh out of her. ‘You’ll never let me live that down, will you?’He smiles into the phone before saying goodbye, listens as she wishes him good luck and finishes the call.When he next looks up at Derek there’s a fierce scowl on his face as the older man tells him, ‘They’re not happy we’re going without them.’‘Not happy? Understatement of the week,’ he snorts as he belatedly packs his lock-picking tools and wiring equipment with him before picking up another handgun and the magazine clip that goes with it, ‘what’s your knowledge like on firearms?’ He asks as he holds both items up.Derek takes the gun handle first and the ammunition next, slipping the magazine in and chambering the first bullet with ease. Stiles is mildly impressed with his handling skills.‘I’ve watched you use them enough times to get the gist of it,’ he replies as he checks for the safety before pointing the barrel down onto the ground.‘Good, but I’m gonna give you another crash course anyway. We can’t afford to get too close for any hand-to-hand combat so we’re gonna rely on long-distance stealth,’ he tells him as he hands over a silencer next and watches as Derek twists it on without too much difficulty before taking it off again. ‘Have you ever considered joining the force?’Derek hums as he pulls off his jacket to slip on a holster to sit snugly against his ribs. ‘I’ll think about it.’They only leave once they’re armed to the teeth. Derek doesn’t need any knives but he’s got three guns on him; two strapped close to his body while another one is secured above his ankle under the leg of his jeans. They’re both significantly weighed down by the time they exit the bunker but it’s better to be safe than sorry.After a quick call lasting no more than a minute they both make their way to the county line where they find Chris standing beside his car that’s just idling next to the sign farewelling them from Beacon Hills.‘They’ve got something from each of us,’ Stiles says as he eyes both Chris and Derek. ‘Allison, Scott, and my dad – we’re not leaving San Francisco empty-handed.’ It’s time to go on the offensive.None of them look back as they get in, and it’s not long before they’re well on their way towards San Francisco with their heads buzzing a mile a minute and an itch for a fight under their skin.-----There’s no response.No one has heard from or seen John Stilinski since he left the station for home when word got to him that his son ran away.Concern is etched into every line of Rodgers’ and Elliot’s grim faces as they pull up beside the house thinking of the right words to ease the bad news they’re about to deliver but there’s something wrong. The sheriff’s cruiser is still parked in the driveway but the door is ajar when they step up the porch and there’s no reply when they knock. The house is empty when they enter and a better look at their immediate surroundings tells them of a struggle.They call it in. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They’re all piled into a small private room, courtesy of Melissa McCall, and even though it’s not much it’s better than being out in the open anywhere else. Here, in the uncomfortable chairs provided by the hospital, they feel safe. The only other place safer than the hospital is with Sheriff Stilinski at the police station but he’s been taken, too, along with Scott and Allison.Erica worries; has been in a constant state of worry ever since news of her parents’ car accident reached her ears, but she hopes they’re okay. She hopes, with everything she has, that they’ll come back alive.For now, they take shifts keeping watch.----- Chapter 7 -----It’s with little fanfare when they finally arrive in San Francisco some six hours later. The skies are tinged a dark blue, though there’s still the barest of bruised colors just where the sun has already dipped beyond the horizon. Everybody is tense as they drive over the bridge leading into the big city but Derek doesn’t let up when he tells them, ‘We’re walking into a trap.’Stiles tries not to scoff. ‘We walked into it the second we crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge.’It’s unsettling, but he forces down all of his doubts; he refuses to go back home to Beacon Hills without a father.He hasn’t stepped foot in San Francisco in well over four years and not much has changed since he was last here. The layout remains exactly the same – he can probably walk the streets with a blindfold over his eyes and still reach the original destination he means to go – and it’s with certainty that he can claim he knows the place like the back of his hand. The only thing different are some shops, taken over with different businesses. The old deli is gone, replaced by a new-age trendy café, and there’s a pawn shop where he remembers an antiques shop used to be.Eventually, they park a couple of blocks away from the underpass after having circled a few times around the streets where the apartment is located. Each time they do Derek tells them the same thing: wolfsbane, mountain ash and how the entire site reeks of it.Stiles is assured they’ve got the right building, at the very least.‘No heart count?’ He asks, feeling impatient and shaky from a combination of chest pains and adrenaline, as he unbuckles the seatbelt and exits the car, slamming the door shut behind him.Derek shakes his head as he gets out, ‘Too many people around the general vicinity to give a definite number.’Stiles shrugs but moves on with the others, on their way to execute the next part of the plan – infiltration.There’s nobody around the immediate area that Derek can sense so it’s with less trepidation that they approach the door leading in, held shut by a simple padlock, one which Derek easily breaks with a twist of his hand. The metal snaps off after a groan and the door opens with a sharp whine. Stiles pockets the lock for later disposal as they enter, closing the door after them and holding it shut with a long iron rod so that nobody else can enter, not even the employees who might be working a shift tonight.The way down is easy to follow, illuminated by red work lights that offer little help, and it’s even easier with Derek’s nose leading the way, scrunching up more and more the closer they get to the sewers. Stiles grimaces in sympathy because if it stinks even to his human nose then he doesn’t want to know what kind of shit-storm Derek must be smelling right now.It’s humid and dark, takes all of them a considerable amount of time for their eyes to adjust outside of the harsh red light. They’re careful on the way in but their eyesight eventually readjusts enough that they can make out shapes to follow the contours of the walls.But then they suddenly come across a snag roughly three blocks away from the apartment building.Chris had walked over it without noticing and Stiles almost did, too, if not for the faint buzzing he’d felt growing under his skin the nearer he came towards the black sand scattered across the floor at their feet. There’s a line of mountain ash, going in both directions as far as he can see. He and Chris will have no problem stepping over it but it’s Derek he needs to worry about; it’s Derek he needs to think for.‘Hold on a sec,’ Stiles says as he crouches low over the line, hand digging into the satchel of mountain ash he’s got stuffed in one of his pockets. He rubs the ash between his fingers, coats his entire hand with it before laying it over the boundary keeping Derek from coming any closer. The line crackles with energy, sparking blue as it fights against him. He feels sick to his stomach and he has to take big, gulping breaths of stale air so he doesn’t end up throwing up. He doesn’t know why he feels this way but he chalks it up to the fact that he hasn’t done this for too long. The smell of the sewage isn’t helping either.Finally, with one last crack of energy, the line disperses and Stiles can’t hold his nausea in for much longer, taking two stumbling steps away before heaving what little he has in his stomach against the wall.There’s an aching throb in his chest and an echoing one in his head. He feels dizzy and too warm under his clothes, burning in his skin, but he spits the horrible taste from his mouth and leads the way again, red with shame and unable to meet the eyes of either Derek or Chris as they move along.‘Take a breather, Stiles,’ Chris says as he grabs hold of his arm and stops him from taking another step. ‘I don’t know what that was but you look like a ghost.’‘I just hate this place,’ he replies as honestly as he can as he shakes out the last of the mountain ash from his fingers, although he can’t get rid of the smudges between the creases of his palm.‘Mint?’ Derek actually offers.Stiles almost laughs but accepts the small canister and pops two of them into his mouth, relishes the sweet taste of it on his tongue before handing it back. ‘I knew I brought you for something other than your supernatural disposition.’Derek and Chris both roll their eyes in response to that but they patiently wait for Stiles to settle back into his skin before moving on.It’s a small trek, occasionally going in a direction that almost seems to round back to the very beginning again, but they press on until Stiles finds the right door leading into the right building. It’s got another padlock holding it shut which Derek breaks again, with slightly more difficulty, before pocketing the pieces.With the door shut behind him closing off more than just the stench of waste water, they find the room they’ve entered is warm for a different reason. It’s drier, just slightly, and smells faintly more of metallic than sewage. Stiles doesn’t know why places like these always operate using red bulbs but he feels they should consider a different kind of lighting – he won’t be surprised if he comes out of this with bloodshot eyes in the end.Derek makes an aborted inhale before further scrunching up his nose before pinching it shut. One look at him is all Stiles needs to know the air here is probably saturated with wolfsbane.‘Is it going to be a problem?’ He asks, concern coloring his tone as he considers how badly Derek’s senses will be dulled from overexposure in a hunter’s environment. Derek shakes his head, though, and gamely takes a few stilted breaths before lowering his hand and trying again. ‘How are you feeling?’‘Like there’s an uncomfortable rash inside my lungs,’ he rasps out and instead takes a deep breath of his jacket instead of the stale air around them.Stiles winces in sympathy but he can’t afford to be kind as he asks again, ‘How’s your tracking going to be like?’Derek takes one more deep breath before straightening up and rolling his shoulder to ease his tension. ‘Not optimal but I can do it.’‘Then take point,’ he lets Derek ahead of him, sticking to the middle to guide them while Chris stays close behind. They pass the maintenance hatch and it’s not much further away when they see another door and a glimmer of white fluorescent light shining from the gap beneath it. Thankfully, there are no shadows but he asks anyway as he pops open the hub and tries to figure out which line leads to the security cameras, ‘Heart count?’‘At least two nearby,’ Derek answers with a small shake of his head, as if he’s trying to clear the fumes wafting around him.‘Just two?’‘I expected at least double that,’ Chris mutters, although he doesn’t lower his guard as he readies a gun with a silencer.Stiles can’t help but agree. ‘Keep a lookout; we can’t afford to get surprised by anyone,’ he says, trying to keep the tension out of his voice as he pulls out the wiring equipment and starts stripping the plastic coating off two cables. He tacks on an extension and connects it to a handheld device that begins recording a ten-second grainy black and white loop of a blissfully empty hallway before setting it to play. He repeats this for the entire building and syncs one device for another before testing it to make sure everything words accordingly. He shuts the door after tucking the gadget out of sight and gives the all-clear signal to the others.Derek takes out a gun from his holster, mimicking the same movements as Chris before gripping the door handle tightly in one hand and gently easing it open just a crack. He’s just about to open it further when he suddenly stops short and seems to meet resistance. A quick look down is all Stiles needs to realize they’ve come across a second line of mountain ash just outside the boiler room.He swears under his breath as he dips a hand into the small bag of mountain ash again before changing places with Derek. He takes one more quick look on the security cameras to make sure nobody’s coming their way and trusts Derek to tell him if that changes before lowering a hand over the black ash. There’s no finesse this time, he shoves as much energy he can spare to break the connection, winces at the jolt of electricity thrumming through his fingers and up his arm. It’s over within seconds but he comes out of it shaky, exhausted and nauseous but not enough that he can’t control it.‘We have to move; whoever made this will have noticed it’s broken – we’ve lost the element of surprise,’ Stiles says as he pushes the door open and gestures for Derek to take point again. He checks the handheld once every few seconds whenever they near another hall only to find that it’s empty. It bothers him, the lack of hunters on this floor, although he can see at least four on the next level down.‘I can smell blood, a lot of it,’ Derek stops to take a few deep breaths, both to clear his sinuses and to give him a clearer direction before walking again but he stops abruptly just before a junction, face growing pale to match with Stiles’ complexion as he turns to say, ‘I smell Allison’s perfume, too.’‘Where,’ Chris demands, breaking their small formation to crowd against Derek, hope and fear in his voice and face as he begs, ‘where is she?’Stiles takes a look at the real feed from the security cameras he guesses are ahead of them but the pictures are smudged with large trails of black that he can’t make heads or tails of. He ignores it, deeming it unimportant so long as the way to Allison is clear. He pushes for Derek to continue, who seems to accept Chris acting as his shadow as they draw nearer to where she might be held.They round the corner and simultaneously stop at the sight of blood trailing all over the floor leading into an ajar door. It’s now that Stiles realizes this is what the black smudges on the security cameras were.Chris rushes forward, almost slipping once but manages to right himself as he pushes the door open with his gun pointed ahead only to hesitate just at the threshold. He and Derek join him only to find a dead body shoved to the side and a chair with an abandoned pair of black boots and cut pieces of rope around the bolted-down legs. The older man picks up with rope and visibly sags with relief after he’s examined the ends of it with a wry smirk on his face, obviously proud at the skills his daughter displayed to make her escape.Stiles quickly scans the images again, going through each security footage until he catches a black blur disappearing around a corner and reappearing as a bruised version of Allison Argent.By the time they get to the right hallway, Allison has already moved on but not before leaving another dead body behind like a horrible rendition of breadcrumbs to guide them forward. Derek is no longer leading the way; Chris is following the barefooted blood prints on the floor, gaining speed when they begin to hear signs of a struggle just up ahead. Stiles foregoes the handheld, no longer finding any use for it as they round the corner to find Allison standing over a dead man with a blood-soaked knife in her hand.Stiles can still remember the hesitance she displayed when he offered her the handle of a knife four years ago. Obviously, that’s gone now.‘Dad?’ Her expression crumples to one of mixed fear and relief as she drops the knife and shakily gets up to her feet to stagger her way towards him.Her exposed arms and legs are covered in blood and Stiles can’t even begin to guess the original color of her clothes, dark as they’ve become from rivulets and splatters of blood. She’s got a shiner, a split lip, a bruised cheek and a gash on her side through her ripped top. One of her ankles is swollen now that he’s taken a good look at her but, apart from that, she seems mostly alright.‘You remembered my first lesson,’ Chris says with pride in his voice as he tries to support her weight.‘Yeah,’ she smiles as she holds out a sharp arrowhead trinket, ‘always be prepared.’‘The both of you should go,’ Derek tells them, offering his jacket for Allison who readily accepts it, pulling it closer over the shaking body. ‘Do you know your way back?’Chris nods his head but Stiles gives him the handheld anyway; anything to give them the best advantage of getting out alive with the least amount of resistance on their way. He trusts they can handle any bad situation they come across, though.‘Wait,’ Allison panics as her dad takes the device, ‘what about Scott? I heard him earlier; they were torturing him.’‘We’ll find him,’ Derek promises as he exchanges a quick nod of encouragement with Stiles.It takes some convincing but Chris is the one to pull Allison with him when she begins to protest that four people are better than two. He can see the regret in the older man’s eyes but none of them can afford to give Allison even the smallest shred of attention that can be better spent elsewhere if they’re to find both Scott and his dad from within these basement levels.With one-third of the rescue completed they quickly round the halls until they find the elevator. They opt for the stairs instead, taking two at a time going down until they reach the second basement level. Stiles expects to find a third barrier mountain ash barring their entrance but what he ends up with is Derek telling him that he can smell a burst of chemicals beneath the stench of blood and wolfsbane.‘Like alcohol, but sweeter,’ Derek tries to explain as they make their way into the quiet corridor until they’re stepping in through a wide room.The level is different to what he remembers; it’s gone through some modifications but the general layout is still the same, except the door they came in from led them straight into what is often deemed as “the coliseum”.‘We need to back up,’ Stiles says as he pulls on Derek’s arm none-too-gently, trying to get back out because every single part of him is suddenly on high alert. His senses prove him right when the door they’d just stepped in through automatically slides shut and locks itself with a rusty snap of metal, plunging them into a world of darkness.There’s a crackle of static overhead and Stiles whips his head in the direction of where the walkway is located. He can’t see what’s ahead of him, not even half a foot, but he knows Derek’s nearby, straining all of his senses to make up for his loss of sight.‘My daughter-in-law died because of him,’ Gerard’s sneering voice echoes around the empty room.Stiles can feel more than he can see when Derek flinches, but he ignores it as he shouts in return, ‘She killed herself.’The old man snorts derisively. ‘She died honorably,’ he tells them, as though death is a better option than turning into the monsters they hunt, ‘which is something you’ll go to your graves without.’A door on the far side of the room slides open, letting in a column of bright light that’s more than enough to illuminate a good half of their surroundings. Stiles quickly pulls out his gun, foregoing the silencer, as he takes aim at the shadow taking one staggering step after another into the room. Before he can make a shot, though, Derek is forcing the barrel downwards.‘What are you--’‘It’s Scott.’No sooner had he said those two words did Scott stumble in on all fours, looking wild and delirious on pain and bleeding sluggishly from multiple open wounds. Stiles barely has any time to think of a better solution when a deafening roar shocks into his body and Scott is running towards them, claws out and hungry for blood.Derek hands him his gun, safety on, features shifted and ready to defend. Scott barrels into him with a large enough impact to make bones break but they easily roll off the other’s body to get back up. Stiles can see how much Derek is relying purely on defensive moves, more to disarm than to hurt, but Scott is throwing one wild attack after another, landing one hit in every four or five slashes.As Stiles watches them clash against one another he knows without a doubt that this is what Gerard wanted: a fight to the death.They don’t call this place “the coliseum” for nothing.-----They’re barely a block away from the car before he realizes he can’t leave thing as they are; he can’t just leave.Allison is throwing one argument after another, not loud enough to draw attention to the fact that she’s covered in blood with bruises all over her face, but enough to make a point: they can’t just leave the others behind to clean up their family messes.She’s right, but they’re sorely outnumbered and, not only that, sorely lacking in information.But they end up finding a nice surprise waiting by the car, a man who is more than capable of turning the odds in their favor, although he was a vet the last time he’d heard of him. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Secrets are the currency in the world of which they currently live in. They are priceless and can be bartered for a great many things, more than even money can purchase. He has used secrets to his advantage many times before, not only to get himself out of situations best avoided but also the ability to buy himself and his sister out of a place, if given a choice, he’d rather they never have stepped foot in.It’s been over half a decade since then and despite everything in him telling him to get away from that hellish world, his judgment tells him this is the right thing to do. After all, he owes Stiles this much: the boy with a spark.He’ll trade in all of his secrets if it means the chance of giving Stiles back the freedom that was taken from him.----- Chapter 8 -----Derek is losing spectacularly, staggering under each and every strike from Scott who isn’t even registering his own wounds and pains as he attacks relentlessly, growing more and more delirious as the seconds tick onwards.Stiles can’t get a clear shot, not without seriously putting Derek at a large disadvantage, but he can see that Derek can’t keep up for much longer, either.‘Hold him!’ He shouts as he tries to aim a shot at one of Scott’s legs that are throwing kicks and making jumps like a wild animal, anything to give Derek the leverage he needs to disable the other.The overhead speaker crackles back on, Gerard’s voice echoing around the room as he asks, ‘Let’s test your memory: what’s the best situation a hunter can hope for?’‘A win-win situation,’ he replies unthinkingly, breathlessly, as he eyes the growing number of wounds on Derek’s body and the increased splatters of blood across the floor. He slips on a puddle of it, almost pulling the trigger and shooting with less-than-stellar aim.‘That’s right,’ he sounds pleased, ‘why dirty your hands when you can get the wolves to kill each other?’He can’t breathe suddenly; he can’t think beyond the buzz in his head or hear anything that’s not an echoed roar or a cry of pain. His hands are shaking and he has to point the gun downwards before he ends up killing either of the two werewolves. Derek is losing, Scott is already lost and Stiles wants to scream over the unfairness that this is what his life has always been about: loss. But he refuses to give Gerard that satisfaction.Stiles crouches low and aims high, because he knows that if he doesn’t do anything, if all he can do is stand there uselessly, then they’re both going to die all because he can’t decide on the right thing to do.He made a promise to Melissa to find Scott; he never promised more than that.The shot rings out loudly and the silence that follows it is deafening.His chest aches as Derek, face open with raw emotion, kneels over Scott’s body, finally still and peaceful. His hands continue to shake but he doesn’t lower the gun, choosing to aim higher and higher until he can see the walkway in his sights even as his vision blurs and stings. Someone is screaming as he empties the magazine into the bulletproof glass, sending cracks in all directions before a repeated shot in the same location finally makes it through the wire mesh. Stiles doesn’t realize the scream is coming from his own mouth until he’s breathless from it and choking under the weight of his actions, fingers clicking uselessly at the trigger.He runs, ignoring Derek’s shout, throwing down the now-useless gun and pulling out another as he sprints towards the only option available to him. There’s a panel box that controls the cell bars at the end of the corridor and he shoots blindly through the bars, practically emptying another magazine trying to short-circuit it until one of the bullets hit home and all the doors are swinging open with loud clangs.Stiles replaces the empty clip with a new one, unloading and reloading as he races up the stairs until he reaches the walkway. It’s with satisfaction that he takes in the broken glass, deformed metal and the random spots of blood on the dust-covered walls. There’s not a lot of it, Gerard’s blood, but at least now he knows he managed to get a chip in the old man’s armor.Derek is still shouting for him from where he’s crouched by Scott’s body but Stiles can’t bear to look; can’t bear to see what he did to his best friend. He’s so sorry, but he won’t be as sorry if he let Gerard get away with everything he’s done to them.He finds himself back on the first basement level, led on by the tiny spots of blood that occasionally dot the floor. The doors to every room are swung open and he steps carefully, arms straight and grip tight as he keeps his entire surroundings in check. The rooms are empty as far as he can see; no hidden surprises, but it doesn’t stop the flood of memories from coming back to him as he continues his way down the corridor.Stiles never told anyone, not even his dad, but he remembers being locked in these rooms for training purposes. He remembers it being cold and dank, with two other people for company and where the only light available to them was the single bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling, swaying to a nonexistent breeze.The first person he ever killed was a girl, barely older than him in her pre-teens, gagged and tied to the rusty metal chair bolted to the floor. The beginning of the lesson went like this: he’s shown once, and only once, how to dismantle and reassemble a gun. After that, it’s all up to him. If he’s wrong and pulling the trigger does absolutely nothing then Gerard would take out his own gun with feigned disappointment and shoot the girl himself. It’s not a killing blow, but her muffled screams of terror and pain became Stiles’ motivation to work harder, be better. The lesson eventually ends like this: she dies from excessive blood-loss; thirteen bullets scattered across her body, none of them from the magazine of his own gun missing its’ firing pin.Eventually, he got the hang of it, going through maybe two families worth of human and werewolf children before perfecting the art of putting together a standard handgun without fail, killing a boy that’s much too young to rend or tear anybody to pieces with a bullet between his eyes.He learned his lesson, but the other lesson he learned with it was mercy; that, sometimes, death is the only way to help.He remembers Gerard praising him, full of pride and wonder as he clapped him on the back while Stiles hid his shaking hands beneath the desk, his eyes focused on the limp body no more than a couple dozen yards in front of him. There had been nothing good about it but as long as it mean he didn’t have to hear another wolf-child cry out in pain then it would have to be worth it. He couldn’t afford to keep paying their price of failure with the lives of people who were unfortunate enough to be caught by them.If he’d known Gerard was going to teach him how to perform corpectomy next he would’ve reconsidered his newfound abilities on wielding a gun. It’s a lesson that took him significantly more time to achieve, and it’s a lesson that leaves him more mentally scarred than putting a bullet between a kid’s eyes.Stiles breathes deep at the thought of his past, tries to shake himself out of it as he tightens his grip over the handle of the gun and rounds another corner, keeping mindful of where the blood is leading him, though the distance between each splatter is growing increasingly larger and larger the further he goes. He checks another room, finds it empty except for a lone desk and accompanying chair, but it’s what’s behind them that makes Stiles stagger forward, breathless at the sight of his dad sitting in a chair surrounded by a pool of his own blood.All thoughts of Gerard flee from his mind as he drops the gun, fingers restless as they check for his pulse but his hands are shaking so badly that he can hardly feel anything. Stiles calls out to him, pats him on his cheek to wake him up, over and over again even through the crack and the choke in his voice as his heart races. His dad doesn’t wake, not even after he struggles with a knife’s edge on the ropes tying him to the chair and it’s then Stiles fears the worst when he can’t even tell if his dad is still alive or not.There are several claw marks along his body – on his neck and shoulders, on his forearms and along his chest – but there’s no discernible pattern that he can see except for blind rage, and he chokes again at the thought that maybe Scott did this to him.He lies him down carefully, tries again to feel a pulse, holds a breath in as he presses on that spot at the line of his jaw and doesn’t let it out until he feels the barest of flutters beneath his fingertips.‘I’m surprised by how much your father knows,’ Gerard tells him casually and Stiles suddenly feels consumed with hate and anger so raw he can’t stop his body from shaking violently with the urge to attack with everything he’s got, but Gerard’s holding a gun and his fear for his dad’s life trumps his rage so he stays kneeled with his trousers soaking up the spilled blood.Stiles is reminded intimately of a similar position with Boyd but this time he doesn’t have a single clue how to stop his dad from dying of blood loss.‘We practiced secrecy for a reason,’ the old man continues, his gun idly aimed downwards and shaking slightly.He snorts but relishes at the blood he can see dripping off the barrel of the gun from the small gash on the old man’s torn jacket, ‘Of course; we both know how much you like your secrets.’ Gerard looks older under the harsh fluorescent light, more frail as if he’d aged more than just four more years, but it doesn’t change the fact that Stiles wants to punch him in the face repeatedly.Gerard’s face hardens as he addresses the dying man in Stiles’ arms, ‘If I’d known this was going to happen I would’ve killed your mother and your father the first moment I took you,’ he says, voice hard and unflinching.‘I would’ve killed you the second I found out,’ he promises through gritted teeth, wishes he hadn’t let go of his gun as he kneels protectively over his dad’s body. For all the few inches that separate them, it feels more like a mile stands between them. He can’t risk trying to reach for it, not with Gerard having the upper hand and his dad dying from wounds too big to measure and too much for a human body to handle.‘I doubt it,’ he scoffs, looking comfortable at the knowledge that Stiles would do no such thing.He wants to cry, he wants to scream and shout, because as much as he hates the man who stole more than just his life, the bottom line is that he still spent well over half of his life growing in his shadow.A roar breaks him out of his melancholy, the sound of it loud and reverberating, drawing Gerard’s attention away long enough for Stiles to close that distance between his fingers and the gun to take aim and shoot. He goes for a crippling shot: the shoulder and the leg, and the old man crumples without resistance, a strangled yell on his lips.Stiles lowers his dad carefully, quickly, before hurrying over towards Gerard who’s struggling to sit up, whole body shivering from the shock of receiving two bullet wounds in his body. He kicks the gun away from the old man’s limp grip and aims his gun at Gerard’s head with shaky hands. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t empty the entire clip into your skull,’ he threatens, although he doesn’t intend to follow through.Gerard has the audacity to laugh in his face even with blood-soaked lips and stained teeth, even as he tells him, ‘You were a good son to me – the only thing my own son ever did right was marrying Victoria.’‘Don’t give me your goddamn life’s story.’ He’s already heard most of it, if not all. But worst of all, he hates himself for feeling sympathetic for a man who is sick not only in body but also in mind.He notices it then, the puddle of blood growing wider and wider in diameter even though he knows he didn’t hit any major arteries with the two bullets he shot off. He’s confused at first, having to double-check to make sure he hadn’t somehow aimed wrongly, but then he remembers that Gerard has been going to the hospital regularly for his cancer treatment and it’s obvious from the full-bodied shake and the sickly pale complexion on the older man’s face that he overestimated Gerard’s ability to survive the bullet wounds.Stiles swears as he takes off his jacket, leaving his guns and knives out of reach as he kneels over Gerard’s dying body to staunch the bleeding. He swears at him, pushing harder than necessary as if it might stop the blood from soaking into his clothes and painting his fingers red.‘I hate you,’ he says without meaning to, ‘I hate you for taking my life, I hate you for almost killing my dad, I hate you for dying because you don’t fucking deserve to die; you deserve to rot. I hate you for trying to turn me into you and I hate that you mostly succeeded. I hate--’ he chokes and tries to blink back the tears but he can’t, because Gerard is dead, no longer breathing under the force of his upper body weight, stupid bloody smile on his lips.His chest aches, like a punch, and he can’t find it within himself to get up and leave the old man alone. It’s stupid; idiotic, to feel sorrow for a man who caused him so much grief, who gave him so much to fear for, who gifted him all the wrong things and stole away all his best memories, but here he is: mourning.There are running footsteps coming towards him but he feels so tired, so light-headed, so done with everything and it’s not long before he catches sight of Derek’s shoes from the corner of his eyes.‘Stiles.’He shakes his head, finally drawing his hands away from the blood-soaked jacket to stare at his shaking and blood-stained fingers. ‘I hate him. I do. But the f-fact is—’ he chokes again, trying to breathe around the lump in his throat, ‘—the fact is that he raised me for 12 years. I-I can’t get them back.’Derek doesn’t say anything else, not as he lays a hand over Stiles’ shoulder and carefully maneuvers it to his bicep, gently pulling him up and away from where Gerard lies dead. He staggers on his feet unsteadily, feeling dizzy and nauseous all over again even though this isn’t new: killing someone isn’t something new to him anymore, but it never gets any easier.He’s thankful for that, at least.‘There’s someone who needs you,’ Derek reminds him as he leads him back to his dad, whose breathing is becoming increasingly shallow, though he’s relieved to see that the bleeding has slowed almost to a complete stop. ‘You have to make a choice, Stiles; do you want me to give him the bite?’He inhales sharply as he turns his eyes on Derek, can’t help the stilted, ‘What?’ from escaping his lips as he looks back at the wounds and realizes there’s no way his dad is coming out of this as a human.‘He smells like infection, but if I give him the bite it’ll fast-track the change; he’ll get out of this alive.’‘There are other options,’ a new voice tells them and they both turn back towards the door where a dark-skinned man is standing just beyond the threshold, posture straight and eyes forward.Stiles grabs the gun still strapped to Derek’s holster and aims before he can take in the familiarity the other man is exhibiting. Even after the familiarity clicks in he doesn’t lower the gun and Derek follows his lead, not retracting his claws.‘Dylan,’ the man greets with a quiet smile.‘Stiles,’ he corrects as he tightens his grip, feeling more on edge now that he can feel a heavy energy in the air reacting to his own spark, depleted of energy as it is.His smile widens, ‘It’s good to see you again.’‘Leave before I seriously consider shooting you in the face, Alan,’ he threatens, belatedly clicking off the safety to make his point.‘There are other options,’ he continues as though receiving death threats is part of the norm; no longer something to blink at. ‘You can help him without forcing the change that only has, at best, a 50% chance of working.’Derek growls at this, a low rumble deep in his chest, but Stiles finds his heart lurching uncomfortably at the thought that, even with the bite, his dad could still end up dying.‘I can significantly improve your odds,’ Alan promises, ‘but with your help we can be certain of it.’It feels like he’s making a deal with another devil but he desperately wants his dad to survive and he desperately wants his dad to come out of this without any further complications in their already complicated lives. He finds himself lowering the gun, albeit shakily, but he’s enticed.‘What do you want me to do?’ He asks, all the while ignoring the sharp look Derek is directing at him.‘To have faith,’ he answers simply as he holds up a satchel of mountain ash that Stiles hadn’t even realized he’d dropped on his way to get here. ‘Mountain ash has multiple uses; this is one of them.’Stiles hands the gun over to Derek as he takes the bag, opens it up and takes a fistful of the black sand before waiting for the rest of the instructions.He starts by walking a loose circle around his dad’s body, the mountain ash trailing out of his fingers as Alan explains to him, all the while remaining the observer, the act of containing the infection and containing the change that’s occurring from within the multiple claw wounds inflicted.‘You are creating a barrier; the first line of defense to counteract the shift,’ Alan tells him as Stiles closes the line with the last of the ash in his hand before reaching into the satchel for another handful, ‘this next part is going to hurt.’Stiles frowns as he tells him with as much vehemence as he can muster, ‘I. Don’t. Care.’Alan nods, as if he suspected as much, before continuing in giving his instructions, ‘You need to give a little bit of your spark away, just temporarily and only just enough to help activate the spark your father has in his own body.’He gasps, his hand tightening perceptively over the mountain ash he has in his grips as he gives a wide-eyed stare to his dad, still unconscious on the floor between them.Alan looks at him, understanding alight in his features as he tells him, ‘A spark doesn’t appear from nowhere; there needs to be a source.’Stiles suddenly has a hundred questions he wants to ask but it isn’t the time or place to go about this new bit of information. Instead, he stores it in the back of his mind to mule over for later. Now, he has to do whatever it takes to keep his dad alive.‘How do I do this?’ He asks eventually.‘You just have to believe,’ Alan tells him as he places Stiles’ closed fist over his dad’s heart, gently opens it until the ash is spread under his hand and he can feel the energy that had been buzzing in the air settle beneath his fingers.He believes. He believes with everything he’s got, he believes with all of his might and all of his heart that his dad will recover from this, that he will survive and more than just that; live.Derek, who’d been standing off to the side to give them the space to work, is suddenly tripping over his feet trying to get closer, eyes wide with surprise as he lets out a breathless sound of awe. ‘It’s working,’ he says with barely concealed astonishment on his face.Stiles can’t help a smile of his own as a familiar zing of energy crackles through the air before settling in a warm haze around them. He laughs, feeling giddy and high that he did it; that he helped his dad from what would’ve either been a bad case of septicemia or a full-body shift from human to werewolf. He has nothing against the bite, but he feels his dad deserves some amount of normalcy after the things they’ve been through.‘Congratulations,’ Alan smiles as he says this, ‘you did it.’He laughs again, because he can’t remember the last time he laughed like this, so full of joy over life, but he can’t hold the feeling forever and he quickly sobers as he turns his eyes on Derek and asks him, ‘Where’s Scott?’The smile quickly slips off Derek’s face as he tells him, ‘Allison and Chris are with him, keeping him company while he heals from the wolfsbane poisoning.’‘Thank God,’ he breathes as he gets up to his feet only to immediately fall back down onto his knees at the sudden bout of dizziness he feels not only in his head but from his stomach as well. Derek is speaking to him, asking him if he’s alright but his chest aches with an unexpected ferocity and he doesn’t think he imagined the wet slickness as he pulls the Kevlar away from his body. He anticipates a bloody shirt from the ripped stitches he obviously pulled from too much cardio but he ends up seeing nothing but rivers of black blood, trailing down from the tip of his sternum and soaking through to the bottom hem of his shirt.A wave of nausea hits him at the sight and he can’t fight down the urge to expel whatever he feels growing in his gut. The vomit comes out black and that’s when fingers settle beneath his chin, pulling his head up until he’s looking at Alan dead in the eye, but he can’t register a single word the man is saying. He feels heavy, and he doesn’t fight it when he falls again.-----He wakes up crying and screaming, even though he’s relieved to see Allison above him and Chris watching guard over them. He doesn’t remember a whole lot except for fear and anger and so much confusion. But no, that’s a lie: he remembers John, and he remembers killing the man with his own two hands.Scott cries and feels as though he deserves more than every hurt currently in his body. He wishes Stiles had aimed for someplace other than his ribs. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Every minute that passes feels like another hour gone but then he takes another look at the analog clock displayed on the wall next to the TV that only plays infomercials and old sitcoms that he realizes it’s been barely a day since Derek and the others left Beacon Hills to settle a score in God knows where.Isaac continues to fidget in his seat, eyes drifting back and forth watching the world outside the window and the four other occupants in the room. Boyd is still sleeping off the ordeal he suffered through in the early morning and Erica is keeping him company, providing him warmth and a touch that while physically does nothing, mentally stimulates ease and contentment.Melissa is holding herself stiff with her arms crossed over her chest, eyes shadowed from too much stress but still hyperaware of her surroundings. Her shift ended well over four hours ago but she hasn’t left to change out of her scrubs and return for home, no doubt under orders to keep close to the others. There is safety in numbers, after all.Erica’s dad is sound asleep, though he hadn’t seemed too put-off when he’d woken up some hours prior and found his room commandeered by a group of young adults plus one nurse. If anything, he seemed glad for the company, because any distraction from his late wife is better than to be left alone dwelling in the thoughts of her.It’s been a long day and Isaac has a feeling it’s going to be an even longer night.----- Chapter 9 -----He knows what wolfsbane poisoning looks like, having experienced it well over a dozen times in just the last half decade alone, and it’s never an easy thing to go through. He knows all the signs exhibiting it, the pain that comes with it, and he knows how to tell when they can still help or when they’ve reached the point of no return, except that…except that Stiles is human and it doesn’t explain why he’s looking as if he’s going through all the symptoms of wolfsbane poisoning and just one breath away from death.Stiles isn’t waking up.‘I don’t understand,’ Derek starts, feeling breathless as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. ‘Stiles is human; he hasn’t been bitten, and prolonged exposure from a pack of werewolves doesn’t actually encourage the change.’ There have been speculations but that’s all they ever amounted to; there are no real recordings of a case even remotely similar to what Stiles is currently going through.‘It originates from here, definitely,’ Alan tells him as he trails his fingers along the blackened veins until he reaches the point of the open wound on Stiles’ chest still slowly oozing black blood. ‘How did you not smell this?’ He asks, tone free of accusation, although Derek can’t help but bristle and feel chastised for not having noticed it sooner.‘There’s too much wolfsbane in the air for me to realize it’s actually coming from him,’ Derek tries to explain, ‘he started smelling more distinctly of it the second we arrived but I didn’t--I didn’t…’ he stops, feels his excuses dissolve on his tongue before they can form.‘It’s alright,’ the other man placates as he gently wipes what he can of the sludge away from Stiles’ chest before cutting the threads holding the rupture close with a borrowed knife. They both watch as new blood rushes out, painting the pale expanse of Stiles’ body with red before slowly, slowly turning thick and dark until it’s nothing but a long line of black.Alan quietly murmurs to himself under his breath, words clipped and clinical as if he’s speaking to a recorder before picking up Stiles’ hand and cutting into the palm of it. ‘What are you doing?’ Derek hisses, feeling his hackles rise at the way the man is so casually inflicting one wound after another on Stiles’ already injured body, but he watches as the blood welling in the creases of Stiles’ limp hand continues to stay red and he can’t help his small sigh of relief that, at least, not all hope is lost. Derek wants to question but even though Stiles had a rocky reintroduction with the other man he still trusted Alan enough to help him save his father.‘Stiles was shot, wasn’t he? By Kate Argent,’ Alan asks as he eyes Derek with a considering gaze. ‘The wolfsbane from the bullet she used would’ve eventually been flushed out of his body in its own time but there’s something else in him making it worse.’‘His spark?’ He guesses and finally makes sense of the other times Stiles used his abilities to break the mountain ash barrier, suddenly looking much too pale and sickly after having completed the task. ‘I’ve seen him disperse the energy that keeps mountain ash up and running before but it’s never affected him this badly.’ He usually looks fatigued but never to the point of collapsing.‘The excessive use of mountain ash coupled with the transferral of his spark accelerated the effects of wolfsbane poisoning much too quickly for his body to counteract the damage he’s trying to heal from. But that’s not the only issue we have to deal with.’‘What? What else is there?’‘Oh, my God, Stiles!’ Allison shouts as she enters the room, almost letting Chris pick up Scott’s weight between them and tripping over her grandfather’s dead body in her haste to get closer. ‘What happened? Why is he--what’s wrong with him?’ She asks as they help settle a bleary-eyed Scott, who flinches at the sight of the unconscious sheriff, gently down onto the floor.Chris looks crushed as he stares down at the still body of his father, his expression full of sorrow and pain mixed in with hints of relief. He closes his old man’s dead eyes with a shaky hand and remains kneeled, almost in prayer, over him.‘In a manner of speaking,’ Alan tells her before turning his attention to Derek who snaps his eyes away from Chris back to the other. ‘It’s in his blood.’He flashes back to the moment Stiles was shot, colliding painfully against his blood-smeared chest before collapsing onto the floor gasping for air and fighting for breath. It had barely been more than a couple of seconds of contact but it was apparently more than enough time for it to settle into Stiles’ bloodstream.‘It’s mine; my blood,’ Derek says haltingly, and it’s only after he thinks through it for a second and third time that he’s convinced of what he’s saying. ‘Stiles has some of my blood in him, from when he was shot.’Allison looks at him in wide eyes, mouth open in shock as she hovers her hands over Stiles’ body, her fingers trembling above his too still and too pale skin under the horrible lighting of the single bulb above them.Alan’s expression crumples in a myriad of emotions, passing too quickly in succession as the information sinks in, though he doesn’t ask for what other possibilities there might be as if he already knows it’s the right one. ‘This isn’t good. The wolfsbane, your blood, his spark; on its own any one of those things would’ve been fine; he can recover from those, but all of it together equals to a horrible cocktail creating a domino effect of negative consequences on his body. He won’t last for much longer.’At this Allison gasps, still wordless from the new knowledge while a small pained noise escapes Scott, eyes squeezed shut and slowly rocking back and forth as he settles a blood-soaked hand on the leg of Stiles’ pants, as though to ground him and convince his mind that his friend isn’t dying; that he’ll live through this.‘How do we stop it? How can we help?’ Derek asks, feeling desperate for a solution and strapped for time.‘The only thing I can think of at the moment is to counteract the wolfsbane: burn it and do as you would your own wounds.’‘So we just find the right strain,’ Allison says as she looks at her father who’s already standing up and taking out a small kit of powdered ashes ready for use.‘No!’ Alan shouts urgently before they can open the case, hand held out imploringly, ‘No, his body won’t be able to cope; it’ll overload the system and he’ll die sooner rather than later. You need the original bullets.’‘It’s back at the station,’ a guttural voice tells them followed by a quiet groan. Everybody turns their head with mixed emotions of shock and panic as John slowly tries to make himself sit up, already sweating and panting from over-exertion. He gladly accepts the hand Chris offers him while Allison drags over the wooden chair for him to rest on, tactfully positioned away from the metal one he’d been tied to. Scott doesn’t move and neither of them passes a glance on one another. ‘We stored Kate’s gun in the evidence room, if that’s what you’re after.’John looks old suddenly, face tight as he takes in the sight of his unconscious son. Derek hates that this is the second time in less than a month John’s had to see Stiles fighting for his life again. What he hates most of all is the lack of judgment on his face for the people who led him to this point.‘We need to go; Beacon Hills is a long drive away,’ Chris tells them while Allison helps Scott up, though he seems reluctant to let go of Stiles.‘Long drive?’ John repeats, his eyes wide in panic as he sits straighter, wincing slightly from the pain littered across his body. ‘Where the hell are we?’‘San Francisco,’ Derek answers him as he gently maneuvers Stiles to lift him in his arms, careful not to jostle the wound and send his body into a different kind of shock. He doesn’t make a single sound.‘Please tell me you’ve got your own car,’ Allison addresses this to Alan, almost begging as she struggles a little bit under Scott’s weight as Chris helps John to his feet.Alan smiles reassuringly as he offers her a hand to help balance Scott between them before leading the way out, ‘Of course, you two will have to come with me; Sheriff Stilinski needs to keep as close to Stiles as possible. The proximity of their shared spark might be just enough to give him the extra edge he needs to survive this.’‘What the hell is he talking about?’ John asks Chris, staggering behind the others while Derek takes up the rear, holding Stiles with care as they leave.They’re all cautious as they step over Gerard’s body, barely giving him a sideways glance as they exit the room, this time opting for the side entrances of the apartment building instead of doubling back through the sewers.He thinks they can make the drive back in a little under a couple of hours, but it wouldn’t matter if all Stiles has left is till the end of the hour. He hopes; hopes that Stiles’ heart, though weak, continues to beat and buy them more time.--Chris is breaking almost all kinds of speeding laws while traveling across the freeway but John doesn’t seem to mind or care, not with his entire attention focused on his son lying in his lap. Derek can’t help the occasional glance over his shoulder whenever they make a particularly hard turn around a tight curve – they need to get back to Beacon Hills as soon as possible and they’re only just slightly over halfway there.‘I told you not to go after him,’ John murmurs under his breath as he holds a shaky hand over Stiles’ torso, keeping him close as they race their way through California to get back home. ‘You never listen to me, just like you didn’t listen to me when I told you to stay with your mother at the playground.’Derek stops listening, or tries to, but the radio is off and there’s nothing else for miles around that his ears can focus on. He starts listening to the shift in gears as Chris drives instead, finding it better than the broken voice the sheriff is using as he speaks to an unconscious Stiles.It’s hours after midnight and just a couple more before sunrise. Even though it’s only been a couple of days since they found out Gerard had escape from his prison transport vehicle along with the startling realization that Allison and Scott have been taken, it feels as though it’s been the better part of a month.He feels wrung out and on edge, unable to sit still even though it’s all they can currently do. Alan is behind them, keeping up with their pace as though they’ve each got the devil on their heels. Derek desperately wants to run but he chooses instead to remain vigilant and keep count of every passing heartbeat in Stiles’ body. It sounds as if it’s getting slower and quieter but he hushes that cynical part of his mind. Stiles is strong and resilient; he’ll survive this just like he’s survived everything else thrown his way.They eat up the miles like nothing, only stopping once to fill up their cars to the quarter tank to take them the rest of the way. It’s quiet with barely another soul around save for the cashier behind the counter but they throw a blanket over John and Stiles to hide their wounds and masquerade them as a tired father and son combo in case anybody asks. It’s not too far from the truth.Finally, they slow right back down just as they’re re-entering Beacon Hills with the sun just peaking over the horizon, painting the skies a warm glow of reds, deep purples with hints of orange. John looks like a tired mess in the backseat, eyes focused but red with exhaustion as his fingers grip tightly over the blanket covering most of Stiles to keep him warm. It’s only 15 minutes later when both vehicles roll up to Chris’ and Allison’s street.Chris takes up his usually spot in the garage while Alan parks his car in the driveway and the older man has barely pulled the handbrakes up before Derek is out of the car, helping John out and picking Stiles up again to bring him inside.‘The guest room’s this way,’ Allison tells him as she leads the way inside, half-skipping and half-limping as she switches on the hallway lights and guides Derek to a musty barely-used room on the first floor of her home. The second he lays Stiles down across the clean sheets of the unused bed Alan begins to monitor his vitals. Scott follows after them, almost completely healed, though sluggish in his movements.‘We need to discuss logistics before we dart off in separate directions,’ Chris brings up as he helps John inside the room and settles him on a covered chaise next to the bed before addressing his daughter. ‘Allison, call Melissa and get her to come over to check on all of you.’‘Okay,’ she nods, already darting off to get her hands on a phone.For a moment, Scott stands uncomfortably in the room, guiltily avoiding to look anywhere near John as the older man sits on the very edge of the seat to lay a hand over Stiles’. It’s not long before he trails after Allison with an expression mixed with shame and regret.‘If memory serves me right then we only need a six digit pin to get into the evidence locker. I have something around here that we can use to hack us in,’ Chris continues as he gestures for Derek to follow him out of the room to afford Stiles and his father some privacy.‘No hacking,’ John says adamantly before they can step out, ‘and no, we recently went through a change in security systems in light of what happened with Kate. You’ll need a pin and a fingerprint from one of the police staff to gain access into the room, so unless you’re thinking of knocking one of my colleagues out you’ll be needing me to come along with you.’Chris opens his mouth to say otherwise but Derek shakes his head – who is he to argue with a man whose son’s life hangs in the balance?‘What about Stiles?’ Derek asks as he turns to Alan.The older man nods at them. ‘We’ve passed the worst of it; he’ll be alright without his father for a couple of hours.’‘We’ll leave when Melissa gets here,’ Derek tells them with a nod, knowing Chris won’t argue against the change in plan.-----His memory is hazy at best but he remembers the soothing lilt in John’s voice even as his claws tore into his skin, digging and digging and digging like a dog after a bone. Scott wishes the man was angrier with him and he wishes he wasn’t so forgiving, but it doesn’t change the fact that John isn’t angry and he isn’t blaming him for anything.Allison finds him trying to wash his hands for the umpteenth time since she got on the phone with his mum who promises she’ll arrive within ten minutes. She switches the tap off and gently pulls him towards the bathtub instead, both still fully clothed, before turning the water on. They sit under the spray together, the water running red, hiding their tears and washing away everything except for the pain they both feel in their hearts. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Fear is a familiar concept. There hasn’t been a day where he’s been without it for a long time, not since he was still a young teenager high off ignorance and naivety. But, of course, as with all things that come with life and living, bliss doesn’t last forever.Derek doesn’t believe in God but that doesn’t stop him from praying. He prays to his dead brothers and sisters, to his cousins, nieces and nephews. He prays to his aunts and uncles, grandparents and god-parents. He prays to all of them, especially his mother and father, and he prays they’ll continue to look after him and his pack, to continue running on beside them as the unexplained presence in the breeze even if most people would shake it off as “nothing”.Right now, as he exchanges his dirty and torn shirt for a cleaner one, he prays they’ll watch over Stiles and keep him from succumbing to the poison in his veins.----- Chapter 10 -----Melissa is a sight for sore eyes as she hurries into the room still dressed in her scrubs with her hair tied in a messy ponytail. She stumbles upon first seeing him and Stiles, hovering just beyond the threshold, but only hesitates for a brief moment before deciding to check over Stiles first.‘You have no idea, no idea, how glad I am to see all of you safe and sound,’ she tells him with a quiver in her voice and a watery look in her eyes. She sniffs and hastily wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket as she routinely goes through all her mental checklists to make sure Stiles is alright. Melissa looks unsatisfied by his pulse rate and by the color of his face as well as his skin surface temperature, but she’s definitely more overwhelmed by the sight of his laceration; black around the edges but has long since stopped bleeding. ‘What’s happening to him?’John stands, using the back of the chaise to prop against as he gets back up on his feet, straightening his borrowed clothes as he stands besides her, ‘It’s wolfsbane poisoning; we have to go to the station and get the bullets he was shot with.’‘He’s not a werewolf, though,’ she says, looking confused and tense and anxious as she stares at him.‘Alan will explain everything to you. I have to go,’ he murmurs as he holds her in a hug, more for moral support than anything else before leaving the house again with Chris and Derek.He doesn’t know what’s been happening around Beacon Hills since he was taken from his very own doorstep barely a day ago and even though everything still looks the same, the same cannot be felt. His world has both contracted and expanded within just a small handful of hours, and while he knows he’ll be able to compartmentalize later he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around all of it right now. It doesn’t help that he also has a raging headache thumping a horrible staccato behind his right eye.They’re gifted with green lights all the way and it’s not long before they’re parked behind the station, casting subtle glances in all directions to make sure nobody’s looking their way. It’s still the early hours of morning and if he’s right then there should only be maybe three or four people currently on shift at the station with Barbara at the reception manning the phone lines, Danny in the computer room updating their database, Elliot picking up the slack in paperwork while Jones is out in patrol.‘Keep the engine running; we’ll be right back,’ John tells Chris before heading towards the back entrance that barely anyone ever uses anymore. Derek sticks close to him, almost unnecessarily so, but he’s still feeling a little sluggish on his feet and he appreciates the helping hand whenever he ends up staggering over nothing.The door is made of plain steel, a little rusty around the edges and pockmarked with dents. The entire building itself is old but the keypad installed just above the handle is brand new and still shines as if they’ve just taken it out of the box.‘There’re four people inside,’ Derek says as John pushes in the correct pin and twists the handle open, lightly shoving against the door once to loosen the rust around the hinges. It creaks something awful and Derek winces at the sharp sound but listens out for anybody coming their way. Thankfully, the hallway leading towards their destination remains empty.John straightens his clothes again and walks as normally as he can, careful not to seem too out of place in a building that he’s spent the better part of his life working in. He can’t help the limp and he hopes Danny is too busy with their record keeping to pay any attention to the security cameras that’s currently aimed their way. He’s not up-to-date with the status of his abduction, suddenly feeling out of touch with his colleagues and the goings-on in the county, but the likelihood of his team not noticing that he failed to show up to finish off the rest of his shift is doubtful.They round the corner until they hit the very back of the building where the CCTV room and evidence locker is located. Derek holds up a single finger and points inside the computer room and John is ever thankful the door, usually kept ajar to let in some airflow, is shut as they step past it. He closes the distance in two bounds, one thumb poised over the scanner while his other hand presses down on the buttons with furious concentration and intent. The light changes from red to green and there’s no resistance when John opens the door and lets them both inside.It’s not often he steps foot in the evidence room but he finds himself standing in the middle of it again in just a little over two weeks, trying to save Stiles a second time.He remembers they left the box regarding anything and everything to do with the deceased Kate Argent on the second highest shelf closest to the door. He spots it after a quick scan of the shelves but the second he tries to reach for it he feels a sharp pull against his chest and sides. He stumbles against the pain, groaning and hands shaking as he leans against the only table in the room to breathe around the ache all over his body.‘There are gloves in here, use them to get the box down, will you?’ John pants as he opens the drawer and pulls out a pair of if for the other to take.Derek nods, exhaling quietly through his nose as he slips on the gloves and stretches on the tips of his toes to pull out the labeled box, still moderately free of dust. John watches, while still trying to catch his breath, as Derek opens the box and begins to sift through the items, using his nose every once in a while until he finds what they’re both after.The unused cartridges are all kept in a separate bag from the gun and Derek hands it over for John to pocket before putting everything back in its’ place as exactly as he can before closing the lid and sliding the box back onto the shelf.‘Are you alright to go?’ Derek asks, eyes considering as he snaps the gloves off and shoves it into his pockets.John nods, although he doesn’t move from his spot. His sides are aching, his head is throbbing, and he actually feels punch-drunk, but he thinks about Stiles, about how he’s close to dying, about how these bullets could mean his survival, so he nods once more, draws in a fortifying breath and forces himself to stand.Derek opens the door for him using the sleeve of his henley and closes it with a quiet click behind them. They walk the same path back, quicker on their feet, passing the computer room and almost homebound until Derek takes hold of his arm just as he sees a man round the corner with a gun pointed at them.‘Whatever you took from the evidence room I want you to drop it right now,’ Jones tells them lowly as he stands with both hands firm on the gun, pointed straight for them.‘Neil, calm down,’ John tells the other man as he pulls Derek back behind him when the other tries to stand in the path of the gun. John holds his hands out defensively, his fingers trembling slightly as he stares down at the barrel of the gun and feeling small at the sight of it in such close proximity. He wonders if this is what Stiles felt when Kate aimed her gun at him.‘Where the fuck have you been, John?’ His colleague swears, looking tense as he edges his way around the corner, ‘We almost started a whole county search for you when Elliot and Rodgers concluded you’d been taken.’John shakes his head – he doesn’t have the time to explain everything – and tries to talk the man down instead. ‘Neil, you have to let the both of us go.’‘I can’t do that,’ he says with a firm shake of his head, ‘I don’t know what’s been going on with you but you haven’t been the same since Stiles got shot – having secrets is one thing but taking evidence and destroying them is against the law, you know this.’‘My kid is dying,’ he confesses, hearing his voice crack, feeling devastated over a fact he hasn’t allowed himself to acknowledge since he woke up on the hard floor in a San Francisco apartment building.‘What?’ Jones falters, his gun lowering slightly as he takes another step forward.‘Stiles is dying,’ he repeats as he tries to blink away the tears gathering in his eyes, ‘and if I don’t get back to him then he will die and I can’t lose him, not again.’Jones shakes his head, looking torn as he tells him, ‘This is against everything you wanted us to be.’‘I know, but I already lost Claudia; don’t make me go through losing Stiles, too,’ he begs desperately, his whole body shaking in despair rather than pain and exhaustion as he pleads once more, ‘please, let us go.’Jones’ throat clicks but he nods, clicking the safety of his gun back on as he motions for them to leave.John immediately opens the door and lets Derek through first before following but not before telling his friend and colleague his thanks and letting the door whine back to a close.As soon as he gets in the car Chris puts the car into gear and pulls away from the building, merging into the early-morning traffic back towards his home.‘Run into any trouble?’ Chris asks casually, more to fill in the silence than any actual conversation as he manages to drive past a yellow light before it changes to red.John lets out a grunt of sorts, feeling all kinds of wrung-out even as he withdraws the cartridges from his pocket. There are only four bullets left and he hopes it’ll be enough to save Stiles from whatever the hell it is he’s going through. It has to be enough, and he has to make it through this, otherwise John isn’t sure what else there is to live for if not for his late wife and the promises he made to her to keep their boy safe.The sun is well on its way over the horizon, bringing with it the first hints of sky blue amongst the hues of orange and yellows. He doesn’t realize he’d fallen into a doze with his eyes open until they’re parked back in the garage and Derek is opening the door for him and helping him back out. Chris takes the bag of bullets from his limp fingers and immediately hurries into his home at a run.By the time they both make it into the room Alan is already working on opening all the casings and tipping the powder out into a small bowl. It’s not until he has all four bullets emptied out that he brings a lighter to the dark ash and burns it, creating a bright flash of blue-purple around the room, a burst of color more vivid than the one he’d seen in the soot-covered basement of the Hale house.‘Scott, hold him down for me, please. Allison, can you brace his legs? This is going to hurt,’ Alan tells them as he pours the ashes into the palm of his hand and waits for Stiles’ body to be sufficiently weighed down before smothering the black powder into the open wound on Stiles’ chest. The reaction is immediate.He wakes screaming, trying to kick his way out of Allison’s hold and almost kneeing her in the face in the process. Mellissa lends her a hand right away, putting as much of her weight as she feels comfortable on his legs while Alan grabs the arm flung his way before it can make impact. Scott has an easier time suppressing Stiles’ shoulders to the bed but looks pained even as Stiles’ screams gradually reduce down to choked tears and pleas for his dad.‘I’m here, I’m here,’ John cries as he takes hold of Stiles’ other wrists and holds on tight. ‘Breathe, Stiles, and bear with me.’Stiles settles almost immediately, growing limp under their combined strengths as if his strings were suddenly cut. John panics for a moment, thinking the pain came too much too fast for his son to handle, but he sees the heavy way Stiles is breathing and the tired look in his eyes as he stares unseeingly at the ceiling.John sees with relief the blackness in his veins receding and disappearing altogether within just moments of administration. New blood is seeping out of the laceration, no doubt caused from the strain in his struggles, and it continues to stay red rather than turn dark from poison. The ash worked, although John doesn’t have a single clue how.‘Dad?’ Stiles chokes, voice hoarse as his eyes flit back and forth the faces hovering nearby until they land on him.‘I’m right here,’ he says again as he runs his still-trembling hand through Stiles’ hair, limp and damp with sweat. The others carefully extract their hands away from his body, returning to him his space and full use of his tired limbs once more.Stiles clings onto his jacket, pulling him in by the shoulders until he’s hunched awkwardly over the bed, holding onto him gingerly, careful not to smother him too fiercely. His body protests at the angle but he doesn’t care – Stiles is alive and so is he.‘I had a dream about us; all of us,’ Stiles murmurs into his clothes, words muffling against the fabric.‘Yeah?’ He prompts, keeping his voice light and encouraging. It’s not often Stiles remembers anything about what their life used to be.‘We were at the beach, I think. We should go; help me jog my memory, or something.’He chuckles softly under his breath, squeezing tightly as images of his son and wife collecting sea shells in the shallow water for their sand castle floods his mind, ‘Yeah, why not? We can work on our tans.’Stiles snorts, grinning helplessly as he lets go and lies back down on the bed. ‘Stilinskis don’t tan, dad; we burn.’‘Talk later,’ Melissa says with a motherly click of her tongue, though it doesn’t stop the look of joy and relief from taking over her features even as she pulls on a pair of surgical gloves and takes out the necessary items needed to re-stitch the wound on Stiles’ chest. ‘John, sit,’ she orders him as she points back at the covered chaise, ‘I’ll deal with you after I’m done mimicking Frankenstein.’‘I’m alive,’ Stiles jokes, laughing freely as John moves to obey, his legs feeling more and more like jelly the closer to rest he gets. He barely sits on it for more than a few seconds before he decides it’s a good place to clock out for the day, still listening to his son’s laughter; the first real one he’s heard in years.-----At first, all he can do is stare at the closed door with his gun hanging off his fingers, his emotions wavering back and forth between relief at knowing John is back and distress that Stiles is hurt and possibly dying. In-between one minute to the next he gets over his initial shock and tucks his sidearm back into his holster, re-checking to make sure the safety is on before heading back towards the main station floor.Jones finds Elliot sipping at what is possibly his fourth cup of coffee in as many hours, eyes tired and posture stressed. He eases the man’s tension by telling him what just transpired at the back door of the station, informing him that John is alright, although a little worse for wear. Elliot looks up at the ceiling almost in thanks but the look quickly slips off his face when Jones tells him about Stiles.The thing about Stiles is that he’s not just John’s son – he’s everyone’s soft spot. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Things don’t immediately go back to normal but they get close enough to it. Chris and Derek both make arrangements to go back to San Francisco to help clean up the mess left behind and John almost doesn’t care what they do with the dead bodies so long as they get rid of every shred of evidence pointed at any one of them. It goes against every fiber of his being to be this blatantly disregarding of the law but like Stiles said: this is beyond what the police are capable of understanding.While John doesn’t care about the dead hunters that got caught in the crossfire he does care about Gerard Argent, or more specifically, the closure he’ll bring once they close the cases tied to his name.Stiles confesses it was accidental, that he meant to disarm rather than kill, and even though he looks emotionally shattered he doesn’t regret his actions. John can never be proud of Stiles taking another life, but he’s damn proud he’s alive; that they’re both alive, and for their sake he hopes it’s enough.----- Chapter 11 -----Melissa’s got them both under house-arrest and Stiles want to laugh in his dad’s face for the wonderful turn of events. Unfortunately though, any kind of raucous laughter or too-deep breathing makes his chest ache something awful, resetting his healing period back to square one, so he merely settles for an exaggerated chuckle instead.His dad rolls his eyes as he flicks to another channel, the same one they’ve passed for the fourth time that afternoon since Melissa forced them on the couch after she’s done the first of her bi-weekly checks on their bandages, ‘It was only funny the first time, Stiles,’ he says with a hint of fond exasperation.‘On the contrary; it’s funny all the time,’ he grins, just to rub it in a little bit more.‘The both of you are behaving like children,’ Melissa scolds half-heartedly as she re-enters the living room after having finished restocking their first-aid kit of supplies.‘We are young at heart,’ Stiles quips in return as he turns his head to follow her movement around the house as if this were her second home.She laughs lightly as she slips her jacket back on before grabbing her keys and handbag from the hook by the door, ‘Just don’t go daring each other to see which one of you can jump off the roof and fly.’‘I don’t remember this!’ He denies vehemently while ignoring the incredulous snort coming from beside him, ‘Therefore I didn’t do anything of the sort.’‘I have photo proof,’ she retorts, looking smug as she opens the front door but the look quickly morphs back to glee as she tells them, ‘there’s a pot of beef stew in the fridge and a bowl of mashed potatoes. I’ll pick up the dishes when I check in on you guys in a couple of days. Bye!’‘Thanks Melissa!’ The both of them shout in return as she waves with her fingers and shuts the door behind her, locking it up with her spare keys as she goes.John shakes his head, looking as if he’s questioning all of his life’s choices that led him up to this point but eagerly changes the subject to something else, ‘You never told me your results,’ he brings up as he settles on a replay of a baseball game they’d already watched last night, throwing the remote control back down on top of the shared blanket between them.‘He says I’m in the clear,’ he answers as he scratches at his collarbone, just skirting around the edge of the new bandages Melissa helped wrap him with. Sometimes he feels like a mummy but he’s thankful nobody tried to take out his internal organs or scramble his brain through his nose for whatever ritualistic reason. ‘Alan pretty much gave me the same advice as every other doctor: no strenuous activity and to take Vicodin only when needed, but who needs Vicodin when all we have to do is call Scott or any one of the others to pay us a visit,’ he says with a casual shake of his phone before tossing it to join the remote control on the couch.John sighs half-heartedly, ‘I can’t believe we’re taking advice from a veterinarian.’Stiles snorts, ‘I can’t believe he’s Scott’s new boss.’ He wonders how much old-man Orville knows about the supernatural side of things, if at all. It’s a bizarrely small world that Orville decided, of all people, to hand over his business to Alan Deaton, and Stiles can’t tell if it’s coincidence or a kind of fate.It’s been five days since they were discharged from the hospital and a little over a week since their return from San Francisco and although things have settled back down somewhat the both of them still wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares regarding the other. On those night Stiles consoles himself by going to his dad’s room, padding quietly until he’s got the door open just enough to look inside and make sure everything’s alright, watching for a few minutes before going back to sleep fitfully until morning hits. He knows he’s not the only one to make late-night trips back and forth their rooms and he’s surprised they haven’t worn the carpet down from their constant shuffling about. Those nights, practically every night, are the hardest on the both of them.When the sun’s out its easier, there are fewer shadows to fight and lose against, but even then it’s only just marginally better.‘So,’ his dad starts to say, keeping his tone light and casual as his eyes continue to focus on the batter making a swing and a miss, ‘are you going to take him up on his offer?’Stiles makes a face as he gives a one-shoulder shrug, ‘Don’t know if I can. Emissaries are all about keeping the balance and I’m about as biased as they get.’ Sometimes he hates the spark he was born with and sometimes he wonders how different his life would’ve turned out if he’d been without it.‘You’ve always been able to do the things you put your mind to. I have a feeling this won’t be any different. Your mother always did say you take like a duck to water,’ he finishes with a warm grin as he messes up Stiles’ bed-hair.He tolerates it with a wide smile, feeling lighter at the mention of his mother and happy that the air surrounding them isn’t heavy and burdened.‘It’s a lot to think about, I know,’ John continues, sighing lightly as he lays a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, ‘but you should consider it. Don’t deny yourself that chance to learn more for my sake or for anybody else’s.’‘I would’ve thought you’d prefer me to stay out of it,’ he can’t keep the surprise out of his voice as he says this, ‘keep away from anything and everything to do with the supernatural business.’John snorts, though not unkindly, ‘Yeah, and I would’ve preferred if you’d chosen a career that didn’t involve joining the academy four years ago if that’ll make my case.’‘Dad,’ he shifts in his seat guiltily.‘I’m not judging,’ he consoles, ‘you never do things without a reason and you’ve always done things with the best of intentions, regardless of whether people are informed of it or not.’Stiles hears a car pull up on their driveway, cranking on the handbrakes and switching off the engine but he ignores it as he tells his dad, ‘It’s not going to be any safer than what we already do, you know that, right? If anything, it might even turn out to be more than what any of us will have bargained for.’John shrugs good-naturedly, as if he’d already taken all of it into consideration, ‘If it means knowledge, power and safety, well, I suppose danger just comes with the territory.’‘Don’t get me started on territory,’ Stiles groans but gets up when he hears four heavy knocks on their front door, gingerly getting to his feet and letting his dad steal his side of the blanket. He takes a quick peek through the curtains, fingers itching to pick up the steel baseball bat kept by the door, but finds a familiar trio of people standing outside with baskets full of fresh fruits, flowers and chocolates, the latter of which he’ll be confiscating or, at the very least, portioning out carefully. ‘Aren’t you guys supposed to be patrolling the streets of Beacon Hills?’ He brings up the second he gets the door open.‘We’re on our lunch break,’ Elliot says with a smile as he gestures for Stiles to move out of the way while he brings in the basket full of fruits.‘Uh, okay, sure, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for three senior officers to take breaks in the same hour, two of whom are deputies,’ he shrugs as he lets the others in. Predictably, he’s ignored.Jones settles the basket of flowers in the middle of the living room table amongst pens, old magazines and half-used notepads, adding a bright splash of color in their otherwise drab bachelor pad. It brings a small feminine touch to the environment, something which the house has been lacking for many years despite Melissa’s occasional interference.‘I had to fight with Barbara for this. I won fair and square,’ Rodgers boasts as he sets the last basket on the dining table next to the fruits.‘Great,’ Stiles congratulates sarcastically as he makes a show of clapping slowly, ‘you duked it out with a lady in her mid-fifties to carry in a basket full of chocolates. Thanks.’‘Boys,’ John admonishes as he gingerly gets up from the couch, dragging his feet towards Stiles and giving him a reprimanding shake of his shoulders, just once; hard enough to make a point but not enough to agitate his bandages. ‘Play nicely.’Stiles groans again but dutifully goes to put on a kettle. ‘I’ll make coffee for everyone. None for you, dad.’‘I feel like he’s punishing me in some ways,’ John mock-whispers not so quietly to the others, laughing companionably while the water boils. Stiles doesn’t dignify that with an answer as he pulls out five mugs from the cupboard and starts scooping in instant coffee grounds into three of them according to how he remembers the others take it. He trades the coffee for the honey next, putting a generous teaspoon of it for himself and his dad in the last two cups.The four of them settle around the dining room, talking over the baskets until Rodgers decides to shove the fruits and chocolates to the very end of the table out of their way. The conversation starts off light, from what Stiles can hear, but it slowly progresses to something half-forced and half as though their three colleagues are all fishing for something from either one of them. As Stiles tries to soften and melt the honey with some tepid water while keeping half an ear on what they’re saying he can’t help but come to the conclusion that his dad knows what it is they’re after.Even though they’re outside of an interrogation room it doesn’t change the fact that this is exactly what it is. As the minutes pass his dad begins to look slightly more and more tight-lipped and closed off to the conversation forcing Stiles to flick off the switch on the kettle just as the water comes to a rolling boil, making it chime prematurely.They quiet immediately.‘Is there something going on down at the station?’ Stiles asks as he pours in some water into each of the cups before pulling the milk out from the fridge.‘Something like that,’ Elliot answers with a shrug that’s too rigid to come off as casual. ‘We’re just trying to organize some paperwork with your dad.’He narrows his eyes at the others as he brings the cups over to the table, letting everybody take their respective drinks. ‘What kind of paperwork?’‘Something only your dad can authorize.’‘Right, of course,’ he nods slowly, unconvinced, as he brings his mug to his lips but doesn’t drink from it. ‘Is this about Gerard?’‘No, it’s not,’ his dad says in a rushed manner, ‘don’t worry about that; we’ve got it sorted.’‘Then stop it with the subtext. What’s going on?’ He almost snaps as he sets his mug down onto the table a little too roughly, causing the honey mixture to slosh over the sides.They all stare at one another for a moment before John suddenly stands, turning his attention to the three men in his home and telling them, ‘Drink your coffee and go. I appreciate you boys coming over to personally deliver the gift baskets but your lunch hour is up soon and I think it’s time for you to start making your way back to work.’Surprisingly, none of them put up a fight, although they do take their time leaving. Eventually, after some five minutes later once most of their coffee has been consumed Stiles sees them off at the door.‘No, seriously, what’s going on?’ Stiles asks under his breath before Jones can leave, holding him up at the door.‘We’re hoping you and your dad can tell us. We know he’s trying to look out for you, but…’ he trails off as he pulls out his car keys and lightly jiggles it in his hand. ‘Anyway, you should talk to him about it.’He watches him leave after Elliot and Rodgers, keeping an eye on them even long after they’ve turned the corner going out of their street. Eventually, he shuts the door behind him and makes his way back to the kitchen where his dad is tipping out the leftover coffee dredges into the sink and aggressively washing the mugs.‘What was that about?’ He asks with a bewildered shake of his head as he stands under the doorway joining the dining room and kitchen together.‘Let’s not talk about it now,’ John mutters as he dries his hands on a dish towel, passing Stiles and gingerly sitting back down at the dining table, idly going through the fruit basket before picking out an orange and peeling it.He starts to seethe, feeling hypocritical, hearing Jones’ words echo back to him. He thought they were both done with keeping secrets from one another but apparently his dad has a few more skeletons hiding behind in his closet than he thought. ‘Either you tell me or I do some digging on my own.’ After all, Danny’s not the only hacker who can bypass security.‘Stiles,’ he warns.‘I hid a lot of things from you, okay?’ He confesses, his voice cracking at the end but he plows on regardless of the shake in his words. ‘Especially in these last four years so I get it; I don’t have the right to ask you for anything, but it was hell because I was stupid enough to think keeping you out of the loop would keep us safe when all it did was put a huge strain on our already seriously awkward relationship. Three weeks ago I told you everything. Now it’s my turn: talk to me.’John’s stern expression slowly fades until he resigns himself over, tiredly running his hand over his face before setting the half-peeled orange next to his mug. ‘It seemed like the best option at the time.’His heart skips a beat as he sits down opposite him. ‘What did you do?’It must be bad, he thinks, especially if Jones, Elliot and Rodgers all decided to hound him in his own house for information. He wonders what his dad is hiding, why he’s hiding it and how long this has been going on for.John sighs, expression pinched but not regretful as he tells him, ‘I deleted your records, the ones about Dylan O’Brien.’Stiles swears under his breath, clambering back up to his feet to pace around the room. ‘You know, in doing so you basically just painted a target on the back of my head. Talk about irony, dad,’ he snaps half-heartedly as he turns and paces the other way, clipping his hip on the backrest of the dining chair as he passes.‘I wanted to protect you from Gerard.’‘Why?’ He shouts, feeling on edge and guilty that he somehow forced his dad into actually committing evidence tampering. ‘It wouldn’t have stopped him. Beacon Hills is my home; he wouldn’t even need to get into police records and use them to find me.’‘I wanted to protect you from the others, too,’ he admits quietly as he holds his mug between both hands and stares down into it.Stiles has to take a slow breath, one after another to calm down before he leads himself into a panic attack. ‘What do you mean?’John opens and closes his mouth twice, as though trying and failing to find the right words to say, but he eventually shakes his head before revealing to him, ‘There was a body in the woods some years old and we found a bullet in the skull cavity.’Stiles pales but nods all the same as he slowly sits back down, ‘It was from my old handgun, right? The one I lost at the school?’‘The one I keep in my safe.’He almost swears but manages to cut himself off. ‘Dad, you should’ve left it alone,’ he whispers shakily.‘I made a promise to your mother,’ he tells him as he unflinchingly looks up from the cup in his hands to meet Stiles’ eyes. ‘We lost you for a long time and I’m sorry I didn’t manage to find you before Claudia passed away but I’m trying to keep my word.’He can see where his dad is coming from – that fierce need to protect the only family either one of them has left – but he also knows that something like this will do more harm than good. After everything they’ve been through they’ll need all the good they can muster, even if it means turning themselves in. ‘We can’t do this; you have to tell them.’‘We don’t have to,’ John begs, reaching forward to take Stiles’ hand in his own, squeezing tight and desperate. ‘So what if some files has gone missing? Dylan isn’t even a real person.'He flinches but doesn’t take it to heart. Dylan was as much him as he is Stiles. ‘I don’t want this to hang over our heads and to be used against us. I don’t want this to come back and bite us in the ass. I don’t want this to ruin what we both tried so hard to keep up with in these last four years.’‘And what’s that?’ He asks, his voice wavering as he blinks away the shine in his eyes.‘Being a family.’John sighs but nods reluctantly, ‘I’m sorry.’‘I’m sorry, too.’He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to them; nothing feels alright and the stability they worked hard to hold onto is shattering around them, but as long as they stay together then they’ll be able to cope with it, one step at a time.-----Always expect the unexpected – this is basically one of the mottos the station lives by, but even knowing this he can’t contain the surprise evident in his voice when John calls him for a meeting barely more than a couple of hours after their last visit to his home. Although John is adopting a business-like approach to the phone call it doesn’t stop the strain in his voice from being heard, as if he’s ripping off a band-aid to get this conversation over and done with. Neil can sympathize.A time is arranged and it’s agreed that Rodgers, Elliot and himself will go to their house again later on after their shifts are over. While he knows what the meeting will entail it doesn’t prepare him for the resigned look on both of the Stilinski’s faces when they re-enter the dining room to find a single handgun on the table, magazine out.It’s awkward, to say the least, but they all sit down and they talk. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- His mum tells him that Stiles and his dad are both fine, if a little worse for wear, but it doesn’t help the guilt from festering away inside of him whenever he flashes back to the moment he almost tore John apart in his mindless haze. He can’t sleep, though if he does it’s never for long and it’s never well, and he can barely stomach down a full meal. His hands are almost perpetually shaking and he’s so scared of himself; of being around anybody, so whenever he can get away with it he secludes himself.This is how Derek finds him – hanging out in the backyard just beyond the tree line – close enough to know everything that’s going on inside the house but far enough away that nobody can see him. Derek doesn’t say a word, merely takes a seat on the grass next to him and listens, too.At least now Scott knows he’s not the only one with a penchant for harboring guilt that’s been long excused for. It’s hard to accept forgiveness when they can hardly forgive themselves.----- Chapter 12 -----He wakes up with a start, feeling heavy and exhausted, his mind still replaying the horrible clang of metal as the cell doors slam shut behind him. It’s just a dream, he tells himself but he can’t help the fine tremors in his hands and body as he thinks back on the scene – of his dad lying in a pool of his own blood, barely breathing, in the cell right across from him. No matter how much he called out for help, screaming himself raw, none came.His chest aches as he pushes himself off the bed but it’s more to do with the fact he woke up lying face down on his stomach than from his chest wound. Melissa had helped take off his sutures and warned him to not make her stitch him back together again. Specifically: ‘Or so help me God I will use staples next time.’ He’ll take her word for it.It’s just gone six in the morning, his room lightening up with the first pale shades of blue as Stiles sits up and slowly makes his way to his dad’s bedroom. He feels more tired than when he went to sleep the night before but he brushes the fatigue aside and trudges on – it seems to be his normal setting nowadays. The door is ajar when he gets there and all it needs is a little push to widen it further, just enough for him to look inside.Stiles is immediately greeted by the sight of his dad lying sprawled on his side of the bed with half of his blanket kicked off onto the floor and snoring just slightly. He watches for a while, notices that his dad looks more rested than he has in weeks and feels thankful that he’s not suffering through another nightmare that’s been plaguing them so frequently since their return from San Francisco.It had been a mess, but they managed to pawn off a lot of cold cases on the now-deceased Gerard Argent. It was a quick fix-it but Stiles doubts it’ll hold under a real investigation should anybody be curious enough to open it up again. Despite the oddity of everything that’s happened recently it was ruled that kidnapping, torture and intent to murder was enough for most people to agree that Stiles was not in the wrong when he shot Gerard.But any day now, someone is going to wise up and realize something is going on within the police ranks, and that people are keeping secrets, making up things that don’t add up. Any day now Stiles’ nightmare is going to come true: they’re going to end up in jail to spend the rest of their lives repenting for all the crimes they willingly committed; his dad for fraudulence and himself for a list of crimes ten miles long.The partnership he and his dad built up with Jones, Elliot and Rodgers is ruined – this is the price they had to pay for secrecy – but between the five of them they manage to recover the deleted files from the police database and discretely return the guns (both Stiles’ and Kate’s) back to the evidence locker all the while hoping they covered their tracks enough that there won’t be any repercussions.They said it should be fine, that with Kate and Gerard both dead and the fact that Dylan O’Brien is actually an old man living out the rest of his days in a swanky retirement home somewhere in New Zealand there shouldn’t be any more open investigations in regards to any of them. One can hope.He snorts quietly, feeling pessimistic as he backs away from the door and leaves it ajar before going downstairs. He knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep, no matter how exhausted he feels, but it’s not until he’s halfway down the stairs that he hears a faint murmuring of voices in the living room. Stiles almost panics then but quickly calms – no thief would be stupid enough to try and watch TV rather than take it, let alone steal from the sheriff’s home.‘What, is our TV somehow better than the one in the motel room you’re staying at?’ He asks as he stands in front of Derek with arms crossed and eyebrows raised.‘They don’t have cable.’Their house doesn’t have cable either – up until recently the both of them are barely home enough to use the TV – but he doesn’t mention it. Instead he takes up the empty seat on the couch and steals the remote from Derek’s lap, switching to a different channel – he sees enough dead bodies and horrific incidents on an almost daily basis; he doesn’t need to watch it in his free time at home, either.‘How did you get in?’ Stiles asks as he settles on a gardening program.‘I never left,’ he says as he takes the remote to turn up the volume a single notch, more for Stiles’ benefit than his own. ‘Your dad told me I could sleep in the guest room if I wanted.’‘I can see that you absolutely did not take him up on that offer,’ he quips as he takes in the refolded blanket on the arm of the couch.Derek shrugs as he turns his attention away from the TV to him. ‘Are you okay?’Stiles frowns at the question, lets it deepen at the look in Derek’s eyes. ‘No, but I will be. I’ve got a lot of recovery to go through before I can consider picking up my job again. Even then I’ll probably be stuck behind a desk doing paperwork.’ He’s not looking forward to that but at least it’ll be better than lying stagnant at home with not much to do to keep the shadows and nightmares at bay.‘What about everything else?’He swallows. ‘I don’t know. It’s hard to tell at the moment. I won’t have to worry too much about facing persecution since we managed to lay practically all of the blame on Gerard but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still a cover-up.’ There are a lot of holes; too many gaps to be able to fill in, even with the five of them combined.‘We owe you and your dad a lot for that; for putting your lives and your careers on the line.’Stiles can’t help but feel uncomfortable, always does at the mention of Gerard and anything to do with his past life, but he forges on and accepts the unspoken word of thanks from Derek as it is.He looks towards the dining room table then, and notices the floor plans still spread out to take up most of the space. ‘You don’t have to rush, you know, now that you’re actually going to do something about the land. The council isn’t setting you a deadline to get a house up by so-and-so date so long as you’re taking initiative.’‘I’m aware,’ he nods as he keeps his eyes focused on a middle-aged man explaining the multiple uses and care of lavender. ‘But you’re right – nobody is ever ready to move on; all we can do is try.’Stiles shifts in his seat, more for something to do than to find a comfortable position. ‘How long did you guys stay up for?’ Stiles hadn’t been able to keep them company longer than just after midnight; he’d been too tired from lack of sleep to be able to contribute much more than a grunt to the entire conversation. His dad was zealous in his attempt to help Derek with the floor plan. The last Stiles can remember they were still debating the merits of whether having a basement was a good idea or not. General consensus was: no.‘He stayed until we got most of the basic plan done, probably at around half past two in the morning.’He whistles lowly as he gets up to look over the new additions. The two storeys are still empty of any specific plan but there are two bullet points next to the attic space for it to either act as a storage area or be converted into a bedroom, albeit a low-ceiling one. As far as Stiles can figure, the option to have a basement is completely vetoed. ‘This is kind of big,’ he brings up as he lays out all three levels side by side of each other.‘It’s not,’ Derek says as he moves to stand beside him, eyes soft as he takes in the beginning stages of his new home. ‘The original structure was easily twice this.’‘Yeah,’ he nods and swallows down the fact that Derek’s family consisted of three other siblings, his parents and his parent’s siblings and their children living under the same roof.‘Boyd will stay with me, and Isaac, too, once his lease is over.’Stiles nods again, assuming Boyd will want to sell the house, although he’s not sure if the other will go through with it or not: his grandmother died there but it doesn’t mean all the memories died along with her. He should know.‘Everybody will have their own room,’ Derek continues as he smoothes down the plan, the beginnings of a smile appearing on the corners of his lips. ‘Even you.’‘Even me?’ He repeats, surprised that he’s even included.He nods, something small and barely noticeable if Stiles hadn’t already been staring at him. ‘Especially you.’Stiles opens his mouth to turn it down; he already has a home here with his dad, but he quickly shuts down the idea. He understands the meaning behind the offer, what it means to have a place within the pack; a symbol and an oath that more than solidifies their bonds, so he huffs and thanks him instead. After all, who says he can only be allowed one home?‘So, you’re going to stay in the motel until the project is finished?’ Stiles asks as he leans back on the table, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watches the other add extra notes onto the side margins – garden, back porch, double garage, tree house(?).‘I—’ he starts as he turns towards the guest bedroom before looking back at Stiles, ‘I’ve already moved my bags here.’‘Good,’ he nods in satisfaction, grinning widely when Derek mimics the expression back, the both of them feeling lighter than they have in years.--‘Well, if you ever want to extend you’ve got plenty of land to do it on. Ever considered adding a pool house?’‘That would require I have a pool.’‘You can take that as a suggestion, then.’‘I have a lake,’ Derek says with a casual shrug.Stiles makes a face at him, ‘That lake is not yours.’He shrugs again, ‘It’s on my property.’‘Are you sure you’re not confusing it for your territory? Because those two things are completely different things.’Derek stares, eyebrow raised and Stiles has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. It doesn’t hold.----- ----- Epilogue (5 months later) ----- -----Teenagers: they just don’t know when to quit.It’s routine at this point, to head up for another check-up at the lookout only to find a group of kids being rowdy with one another over trivial things like gossip, peer pressure and dramas with their ex. Thankfully, there’s no alcohol involved, or none that Jones can actually see or smell so between the three of them everything gets settled quickly with just a verbal warning. Nobody got hurt, after all.Elliot is yawning, a subtle signal that it’s time for him to clock out of his double-shift and head on home to his pregnant wife. Jones can’t help but tease him; ‘You sure you can handle having a kid, too? You’ll be pulling a triple at this rate.’‘Har-har,’ Elliot snips good-naturedly while the others laugh as he gets into the passenger seat and shuts the door after him, gesturing through the glass for Rodgers to hurry up.He’s just about to get into his patrol unit when he hears a crack in the woods, followed by heavy footsteps and even heavier breathing.‘Who’s there?’ Jones calls out as he pulls out his flashlight and aims it over the roof of his car through the trees where he can hear someone approaching them. The motion makes Rodgers mimic him while Elliot hurriedly unstraps his seatbelt to follow them.There’s at least two, but one sounds heavier than the other and it’s not until he hears a low, reverberating growl that he quickly draws out his gun, deftly flicking off the safety.Damn cougars, he thinks to himself, thankful the kids are gone as a pair of yellow eyes zero in on him, rapidly gaining on his location until he realizes that the shape is nothing like that of a mountain lion at all.It’s worse.A roar, loud and ominous, echoes through the preserve, shaking him down to his bones and freezing him in the spot. The shape is all wrong; it’s too big, the eyes are too bright and the muzzle is drenched in blood.He can’t breathe suddenly.The thing crashes into the side of his car with a horrible crunch of metal and Jones barely has any time to brace himself against the impact as it sends him flying almost ten feet from where he last stood. It hurts trying to get back up; his hands are shaking and he can’t find his flashlight or his firearm.There’s gunfire, going off like popcorn and he can hear Elliot cursing and swearing, fear tinging his words as he empties the round of his gun until it clicks uselessly in the air. The beast, whatever it is, roars again as bullets rip through its body, doing little more than angering it as it pushes the car aside as though it’s made of rubber instead of heavy-duty steel.Jones isn’t religious but he can’t help the instinct to pray as the creature charges towards them, claws out and ready to rend them to pieces.There’s shouting and screaming and he can’t find his own voice, not even as a dark blur intercepts the beast, tackling it to the ground barely a foot away from reaching him. Jones can’t breathe still as the two things – he can’t tell what they are – grapple along the ground. Amongst the yelling he can hear bone breaking, clothes ripping and a snick of a gun being reloaded.‘Whenever you’re ready,’ he hears someone say and Jones has to force himself to get back up on his feet at the sight of Stiles coming through the woods dressed in hunting gear with a rifle in his hands. A different kind of fear grips into him as he shouts for Stiles to run; to get away from this as fast as possible, but the younger Stilinski does the exact opposite as he approaches the two creatures trying to one-up over the other.The smaller of the two has an arm tightly encircled over the neck of the beast, holding it down and exposing its’ weak point, and Stiles doesn’t hesitate to shoot it in the head, effectively killing it with little fanfare.Jones doesn’t know what to think, not when the other creature gets up and reveals itself to be another human but the eyes are different; their feature twisted to fairy tale proportions.He wants this to be an unbelievably realistic nightmare, one he’ll wake up from any second from now.‘I am getting too old for this,’ another familiar voice gripes breathlessly as they enter the clearing.Jones startles at the sight of John holding what seems to be a shotgun in both hands and he can’t help but panic as he looks over at the younger Stilinski who is speaking to a blood-covered Derek Hale as if it’s normal to talk over a dead body between them.He doesn’t know what to think, mostly because it just occurred to him that Derek Hale is a new entrant in the police academy.‘You boys alright?’ John addresses to the three of them and he can barely manage a nod to show that he’s not completely catatonic as their Sheriff checks in on all of them, asking rudimentary questions over their mental welfare.‘What the fuck was that?’ Elliot asks, breathless and pale as a ghost as he eyes the dead creature on the ground in front of them that’s slowly shifting back to resembling something human.John sighs, shaking his head in a non-answer as Stiles and Derek both approach them, the former of the two handing the other what looks to be a packet of wet wipes.‘It’s called a werewolf,’ Stiles answers for them.Nobody laughs even though everything feels and sounds absurd.Jones, Elliot and Rodgers all look towards Derek who’s wiping off the blood on his face as if it’s a normal everyday occurrence; nothing to bat an eyelash about. Everything about his features is back to normal: no fangs, no claws, and no unnaturally bright eyes.‘Okay!’ Stiles says with a loud clap of his hands, startling the three of them. ‘Story time it is.’‘The both of you can handle that,’ Derek tells him as he hands back the packet of wipes and trudges back towards the dead body.‘H-hold on a minute,’ Rodgers begins weakly as John sighs again, rubbing the skin between his eyes as if he’s dealing with another wayward child.Jones can’t help swearing as he watches the other pick up the body as though it weighs no more than a bag of potatoes before disappearing back into the woods. ‘Shit, John. I wouldn’t have believed any of this if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.’‘There are two things you need to know,’ Stiles cuts in before anybody can attempt stopping Derek from fleeing with a dead body over his shoulder, ‘the existence of werewolves and the existence of hunters.’‘Are you a hunter, then?’ Rodgers asks, eyeing the rifle with the slightest edge of awe and trepidation. After all, it succeeded where their firearms failed miserably.‘I wasn’t given a choice.’‘Before we continue,’ John interjects, ‘this conversation is never to be repeated outside of a few select people. Everything involved is completely off the record, understand?’They nod, and they find their entire lives turning upside-down and inside-out within the span of just half an hour. Everything and nothing gets settled. For every solved question, a handful more pops up in its place. Stiles tries to explain as much as he can but John is the one who opts to give them a quick rundown on what’s been happening over the past few years rather than providing the nitty-gritty details. It’s then a lot of things they chalked up to mountain lion attacks are actually code for werewolves instead.Not that there’s actually a police code for supernatural attacks that go bump in the night.‘It’s hard to believe, I know; I’ve been in your shoes,’ John tells them, not unkindly. ‘It’ll take some time for everything to sink in and if any one of you wants to duck out that’s fine with us. None of you signed up for this so we understand; this isn’t something anybody would just choose to do willy-nilly.’Nobody is asking the obvious, but maybe that’s because it doesn’t bear asking. Jones doesn’t know how to feel, weather frustrated on Stiles’ behalf; hounding for the blood of a dead man or relieved that Stiles still managed to retain some form of humanity within him despite his questionable upbringing.12 years…He calms, and belatedly scoffs. ‘How long have we known each other for, John? You don’t even have to ask.’Matching grins light up both the Stilinski’s faces.‘Welcome to the fold, boys.’
10535793
A little push
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Tadashi Hamada, Fred | Fredzilla, Jack Frost", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Escritora2Aliasfox", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-03T00:00:00", "words": "801", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "my Big Hero 6 headcanon", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Rise of the Guardians (2012), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Big Hero 6 (2014)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
If his father knew, he would freak out. Like, “you are not my son” level of freak out.Becouse Hiccup was already quite a disappointment as a son… and he was also gay.He was soo gay. Thor knew he tried to conceal it, but one glance in Jack’s direction ruined his façade. Lucky for him (looking at the bright side) he seemed to be invisible for Jack.This was probably for the best also because Jack was the clown of the class and Hiccup was the boxing shack of the school. So, yeah. Better leave it as it was, and mind the problems he already had.Hiccup shook of his head the non important question… ‘how come he doesn’t tease me?’ and kept on with his life the best he could.That is, until that day his cousin slipped during a hockey match, and apparently looked ridiculous. He had always teased Hiccup a little too much, but today he walked out of the ice right into him, convinced he had laughed at his move, and to be blamed for the whole thing, including global warming.He kept the helmet on all the way to the hall just so that he could throw it to the dork’s face.And Hiccup hadn’t even been watching! Whenever he ever glimpsed through the gym’s door glass, it was to check on Jack… (of course he didn’t have a death wish, so he kept his mouth shut and waited for the whole thing to pass…)But it didn’t pass.It didn’t pass ‘cause it didn’t happen.Hiccup could not believe someone was coming in his defense, let alone his voice sounding like Jack’s.“Come on, dude, just go back to the game!”“The game is over. We’re not gonna win anyways”“we still got time and we need the training so get out there ok?”“ok, as soon as I finish with the fish bone”What came then, Hiccup hadn’t seen coming. Snothlaught either. No one had.Jack actually looked furious when he flipped his Hokey stick hard on Snothlaught’s feet, making him fall flat on the ground, hard. When he tried to groan back he found Jacks very scary glare, very close, hovering over him with his stick.“didn’t you hear me? Fuck off!!”And Snothlaught, confused, shocked, silently got up and left, going back to the ice, looking back over his shoulder like he though he had seen a ghost for a moment on the road.Jack stood there ‘till he had left, and Hiccup, still in shock as well, was still crouched in a corner.“Are you ok?” Hiccup couldn’t react jet.“Man, I’m sorry, he is such an ass”Jack offered him a hand, and Hiccup hesitantly extended his. The shock was such he still couldn’t grasp and hold on it, so it was a good thing Jack was nervous (though trying to hide it) and pulled him up from the forearm.There was a silence. They just stood there. It got awkward very fast.“You know… there is nothing bad on asking for help… from time to time… right? …right? Oh, well, yeah. Bye!”And so Jack left. And Hiccup assumed the fact that he was retarded.Well, what did he expect? He had daydreamed so much about Jack, and Joked for himself with how his pants would hit the ground on their own if something like Jack on his hokey suit spoke to him or (and) defended from a bully… He should be glad he hadn’t done something stupid! Like, peeing his pants or fainting…Jack assumed the fact that he was Idiot.He finally had the perfect excuse, the straight out of a movie situation to speak with the guy… and after loosing his nerve and scaring the crap out of him, what were his words? ‘right? Oh, well, yeah. Bye’ Idiot!Such was his frustration, right after the match he needed to tell to a friend. One who could understand, one who didn’t judge. One who always knew how to cheer you up…Hiccup didn’t know If he should strangle his dog or raise a monument to him.The black terranova-wolfhound mutt run out of his hands and across half the park… to jump over none other than Jack and throw him to the ground.Bless Thor (or whoever was in charge for romance up there) for his mercy ‘cause Jack laugthed it off, asked for the dog’s name -really? Why Toothless?- and just like that, they had an actual decent conversation.Little did he know Jack had called the dog with a dog whistle.Little did Jack know Fred got it from Tadashi, Hiccup’s science buddy, who also provided him with the location of the park where Hiccup walked his dog.They had been on charge.
10589991
Ill Hold You To That
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi | Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope", "Fandom": "방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Sealegs2414", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-10T00:00:00", "words": "1,841", "Additional Tags": "yoonkook, Sugakookie, Shy Jeon Jungkook, Fluff, Drunk Min Yoongi | Suga, Mentioned Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Cute Min Yoongi | Suga, Jealousy", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Jeon Jungkook/Min Yoongi | Suga, Jeon Jungkook & Min Yoongi | Suga", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“One more round! For the whole bar!” A very pink cheeked man cajoled to the bartender while raising his glass half full of whiskey, sloshing it over the rim before knocking it back and slamming it down on the bar-top as if that finalized the deal of the words he just spoke. Nodding to the bartender, the worker just laughed and started refilling his glass and confirmed that the man really wanted to give the rest of the people along the bar which was about 15 people another round of drinks.The very inebriated man nodded and waved his hand,  “Another round of whatever they’re currently drinking on me.” He slurred. The bartender finished pouring the man another glass of whiskey, it would be his last but the drunk man didn’t need to know that just yet.“Yoongi hyung!” A younger man, slender in build but with broad shoulders clearly from one too many trips to the gym, sidled up to the drunk. He whipped his brown fringe out of his eyes as he leaned his forearm on the bar and stared down at the shorter raven haired man. He had only gone to the bathroom for a few minutes and what did he come back to?“Why did you just buy the whole bar drinks? You won’t even buy me one.” He grumbled the last sentence, but Yoongi didn’t catch it. The older male swung in his barstool wildly to the side to face the person talking to him.“Jungkookie,” he reaches out his free hand and gently claps his hand on the younger male’s cheeks a couple of times. “It’s a beautiful night? Why not?!” His other hand was waving around his glass of whiskey and big blobs of golden brown liquid were falling onto the bar once more.“Ugh, hyung, you’re drunk. Let’s go.”“I-I’m not drunk.” He denied vehemently, brow furrowing in annoyance and offense at what the younger had said. Yoongi points a finger at the younger and going on about how he’s the hyung and not the other way around.“You have to l-listen to your huh-hyung. I’m the hyung.” This only made Jungkook roll his eyes but thankfully, Yoongi didn’t notice. Instead he was distracted by something else he heard. The music floating through the bar was an odd mix tonight but that’s what happened when it got so late that the DJ was gone and just a jukebox with a collection of all genres was left to the devices of the paying customer to play.There were cheers from the customers around the bar, thanking Yoongi for their free drink and be briefly cheered with them finishing off the last of his whiskey, while Jungkook and the bartender had a silent agreement that the elder was cut off. A large pale hand wrapped around Jungkook’s and pulled him away from the bar.“H-hyung?”Jungkook was very confused as Yoongi was pulling him away from the floor and between some tables to a very, very small semi-dance floor. The song that was playing wasn’t one the male was familiar with and it was a slow song. He was more than aware that Yoongi listened to all types of music but he wasn’t getting the connection between his hyung and this one nor what they were doing on the dance floor. Yoongi didn’t dance. Not unless he absolutely had to. This was...well a new side of drunk Yoongi, he supposed.Those pale hands tossed Jungkook’s around his neck and Yoongi wrapped his around the younger's waist. Being the dancer that he is, it was automatic that he began to move with the music and with the shorter man.“Why am I the girl?”Yoongi just looks slightly up at the younger and giggles. Yes, giggles. Min Yoongi apparently giggles when he’s drunk.“Jungkook-ah, you would look pretty in a dress.” he slurs out the compliment.Yes, compliment because Min Yoongi gives those when he’s drunk. His eyes slip shut and he hums the song while still dancing with the music. He can’t see that the tip of Jungkook’s ears turn the slightest bit pink. “No, that’s you. Remember the maid outfit?” he huffs, but continues to move slowly with the music. His fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Yoongi’s neck.“Hip hop died that day.” A growl of a sentence came out, but it didn’t stop either of them from swaying slowly to the song, somehow closer together than when they first started. Yoongi’s energy is starting to wind down with the slow song.“Do you remember what you said that day?” Yoongi mutters, it’s quite soft but the younger still manages to catch it and responds so fast it might have given the elder whiplash.“That I’d like to make you my girlfriend? Yeah, I still do!”The cheekiness of the younger has Yoongi coming to an abrupt stop. Jungkook is a little worried for a second that he’s about to get the wrath of Min Yoongi but he gets something else almost as bad instead. Yoongi reaches up while smiling and pinches the younger's cheeks. His tone becomes like honey,“Aigooo our Jungkookie is so cute. He makes all the noona’s hearts flutter with this handsome face of his.” The shock that Jungkook feels at this disgusting display is hard to hide but even moreso is his shyness. His ears turn fully pink now and he looks off to the side of Yoongi’s shoulder, his lips move and a soft whisper comes out,“But I want to make your heart flutter, hyung.”Yoongi is still cooing over how cute their Jungkookie is and the younger sighs. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t hear him. He had said it softly and really did he want him to? Part of him did and part of him didn’t. A bigger part of him did though otherwise he’d have never said it aloud in the first place.“Come on, Yoongi hyung. I gave you a dance, let’s go home. I’m tired.” He tries to appeal to the big brother that he knows Yoongi has in him. It somehow works and soon the two are outside, after paying Yoongi’s tab of course and walking down the streets of Seoul. That is until Yoongi stops dead and it takes Jungkook a few strides before he realizes that he’s lost the other man.“Give me a piggy back ride.” The voice that comes out of Yoongi is demanding and almost petulant. Jungkook scoffs but walks back over to his hyung.“Your two legs are walking just fine.”Yoongi just crosses his arms and pouts. Oh good lord, he actually pouts. Jungkook can’t believe his eyes and really wants to take a picture right now but he doesn’t. The side of him that he wants to keep at bay 90% of the time keeps slipping out. So, he drops down to the ground and waves at Yoongi to climb aboard. Jungkook was able to see a bright smile before he turned his head forward once more. The elder couldn’t tell but it the younger’s eyes had brightened considerably at such a small act.Jungkook wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s legs, hands gripping the top of the others thighs as he stands up from the ground careful not to drop the elder. Once he was up and walking forward, Yoongi in his inebriated state started kicking his legs and waving an imaginary lasso around his head,“Giddy up! Giddy up!” He called to the horse beneath him. Jungkook wanted to laugh but he quickly realized that his hyung actually wanted him to act like a horse. Rolling his eyes, he says firmly, “I am not neighing like a horse.”The elder began to protest, and slumped onto Jungkook’s shoulder. He slurred,“Hoseok would.”This instantly irked Jungkook. It was stupid he knew but it did. He wasn’t Hoseok and he didn’t want to be Hoseok and he wanted his hyung to only thi- No. He didn’t want anything. Jungkook was just being a little oversensitive lately. He didn’t want Yoongi to only think about him while he was with him, that was absurd and he most certainly wasn’t about to think that. Except he was.That comment shouldn’t bother him. It does though, it does, because all the fans lately talk about Sope and as much as he loves Hoseok and Yoongi's friendship sometimes he gets jealous. Especially with how much skinship they show because sometimes he wants a little extra TLC and wants it to be shown, even on camera but he's too shy to initiate himself sometimes and holds back.Scrunching his nose up in distaste Jungkook neighs quietly to which Yoongi giggles.“What was that?”He pretends he didn't hear making Jungkook do it one more time. This only has Yoongi kicking his legs again and laughing. It was the kind of laughter that makes all of his gums show and now Jungkook is grinning because that laugh is because of him, for him and he never wants it to stop. Yoongi nuzzles his nose into Jungkook's neck and it sends a shiver down the younger boys spine. They're quiet the rest of the way home and it's peaceful.Once Jungkook gets to the dorm he has to wake Yoongi up which is a feat but he finally does. Jungkook carefully has him lean against the wall while he gets his keys out of his jeans pocket. He opens the door taking Yoongi's hand in his and leads the stumbling drunk through the apartment to his bedroom. Jungkook pulls the covers down, makes Yoongi raise his arms so he can take off his shirt as the elder gets too hot when he sleeps in a shirt. Getting the elder to take off his pants was a little more tricky but after a lot of grumbling and a joke that had Jungkook flushing all over his face, Yoongi flung off his pants.Jungkook wiped his brow and ushered his hyung into his bed. Tucking Yoongi in, the elder is grumbling about things he can't make out. As Jungkook is going to leave Yoongi weakly grabs the younger's hand because he's so tired from the alcohol working it’s way through his system.“You know you're my favorite dongsaeng right?”It's mumbled and slurred but Jungkook makes it out. His smile is bittersweet."I'll hold you to that hyung, " he says cheekily but Yoongi just tugs on him as if to bring him closer.“I'd rather... you... hold me...”The words come out very slow as the elder is nodding off to sleep but Jungkook's smile morphs into one that is brighter than the sun. Yoongi manages to see this smile all for him just before his eyes fully shut and it makes him warm throughout, lulling him to a peaceful slumber.“I'll hold you to that too, hyung.” the younger whispers before slipping out of the bedroom and heading to his own.And hold it to him, Jungkook does.
10503762
here in the heartbeat
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Kim Yugyeom, Choi Youngjae", "Fandom": "GOT7", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Suicix", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-30T00:00:00", "words": "1,240", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Domestic, Bathing/Washing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Sharing a Bath, Implied Sexual Content, Dancer Kim Yugyeom, Music Therapist Choi Youngjae", "Relationship": "Choi Youngjae/Kim Yugyeom", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Yugyeom swears he’s never been more relieved to arrive back at the apartment building, to get in and out of the elevator, to get to the front door. His body’s aching from hours and hours of dancing, and while he loves that he gets to do the one thing he’s always wanted as an actual paying job, the physical after-effects can be brutal, especially at the end of a long week. He’s just glad to be home, to get to relax, looking forward to spending an evening with Youngjae. He unlocks the door and heads inside, hoping to find Youngjae in the living room.And he does – Youngjae’s on the couch when Yugyeom gets there, looking up with a smile at the sound of footsteps, a smile that only widens when Yugyeom greets him with a soft hey.“Yugyeomie,” Youngjae says, and Yugyeom will never get over the fact that Youngjae always sounds so genuinely pleased to see him, even after so long. “Did you have a good day?”Yugyeom nods. It was a good day, despite how he’s feeling right now. He sits himself down beside Youngjae, their bodies close. He should probably ask the same to Youngjae in return, but he’s feeling a little needy this evening – he’s worked hard, after all (though, that isn’t to say that Youngjae hasn’t).“My legs hurt, though,” he says. That gets him a sympathetic sigh from Youngjae, an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “My arms hurt, too. Everything hurts? I think I should have a bath tonight.”“Oh?” Youngjae wonders. “Want me to run one for you?”Yugyeom smiles, nodding again.“Please, hyung,” he says, leaning his head into Youngjae’s shoulder a little, and Youngjae gets up to get a bath ready for him. Yugyeom just sinks into the couch even more, letting his muscles relax – though he knows the bath will be even better for that.When Youngjae calls him into the bathroom a while later, the bath’s been run, but instead of just standing by its side like had Yugyeom expected him to be, Youngjae’s clothes are off and he’s sitting in the bathtub, smiling up at Yugyeom.“I think it’s only fair that we share,” he says. “I was actually about to have a shower, but you got home before I could even get undressed.”Yugyeom half wants to fold his arms and pout and pretend to sulk, but really, there’s nothing he can argue with there. He loves the occasional times when they get to share, as amazed as he always is that they can both fit in the bath together.“OK,” is what he says instead, and he heads to their bedroom to undress. He can’t help but wonder what coming home to that tonight would have been like instead: the sound of Youngjae’s voice from the bathroom greeting him as he opened the front door, loud and sweet and strong – he always sings as he showers. This is even better than that would be, though, and Yugyeom can’t wait to get in there with him, can’t wait to tangle their limbs together in the heat of the water.“No bubble bath?” Yugyeom wonders when he comes back in.“I think we’re out,” Youngjae tells him. “I’ll pick some up tomorrow when I shop – any preferences about which scent?”Yugyeom shakes his head. He doesn’t mind. He steps into the bath, getting himself seated in front of Youngjae – he’s basically sitting in Youngjae’s lap. He might be taller than Youngjae (than just about all their friends), but that doesn’t mean he can’t do this, that he doesn’t like being held. Youngjae’s arms wrap around him from behind, and Yugyeom just relaxes even more, sighing when Youngjae nuzzles into his neck. This is exactly what Yugyeom needs, one hundred – no, two hundred percent. Two hundred and fifty. The temperature of the water is perfect, just the right kind of hot, and having Youngjae’s body pressed so tightly to his is the bonus that Yugyeom didn’t even know he needed when he first thought a bath was a good idea.“All right, then,” says Youngjae. “I’ll just buy whichever I want.”Again, Yugyeom has no complaints about that. He lets his hands cover Youngjae’s where they’re laced together around his waist, and Youngjae presses a kiss to Yugyeom’s shoulder. Here, there’s no breathlessness, no complicated beats to count. There’s only the steady one-two-one-two as Yugyeom breathes in and out, finally allowed to be still. One of Youngjae’s hands moves, settles on Yugyeom’s stomach, and starts stroking up and down, soothing. Yugyeom matches his breathing to the touch, like it’s a rhythm he has to follow.He keeps time like that until Youngjae’s voice breaks his concentration.“So – what happened to you today that means that everything hurts?” Youngjae asks, and Yugyeom shrugs, makes a non-committal noise.“Just some difficult choreography, you know?”Youngjae hums, sounding equal parts amused and contemplative.“Didn’t you tell me before that you helped a lot with the choreography for the show you’re working on right now?”“I wanted to push myself,” Yugyeom tells him, a little petulant, and Youngjae laughs in his ear, as warm as the water in the tub.“And now you want me to take care of you,” he says, and Yugyeom nods – an offer he can’t refuse. That’s what Youngjae does, after all. He takes care of people. He uses music to help them, so they can use it help themselves. It’s so admirable, Yugyeom thinks – something that Youngjae can really be proud of. He loves music so much, and he just wants other people to love it as much as he does, wants it to be a positive force in their lives. (Yugyeom can say for sure that it definitely is in the two of theirs.) “OK, then,” Youngjae continues. “I will.”His hands smooth down Yugyeom’s stomach again and settle on his hips, fingers circling over the flesh, slow. He does the same to Yugyeom’s thighs, to the sides of Yugyeom’s chest, and then his hands are moving to work the tension out of Yugyeom’s shoulders. Youngjae knows his body so well that Yugyeom doesn’t even need to tell him where or how to touch: he just does it, and Yugyeom gradually starts to feel better, both Youngjae and the warmth of the water working their magic. Eventually, Youngjae’s arms are around Yugyeom’s waist again, his fingers tracing patterns over Yugyeom’s hipbones once more, and yeah, it’s still good, but–“What if I wanted you to take care of me in a different way, though?” Yugyeom makes his tone light and cheeky: he knows it will get him exactly what he wants.“Hm? You mean…” One of Youngjae’s hands trails across and wraps around Yugyeom’s cock. The touch is only loose, but Yugyeom still feels his breath catch in his throat. Yeah, that’d be nice. He’s not hard yet, but he’d like to be. He wants the pleasure and the relief and wants to give Youngjae the same thing in return afterwards.“Uh-huh. Please.” Yugyeom shudders in Youngjae’s arms when Youngjae’s hand tightens, just a little, thumb dragging down the length of his dick. “Please, Youngjae-hyung.”Youngjae kisses his back, the press of his lips hot against Yugyeom’s skin.“Of course,” he says, the sound of his voice somehow as smooth and golden as it is when he sings, and Yugyeom knows that he means it – always.
10570614
this will pass like the
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jamie Benn, Tyler Seguin", "Fandom": "Hockey RPF", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-08T00:00:00", "words": "5,417", "Additional Tags": "Clairvoyance, Non-Linear Narrative, Jamie can see the future, Angst", "Relationship": "Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
If you could see your whole life laid out in front of you, would you change things?      “Oh, there you are.” Tyler says, popping his head through the bedroom door. “I was looking for you.” Jamie smiles. He’s reading an article about the draft on his iPad, but puts it down as Tyler pads into the room, settling on the bed next to Jamie. He lifts his arm so Tyler can slot himself into the space at his side. “What’s up?” Tyler asks. Jamie shrugs, enjoying the feeling of Tyler’s solid weight on him. “You know I love you, right? No matter what?” Jamie’s long since stopped trying to swim upstream, resist the current. Some things are worth resisting, but not this. Not Tyler’s head on his chest, breath on his collarbones.  Tyler looks up at him and smiles. “I know, dude.” he says, and Jamie wants to roll his eyes, deny the certainty of Tyler’s voice. “For the record, I’m glad I met you.”  “Is that so?” “Yes. I’m glad I know you, too.” Satisfied, Jamie settles down, feeling the line of tension in his shoulders melt away. “I love you.” Jamie says again. “I love you.”      The first time Jamie Sees, it’s less Seeing and more feeling: the cool, salty ocean air misting against his cheek. He’s maybe three years old when it happens, and his family goes to the beach the next week. His mom knows, of course, that he’s started Seeing because she’s a Seer too. She takes him into her arms and cradles him as if he weren’t a squirming toddler and kisses his forehead. She whispers to him not to worry, which he really doesn’t understand as a child.  He doesn’t understand that as a teenager or as an adult, either, because Jamie has this unique knack for worrying, regardless of whether or not he’s Seen the future.  There are other Seers who live through their tests or games or bullying ahead of time, and know what to expect when it happens to them in the correct timeline. His cousin, at age twelve, already knew who she was going to marry and how many kids she was going to have.   Jamie’s not one of those Seers, though.    Jamie’s visions are fuzzy and underdeveloped, half-glimpses of incoherent moments he’ll only recognize when they actually happen. At age ten, he hears the number one hundred and twenty-nine and only gets it eight years later, at the draft. Beyond that, everything is hazy, and Jamie can live a normal, steady life just like any other kid. Jamie’s ability to See isn’t a problem when he’s five, or when he’s twelve, or when he’s eighteen. No, Jamie’s ability only becomes a real issue when he’s twenty-four and he meets Tyler Seguin for the first time. One day, Jamie’s psyching himself up for training camp, the next, he’s dreaming about Tyler Seguin the Boston Bruin standing in his kitchen. Time fizzes and pops in Jamie’s brain while he scrolls through Deadspin article after Deadspin article profiling Tyler. When he refreshes his browser, sure enough, there it is: the announcement of Tyler’s trade to Dallas. Not ten minutes later, Jim Nill’s name lights up his phone screen.   I know you, Jamie feels, while Tyler steadily paces towards Arrivals at Fort Worth International. He feels it so wrenched and powerful that his breath catches when he shakes Tyler’s hand. I know you.   Suddenly, the floodgates burst open and Jamie experiences a hundred different visions at once. It’s all random stuff, not particularly connected to Tyler. He sees himself walking three dogs. He sees his parents’ backyard, and a huge, warm party. He feels the kind of loss that stings in the most tender parts of his chest. He feels the swell of pride that comes from winning, lots of it. It’s a sensory overload; way more simultaneous visions than Jamie’s ever experienced. All the while, Tyler is smiling at him hesitantly, looking a hell of a lot like a kid who doesn’t know what to do with himself. “We’re gonna do some great things here together.” Jamie says, almost without meaning to. “Yeah?” Tyler laughs. “Man, that’d be nice.” And he’s not at all like what people prepared him for. No — Tyler’s sharp, and he’s funny, and he’s smart, and he’s damn good at hockey. He’s also entirely impossible to pin down, like a helium balloon let go in the wind. Jamie starts having more visions now that Tyler’s in the picture, but few involve Tyler himself. In fact, Jamie can’t even get a steady handle on more mundane stuff, like what Jordie plans on barbecuing for dinner. It feels like Tyler touching down in Dallas somehow skews and rearranges time as Jamie knows it. “Are you okay, man?” Jordie asks. He’s barbecuing lamb burgers and they smell fucking good how didn’t Jamie See this — “You’ve been… different lately.”  Jamie shrugs and cards a hand through his hair. He grimaces as his fingers get stuck in the gel. “I miss short hair.” Jordie looks up from the burgers and quirks his brows. “You haven’t had short hair since, like, high school, bro. What’s up?” Before Jamie can answer that he feels different, Tyler’s standing at the patio door. He knocks on it before letting himself out. “Sorry, I know you said the door was unlocked or whatever, but I still feel bad.” he mumbles, and steps onto the balcony, squeezing past Jamie to settle into the other chair. He sets a six pack at their feet. The air is warm around them, the humidity from earlier in the day having settled as the sun crept lower on the horizon. Jamie enjoys evenings in Texas, the hugeness of the night and the sky and the millions of stars, scattered like visions in Jamie’s brains. Jamie Sees a lot of things, but he doesn’t know much, not really. He knows hockey, he knows how to cook marginally better than Jordie, he knows how to change a tire and how to drive stick. But, as Jordie slides the burgers onto the plate, and Tyler cracks open a beer and follows him inside, Jamie feels like he knows Tyler. Like that knowledge is buried deep in his marrow, and there’s no extracting it, not for all the stars in the goddamn sky.    Training camp and preseason are gruelling, as always. Despite sticking to a rigorous summer workout routine, Jamie still feels sluggish and heavy, and it’s a challenge to throw himself into drills and scrimmages the way he wants to. Tyler sets a quick pace in practice, and a lot of guys try to match it. Few succeed. At first, Jamie thinks maybe he’s showing off, but then he remembers the way Tyler loves teasing Jamie with his abs and his cocksure grin and realizes he’s definitely showing off. He loves hockey and he loves the spotlight, and it’s a killer combination that gnaws at something deep in Jamie’s stomach. When they’re put together on an offensive line for the first time, Jamie’s mind starts whizzing out of control and that’s when he sees it: the Cup. He’s hoisting the Cup high above his head. His playoff beard is much fuller than anyone — including himself — ever expected it to be and it’s surprisingly itchy. Droplets of beer catch in the thick hairs when Patrick Sharp tilts the Cup above his mouth. Jamie wants to drown in Cup beer, he wants to drown in this moment. This is all he wants. It’s all he’s ever wanted for as long as he can remember, since before he was a Seer, even. Tyler’s watching him from across the room. He’s cheering and yelling with Rous in the far corner, and Jamie can barely see him above the other guys, but his eyes are trained right on Jamie, gaze burning straight into him.  There’s no year in the vision, but Jamie knows with a certainty he feels heavy in his bones, that it’s fixed. Jamie’s ability leaves impressions on his psyche, glaring technicolor occasionally marred by blurry edges and hazy voices. It’s a flourishing of sensations so vivid it’s like he’s already lived all these tiny moments. Some things change, fluctuate, malleable like clay. If Jamie turns right instead of left, if he stays back one night instead of going out with the team, if he passes the puck instead of taking a shot, the future rewrites itself accordingly. Other events are fixed, permanently woven into the fabric of time and space. It's how Jamie knows they win the Cup, but also how he doesn't have a clue when or where or after how long of this constant losing effort. Winning the Cup is a fixed event, but when Jamie accidentally misses the exit for the practice arena one morning, his brain gets fuzzy in order to compensate for the shift in events, in the future. When Tyler enters the picture, well, ditto.  Distinguishing between the two types of visions is where Jamie runs into trouble. He wishes he knew how to interpret half of what he Sees, that he could understand even a little bit of his ability beyond the sensory. Jamie’s left grasping the loose ends of these visions, desperate for some way of reparation, to slot them logically in his mind. But that’s not how it works. He wishes time weren’t so circular.    (Jamie’s not sure what kind of Seer is better: the kind like his cousin, or his kind. Or, rather, what kind of Seer has the easier end of the stick. Jamie envies the certainty that comes from knowing linear time like a freckle on your hand, the light on your porch. The Seers that know exactly how their lives are meant to progress have it easy. Figures Jamie would be dealt a tougher hand, but with that comes the ability to live his life, to make decisions. There’s something to be said about that.)     Jamie loves winning. He's always hungry for it, for the final alarms to sound, for jumping onto the ice and crashing into his teammates and feeling like a hero. For finding Tyler's face in the mess of white or victory green and smiling at him, bright and unstoppable. For Tyler finding him, later, after media scrums and showers, and touching his chest, looking up at him with something behind his eyes that reads like a challenge, an invitation.    But this is a game. This is the National Hockey League, and they don't always win.     "How do we keep losing if you can see what happens?" Tyler asks. It doesn't sound like the usual mix of curiosity and awe he intones whenever he asks Jamie about his ability. It sounds like he's frustrated. Mad. "Can't you just see where the puck's going to be and stop it before it gets in our net?" "Of course I can't just see where the puck is going at all times." Jamie answers, frustrated himself, exasperated that they keep having this conversation. This is where his ability always gets him into trouble, always runs him into a corner. “I wouldn’t be allowed to play at all, if I could. Half the time, I don't even see whether we win or lose." "What about the other half of the time? Are we really all killing ourselves out there trying to win, when you already know we lose? God, do you not even try when you know what's going to happen?" He's raising his voice. Jamie really hates how much they're fighting. He gets that Tyler's just confused and pissed tired of losing and he doesn't understand, but that was crossing a line and Jamie’s suddenly furious. He stands up from the couch, and the movement makes his head rush.  "Yeah, fuck you too." He snarls. "How could you even think that? I go out there every fucking day and try as hard as I possibly can, I give everything even when I know we don't win, because I have to. And you know what? I'd like to see anyone else try that knowing half the things I know.” Tyler deflates a little. “Sorry.” he says, and he sounds like he means it. “Can we stop fighting now?” The question makes him sound impossibly young, and Jamie glances at him to see that his shoulders are slumped. “Yes,” Jamie answers, “I know for a fact we can.” It’s not entirely true. There are more fights coming. But Tyler can probably figure that out without being a Seer.     (The truth is Jamie goes out and plays until his hips nearly crumble, until it hurts to walk, even on off days. He tries and he tries and he fucking tries because this is his life. He loves hockey. He knows hockey. And this is his life.)     Jamie spends most of the post-season with Tyler, both of them taking their time moving home and out of Dallas for the summer. After getting knocked out of the playoffs, Jamie’s visions settle down a little. At first, he figures it’s the emotional toll, but after a few weeks, he thinks it might just be a result of spending so much time with Tyler. Tyler grounds him, in an odd, relieving way — a grim contrast to when they first met and the ensuing calamity in Jamie’s mind. Jamie still draws time shaped like a circle, but something about being with Tyler now slows down the inevitable. Like Jamie could spend an afternoon in Tyler’s new backyard and it would last a whole year, and carry him through all sorts of unpleasant moments he senses on the horizon.  There are pleasant moments on the horizon, too, Jamie remembers. He just has to remind himself of them more often. He wants to look on the bright side and, watching Tyler’s jaw work on a bite of steak, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, smile caught in the setting sun, he realizes that Tyler is the bright side. And if that’s not the revelation Jamie’s been waiting for, then. Damn.     Certain things about Tyler become fixed the more linear time unfolds before them. Tiny imagines roll through Jamie’s brain in scattered shreds: Tyler’s face when Jamie’s inside him, the smiley faces Tyler makes out of blueberries in his pancakes, Skyping Tyler’s mom together. Waking up with Tyler in his bed is a vision so tangible and clear Jamie swears it’s already happened. They’re like polaroids of a life Jamie has yet to live, and he wonders if this is the result of being a Seer, or of having a ridiculous, transparent crush on his linemate. It doesn’t seem fair that he gets to See all that, before Tyler’s even considered Jamie as something more than an awkward friend. But not much about being a Seer is very fair in the first place.     Happiness comes in bursts. Jamie’s happiness, more often than not, is moderated by what he Sees, and what he chooses to interpret from that mess. Lately, though, he’s been trying to let himself be happy. And when the season starts back up again in October, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t want to let himself.     In January, Jamie feels like he did when he was eighteen, when the word one hundred and twenty-nine washed over him in this moment of enlightenment, something he Saw when he was ten finally locking into place. The team has been at an overpriced bar for the past three hours celebrating a huge win over the Senators, and Tyler’s been treating Jamie to shots all night. Being drunk both amplifies and silences his ability, depending on his mood and mental state. Tonight, it feels dulled; he knows what he’s already Seen, but when thinking about future events, it’s all static in his mind, and Jamie’s rolling with it. When Tyler keeps staggering into his side, Jamie doesn’t give a damn about what’s coming. All he knows is what he wants now. The suggestion to go back to the hotel is too easy. The night could go a hundred different ways from this point on, Jamie knows. But he still guides Tyler through the lobby and up to their floor, hands settled on Tyler’s shoulders in what feels like not nearly enough contact. Not knowing what comes next is exhilarating, the usual weight tethered to him suddenly vanishes and all he can think about is the Tyler’s heat burning a hole through his palms. Tyler breaks free of Jamie’s grip. He staggers a few paces down the hallway before turning around sharply. “Tell me about the future.” He says. It’s a loaded question. It always is. “What do you wanna know?” Jamie asks, amused. Tyler leans against the wall and looks up at Jamie. His pupils are blown beyond belief. So maybe Jamie feels like he’s eighteen in more ways than one. “Do you ever kiss me, in the future? Or do you keep me waiting?” It’s embarrassing, having Tyler’s undivided attention — it makes him self-conscious and awkward because Tyler is just so much, and most of the time, he makes Jamie feel like the loser kid trying to talk to the hot girl. Tonight, though, Jamie feels his body move on autopilot, that particular brand of reckless only Tyler could draw out of him. He responds by pressing his forearm against the wall next to Tyler’s head, leaning his weight on it so he’s hovering over him. He’s not that much taller than Tyler, but the movement expands him and emphasizes the size difference between them. Tyler’s tongue darts out of his mouth to lick and then bite his lower lip. Jamie leans in closer and Tyler’s there, meeting him halfway like he always tends to — somehow always knowing Jamie’s next move before Jamie does, which is ironic in a way that brings a smile to Jamie’s lips before they collide with Tyler’s. “I missed you,” Jamie says, without knowing why. He’s breathless. Tyler doesn’t reply, but his smile intensifies by a few thousand megawatts. Jamie leans in and kisses him again. And again. And again.     “Do you wanna go for dinner?” Jamie asks. “On a date?” He knows Tyler says yes, and Tyler must know Jamie knows that he says yes, but he still touches Jamie’s bicep and says, “Yes,” and it’s the most beautiful syllable Jamie’s ever heard in his entire life.   Jamie’s cousin knows exactly who she’s going to marry. She knows about the fights they’re going to have, and what they’re going to name their children, and when she’ll get promoted, and whether they get goldfish or a cat. Her life is laid out in front of her for her to follow. Jamie, on the other hand, still feels like his visions are waves cresting around him, and rather than on a path, he’s caught up in a hurricane. Months go by and Jamie’s still trying to let himself be happy, and with Tyler, he’s so happy. But sometimes he worries. “What if I have a bad vision?” He asks Tyler, bracing himself for rejection. They don’t talk much about Jamie’s ability, and Jamie likes that, the anonymity of it. Tyler’s known about it for over a year, but there’s a difference between knowing a Seer and dating one. He worries, though, that talking about it will tip Tyler off and make him realize that he doesn’t actually want this anymore. Jamie scours his brain for something, a thread from the future that might indicate that possibility, but he comes up short. It’s still those blueberry pancake smiles. “Then, you’ll tell me, and we’ll deal with it.” Tyler says like this is the easiest decision to make, and he’s not setting himself up for epic disappointment by dating a Seer. “Have you had any bad visions, though? Bout us?” “No.” Jamie bites back Not yet because he’s not about to be melodramatic when Tyler’s hand is slowly creeping down his abs, settling at the waistband of his shorts. “Exactly.” Tyler replies, sinking to his knees and oh that’s where this conversation is headed.     When push comes to shove, they don’t get rings, because Jamie gets fidgety enough with his hands as it is and Tyler worries he’ll do something stupid and misplace it. Instead, they get each other’s numbers tattooed carefully on their ring fingers, small and tasteful and there, whether they’re on or off the ice. It’s the most painful of Jamie’s tattoos because of the thin, sensitive skin on his finger, but once it’s there, he can’t stop staring at it. Tattoos are permanent, they’re forever, time be damned, and Jamie catches the significance and runs with it. (He’s pragmatic enough to know that tattoos may be forever, but relationships aren’t always. But fuck you, he’s a newlywed.) He keeps picking Tyler up, slamming him into walls, fucking him stupid, both of them high on that honeymoon feeling. He feels reckless and happy and he doesn’t think it would be so bad if time could loop and loop forever, like an afternoon in Tyler’s backyard.     What’s that expression — the higher you climb, the further you fall?     The stupidest thing about his “ability,” Jamie thinks, with bold quotes around the word, is the lack of warning he gets. Visions aren’t like dreams, you don’t ease into them, warm and comfortable. They hit you like a truck — and sometimes they hit particularly hard. Jamie tries not to resent it too much, because that’s just how it works, and complaining won’t change what he Sees, but. When Jamie’s in the shower, he has a vision. It’s one of those visions that feels like he’s living it, feels like his body’s been transported and that, somehow, time is moulding itself around Jamie’s mind. It’s a fully-formed vision, and he has to grip the tiles on the wall while he rides it out. "It doesn't help, you know," Tyler says, "when you tell me these things." They’re sitting next to each other on the sidewalk in front of a lame bar. The team’s inside, and Jamie can hear them — the loud, raucous fuckers — over the sounds of cars and music and Tyler’s trained, laboured breathing. They’re not touching. Jamie wishes he knew what this future iteration of Tyler was talking about. He wants nothing more than to cradle his jaw in his hands and press kisses to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks. He doesn’t, of course. Of course, future him is even more cautious about his boundaries with Tyler than he already is. Jamie huffs a laugh even though he doesn’t find it particularly funny, just — ruthless, how time always catches up to him. “I thought you might want to know.” Jamie answers. “Well, I don’t.” Tyler snaps. “I don’t want to know everything, Jamie. I’m sorry you know all sorts of stuff about the future, and you get to see all my flaws and all our baggage ahead of time, but can you just… leave me out of it?” He’s pleading. Jamie’s heart feels like it’s about to collapse in on itself, crushed by the weight of his contracting chest. Time starts bending again, when Jamie spots the tears tracking down Tyler’s cheeks and into his beard. In a fucked up way, it reminds Jamie of the Cup, the beer, the gazes from across the locker room. “So what happens now?”  Jamie asks. “How do we move past this?” “I don’t know, Jamie,” Tyler replies, “I don’t know if we do.” Tyler’s not angry in this future, though, he’s sad. Dejected. Jamie knows with a fair amount of certainty that it’s his fault.     Jamie is privy to a whole host of information about the future, about the constantly evolving, twisting, bending nature of time. He knows all sorts of things he wishes he didn’t, knowledge he never asked for. Twenty-seven years old and he still feels about an inch from flying off the handle. "Where's the line?" He asks his mom over the phone, forcing himself to breathe. "How much can I tell people? Where's the line?" "Sweetheart," his mom says, sounding sympathetic, “you have a gift. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like one.” “No, it doesn’t.” “I still don’t fully understand it, you know,” she admits, “but I live with it. And I’m happy as I can be, considering.” “I know things, mom. It feels like I’ve known these things my whole life, and now I don’t know how to live with them.” “You have a choice to make. You have to decide for yourself how worth it this is.” The line is quiet for a moment, and Jamie barely hears his mom add, “How worth it he is.”     He doesn’t deserve Tyler — not now, not ever. Tyler is just so fucking magnificent, patient and generous and kind, and it makes Jamie’s throat go all tight. He doesn’t understand why Tyler’s always so willing to open himself up to Jamie, when all Jamie truly succeeds at is ruining things. He doesn’t know why Tyler keeps letting him. Him and pesky ability and his penchant for honesty. But Tyler told him — he told him — to say something if ever Jamie had a bad vision, and. Jamie did. “Come on, Ty, I can’t control what happens. I just see it.” “Don’t you have a choice?” Tyler demands. “Sometimes.” “That’s bullshit. You always have a choice.” “Do you think I should have made a different one?” Tyler takes a deep breath. “I just wish this didn’t hurt so much.”      Maybe he’s wrong, Jamie thinks. Maybe all of this is wrong and none of the shit Jamie worries about happening will actually happen, and his judgment is skewed, caught between natural anxiety and the leaden pressure on his chest from all the things he’s Seen. Maybe Jamie will wake up tomorrow morning without a fucking clue about what happens in the future and he and Tyler will skate circles around each other at practice and they’ll figure it all out together.      It's not looking good for them, playoff-wise. Jamie tries not getting frustrated, tries framing the golden vision of the Stanley Cup in the forefront of his mind while he puts his nose to the grindstone and still (still) hurls himself forward towards that moving target, and he aches from it every morning. The thing with knowing time’s little secrets is that there is a lot of patience involved in getting where you want to be. Often, it feels like everything is happening at once. But they haven’t won the Cup yet. That, Jamie knows. Instead, Tyler gets a hat trick. Three of his shots find the back of the net, and two of them are off Jamie’s assists, and it makes the commentators and everyone in the AAC throw around buzzwords like chemistry and dynamic duo and unstoppable. The guys holler for a solid four minutes when the pair of them enter the locker room. Media is crazy. From where he’s flubbing his own interview, saying uh every two words like a freaking rookie, Jamie catches Tyler’s eye. Tyler winks at him and he’s got that electricity running through him. They go back to Jamie’s together instead of going to the bar, which earns them a round of well-deserved chirps, considering they earned the first and second stars of the night. Jamie can’t explain it, but there’s an urgency tugging him through all his movements. His hand latches onto Tyler’s thigh in the car, and the muscles underneath feel brand new to Jamie’s touch. Tyler’s idea of celebrating involves blasting his awful dance playlist on Jamie’s surround sound and doing a victory dance around the living room with a Bud Light in his left hand. He’s not even trying, but he’s still an infinitely better dancer than Jamie will ever be. He tries goading Jamie into dancing with him, but Jamie, with his hips and his dignity, declines in favour of watching him from the couch. Jamie doesn’t deserve him. He’s been thinking that a lot, lately, and it’s never once ceased to be true. He can’t believe Tyler hasn’t realized it yet. The dancing settles into Tyler swaying gently, inching closer to Jamie with a smile ghosting his lips. He’s being ridiculously sexy and he knows it, too, canting his hips in the way that drives Jamie crazy. “So, Mr. Hatty, what do you wanna do now?” Jamie asks, already grinning like an idiot, feeling winded under Tyler’s gaze. Tyler crawls across the couch, closing the distance between them. "Let's make a baby." he says seductively, practically purring. Jamie tosses his head back and laughs before grabbing the back of Tyler's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. God, he loves him.     The time difference between Dallas and Montreal isn’t so bad that Jamie figures it’s probably okay if he calls Jordie this late. Jamie knew he was getting traded years ago, which is fucked up to think about. Jordie was never in the Stanley Cup vision. Jamie drums his fingers against his knee waiting for Jordie to pick up. “What’s up?” Jordie answers on the third ring, foregoing hello. Relief floods through Jamie’s body at the sound of his brother’s voice. It’s a daily comfort he took for granted when they were living together. "How's Montreal?" "Cold." Jordie replies. “Awesome. Crazy. It's Montreal.” Jamie hums, as though he can even imagine what it must be like. “You’re doing really well.” “Am I?” Jordie asks, amused, fond. “I’ve only played one game.” “You know what I mean.” “How’s the team?” Jamie knows what he means by that, too. “Been better.” Jamie replies. “He wants to know why.” Jordie pauses. “Why what?” “Why all of this. Why did I do it.” “Oh, Chubs,” it doesn’t sound like much, but Jamie knows he’s concerned, “don’t be so hard on yourself.” “I made a choice. Sometimes it feels like I chose this for him, and he resents me for it.” “Hey, I know you keep your cards close, but you’re not the only one who made that choice. Maybe it doesn’t feel that way, but whatever’s happening, whatever’s going to happen, that wasn’t just you. Whether he believes you or not.” Jordie’s voice anchors him, and when Jamie closes his eyes, they’re seven and nine years old playing ball hockey in front of their house. “And, come on, you deserve to be happy, too.” “Now you sound like mom.” Jamie can practically feel Jordie’s smile over the phone. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”     Nothing in time ever disappears; everything has their moment to come into being and fade away like a firework, like lightning, like a supernova, but nothing disappears. Of all the possible ways life could unfold, hundreds of millions of infinite ways, Jamie finds himself not hating this one. Nothing in time disappears, but life has a way of shuffling things around when you least expect it to. When you most expect it to. Tyler’s head is on his chest, and Jamie thinks maybe he’s fallen asleep already. He grabs his iPad and unlocks it to the article on the draft. Tyler stirs. Quietly, he says, “I’ll always love you, too, Jamie.” Jamie hesitates. He opens his mouth to say something, but Tyler cuts him off — “Don’t. Don’t say anything.”      Jamie inhales. He embraces it, despite everything.      Jamie opens his eyes when he hears Lindy clear his throat. “Big night tonight, boys,” Lindy says, “home opener. Lots of eyes are gonna be on us, lots of eyes are gonna be on you.” he directs that at Tyler, who nods once. Nobody seems to understand the pressure of making a good first impression after a high-profile trade quite like Tyler does. When they surge out of the tunnel and onto the ice, the crowd cheers, but they’re more reserved than usual. Like they’re just observing, for now, waiting for something to happen. Jamie does his usual warmup, taking a couple of quick laps around the ice and occasionally lobbing a puck at the net. He takes it slow, takes it in stride. When he looks over his shoulder, Tyler seems do be doing the same thing. He doesn’t look nervous; he looks confident and ready. Jamie slides towards Tyler while working on his stick-handling. The music is blaring and the crowd is still cheering, still waiting. Tyler beams up at him. Jamie skates one more loop around the net, and comes back to bump their shoulders together.  “You ready?” Tyler asks. “Yeah.” Jamie says.
10516407
Stormy Sky Cloudy Sky
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Other", "Characters": "Sawada Tsunayoshi, Superbi Squalo, Xanxus (Reborn)", "Fandom": "Katekyou Hitman Reborn!", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by Night-Mare (Aoife)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-01T00:00:00", "words": "1,006", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Female Sawada Tsunayoshi, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cloudy Rain Squalo, Stormy Sky Xanxus, Flame Active Character(s), Varia being Varia, Unconventional Uses for Dying Will Flames, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Author loves to chat in the Comments, post-Ring Battle", "Relationship": "Sawada Tsunayoshi/Superbi Squalo/Xanxus", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Almost More Storm Than Sky - Tsu-hime's Alternate Universe", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
"Oh no, principessa. if you want to ride one of us, then come here." Xanxus beckoned her with a lazy gesture. "That pleasure's mine, not his. Remember our agreement?"She pouted, but nodded, and crossed the room to where he was sprawled on his throne.He pulled her onto his lap, and she hissed when his hands clamped tightly around her waist, biting into her existing bruises. He swallowed the hiss with a kiss almost as rough as those she'd seen him share with his Rain, and there were fingers probing her body, testing her body's readiness."This is the only pussy I fuck," two fingers were sliding deeper and flexing, making her arch, "and mine is the only cock you allow in your pussy," he brought his soaking wet fingers to his lips and licked them clean of her juices, making her squeak, in something that could have been a protest, or could have been a demand for more."You're delicious, principessa, and if you enjoy toying with my Rain Cloud, this much," one of his hands slipped between them to release his own cock from the tight confines of his pants, and then lifted her up enough that the head of his cock rested against her soaked lips, "I'll have to see what happens when I torture your Storm Cloud."She snarled herself, and leaned forward to nip at his lips aggressively. "Hayato's mine, Xanxus."The hand in her hair was rough, dragging her back from his lips and then he was biting at her neck. "Share, and share alike, principessa. Shark-trash," the silver-haired Cloudy-Rain rose from where he'd been kneeling by the bed, and crossed to where his Sky was seated, "prepare her."She shuddered at the feel of a second pair of hands on her body. "But, Xanxus," her sentence as cut off by a shudder of pleasure as a tongue lapped at the place she and the other Sky were connected, and then up to press at her asshole."Principessa, our agreement doesn't say anything about whether you use your mouth or hands on others. Nor," he bucked up into her, and yanked her down onto his cock simultaneously, "about you being fucked in other holes. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, after all." She squeaked again as Squalo's tongue forced it's way past an untried muscle."Yes or no, principessa. Yes, or no." She rose up, until he'd almost slipped from her sheathe, and then sank down, grinding her clit against his pubic bone."Yessssss." The word was barely out of her mouth before she was being lifted, easily, and in a way that made her stomach clench with anticipation, and carried to the bed, Xanxus's cock still lodged in her cunt. He sat them both on the bed, and then flopped back, bringing him with her.Then there were cool, slick fingers, callused and clever, opening her up further, scissoring and stretching and making space for another cock in her body. She wiggled, and pushed back on those fingers, enjoying the sensation of them rubbing against the thin membrane that separated them from Xanxus's cock.Then they were gone, and she felt empty, despite the cock that was still buried to the hilt in her. That was when Xanxus buried his hands in her hair again and kissed her, biting at her lips until she kissed him back and then she was so fucking full. There was a veil of silver hair surrounding them all, Squalo's hair still uncut, his promise not yet fulfilled."Voooiii, I can see why the Boss is so obsessed with you, Princess." She laughed, a sound which was rapidly choked off as her muscles attempted to clench tight around both their cocks and it sent shudders of pleasure through her body. Instead of continuing to try to answer him verbally, she brought her Flames to bear on both of them, allowing them to flicker to life in her eyes, and curl and wreathe around the three of them."Move, shark-trash." Squalo answered that demand by withdrawing achingly slowly, and then pushing back in to her body again slowly enough that she wanted to curse him and his Boss out. Then Xanxus was moving in counterpoint. The slow slide was exquisite, and exquisitely frustrating, but the two men had her pinned between them, skewered on their cocks and at the mercy of their whims and there was nothing she could do about it.Except there was. She brushed tendrils of Flames across them both, and then pushed against their Flames more pointedly. They got the message; picking up their pace to match her demands and she hissed, and arched and clawed at Xanxus.“I ...” she clenched down on the cocks buried in her flesh, “... won’t ...” the orgasm caught her and took her and shook her up, amplified by the lack of space for her muscles to contract, and she went limp between the two of them “... break.” The last word came out breathy and strangled.Then they were the other way up, Squalo now taking the weight of both of them and Xanxus fucked her like she’d been demanding, the same way he took his Rain Cloud when the urge took him. Squalo held her still for him, fingers toying with her nipples, teeth digging into her neck, and then there was a second orgasm tearing through her system.“Sure about that, principessa?” The slick, easy slide is less easy now, her flesh swollen and clinging to the cock pistoning in and out of her body, the friction painful and as exquisite as the earlier slow slide had been. But still good, still what her body wants and what her Flames want, desperately and their Flames answer, flickering to the surface of their skin.The last orgasm, the one that made her scream, is dragged from her slowly, and is made of pain, and brilliant sensation and white hot heat, and she ends up passing out between the two of them.
10501632
The Bright One
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Elbereth Gilthoniel | Varda Elentári, Sauron | Mairon", "Fandom": "The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Alannada", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-30T00:00:00", "words": "851", "Additional Tags": "alternative universe, Not Beta Read, there's a chance for a continuation", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Sauron arrived to the great iron gate and went past it at the same time when frst stars started to appear in the sky. He smiled as a huge dog, pale in the dim light of evening, lifted its massive head and smiffed the hem of his robe as the Maia was walking by.As Sauron found himself walking down a corridor, further in the mountain, he inhald deeply, taking in all scents and noises of his home. It was good to be back. Soon his aide appeared at his side, a Maia of lower ranking, clad in a formal robe, black hair falling on her shoulders and back. "We received the captives you had sent, my lord. You are requested in the throne room immediately," she said. Sauron couldn't help but smile widely. "I see that our ruler doesn't waste time. Did our men started experiments on the captives yet?" he asked, hurrying in direction of the said chamber. It wouldn't be wise to make his ruler wait."Not yet, the captives are still adjusting to their cells," she shook her head. "Lady Thuringwethil wants to talk to you about them later.""A! Elbereth, Gilthoniel!" rang through the corridor, a faint sound of many voices singing. As Sauron entered the throne room he was still smiling. He missed this song too, for it was sung only at this time of day, echoing through corridors of Angband. It was a sign that everything was alright, that Angband was prospering, that followers of his ruler were doing their job well. No matter how much distance and rocks were between the lower parts of the fortress and this room - the song was always ringing in the empty space. Old and new residents of Angband were adjusting to the new ways since the great Vala came from the West to rule over themHe walked to the crystal throne and knelt in the rays of light coming from the person sitting there. "I heard the captives are already here, mistress," he said and looked up. His mistress was looking down at him, dark eyes full of thoughts."Yes," the voice was melodious, full of power, yet soft. "i heard Teleri are building ships to cross the Sea. Did you see their ships where were you scouting? Do you think they can make it?"The Maia tilted his head, thinking. He knew the right answer was the true one, logical one."I saw their ships, yes, but it all depends from Ulmo and Osse. They seem to be not entirely against this idea. They can just pretend they don't see Teleri crossing the Sea. We cannot expect much more from them, they'd not rebel against the rest."A small noise came from the crystal throne. One could read it as a snort of disgust - his mistress didn't respect cowards."And what about the ice bridge on Helcaraxe?" the voice asked after a moment. The faint sound of the evening song praising the stars became a little louder."The Vanyar are doing really great, especially since the Noldorin supporters reached the. Nolofinwe is a great strategist and he can use his own experience," the Maia replied. A white hand lifted from a knee and Sauron saw a brilliant jewel in the palm of her hand."A Silmaril? That's Feanaro's creation!""They sent it to me. They want to bribe me with this gem," a chuckle escaped her throat. It was at the same time amused and threatening. "They want me to return to being Manwe's spouse and stand behind his throne. They tried to bribe me, Sauron, with the gem which is full of the light Yavanna dared to create, mocking my creation."The Maia was observing her lift the gem, its light dimmed in her brightness, its purity just a speck against the terrifying vastness of Varda's presence, her holy radiance. It was pretty, but beside her beauty it was not prettier than a pebble. The Valie flexed her wrist and threw the gemstone in the air. For a moment Sauron was sure she was about to shatter it and release the light within it, but instead of it she catched Feanaro's creation and raised an eyebrow at him."Inform me when all the elves are safe in Eastern Lands," she said. "I do hope it will be soon, their homeland is waiting for them.""Mistress... What do you plan to do with the gift?" Sauron dared to ask."I will let the High Kings decide, after all it is of elven making," the Valie hid the gem in her sleeve.Sauron was quiet for a long moment, collecting his courage to speak."And what about... The offer?"The woman on the crystal throne smiled faintly."Why should I give up my own kingdom and freedom of my beloved elves to be just 'royal spouse'?" she asked. "One jewel, even a pretty one, is not enough for me. I will rule over the elves and the orcs alike, I do not need anyone's guidance.""A, Elentari, Tintalle!" sang many voices in Angband and across Beleriand.
10564167
That Bad Huh
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Saeran Choi, Zen | Hyun Ryu", "Fandom": "Mystic Messenger (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by StarlitPoltergeist", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-08T00:00:00", "words": "3,021", "Additional Tags": "Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, the beginning of smut, but it's primarily fluff, Swearing", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Saeran Choi & Zen | Hyun Ryu, Saeran Choi/Zen | Hyun Ryu", "Series": "Not Your Traditional Soulmate AU", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Wooing is hard.A lot harder than Zen expected, at any rate. He's successfully wooed in the past with a bat of his eye, with songs and flowers and proclamations of his feelings, but this is different. None of those seem fitting in the current situation and without the normal staples of romanticism, he finds himself without any ideas how to convince someone he's worth it, that a relationship is worth it.Because Saeran is different from anyone he's ever met, and Zen wants him more than life itself.Not only is he different by the distinguishing factor that he is male and everyone Zen's chased in the past has been female, but he's also Zen's soulmate. Which should make things easier, right?Nope. Bitter from the get go about the very idea of soulmates, Saeran made it very clear that he has no desire to be with someone solely because of soulmate status.But he had said he was willing to give a romantic relationship with Zen a chance since they were friends first, which is one of the many reasons Zen finds himself staring around the mall hopelessly, in search of a gift. It’s almost six months to the day since Saeran had found Zen in his clearing and revealed the tattoo matching Zen’s scar, six months of a very slow courtship during which Zen’s been falling deeper and deeper in love with his white-haired, green-eyed companion. Their first kiss wasn’t until Christmas - almost three months in- when Saeran chose to drag Zen under the mistletoe as a way of saying “I’m ready.”   “Where are you taking me, babe?” Zen laughed, following Saeran as he wound through the throngs of people waiting to donate during the Christmas event. Zen had made sure that he’d be able to attend this year, especially since it was Saeran’s first year participating; he wanted to be there to support and spend time with his boyfriend. Saeran looked sharp in a brand-new suit, a soft light grey paired with a vest and tie matching the color of Zen's burgundy suit. Zen had switched out his own vest and bow tie to match Saeran's colors; he was quite proud of how dashing they looked standing next to each other and spent no small amount of time bragging about it. Yet for how much they matched, there were plenty of obvious differences in their choice of fashion. Saeran was wearing a choker, though he'd made sure to find one the color of his outfit. The fairly  recent addition of snake bites was unique to Saeran, as was the eyeliner he chose to wear. His hair still wildly did what it wanted, curling around his eyes, ears, at the nape of his neck. Zen, on the other hand, had his hair styled and pulled back, held in place by a shimmering silver ribbon. The rest of him was au natural, as per usual. “You'll see,” was all Saeran responded with, glancing back over his shoulder with a sly smirk. Zen felt his own grin widen, happiness and excitement bubbling up inside. Saeran rarely took charge like this, but whenever he did, Zen was always in for a big surprise. They ended up backstage, away from everyone else and in a corner that looked like it had been left abandoned on purpose. It was private, cozy and not warmer in the slightest. Zen couldn't help but shiver a little, looking around him in curiosity. Before he could voice any questions, Saeran let go of his hand and turned to face him, stepping in closer. Their breath turned white in the chilly air, mixing between the two of them as Saeran slowly pressed his body up against Zen’s. A finger came to rest against Zen’s mouth when he opened it, and he followed Saeran’s gaze as it rose up, up, up. There, nestled against the overhang, was a sprig of mistletoe. Eyes wide, Zen glanced back down to see Saeran blushing but grinning. “Are you sure?” Despite the fact that this seemed staged, Zen felt the need to ask. This relationship was important to him and he wanted to make sure to do everything right. Saeran rolled his eyes and nodded. All hesitancy gone, Zen reached out and cupped Saeran’s cheek with one hand, the other lacing their fingers back together as he leaned down and kissed his boyfriend for the first time that night. The memory sends a thrill shooting through him and Zen brings his fingers to his lips, recalling how it had felt to have those chapped lips pressed to his. He’d felt like his heart would burst from love that night.If only he could’ve predicted how much further he’d fall yet.Dropping his hand, he glances around the mall, mind racing as he tries to come up with the perfect item to give Saeran tonight. Six months is nothing in the span of a lifetime; Zen knows this, yet six months has felt like an eternity spent with Saeran. He’d been in the process of falling in love before they agreed to try this, and it took almost nothing to push him the rest of the way. Six months in love feels like a lot longer.And tonight he wants to tell Saeran how he feels.A thought pops into his head and Zen grins, turning on his heel to head to a store he hadn’t considered before. It’s definitely not conventional and he’s sure Saeran will just roll his eyes and call him a nerd, but if it makes him smile, then it’ll all be worth it.Dinner at the restaurant Zen chose goes by swimmingly and Saeran agrees to heading back to Zen’s place to watch a movie. So far, everything’s falling into place with the plan Zen made and as they round the corner to his apartment, he has to take a few deep breaths. The big moment is quickly approaching and his nerves are spiking, but it’s okay. He can do this, he knows he can.“It’s nice to be able to ride this again,” Saeran comments as Zen parks the bike, sliding off and unbuckling the helmet. Ah, that’s right; Zen only had the chance to take Saeran out a couple of times before winter rolled around and each time Saeran had enjoyed it as much, if not more, than Zen himself.Pulling off his own helmet and taking Saeran’s, Zen nods as he puts them away. “It is. I’ll have to make sure to take my prince out on as many rides this year as he wants~” He winks and Saeran groans, shaking his head and turning to head up to the door with his hands shoved in his jacket’s pockets. Chuckling, Zen follows; the speed of which Saeran’s walking suggests he has one thing on his mind right now.Sure enough, as soon as the door is closed behind them Saeran has Zen pinned, hands slipping under Zen’s coat to grasp his waist as their lips slot together. Zen smiles into the kiss, bringing one of his hands to the small of Saeran’s back to press him closer while the other rests at the nape of his neck. People will talk no matter what, but one rule Zen’s felt obliged to follow - at least for now - is that him kissing someone in public is off-limits. It could be disastrous and while he wants to put love over everything, he has to have a successful career if he wants to take care of Saeran one day.Assuming Saeran will let Zen take care of him, that is.It causes Zen no small amount of guilt to know that Saeran gets frustrated that he has to hide his affection. It’s an interesting conundrum in and of itself; Saeran’s not the biggest fan of PDA but his jealousy knows no bounds. Zen being in the public eye and popular enough to often have to toss out a few autographs on every trip isn’t easy for Saeran, especially not with the more handsy fans. Still, he’s always managed to keep himself under control until they walk through the door - then all bets are off. At least, as far as kissing goes.Nothing happened today that should have triggered anger or jealousy in Saeran, and yet the way he’s kissing Zen suggests otherwise. Passionate but with aggressiveness that suggests Saeran’s trying to claim him, Zen responds but lets Saeran guide him. A nibble on Zen’s lower lip followed by a tug on it and then Saeran’s dipping down to bite gently along Zen’s jaw, his grip tightening on Zen’s waist. Zen feels a nudge when Saeran reaches where jaw meets neck and he tilts his head up, granting Saeran the access he’s desiring.“Saeran…” Zen groans when Saeran starts nipping his way down Zen’s neck, gradually biting harder as he continues. Zen’s own hold on Saeran’s neck increases and he twines his fingers into the light red strands of hair, jerking on them when Saeran nips particularly hard at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Saeran growls in response, dropping his hands and stepping back, fingers suddenly working at the buttons on Zen’s jacket. Shoving it down Zen’s shoulders, it flutters to the floor in a pile of white that neither pay any heed to when Saeran’s mouth descends upon Zen’s once more.He’s wild tonight and Zen’s hardpressed to keep himself under control, especially when Saeran unexpectedly rolls his hips against Zen’s. Zen moans loudly into Saeran’s mouth, his grip on Saeran’s neck tightening when Saeran does it again. Shit. They’ve never gone much further than this but with how much Saeran seems to have thrown himself into it, Zen wouldn’t be surprised if he is intending to. Which… doesn’t fit very well with Zen’s plan. At least, not yet.It takes all of the strength he can muster to break the kiss, letting his head loll forward to rest on Saeran’s shoulder. “Saeran,” he pants harshly, dropping both of his hands to rest on Saeran’s hips. “I can’t control myself much longer if you keep this up…”“So don’t fucking control yourself,” comes the growled response in his ear, followed by another bout of Saeran grinding into Zen. Hissing, Zen almost caves but no, not yet. If… if Saeran still wants to do this after, they can. But not yet.“Babe, I-” he gasps as Saeran drops a hand and traces along the outline of Zen’s hardening shaft before palming it firmly. Oh, sweet temptation. Zen had thought that he was the one with the beast inside but perhaps he’d miscalculated on who was the worst between the two of them. Just because it took Saeran longer to be able to deal with physical sensations didn’t mean he wasn’t a wolf when given the opportunity. Zen groans, exhales heavily and tries again. “Damn, babe, you’re not making this easy on me. I-I have something I want to show you first, before we do anything like this.”Saeran presses his body against Zen a little more, rolling his hips a few times. “You sure that it needs to come before you?”“Fffffuuuuck…” Zen’s head falls back against the door and he shakily brings his hands up to Saeran’s shoulders, gently but firmly pushing him back. “When did you learn to talk like that? You’re going to kill me…”“Guess it comes naturally,” Saeran says, smirking. Zen’s eyes meet his and for a moment Zen’s almost drawn back in before he shakes his head, sliding out from between Saeran and the door.“Then I suppose I’m in trouble, hmm?” he teases, leaning forward to press a much lighter kiss to Saeran’s lips. He hears the disappointed huff from Saeran as he turns away and suddenly Zen’s not so sure that he’s making the right decision. Maybe if this is what Saeran really wants…No, no, nope. Zen put a lot of thought into this and it’s an important step in their relationship - at least as important as their first time having sex, if not more. His original plan was to go up on the terrace to do this, but considering how chilly it still is - even for springtime - and how Saeran’s still gazing at him with half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust, it might just be better to do it inside.Striding over to the kitchen, Zen pulls out some juice and pours it in two cups. “Do you wanna sit in here or on the couch?” he asks casually as he puts the juice back in the fridge, heart pounding wildly. It’s here, the moment is finally here and he’s nervous as all get out but it needs to happen. Zen needs to tell Saeran how he feels because he’s going to burst if he doesn’t.When he turns, it’s to see Saeran looking at him through narrowed, suspicious eyes. “That bad, huh?” he asks, accepting the juice when Zen hands it to him.Zen’s heart drops; even after nearly a year of knowing each other, of Zen showing Saeran he can trust him, Saeran still expects Zen to hurt him at the first given opportunity. Where had the trust gone that he’d been expressing only moments ago? Despite the fact that Zen knows he shouldn’t take it personally, it still stings. “I promise you, it’s nothing bad,” he says, tossing a lopsided smile at Saeran.Sighing, Saeran trudges over to the couch and drops down, taking a sip of his drink and looking rather sulky. Zen bites his tongue to hold back a laugh; there’s the childish part of him again. It’s convenient that Saeran chose the couch, honestly, since Zen has the gift hidden right there, so Zen goes and sits next to him, not leaving much room between the two of them.He’s very thankful for his skills as an actor, because without them he’d surely be a bumbling mess of nerves.“Saeran,” Zen starts, reaching over him to sit his glass down on the stand. “Babe. I… don’t know if you’re aware, but we’ve been a couple for around six months now. Six months in a few days, in a matter of fact.” He pauses, gives Saeran a chance to interject if he wants. He doesn’t, so Zen clears his throat and continues. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I just thought… well. These six months, this past year… it’s all been like a dream come true for me. Excluding a few months in the middle where a certain someone wouldn’t talk to me,” he teases lightly, jabbing Saeran in the side gently. Ah. That at least pulls a small smile out of him, but he’s still not looking at Zen. That won’t do.Zen reaches out and softly grabs Saeran’s chin, turning his face to meet his eyes. “Saeran. I’ve been holding back for a while now because I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but I don’t think I can anymore.” Saeran’s eyebrows furrow and he sits up a little straighter, leaning toward Zen, attention obviously captured by this. Zen breathes in, breathes out and forges on. “I love you, Saeran. I love you so much that I don’t know if I have the words to express it.” He pauses, laughs quietly. “Wow. I said it, and I don’t want to stop saying it. Not ever. I love you, Saeran. I love you. I love you and I don’t even really care that we’re soulmates, I love you because you’re you and I want to make this work, to make this last.” Zen closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Saeran’s, relief and hope and anticipation racing throughout him. There. It’s out and it feels right, and now all he has to do is wait to see what Saeran thinks.“...I love you too.”Zen’s eyes fly open and he sits back a little, just enough to meet Saeran’s gaze. It’s strong and bold, only a hint of fear hidden there. “You… do?” he whispers, awestruck. Of all the possible scenarios his mind had concocted for how this could go, this was one he hadn’t considered. He never thought that Saeran would be near this point emotionally, not yet.A red tinge creeps across Saeran’s cheek and he looks down, fidgeting a little with his pants. “Of course I do, nerd. Don’t make me say it again,” he grumbles, but Zen can see the sides of those lips fighting to lift into a smile.He feels like he’s floating, but ah! There’s still one more thing to do. Scooting to the side, Zen reaches over the other end of the couch and grasps blindly until he finds the box he’d placed there. Smiling, he hands it to Saeran, who takes it with a blank look. “What’s this?”“I got you a present,” Zen says simply, shrugging. “I thought it… I thought it fit an occasion like this.”Saeran looks at him doubtfully but opens it, confusion passing over his face when he pulls out a little stuffed frog. Zen waits, curious if he’ll get it. The gears are obviously turning in Saeran’s mind and he runs a finger over the soft exterior, not raising his eyes from it when he says in a deadpan, “so I still remind you of a frog, huh?”Laughter bursts from Zen and he can’t help but pull Saeran into a hug, feeling overjoyed when Saeran laughs quietly, too. “You’re such a fucking nerd. How did I end up with you for my boyfriend?”Zen hums, pressing kisses to Saeran’s forehead, his nose, his cheeks. “I don’t know but you are one lucky person, babe, to have captured someone this beautiful~”Saeran snorts and shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you? Oh, I know…” His eyes take on a wicked gleam and he places the frog by the glasses, shoving Zen down on his back. “I know exactly what I’ll do with you.”“Mmm…” Zen wraps his arms around Saeran and pulls him down as well. “By all means, show me.”
10587246
A Place to Call Home
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Kim Taehyung | V, Min Yoongi | Suga, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope", "Fandom": "방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by dellavita (fiddle_stix)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-10T00:00:00", "words": "4,922", "Additional Tags": "Friends to Lovers, Best Friends, Friendship, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, alot of cuddling, also alot of eye rolling, Alternate Universe - College/University, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Love, Eventual Romance, lots of love guys, Kissing, Plot, this is alot of tags, my best friend helped me make a story about best friends, taegi - Freeform, jikook - Freeform, namjoon - Freeform, tae is a puppy yoonie is a kitten fight me", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Kim Taehyung | V/Min Yoongi | Suga, Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster/Kim Seokjin | Jin", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The two had been best friends since they were very little, their parents knowing each other even before Taehyung's mum was pregnant. They were an odd pair, but no one could question it when they were together, the two of them just seeming to fit. They would spend every moment with each other, Taehyung always there to make Yoongi smile, Yoongi always there to protect the younger. Everyone who met them knew how special they were to each other, and how much they cared for and cherished each other. They would bicker a lot, coming up with silly names for each other, but always cuddling together afterwards. They lived just across the street from each other, until the end of highschool, where it all got messy. They applied for some of the same colleges, but Taehyung ended up receiving a scholarship to a top acting university in Seoul, whereas Yoongi got into a renowned music school in Daegu. After a lot of fighting, Taehyung wanting to stay in Daegu, while Yoongi told him to stop being an idiot and go, they finally agreed that Taehyung would accept his scholarship, while Yoongi would accept the place in Daegu. The time seemed to fly away from them, the start of the semester fast approaching them. Their goodbye was bittersweet, knowing that although where they were going would better their futures, deep down all they wanted was to be together. They both ended up in tears, clutching each other tightly, not wanting to let go, while their mothers watched them sadly. They tried not to make promises, scared they wouldn't be able to be kept and before they knew it, Taehyung was getting into the car. When his eyes met with Yoongi's in the rearview mirror, he wanted to get out, run back to him, to just stay with him maybe just say one more goodbye, but he didn't. But he wished he did. They intended to see each other at term break, but their schedules collided, assessments and work forcing them apart, and neither was able to make it. Yoongi texted a sad sorry, following it with 'i'll see you next term, promise' to which Taehyung replied with a heavy-hearted 'sure'. They were both resentful, Yoongi thinking Taehyung had found better friends, both thinking that the other didn't need them anymore, had forgotten about them. This was the opposite however, because there was not a day that went by that the two of them didn't think about each other. Yoongi didn't keep his promise. A year passes, and their tests and skype calls are few, the distance catching up with their separation, both seeming to drift from each other. When Taehyung had first arrived on campus, he had been greeted by Jimin, his friendly roommate. Then there was Jimin's boyfriend Jungkook, who really was a semi-boyfriend because they wouldn't admit that they liked each other. There was also Jimin's friend from dance, Hoseok, who always had energy to make everyone smile. He would call them his friends, the four growing close over the year that passed. There was always something missing though, and it was part of the reason that he never told them about Yoongi. He missed his best friend more than anything, and knew none of them could ever replace Yoongi. He also wanted to keep Yoongi for himself, irrationally fearing that they might somehow take his best friend from him. And, although he didn't like to admit it, Taehyung didn't know where he stood with Yoongi, what the silence between them meant. What he doesn't know is that Yoongi decides he's had enough, booking a train ticket to Seoul. Nerves are eating him from the inside, as the train sways side to side, rocking him gently. He's so nervous to see his best friend, but he's also hiding something as well. When the train finally arrives, his body is almost rigid. He drops his stuff off at his apartment, not wanting to luggage to wear him down. Calling out to Namjoon that he would be back later, he braves the Seoul streets again, catching a bus to Taehyung's campus. It was then when he realised how stupid his plan was. He had no idea where he was going, only hearing about it over texts or skype messages. After wandering around aimlessly he finds an eating area, and after realising that he hasn't eaten anything since before he got on the train, he joined the que. While he was waiting however, his foot tapping to a beat in his head, he hears a familiar voice, turning his head. Then he spots him. He doesn't know what to feel when he glimpses Taehyung in all his glory, his feet rooted to the ground, his eyes staring. Taehyung is sitting across from two others, a third by his side, speaking animatedly. When a voice behind him snaps him out of his daze, asking him if he was going to buy something or not, he hurriedly shakes his head, stepping out of the line. His feet move before he can tell them to, making their way over to the table. He hesitates for a moment, and before he can form any words, the boy next to Taehyung looks up at him. "Hi," the boy says, smiling expectantly up at him. Yoongi's eyes leave Taehyung and turn to the boy. "Hi," he responds. His voice seems to catch Taehyung's attention. Taehyung knew that voice, in fact he craved to hear it. His conversation immediately stopped his gaze meeting Yoongi's. Then he was on his feet, almost knocking over Hoseok, the boy beside him. He clutched onto any part of Yoongi as soon as he could, wrapping his arms tightly around the shorter boy, digging his face into Yoongi's neck. The older return the hug, gripping onto the back of Taehyung's shirt, the feeling familiar and warm. When finally they pulled away, they both immediately wanted to fall back into each other's arms. "Are you crying, hyung?" asked Taehyung, his smile beaming. "Of course not," he said reaching up to knock Taehyung's shoulder, but while not so discreetly rubbing his eye. It made the younger smile even more, Yoongi not even bothering to mention the tears that littered Taehyung's cheeks, mesmerized by his smile and his presence. "I don't know what just happened, but I don't think Tae has ever been that happy to see someone," said a voice behind them. The two turned, seeming to realise that there were others around them. "Come on, Yoonie, sit down," the pet name slipping easily from Taehyung's lips, as he tugged Yoongi down next to him, causing Hoseok to have to shuffle over. "Okay everyone, meet Yoongi. Hyung, this is Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok," pointing to each of them in turn. Everyone exchanged hi's, then Yoongi turned to Taehyung. "I see what you mean," he said softly, nodding his head towards Jimin and Jungkook. Taehyung seemed a little shocked, but grinned all the same. "You remember that?" Yoongi fake scoffed, drawing a hand to his heart. "Of course I do, who do you think I am?" "Min Yoongi, who forgets his brother's birthday." "Hey," cried Yoongi. "That was one time, and I had to finish that stupid English assignment the night before. I'm not as bad as you, who turned up to camp with one t-shirt and no socks. You would be dead without me." Taehyung clasped his hands around Yoongi's, looking directly into his eyes. "Thank you, Your Highness," his voice mocking. "Shut up you idiot," Yoongi pulling his hands away, although he couldn't hide his smile. "So," said Jimin, drawing their attention away from each other. "How long have you guys known each other for?" "19 years," they answered together. "Jinx." They glared at each other for a moment, before Yoongi rolled his eyes. "Still a child though, I tell you," he told Jimin earnestly. "We've been neighbours since before we were born." "Just neighbours," interrupted Taehyung, pout on full display. "Am I no longer your bestest friend in the whole wide world? You pinky sweared it!" "Yes, Kim Taehyung, you are still my bestest friend in the whole wide world," deadpanned Yoongi, rolling his eyes again. "I missed you, Yoonie," mumbled Taehyung, leaning his head on Yoongi shoulder. "You too." Then he added "dumbass". Taehyung grinned, taking his turn to roll his eyes. Their banter continued for a little while, Yoongi trying to get to know everyone better, although his attention was mostly stolen by Taehyung. He didn't regret it though, because he had been 100 percent truthful when he said he had missed Taehyung. "Hey, I forgot to tell you something," he said, turning to meet Taehyung's gaze, his heart suddenly in his throat. "Well my friend Namjoon-" "Wait Kim Namjoon? The rapper?" asked Taehyung, then apologizing for cutting him off. "Yeah. Why?" "Because he's Seokjin's boyfriend," said Taehyung with a smile. "Wait his Seokjin, is your cousin who lives in Seoul?" Yoongi's eyes going large. Taehyung nodded his head. "But continue," he said. "What did you want to tell me?" "I got a job with your cousin's boyfriend," said Yoongi. Taehyung was quiet for a moment, trying to think. "But Namjoon was moving to Seoul for his job, Seokjin was telling me how excited he w- Wait." Taehyung stared for a few seconds, his mouth open. "Min Yoongi, you better not be playing me right now." When Yoongi just grinned at him, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around the older's neck. "I am so happy I could literally kiss you," he mumbled against Yoongi's shirt, his eyes watering for the second time that day. Yoongi chuckled, rolling his eyes yet again, although Hoseok still noticed the small blush that rose on his cheeks and his hands that gripped firmly onto Taehyung's shirt. "Whatever you say, TaeTae."    The year they'd spent apart seemed to have no effect on their friendship, possibly just making them cling to each other even more. Yoongi got to know Taehyung's friends, and soon the five of them, plus Namjoon and Seokjin, became a close knit group. Most of his time, however, was spent with Taehyung, catching up on what each other had done in the year apart. Sometimes they ventured outside, but usually they stayed in Yoongi's apartment, Namjoon spending most of his time at his studio or with Seokjin. They spent sometime in Taehyung's dorm room as well, which was also quite empty as Jimin liked to 'study' a lot, which Taehyung told Yoongi meant he was with Jungkook. Yoongi settled into Seoul quickly with the help of Taehyung, finding it far more fast paced than Daegu. When he wasn't working, or cuddling by the TV with Taehyung, the younger would take him out to show him all his favorite parts of the city, where he liked to eat, where he went to think. What he liked most about the city however, was his ability to see Taehyung almost whenever he liked. They weren't across the street from each other like they were when they were young, but being 15 minutes away from each other was far better than being hours away. The fact that there was no longer the need for Skype calls, although they found themselves Skyping or calling when they couldn't see each other face to face. The easiness of their friendship, no distance or strained conversation between them, no more drifting away from each other. A few months of blissful happiness flew by, Taehyung and Yoongi high on each other's presence. Their friends had quickly learned the depth of their friendship, particularly when Yoongi seemed to show up for Taehyung no matter if it was three in the morning. This apparently, was mind blowing, as according to Namjoon, Yoongi had never woken up early for anyone. The two also seemed to know everything about each other, from their favorite flavours, to which weather made them feel what. It was nearing Taehyung's birthday, and Jimin had somehow gotten Yoongi to tag along for a shopping trip while Taehyung was at work. Everything seemed fine until Jimin started picking out things. Yoongi looked up from his phone to see Jimin holding out a t-shirt for Yoongi's opinion. Immediately recognizing the anime name printed on the front. "You'll want that one," said Yoongi, pointing to the one on the rack over. "It's his all time favorite anime." Jimin didn't even question it, but as their shopping trip progressed it seemed to happen more and more. When Jimin picked up a packet of sweets that Taehyung might like, Yoongi told him exactly which brand a flavour to buy, explaining to Jimin that ever since they were little, lemon lollies had always made Taehyung's mouth too sour, and that he went almost crazy for strawberries. By the end of the day, Jimin didn't even hold anything up, just asking Yoongi what to buy. It was the same for Taehyung, Jimin realized when grocery shopping. They had gone out to buy a few things, Taehyung coming with a list from Yoongi as well, who was too caught up in work to be able to do them himself. He knew exactly what to buy, including the brands just like Yoongi did, even buy other things that weren't on the list, but he knew the older needed. Jimin was amazed by it all wondering how two people could be so in sync with each other. They acted more domestic than any couple he'd ever met. They got to see more of the two's close friendship one afternoon when they all went out for lunch. It all started with Hoseok, who seemed really interested in Yoongi and Namjoon's music, and after begging Yoongi for weeks, he finally showed the intrigued boy something. He was really nervous because he had only ever shown his music to Taehyung, who had heard his worst and his best, and Namjoon who gave brilliant feedback. He pulled up a track on his phone, while stealing a biscuit from Taehyung's plate, who whined but grinned anyway. He handed it slowly to Hoseok, his hands shaking. Taehyung seemed to notice, and moved to grip one of the shaking hands with one of his own, offering the older a reassuring smile. It wasn't five seconds into the track that Hoseok paused it, a look of surprise on his face. "I've heard this before." Yoongi's eyebrows drew together, shocked. "But I've never released it or anything-" Something clicked in Hoseok's head, and he pointed at Taehyung. "The song you always play, your favorite one. This is it." He was nodding, clearly pleased he figured it out. "One time I asked if I could listen to the other earphone and you all but growled at me." He turned to Yoongi, oblivious to the fact that both he and Taehyung were bright red. "You produced this? It's amazing, let me tell you." Yoongi was too shocked to say anything, turning to look at Taehyung who was avoiding his eyes. "You growled at him?" Was what slipped out of his mouth. All Taehyung could do was shrug, smiling a little. "I needed maximum volume." He defended himself. "I missed you voice," he added quietly, making Yoongi's heart twist. What was he supposed to say to that? No matter which song he showed Hoseok, he seemed to have heard them all before, Yoongi turning particularly red when he accidently pressed on a track from his younger, angsty teen self and Hoseok almost knew most of the words. He almost beat Taehyung up for that one, but ended up rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, easily placated with a quick hug. It was only when he went to bed that night, when he realised that the first song he'd decided to let Hoseok hear, also Taehyung's favorite, was the only one he had written about love. It was one that spoke of the bitterness of unrequited love, of too many dreams that had no prospect of being filled. The one that he would never admit, but very much was, about his best friend.    Taehyung's bad days were not particularly happy for everyone. Usually Jimin, Hoseok and Jungkook left him alone, after learning that no amount of prodding would snap him out of it, usually figuring it out by themselves. What they didn't know however, was that there was one person that could make him feel better, merely by being in the same room. Today Taehyung seemed out of it, not responding to Jimin's chatter, or Hoseok laughter. Even Jungkook's teasing barley received more than a small nod of acknowledgment. They all decided to to pry, leaving him be for the majority of the day. When they asked him if he would like to come to Namjoon and Yoongi's for a movie night, their hopes weren't high, but for some reason he jumped on the idea, responsive almost immediately. Something still seemed off, but at least he wasn't completely shutting everyone off. When they arrived at the apartment Taehyung was first out of the car, almost running up the stairs. He was first in the door as well, eyes darting around the room until they landed on Yoongi. The older could immediately tell something was up, not even questioning it when Taehyung pulled him onto the couch before curling around him, face digging into his chest. Yoongi just ran his hands through the taller's hair, the other arm securing Taehyung to his side. When the three saw the sight, everything seemed to click into place, understanding why Taehyung was so eager to get to the apartment. Yoongi was able to calm the boy, with his touch alone.    The bar was loud, a little too loud for Yoongi's liking as he sat, nursing a beer. His eyes were constantly scanning the room, keeping an eye out for Taehyung, although he didn't want to admit to it. He, Jimin and the rest of them, minus Namjoon and Seokjin because they didn't like dancing, had disappeared into the crowd a little while ago, and for some reason he felt uneasy about it. His feeling only heightened when he spotted Jimin and Jungkook dancing together with Hoseok to the side, no Taehyung in sight. The hairs on the back of his head stood on end when the crowd parted slightly, so that Yoongi had a quick view of someone being pushed against a wall, their expression scared. Yoongi was on his feet before he could think, pushing through the throng of dancing bodies, not even hearing Namjoon's shouts behind him. He didn't even say sorry to the people he ran into, elbowing them out of his way. When he finally made it out the other side, he was seeing red, jaw set. He met Taehyung's eyes, fists clenching at the tears they held. He reached a hand forward, tugging on the back of the guy's shirt, pulling him away for the boy, making his hands fall from where they gripped Taehyung. When the guy turned to look, Yoongi's fist was raised, coming down on the guy's cheek. As he stumbled back, shock in his face, Yoongi took the oppurtunity to pull Taehyung's shaking form to his side, the terrified boy curling into his hold. "Are you his little boyfriend?" The asshole still had the nerve to sneer. Yoongi was not amused, feeling as if all the hairs on his body stood on end. "Try the person who's going to kick your pathetic ass if you don't learn that stop means stop." With a final glare, resisting the urge to kick the bastard in the balls only because of the death grip Taehyung had on his neck, knowing he needed to get him out of there. He gripped gently onto Taehyung, before turning away. He weaved through the still big crowd of people, this time people parting almost immediately when the spotted Yoongi's expression. Finally they made it back to the table where Namjoon and Seokjin sat, this time joined by Hoseok who was flushed from dancing. Meeting Seokjin's worried gaze, he indicated to the door, nodding his head at the rest of them in goodbye. No one had time to question it before Yoongi was carefully maneuvering Taehyung to the door, his grip still firm and reassuring. When the rest of them found out what happened the next morning, they were all bu furious, but none of them could compete with the almost murderous look in Yoongi's eyes as he cradled Taehyung against his chest, his lips tightly pressed together. They all decided their best bet was just not to mention it further, moving on to discuss Jimin and Hoseok's upcoming dance presentation.    Even the small things, caught everyone's attention. When they rested their heads on each other's shoulders, when Taehyung didn't get to blow out a candle so Yoongi made one with his finger. They just seemed to thrive in each other's presence. But that didn't mean that there wasn't something that didn't go right. It was late into the night, the two cuddled on Taehyung's bed, a soothing moment for Yoongi, whose week was not in his favour. He had been asked not once, or twice, but six times if he and Taehyung were dating. It hurt, not because they were rude about it, but because he wanted to badly to say yes. Because he knew that them dating would never be a possibility because the feelings he harbored deep down, would never be returned. He tried to let Taehyung's voice drone out the thoughts racing through his head. It was working, the tension slowing dwindling from his shoulders, until Taehyung started to talk about a guy in his astronomy class. He knew Taehyung didn't mean to, but it graded on his mind, as Taehyung talked about everything from the guy's hair to the glimpse of his abs when his shirt rode up in the back. His body was tensing up, the relief he had felt before, now falling away. When he couldn't take anymore of the chatter, he pulled away from the younger's hold, standing up to run a hand through his hair. He felt incredibly tired, both his mind and his body aching. He didn't want to hear Taehyung talk of someone else, didn't want to be constantly reminded that he wasn't what Taehyung wanted in the end. That he was, and always would just, just a friend. He felt oddly close to tears, the weight of the week falling on his shoulders, so much that he almost fell to his knees. He could tell that Taehyung was standing behind him, could practically feel the worry from the boy. "I'm sorry," Yoongi said. "I didn't mean to freak out. It was silly." He didn't turn to Taehyung though, his head still in his hands. He felt something on his shoulder, felt himself being turned, hands placed on his, pulling them from his face. "Yoongi? What's wrong?" Taehyung's voice was soft, so soft that Yoongi was ready to tear up again. "Nothing." Trying to keep his voice from shaking. It really was nothing, he was nearing a mental breakdown because of nothing. Taehyung didn't buy it however, gripping Yoongi's hands tighter in his. "Yoonie, please tell me what's wrong." Yoongi was ready to shake his hands, but soft hands moved to cup his face, and his breath caught in his throat. Taehyung's face was so close to his, eyes beautiful and wide, staring intensely into his. Yoongi was at a loss for words, Taehyung's proximity and gaze capturing him, rendering him unmoveable. "Yoonie. Say something." Taehyung was so close, just there, and if Yoongi stood on his tiptoes, he could catch Taehyung's mouth with his. He wanted so desperately to take the risk, to possibly jeopardize their friendship. It filled his mind completely, thoughts of his crazy week leaving almost as fast as they had consumed him. "I want to kiss you." The words feel from his lips before he could stop them. When the realization of what he'd said hit him, he wondered if he should feel fear bubbling in his stomach, but instead he felt relief. He carefully watched the way Taehyung's eyebrows draw together, his lips part just the slightest. "Then why don't you?" Taking the permission before he could stop himself, he pushed himself onto the tips of his toes, connecting his lip's with Taehyung's soft one's. Their lips molded to each other, just like their friendship did. For a moment the world seemed to melt away from them, so they were just alone with each other, their lips slowly moving together. But it was only for a moment. Then everything seemed to catch up with Yoongi. The fact that he had just kissed his best friend seemed to dawn on him, the idea terrifying. So he ran. He ran from Taehyung's soft hands, his warm lips. Ran from the look for care in his eyes, ran from his voice. He almost barrelled into Jimin, ignoring his look of shock, tears that he could no longer hold back streaming down his cheeks. He had messed up, so he ran.    "Are you hiding for Tae?" Yoongi looked up, his eyes wide. "No. What are you on about?" He was hiding, he knew he was. He knew how cowardly he was, but he was hiding in a coffee shop, Hoseok eyeing him over the table. "You're hiding from Tae." Yoongi's shoulder's slumped forward, his eyes squeezed shut. "Yes." Hoseok paused for a moment, before asking, "Why?" Yoongi watched as Hoseok drew his cup to his mouth, before placing his head in his hands. "Because you're not supposed to kiss your best friend." He heard a choking sound, looking up to see Hoseok staring at him wide eyed. "You kissed Tae!" "Keep your voice down," muttered Yoongi, averting his eyes for a spluttering Hoseok. Before he knew it he was being pulled to his feet, hand on his wrist, pulling him out of his chair before he could even grab the coffee he'd been holding. He was pulled out onto the road and down the street. "Where are we going?" He didn't know why he was asking, because they were heading in the exact direction of Taehyung's campus. Soon he found himself in front of Taehyung and Jimin's door, his heart beat loud in his chest. Drawing in a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock. There was some shuffling, before Jimin appeared. His eyes narrowed when he saw who it was, shaking his head. "I'm off. This is your fault, you fix it." Yoongi only just caught the door, as it closed, looking up at Hoseok for reassurance. Thankfully he shot him a smile, before turning to follow Jimin down the corridor. Breathing out a heavy sigh, he entered the dorm, eyes falling on the lump of blanket that he knew was Taehyung. His throat was tight, his heart hurting a little at the sight. "Tae?" he asked softly. The door clicked shut behind him, and he took a step forward just as Taehyung's head turned, recognizing the voice straight away. He was on his feet in front of Yoongi in the blink of an eye. "Yoonie? I'm not dreaming right," he asked, hands finding their way to Yoongi's face, as if he was checking that he was real. Yoongi felt a sense of deja vu from the night before, but unlike the night before, he didn't have the urge to run anymore. Instead he placed his hands over Taehyung's, squeezing them slightly. "I'm sorry for running," he whispered, eyes holding Taehyung's. "I shouldn't have asked you to kiss me," murmured Taehyung softly, eyes now sad. "No. Tae I wanted to kiss me, still do," whispered Yoongi, letting his forehead rest against Taehyung's. There was hope light in Taehyung's eyes, lips turned up into a smile. "I want you to kiss me too." "Okay."    Romance, they all found, didn't change the two's relationship much, except for the kissing and the occasional make out scene they sometimes walked in on. They still cuddled regularly, looked after each other, and acted, most of the time, like a married couple. They were all happy for them, Taehyung and Yoongi seeming brighter than before, both closer than ever. The group realized that the two had always, really, been in love, their friendship already reflecting their love for each other. It seemed to suit the pair very well. "You know," Taehyung said, one night as they were huddled together on the sofa. "The year you were away, I never thought of my dorm room as home." Yoongi twisted so that he was facing Taehyung. "Thought? Do you feel it is now?" Taehyung smiled at him, in a way that meant he was going to say something that Yoongi would like. "Yes. But only when you're in it." Yoongi was quiet, his soft smile making his eyes twinkle. "You know. I can call any place home, as long as you're in it." He pressed a small peck to Taehyung's lips. "Why does this always happen when we're cuddling?" giggled Taehyung, wrapping his arms tighter around Yoongi's waist. "Maybe cuddling is our thing," Yoongi replied, a playful smile on his lips. "You're my thing," murmured Taehyung, his eyes matching Yoongi's playful smile. Yoongi drew in a breath, letting his contented sigh fill the space between them. "And you're my home. " "Did Min Yoongi just say something cheesy?""Fuck you."
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Human And Gem Jasper x
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Jasper (Steven Universe), Smoky Quartz (Steven Universe), Amethyst (Steven Universe), Pearl (Steven Universe), Garnet (Steven Universe), Peridot (Steven Universe)", "Fandom": "Steven Universe (Cartoon)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by AngstRexbii", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-03T00:00:00", "words": "2,634", "Additional Tags": "Eventual Romance, Drama", "Relationship": "Jasper (Steven Universe)/Reader", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The sun was scorching in the Beta Kindergarten. The bright light some what bouncing off of the sandstone walls, dancing around the sand and other hard minerals.Jasper, however, had no time to pay attention to her surroundings. Her mind was set on one thing. Her army.She pulled the old metal from broken down injectors with ease, bending them and ramming them into the ground to make rough, hand-made cages.After she finished her last cage, she stood back with her hands on her hips and sighed, admiring her work.She ran her fingers through her hair and watched as the monster inside her cage growled and clawed at the metal."PIPE DOWN!" She said, kicking the cage. The corrupted gem inside yelped and backed up."You take orders from me now,"She stated roughly.After a moment, she furrowed her eyebrows at the ugly display behind the bars."You used to be a quartz too, didn't you? What happened to you?" She said, disgust evident in her voice. The corrupted gem growled in response.Jasper scoffed,"Disgraceful. I can't believe I've resorted to recruiting you freaks. You're almost as bad as that crystal runt!" she said, not yet noticing the low growl from far behind her."Just look at you. This planet ruins everything," she scoffed again,"Well, except for me.""I'll never let this planet twist me like it twisted you. Your weakness embarrasses Homeworld." She got to her knees to be eye level and shoved her finger in the corrupted gem's face,"You suffer because it's what you deserve! We all only get what we deserve!"She said, only now hearing the footsteps from above her, immediately knowing who it was,"Right...Amethyst?"The purple gem gasped, falling to the ground with a harsh thud.Jasper got up to her feet with a grin," What do you want,runt? You here for a rematch?""I'm here to win!" Amethyst shot back, slowly pulling herself up and glaring at the larger gem."You were fated to lose the moment you came out wrong!" Jasper said, pointing a finger at the other gem."That's not true!"Jasper looked at the person who had ran to Amethyst's side and squinted. "Rose, of course. Your lackeys never stray far," She raised her hands,"why would they? They have no place in this, or any world!""What do you mean!?" The gem Jasper knew as Rose asked."Every gem is made for a purpose, to serve the order of the diamonds. Those who cannot fit inside this order MUST BE PURGED!" She explained,"To come out misshapen, to reshape yourself outside your purpose, and to defend this ruined WORTHLESS PLANET IS A DISGRACE!"From behind Amethyst and the tiny Rose Quartz, Jasper heard a familiar voice say, "This planet isn't all bad..." Jasper turned to where she heard the voice, only to see the form of her former teammate cower behind a rock."What are you doing here?" She asked, her blood beginning to boil.."I-I...I'M A CRYSTAL GEM NOW!" The tiny Peridot finally yelled, trying to make herself look slightly bigger to intimidate the large gem.Jasper summoned her helmet and raised her head high in pure anger and disgust, causing the other gems around her to tense up.The green gem stepped forward and spoke with a wavered voice,"I'm not afraid of you! I've got metal powers!" she yelled, sweat trickling down her forehead. She turned to a nearby cage and held her hands up,"I'll show you!" She began to grunt and stare at the metal bars in complete concentration. The metal bar,however, didn't budge.Jasper thought the gem looked a fool. They all did.Amethyst face palmed,clearly embarrassed by the display,"Awe geez..."Peridot turned her head,"In a moment."Jasper was already done with this circus act. She turned and spoke with pure annoyance,"Anyone else got somethin' to say!?""No,it's just us!" The gem-human hybrid said, causing Amethyst to grunt."UGH, you guys!!" She picked Steven up and threw him in Peridot's direction,"Stay outa this!"Steven and Peridot looked up at the purple gem in surprise. "Amethyst." The boy cried out, not getting a response from the purple gem. "It's just you and me Jasper. ONE ON ONE!" She said, summoning her weapon and taking her stance.She cracked her whip, causing it to hit Jasper across the cheek and stun her. She summoned a second whip and called them both forth, throwing Jasper back into a wall, dust and rubble scattering around.The orange gem grunted and watched as the other two praised the Amethyst."Yeah, who's the runt now?" She gloated. Jasper stood up calmly, her face stoic and determined as she walked through the cloud of dust. "You ready for more?" Amethyst asked cockily, whipping her whip and hitting Jasper in the cheek a second time. However, this time, it had no effect on her.Jasper simply returned her hard gaze to the defective gem."Th-there's more where that came from!" Amethyst cracked her whip multiple times, only causing Jasper to slide back a bit. Dust and rubble flying around in the process.The other gems gasped and began to worry. "Uh-oh.."Amethyst grunted and set fire to both of her whips, cracking them and sending herself into a spin-dash attack. Her form took on a huge ball of energy as she launched herself at Jasper.When the attack was over, Amethyst sat on the ground and coughed from the cloud of dust that had formed. When it cleared, she was surprised to see that Jasper was hardly effected.The larger gem brushed herself off and glared harshly at the Amethyst in front of her,"Is it sinking in yet?""ARE YOU SERIOUS!?"She had no time to speak again before she was kicked hard enough to caused her to fly a couple feet backwards.She grunted in pain and watched as Jasper approached her," You never had a chance."As Jasper walked closer and closer, Steven looked up and spotted an injector. He summoned his shield and threw it at the machine, causing it to begin to fall. "Heads up!" The boy warned as the device fell between the two gems.They both grunted and stumbled backwards, Amethyst falling completely. She huffed for air with her eyes closed," Steven...I can't win. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, she came out right and I came out wrong.""THAT'S JUST WHAT JASPER THINKS! SHE'S THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS YOU SHOULD BE LIKE HER!""But-"Steven interrupted her," Stop trying to be like Jasper. YOU'RE NOTHING LIKE JASPER! YOU'RE LIKE ME! Because we're both not like anybody. And yeah, it sucks, but, at least I've got you. And you've got me! So stop leaving me out of this." The boy had tears in his eyes.Amethyst sniffed, tears of her own threatening to escape her eyes, "Us worse gems stick together, right?""That's why we're the best..." Steven held out his hand and Amethyst took it, pulling herself up and the boy into a hug.They began to glow, and and explosion of light emanated from them. Once the smoke and light cleared, a new figure was present.Both Jasper and Peridot looked at the gem with a mixture of confusion and fear.She grinned and stretched her three arms," What. A .Beautiful day!"Jasper growled and looked at the fusion,"Ugh! Who are you supposed to be!?"The gem perked up and tapped her chin in thought," Oh yeah, who am I now?" she turned her head to the side,"I feel like Amethyst knows this..."From behind the fusion, Peridot yelled,"Forget your name!" She pointed at Jasper,"You've got a fight to win.Jasper didn't let it show, but she was hurt that her former partner, and friend, was encouraging and rooting for these Crystal Jerks.The fusion summoned a shield and threw it up into the air,"I think a Rose Quartz," she summoned her whip,"and an Amethyst," she jumped into the air and twirled,"make a," she continued as she slung her whip into the shield, combing them to make a yoyo and landing on the ground with a grin,"Smoky Quartz."On the other hand, Jasper watched with complete anger. She snarled and stepped forward," Is fusion the only trick you Crystal Gems know!?"Smoky Quartz smirked,"I've got plenty of tricks. Ever say sink the dink?" She asked, sending the yoyo forward and landing three hard blows to the other gem, sending her flying backwards.Jasper huffed and held her gem. From above her, she heard Peridot laughing, only upsetting her more. She growled and got to her feet, running at the fusion with crazed anger.The orange gem went into a spin-dash attack and launched forward,Smoky being her target.Smoky Quartz saw it coming and grappled up to a high rock, narrowly missing the attack.Instead, Jasper crashed into the wall, sending large cracks up through the weak rock and letting loose all of the gems and monsters she had captured.After the attack was over, Jasper hopped up to her feet and looked at the creatures flee. "No, my army!"She growled again when the tiny Peridot continued to laugh and mock her. She then noticed the corrupted gem still caged at the other side of the kindergarten. She grinned, thinking up a plan.She began to run to the monster that was close to breaking free. However, she was stopped after taking another blow from the fusion, causing her to fall forward on her knees.She grunted and looked up with complete determination. The fusion walked up behind her and looked down,"Are you ready to give up yet? It's time to stop."Jasper chuckled and grinned deviously,"I'm only getting started," she said as the corrupted gem broke free and began to run away like the others. Jasper quickly stood up and hopped onto the gem's back, riding off into the distance with evil hoarse laughter.Smoky and Peridot only watching her leave, still surprised at the events that just unfolded before them."Well crap..." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The night was silent, the only sound being the occasional howl of wind and the sound of snow hitting the glass window of your room.You were fast asleep, wrapped in your comfortable fluffy blankets to block out the cold. Your slumber, however, was cut short when you were startled awake by the loud and horrific sound of something roaring in the distance.It sounded too clear to just be the wind, and you were sure it wasn't just some bear (which turned out to be the case often).You decided to step outside into the harsh cold weather to see if you could spot the source of the horrid noise. You put your hand over your eyes to try and block the snow from flying into them as you searched around your family's old inherited vacation lodge.After a while of searching, you decided that whatever made the noise was gone and that you were safe.However, as you turned around, you heard the sound of your back door being opened, followed by the sound of hard thumps and wood creaking.'Fuck', you thought.Instead of running away and hiding up a tree like your body was screaming at you to do, you decided to slowly walk back into the lodge to catch the intruder.You grabbed the ice cold door knob and turned it slowly before pulling it open, cringing when it creaked.From inside, you heard the slightest sound of shuffling feet up stairs. You turned your head and spotted the small glow of the moonlight reflecting off of the metal bat next to the door.You grabbed it hastily and got into a stance, your bat high in the air.Slowly, you made your way up the wooden stairs. This time, the old wood made no sound. This would have been a relief, but it only added to the now eerily quiet atmosphere.Your bedroom door was wide open, even though you clearly remembered closing it before you left.Despite every bone in your body telling you to just turn and high-tale it it of there, you walked inside and looked around your room cautiously, the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up.After not seeing anything else out of the ordinary, you decided to check your closet. You slowly walked over to the sliding doors, your bat still raised high. You reached your free hand out and grabbed the door knob. Before you could turn it, you heard another thump from behind you.You jumped around and went to swing your bat, but a large figure caught it like it was nothing.You gasped and immediately regretted not going with the tree plan. The large figure towered over you, glaring down at your form with crazed animistic reflecting eyes.The creature stepped forward to where the small amount of light from the window lit up some of its features.Her features?It was a woman?She gave you a sickening grin and stepped closer, gabbing you roughly by the chin and forcing you to look at her."Human," She said, her voice laced with disgust," I can't believe I've resorted to getting help from you.""H-help?" You asked.She took her eyes off of you to look around for a moment before returning her gaze to your form,"You will hide me here...While I recover.""Recover from what?" She scowled,"It's none of your concern. The point is, I'm going to be staying here. From this point on, you belong to me. You will assist me when it comes time and if you try to cross me, I will tear you limb from limb."Her words caused you to flinch a bit, but you decided not to let it get to you too much. You nodded, showing the you had acknowledged her words.She smiled and let go of your chin,"Good."She then turned around and looked around the place once more. You decided to turn on the light for her, despite just wanting desperately to go back to bed and wake up as if this was all just a dream.She seemed to be letting herself get used to the place she was now going to be calling her base. Or at least her hideout.You sighed and put a hand up,"Welp, you have fun doing that. I'm gonna go back to bed.""To where?" She asked, tilting her head slightly to the side in a way that you that was absolutely adorable."To bed," you said, pointing to the queen sized bed on the other side of the room."What does that do?" "You sleep on it.""Sleep?"A sigh escaped your lips.This was going to be hard."Sleeping is when you close your eyes and think of nothing. Your body kinda shuts down and you rest," you tried to explain."So...kind of like being poofed and then reforming?"You shrugged, having no idea what that meant."Anyway, I'm gonna go do that. Will you be okay alone?"She scoffed, despite being a little taken back by your concern,"Pfft, I'm a quartz soldier. I can handle myself."The smallest smile tugged at your lips and you shrugged,"Alrighty then, excuse me."You walked over to your bed and hopped in face first. From behind you, you could still sense her presence. You turned your head in her direction and she looked away."What's wrong?"She grunted and walked out of the room, forgetting to close the door behind her.Goddamn it...
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Ace Up My Sleeve
{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Collins Key, Devan Key, Original Character, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Crazy_Comet_97", "chapters": "8/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-04T00:00:00", "words": "7,665", "Additional Tags": "Mpreg, Missing Persons, On the Run, Insest, One of My Favorites, Work In Progress", "Relationship": "Collins Key/Devan Key", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "▶️ Surfin' The Tube ▶️, 🐳 There Were No Seahorse Emojis [Mpreg] 🐳, 🧊 The Waiting Room 🧊", "Collections": "Queer Characters Collection, Stories About Incest", "Fandoms": "Video Blogging RPF, Real Person Fiction", "Archive Warnings": "No Archive Warnings Apply, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
He would be gone before they woke up. He was sure of it. His parents usually were early risers, but he and his brother weren’t, so they wouldn’t notice he wasn’t there till a lot later when he didn’t come downstairs. That should give him enough time to get out of the city, may be even the county if he was lucky.Devan Key crept quietly though the house to the garage, slipping inside for a few seconds only to come back out with a duffel bag, which he unceremoniously dumped on his bed and started filling with clothes. He made quite an motion of looking at the shirt, himself and back again several times before it either went back inside his closet or was folded into the bag neatly, like he was planning ahead in case. Which, he was.Soon enough, other objects joined the clothes. His phone, his charger, his wallet. Two pairs of shoes followed that. He looked around the room, surveying it before his eyes landed on a picture on his desk and his eyes welled up with tears.With a shaky hand, he picked up the sliver frame, running a thumb over Collins’s smiling face. It was a picture of the two of them that they had taken with his phone. Collins was in a red plaid overshirt and black t-shirt, while Devan wore a plain blue one. It was taken a few months ago, just 3 days before his life changed for the worst. Sniffling, Devan quickly tucked in under his shirts so he didn’t have to look at it before moving on.Finding there was nothing else to take, Devan donned the bag over his shoulder and was about to go downstairs when he saw Collins’s door slightly ajar. Peeking in, his saw his older brother asleep on his side, drool collecting on his pillow. Sadly chuckling, he quietly wandered in just to watch him for a few minutes, before swallowing hard. Time to go.Snatching up a few hoodies from Collins’s floor that weren’t going to use, he hesitated, but lent over, kissing Collins’s forehead with the lightest touch of his lips before he turned and left, the front door opening and closing being the only noise he made and the only sign of a life he’d once loved that he was leaving behind. He was going to miss it, but he had his reasons.Sitting on the bus stop down the road from his house, he looked back up to the direction he came in and sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t go back now. Silently, he started playing with a pack of cards that had been in one of Collins’s hoodies he’d picked up till the bus came, getting on with one last glance at his home before he turned his head.“Where to kid?” The bus driver grunted, ready to type in his destination for his ticket.“Anaheim, please.”The bus driver raised his eyebrows, but nevertheless punched the ticket in, handing the receipt over to Devan. “Have a seat kid.”“Thanks.” Devan sad nothing more as he sat down, avoiding the bleary eyes of the morning crowd as the bus doors closed and the engine rumbled to life.Looking out the window as the houses passed by, he closed his eyes and put his iPod in his ears, before murmuring something so quiet, no one took any notice.“Goodbye.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- ‘Devan...Devan...Devan…” Devan hummed, gingerly rolling over and ignoring the voice in his ear as he slept. He hadn’t slept all night just like the night before and was going to keep this chance as best as he could. He swore he heard a chuckle before the voice was back, this time against his ear. ‘Come on, wake up. Devan, wake up. Wake up!’ Devan, grumbling, threw a pillow in the direction of the voice to shut it the fuck up, before suddenly an alarm when off and a voice suddenly boomed out. “Gooood morning Vancouver, it’s another beautiful winter’s day outside today, a chilly but manageable 10°C. Woo, with all that snowfall last night, you’ve got a task cleaning up your driveways homeowners, so if you don’t wanna do the work yourself or haven’t got the time and need to get to work, call Sam’s Snowmoblies, for all your-” Devan slammed his hand down on top, shutting the radio and the announcer's voice off and leaving the room in complete silence once more. Struggling for a moment, he managed to sit up, stretching his arms above his head in a loud yawn before he levered himself off the bed carefully, biting his lip and groaning as his back protested the action. He hadn’t been sleeping well on it that much lately because of the pain and wished he had someone to rub it. His mind fleetingly went to the thought of Collins or his mother doing it, as they were the best at that kind of thing, but it disappeared quickly with a shake of his head. Maneuvering his way out of the bedroom and into the small space that was his apartment, he almost slipped on something before looking down and chuckling, seeing a small cuddly toy in the shape of an elephant on the ground. Sighing, he lowered himself down by bending his knees and using the counter as leverage and picked it up, trying to maintain his balance as he sat it on the kitchen counter. “Seems like your toys are making a run for it, sweethearts.” Devan’s sleepy voice rumbled though the air as he switched on the kettle to heat up the water for some tea. “Looks like they’re aware of what’s coming when you two arrive.” There was a movement underneath him and his hand found his way to the source of it, the large bump attached to his body and hidden under a white shirt that stretched tightly over it, tapping the side of it lightly as he poured his cup. Taking the cup off the counter, he made his way slowly to the couch and sat down, wincing as his back smarted. “One of you was laying on Daddy’s back again last night, so someone needs to own up. Daddy’s not mad, but he’s very tired. So who did it?” There was a moment where all the movement in his stomach ceased before a small jab landed on one of his kidneys and he groaned. “Why am I not surprised, huh? I thought so.” He rubbed the aching spot for a few minutes before lying down to rest and grabbing his new laptop to look at the news as he had no TV, resting it on the bump carefully. He browsed though a number of stories that caught his interest before an updated one caught his attention, his blood running cold and his heart in his throat at the sight of it. ‘3 MONTH UPDATE: Collins Key’s Brother Devan Missing From Family Home’ Swallowing hard, he clicked on the headline that led him to the article and began reading. ‘The most trended video on Youtube right now isn’t about cats or the newest fashion craze, but a plea for help. Youtuber and America’s Got Talent magician superstar Collins Key has pleaded to his YouTube subscribers and the public via social media to help find his younger brother, 18 year old artist Devan Key, who went missing from their family home in California in February. Key, clearly upset, suddenly uploaded the now infamous video after almost a month of inactivity on all social accounts and has only been on sporadically since, to update fans on the search for Devan and any information relevant to the case. It is asked that if you have any information about Devan’s location or any sightings of Devan, please call 1-855-626-7600.’ Down below the article was a Youtube video with thee same picture he had taken with him that rested on his bedside table on it as the cover, the title simply ‘please come home’ in lowercase letters. Against his better judgement, Devan clicked on the red play button in the center. Suddenly, Collins’s heartbroken face filled the screen. He was sitting in the chair he used for filming videos in the office and he looked terrible, with dark circles under his eyes and his whole posture screamed exhaustion. “Hey fam. So, uh...I know i haven’t been online recently and I’ve missed a couple of videos, but I have a reason for that. Devan...Devan, my little brother has gone missing.” Devan sniffled, watching Collins’s red rimmed blue eyes staring directly into the camera. “He’s been missing for about a month now, we have no idea where he is. He just up and vanished and the police have done all they can right now to locate him, so I’m reaching out to your guys. Please, please, if you see Devan out there or if you’re one of his friends and have contact with him, tell him to come home or at least call us. We’re worried sick and I-” Devan watched as his older brother broke down as he kept talking, his own eyes already leaking a lot more at seeing Collins cry. “I miss him so much. I’m so worried about him and I want to know his okay, fam.” Collins sniffled before addressing the camera again, begging. “Devan, Devan, man, if you’re seeing this video, wherever you are, please, please come home. Or call me, just please tell us or me you’re okay. Please.” Devan couldn’t take it, he was almost about to click off the video when Collins started talking again. “I...I know that the last couple months have been weird for us and I should have talked to you sooner about everything, as I think that's why you left, but...I love you Devan.” Devan broke down after that, sobbing even as Collins continued talking. “I love you so much more than you realize, bud, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. Just please come home.” He hadn’t realized though his tears that the video had ended until he couldn’t hear Collins anymore. Looking up, he reached up to click off the video before he let it slide off the bump, arms going there instead to cradle it, breaths hitched. It took a little while, but Devan managed to calm down, before recomposing himself and moving into action, standing gingerly as he was a bit wobbly and stiff from being in the same position. Making his way into the kitchen, he looked around till he saw the fridge and carefully tore a small picture off the end of an number of pictures that was hanging there, before starting to search for a pen and paper. He had a explanation to give. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It was a slightly cold afternoon in May with the letter, stained with tears and containing rather precious information, found it’s way into Collins’s hands. His father had already gone down to get the mail and had come up to his room to give it to him.“Here, son. Letter for you. Most likely fan mail.”“Thanks, Pop.” Collins smiled thinly and took the small white envelope, seeing the front of it and shaking his head. “Canada stamp, huh? Must be about how excited they are for me coming up there to do a couple of shows with some of the AGT guys in a couple of weeks.”“Most likely, you’ve quite popular all around.” His father chuckled as Collins put the envelope down next to him. He suddenly became nervous, biting his lip. “The police called today as well, while you were out.”“What!?” Collins shot up. “Why didn’t you tell me as soon as I got home!?”“I didn’t want to say anything as it’s nothing really that new.” He put an soothing hand on Collins’s arm, thumb going in circles. “They found CCTV footage of Devan boarding a bus. Driver said he was apparently going to Anaheim. They’re focusing a new search over that way.”“What on Earth would Devan be going to Anaheim for, Dad?” Collins was blinking back tears. “It’s not like he went to Disneyland or something.”“We don’t know, son.” His Dad shook his head. “They don’t know either, they are as lost as we are. They said they’ll call if they find anything else.”“You will tell me as soon as they call, right? Promise this time?”“I will, son.” His Dad nodded, gave his are one last squeeze and then left his bedroom, disappearing downstairs while Collins dropped into his bed.So, Devan was in Anaheim or still is in Anaheim. It was a lead, but a very vague one at that.Sighing, he wiped his eyes and needing something to take his mind off of the whole thing before he was crushed under the feelings and weight of it again, picked up the ‘fan mail’ and opened it up, unfolding the top of the letter carefully.Those first few words made his breath catch in his throat and his heart stop beating.‘Hey Collins, it’s me.’ ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- ‘ Hey Collins, it’s me. ’He could almost hear the voice inside his head, reading the lines one by one as tears trailed down his cheeks. He hoped, no, in his head he prayed it wasn’t a fake. His heart couldn’t take it if his worst nightmare had come true and this wasn’t Devan’s work.‘ So, um, I really don’t know what to say. First of all, I know you’re angry. I mean, up and leaving with no explanation and all that, I didn’t really mean to worry you guys. Did a good job on that, didn’t I? ’‘Yes, Devan you asshole.’ He responded in kind in his head, fearing his parents hearing him right now. ‘Yes you did. We almost all never came home looking for you.’‘ I can only say I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry for the...other stuff. Including what I’m about to tell you. ’‘Other stuff? What other stuff could he be talking about?’‘ I don’t regret that whole thing we had going, Collins. I should and you should, but I get the feeling that you don’t or you’re trying to and failing. Miserably. It’s the same right now with me. ’‘Oh god, is his really talking about what I think he’s going to talk about?’ ‘I knew it was you, Collins. I knew it was you that came upstairs and got into bed with me and then it wasn’t some dream like we both made it out to be to forget. We were stupid and it didn’t matter if it was Mom’s birthday or not, I still consented to it and that’s something that you nor me can change. It’s in the past now .’Collins’s face reddened and shame washed over him as he remembered the events Devan was alluding to. It was their mother’s birthday and after coming home from the restaurant that they had been dining at, the family decided to have a couple of drinks. His dad even let Devan have a couple of sips of beer before he declared to leave the ‘party animals’ be and go upstairs to bed. After a long while, Collins, severely drunk and stumbling everywhere, came upstairs while his parents enjoyed a bottle of wine and the TV. Holding into the stair rail, he pushed open the door to Devan’s bedroom and belly flopped onto the bed, waking his brother. Devan, rather sleepy, but awake, chuckled at Collins before having to escape out of the way as his brother dove under and ended up next to him. “Look, Collins, bro. “Devan was saying between laughter. “I appreciate the late night call, but-” “Shh.” Collins held a twitchy drunken finger up to Devan’s laughter shaken lips. “No one needs to know I’m here…” His eyes could barely focus, but he gave it his best shot. “It’ll be fine, bud.” Devan chuckled, pushing him off onto his side of the bed and turning around. “Goodnight, Collins.” “No, no, no, you come back here…” Collins suddenly yanked Devan back over to him. “I’m not finished with you yet.” He almost missed, but managed, somehow, to smash his lips rather hard onto Devan’s, toppling them over and falling on top of Devan. “Collins, hell no. Hey!” Devan pushed him off, making Collins sway a bit, but stay uptight above him. “What the hell, man?” “Please?” Collins gave Devan begging eyes. “Please, just once. Never again, I promise.” Devan breathed in, biting his lip. Unknown to everyone else, including their parents, him and his older brother had a checkered history. Ever since Devan was 14, he’d had a crush on Collins, but he would never act on it. Accidentally, Collins had found out when Devan was 16 and concussed from falling off his bike. Rather than rejecting him, Collins had kissed him in the emergency room right before their parents came flying in and it had been on and off since. They hadn’t attempted anything like Collins was suggesting though. Collins was looking at him hopeful and it made Devan feel guilty, but he knew they shouldn’t be doing this, any of this. Swallowing, Devan looked towards the door and then back at Collins. “Once. Never, ever again. Then this, all this stops. No more Collins, okay? No more.” The sound of Collins saying ‘Deal.’ was muffled by the skin on Devan’s neck as he lent forward, going all in… ‘ That mistake we made, well, that’s where these two come in. ’Collins was brought back to the picture when something fell out of the letter and landed in his lap. Looking down, he saw an overturned image and reached down with his free hand to pick it up, turning it over.An ultrasound picture. An ultrasound picture of a baby. With Devan’s name on it. Oh god.Collins’s hands started to tremble and tears rushed down his cheeks, him almost hyperventilating at the sight. He stroked a thumb over the image in wonder, before rushing back to the letter, confused and shocked.‘ This is a recent photo of our girls. Everleigh and Jane. Well, those are their temporary names for now. I’m actually not too sure on what to call them yet. I’m still deciding. I’ve still got time, as you can see. ’Girls. /Girls/ as in plural. Looking closer back at the picture, Collins could see two distinct shapes in the black of the ultrasound and he couldn’t help but run his fingers over them, fascinated and heart going a hundred miles an hour.‘ Don’t worry about me. I promise, I’m doing okay. We all are. I’m just laying low. I’ll be back soon. As soon as the girls are born at least, I’ll be home. ’Devan was coming home?! What!? Collins quickly sped though the rest under that.“ The plan is that I’m going to come home and tell Mom and Dad that I ran off with a girl that was pregnant and that she left me with the girls. That she abandoned us and I decided to face the wrath of my parents than go looking. It’s the easiest way to do this, as they...they can’t know about us Collins and you know it. What we have isn’t natural, isn’t right. ’Collins bowed his head, tears streaming down his cheeks at that. Until he read the next line.‘ But I miss it. I miss it a lot actually. I miss you too. You would have loved this, all of this. I know you too well, bro. ’Collins couldn’t help but make a small smile, wiping his eyes as he saw this part of the letter had the most tear marks. They had been all over, but nearly most were here.‘ I know that you’ll love them just as much as me and that’s why I need to stay away for now, so I can fix this to be in our favor. I know it’s hard, but it’s the best way .’“Goddammit Devan!” Collins heard his raspy voice shout at the paper in his hand. “This isn’t the best way! The best way is you being here, being with me! Right here, right now!”Screwing up the letter in his head, he threw it before throwing a fist at it, pounding the wall before he slid down it, head in his hands, crying.‘ I love you Collins, we all do. Stay safe bro and please, don’t come looking for us. With all my love, Devan ’ ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Gooood morning once again Vancouver, it’s your favorite radio show once again on the airwaves and oh man, do we have some news for you coming up later on in today’s morning programme, but right now, we’re going to cross over to the weather with our man on the spot, Steve, who’s currently on location in Alberta-” Devan just grumbled lowly while listening to the morning’s announcements, back massaging a large knot in his back that had developed from the two little ones he was carrying in the front. It didn’t help he was worrying too. He had sent his letter with ‘Everleigh’ and ‘Jane’’s picture enclosed inside almost 2 weeks ago and hadn’t heard hide nor hare since. Collins hadn’t even updated his social media about it, just saying things like ‘today is a hard day’ or ‘so grateful to have you guys supporting me right now’, generic things that weren’t like Collins to say. He couldn’t blame him. In the letter, he practically shut Collins down hard and with good reason. He’d fucked up enough of Collins’s life as it was and didn’t want to make it worse, so he resigned to ride all of this out alone. “-and that’s the morning news, but AGT fans, prepare to have a heart attack because your favorite AGT acts are in town!” What? Devan turned his head towards the radio, confused. AGT? “America’s Got Talent has spawned several of the greatest stars America has ever seen and now some of your favorites have come on tour! Come on down to the Oakridge Centre at 12:00 PM and see them perform live, including a special performance by world renowned a cappella group Pentatonix today and tomorrow only!” Devan nodded to himself as he finished pouring himself some tea. “Good for them, probably doing some promotion for the new season or something...” He mumbled to himself, picking up his tea glass as the announcer continued. “There are also rumors that AGT finalist magician, Collins Key, will also be performing at the Oakridge Centre shows.” CRASH! Devan’s cup fell out of his fingers and into the kitchen floor, hands shaking as he turned around. “His performances were currently in doubt as his younger brother had disappeared from the family home and he wanted to cancel them to focus more on the search, but it seems that though sources, he is still scheduled to attend the shows. As we move on into more entertainment news-” Devan couldn’t listen to anymore and switched the radio off with a shaky hand, before his back slid down the counter before he hit the ground, knees tucked over his stomach as tears streamed down his face. Collins was here. In Canada. In Vancouver. Performing at Oakridge Centre, a mall which, ironically, was a few blocks over from Devan’s apartment and Devan himself had only been in a few days before. He had seen the stage being rigged up, he’d seen people hard at work, but he had been oblivious in knowing what they were really doing. They were making the stage up for the AGT favorites. For his brother. Gasping for breath, Devan started having a panic attack, only managing to calm himself down after several minutes by thinking to the two little girls he carried, ones he shared with his best friend, his best friend who was only a few streets away. Swallowing, he looked up at the small clock adorning the wall above a counter: 11:47 AM Only a couple of minutes till showtime. Looking at his stomach and remembering the pain in his back as he got up, he made what he felt was, at the time, the most stupid decision he’d ever made currently. He staggered to his bedroom, pulled off his pajamas and got dressed in an unassuming pair of jeans and t-shirt, throwing a red and white Canadian themed hoodie over the top of it to make himself blend into the crowd, cover the bulk of his stomach and look at least semi-normal before he exited the small house, going down to wait at the bus stop. Only one thought crossed his mind as he got on the bus and sat down, just like we he first left his home: What the hell was he doing? ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Hey. Hey, kid. Wake up.” Devan shot up when his shoulder was shook, realizing he’d probably fallen asleep on the bus, seeing as how the bus driver gave him a kind smile. “Ticket sad you were going here, so i thought I’d wake up. You pretty much when out like a light when you boarded.” “Thanks.” Devan sad gratefully, yawning and throwing his arms over his head. “I’m sorry if I caused a little trouble.” “No harm.” The guy shook his head. “Not many people were on today thankfully. They’ve all gotten off before little you, so it was fine.” Looking around, Devan had to agree. The bus was pretty empty. “How many months along are you?” The man asked casually and Devan almost wanted to throw up. “How did you…?” “You're not the first guy I’ve seen trying to keep it all in that head of yours.” The guy shook his head. “It’s more common than you think. I’ve seen a lot in the 40 years I’ve been here.” Devan smiled sadly at the man’s remark. “I guess, but it’s not the greatest thing to be saddled with, according to a lot of the US.” “Take it from me, Kid. Whoever is feeding you that stuff? They just don’t get it.” The old man shook his head. “I mean, sure, they think they get it, but in reality? They don’t know a dime from a nickel these days. Sometimes I wish we could just punch them.” Devan had to laugh at that, feeling less nervous. Plucking up his courage, he had to ask. “You sound like you have experience.” “Oh, Kid.” The man’s eyes became distant. “You think it’s bad now? Woo, back then, you could have been killed in the streets. It wasn’t illegal, but it was a shameful thing. Thankfully, I was one of the luckier ones. No family. No partner. No nothing, but my son came out of it okay. Big guy’s at Yale down south. Having the time of his life.” “Wow.” Devan was at a loss for words. Here was a guy, that was unassuming by the look of him and yet told him something so personal. He wondered if, in the future after this, when Everleigh and Jane were older, would he be like this? “Ah, well. Better get back to the roads. You look like you needed to hear something good, because you look a little like a gust of wind could knock you over.” Devan bit his lip in reply, nodding. “Yeah, I just...I’m meeting up with their Dad today. Something like that.” “Ah.” The older man nodded understandingly. “Haven’t seen him in a while, I’m guessing?” “Yeah, kinda...took off, I mean, I took off when I found out, needed some time by myself.” Devan shuffled. “Thought a quiet place would do.” “Hmm, well, I can’t really help with that, but if there is one thing I can say, is to give him a chance.” The driver nodded as Devan looked at him. “You’re obviously making yourself sick with nerves about seeing him again, but may be it might not go as bad as you thinking.” “Yeah...maybe.” Devan sad, awkwardly starting to move. “Thanks...uh,-” “Call me Tom, Kid.” Tom shook his head. “Just happy to help.” “Thanks, Tom.” Devan smiled again, a tiny bit brighter, before stepping off with a large sigh as he walked inside the mall and followed the noise. So...this was it. He was really doing this? Right now? Guess so. Quietly, he pulled up his hood to cover his face and assimilated himself into the small crowd as the show began, managing to get close enough to the stage that he could reach out and touched someone if he wanted to, but still escape. It was only a little while he was going to be there. Just a second. He would watch him, see him do his show, maybe leave a note or something and then, leave. Like he was never there. The show was enjoyable. The comedians made him laugh, the music made him sway (causing the girls to go into a kicking frenzy) and the more dangerous acts made his stomach turn, but nothing, nothing was as bad as the butterflies it had inside of it when Collins appeared on stage. He looked tired. Or rather, the makeup on his face covered the worst of it, but not all of it. His eyes were a rosy red around the edges, darker than ever underneath and though his tricks were the same as they always were, his heart wasn’t fully in it. Halfway though the show, he announced he would need a volunteer for his next act and hands shot up all around Devan, reaching out to his brother so he could look. Swallowing, Devan didn’t know what possessed him in that moment, but as Collins came over to look at them to see if anyone on this side was able to be picked, he just raised his hand and tugged at Collins’s jacket. The whole plan went into chaos after that. Devan tried to hide his face, but Collins was faster and Devan knew that by the stunned look at his face and sudden freezing of his body parts that he had seen him. Shit. After a couple shunned seconds of silence and loads of murmurs from the crowd, Devan hightailed out of there as fast as he could (which wasn’t much given he was carrying two rather large 7 and a half month size infants in a giant water balloon on his front) towards where he had last seen the exit signs. He felt the panic wash over him as he looked around frantically, sweat starting to pour down his forehead. The classic makings of a severe incoming panic attack. He needed out now. 20 minutes later saw him stumbling out into fresh snow, flakes dusting his hair as his world spun in circles, him trying desperately to set it straight so he could find his way back to the bus stop and go home. Home, where it was safe. Where no one could find him. Suddenly, however, in the middle of his haze, he was lept on, arms wrapping themselves around him. Being already having a panic attack, Devan freaked out, already exhausted limbs struggling to get away from the person obviously trying to mug him. “N-N-No, p-please. N-N-No! Let me go. Let me go!” “Shh, hey, hey Devan, Devan it’s okay.” The familiar choked up voice that entered his ear broke his heart all over again, but it caused him to stop struggling and just slump, the owner of the voice almost staggering as they tried to keep them both up. Turning his head and body, he fell into Collins’s embrace like a folded up accordion, grabbing onto tuffs of his shirt and breaking down in tears. Feeling dampness in his head, he knew Collins was doing the same, but couldn’t help but beg. “I want to go home. Please, I just want to go home.” “Okay, okay, we’ll go home. We’ll go home.” Collins looked desperately around, seeing a taxi rank and hailing a cab before ushering Devan in, despite both of them clinging to eachother like they would disappear if they let go. Devan, finally and gently coaxed out of his stupor, but drained, tiredly rattled off the address to Collins’s raised eyebrows before setting his head into Collins’s collarbone, looking out the window. Now or never, it seemed. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They didn’t say much to eachother on the way back to his apartment, but Devan supposed that was for the best. Most likely, if what he thought was going to happen was going to...well, happen, he didn’t want the driver of this poor cab to be a witness to his humiliation, or worse.He could feel Collins’s eyes boring holes in the back of his head, arm still wrapped possessively around him in a vice grip so he couldn’t go anywhere as he watched Vancouver’s sights go by slowly, much to his nervousness.When the cab finally pulled up outside of Devan’s apartment block, honestly, he couldn’t get out of that cab fast enough (with a little bit of difficulty as was normal nowadays), seeing Collins pull money out of the corner of his eye before he could attempt to make a grab at his own wallet. He didn’t know whether the red staining that suddenly appeared on his cheeks was from the embarrassment and strain of failing like a turtle to get out of the cab or anger at Collins being there in the first place.Shivering, he started to make his way towards the block when he felt Collins stop him, only for Collins to press his warm body against him, Devan giving in instantly despite the flip flopping of his heart in his chest as they made their way upstairs to the fourth floor.Closing the door behind them was just the start, he knew that for certain. It was like the last call at a bar, the curtain falling on a stage. An action. The ending of one thing and beginning of another. Leaning up against the door, head pressed against the old splintered wood and hunched back turned away from his older brother, Devan sighed, voice emotional as he finally spoke.“So, get it over with. Say what you want to say. I know you’re dying to take a swing.” Silence. Then movement.In a rush, Collins had Devan pinned against one of the many cracked walls, angry tears falling down his face, but instead of abusing him or worse, hitting him, Collins /crushed/ his lips against his younger brother, leaving him breathless.“Collins, what the fu-” Unfortunately, Devan couldn't get a word in edgewise, all of them being swallowed up by Collins’s mouth as it furiously sucked on his. Eventually (and only after Devan was starting to give in), Collins released him, leaving the young boy to lean against the wall, knees weak and chest working overtime, eyes raw. “Collins, what the hell?”“I missed you so much.” Collin’s whisper almost made Devan jump as his face was cupped, Collin’s hands shaking along with his body. “What-Why, Devan? We could have sorted this out! We could have done something. Worked together. We’ve always worked together.”“I'm sorry Col, I just-” Devan sniffled, emotions of course, starting to get the better of him. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t...no one would understand, Col. Or will. Mom and Dad won't. The world won’t. I just...couldn’t let something bad happen because of me.”“Devie, darling…” His pet name made him shiver as it rolled off of Collins’s tongue like honey, whispered and delicate. “You still didn’t need to run away. We could have figured something out. We were heartbroken when we couldn’t find you and now to find you here, like this…”“Looks bad doesn’t it?” Devan had to put in with a sad smile.“No, Devan, you’re perfect.” Collins murmured in reassurance. “It’s just a bit of a shock to me is all. Didn’t expect to see you today either, at the show. Thought I saw things till I saw security hightailing it after you. All of you.”His hands drifted from Devan’s face to the bump, pulling him close as his eyes lit up in wonder and awe like his magic caused other people to do, cradling the large mass in his hands and shaking his head. “Wow, Devan….look what we made.”That sentence made the dam that had been filling up inside Devan burst, making him upset and causing tears to trickle down his cheeks as he cried, only to be soaked up by Collin’s suit as he folded around him, holding him tightly again in the middle of the room, face buried in his hair and trying to comfort him.“It’s alright Devan, it’s alright, I promise. I’ll fix this, I promise. I promise you.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It seemed after all of that drama, the world was suddenly brighter and honestly, Devan couldn’t care less how much trouble both of them would be in. Collins was here. With him. With the girls. It seemed like it was still a dream, but thankfully, it wasn’t. By the time the end of the week rolled around after the crying fit had long finished and Collins took him to bed (just for sleeping, not for anything else), a routine had somehow been established. Collins would get up in the early hours of the morning, make coffee for himself (and tea for Devon) before returning back to bed and cuddling with him before they both eventually got up and started their day. Collins was mostly the busier one of the two, having moved all his stuff he’d taken on the AGT Canada tour in from his hotel room almost 3 days before and was still doing shows around the area, so he would often leave just after 8:00 in the morning to go back to the hotel so it wouldn’t cause suspicion, leaving Devon with tingling lips, pairs of small feet in his back and a smile. Devan on the other hand all together, was less busy than Collins was. Given his size, he hadn’t really been able to do much lately except running errands. Collins wasn’t helping that cause either at the moment as he had been hovering over him and treating him like he was breakable, he swore that he and the girls had grown bigger over the last few days thanks to his queen like treatment of his brother, but he was hardly going to complain. Even simple things were a task by now anyway. However, both brothers knew that a decision would have to be made about where to go next with everything. They couldn’t stay. Well, may be Devan could, but Collins couldn’t. The tour would eventually move onto the next city and then afterwards, he would have to go back to California and to their parents. It was inevitable. So, the day before they had to leave for the next stop on the tour, when Collins came home from performing shows, Devan was still up, settled on the couch with a sad smile, having had tear tracks around his eyes. Collins immediately creased his brow in worry and hurriedly dropped his things to settle beside him, an arm around his waist and bump. “Hey, Devie, what’s wrong?” Devan didn’t say anything for a small moment, before turning to him, sniffling, but still smiling. “I’m okay, just...taking it a little hard that you have to go, you know?” “Devan, I don’t have to go if you don’t want me to, I would stay in a heartbeat if you told me to right now.” Collins had the same sad smile on his face. He didn’t want to leave, he’d spent hours that morning when he had turned up arguing with the tour promoter, his manager, the tour manager, anyone he could think of to get him off the tour so he could stay in Vancouver or at worst, pretend to go on a plane to go home and trick them. However, he had been unsuccessful, due to the fact that he couldn’t give a reason that he wanted, no /needed/ to stay or go back home to California and also, he had been listed on the promotional material as a performer and had to be there. Too many fans would be disappointed and money would be lost, a lot of it. “I know you would.” Devan’s voice brought him back to the present, staring up at him. “I guess I'm just afraid that the girls are going to try and come into the world before you can get back.” That had been the other problem. Collins would be able to return to Vancouver once the tour ended, but given the timeline, he would be away up until the girls were due to be born. Given that Devan was carrying twins, it could even be earlier and the fear of missing out and the birth itself had been very present for a while now. “I’m just so afraid of being alone when that happens. It scares me so much, Col.” “Hey…” Collins took a hold of his brother’s - lover’s - face, looking at him sternly. “If those little angels know what’s good for them, they are staying in that water balloon you have attached to your body for as long as I say damn well so.” He punctuated the last few words of the sentence by looking sternly at Devan’s stomach, when the latter felt rolling over inside in response to Collin’s statement, making him chuckle. “I think that was a ‘Okay, Dad’ if anything.” Devan had to remark, both of them falling into sad chuckling. Collins eventually reached back up after taking his hands off to stroke a piece of Devan’s hair back. “I'm really going to miss you. I...I really don't wanna go.” “I don’t want you to go.” Devan said, but before Collins could open his mouth, he spoke again. “But you have to. It’ll be too sus you going missing here of all places.” He shook his head at him. “Like you said earlier, you’ve been arguing to stay here with everyone, you been trying to reduce your appearances in the shows, Mom and Dad have been calling you and you haven’t answered them all the time…” Devan sighed, pulling himself up into a sitting position carefully. “People and fans alike will know you are here for a reason, Col.” He reached out to put a hand on his cheek. “You literally ended up on TMZ yesterday for ghosting everyone waiting for you outside the last show and arguing with the tour manager in public, if you disappear and people see you’ve up and gone, they can put two and two together that you are hiding something.” Devan wasn’t wrong and Collins hated it. He hadn’t meant to end up plastered all over the goddamn internet thanks to the obstructively intrusive internet paparazzi, but he had lost his cool as he had just wanted to come back to Devan as soon as the show ended. “You’re right…” Collins sighed, taking the hand off his face and cuddling up with him. “You’re absolutely right. We can't risk getting caught right now, not with you like this.” “No, we can’t.” Devan agreed, letting Collin’s fingers trail on his bump as he spoke. “Not only will you look bad and I look bad, Mom and Dad will hate both of us. The fans would be angry as well, everyone will be. We just need a little more time and then, we can both resurface.” “I know, so let’s not waste anymore of that little time we have talking about it.” Collins murmured and Devan just lied his head on his taller shoulder, sighing. “Yeah, let’s just go with that.”   -<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3--<3-   A day later, Devan couldn’t help the desperate feeling he had as he watched Collins the night before repack all his suitcases and place them by the door before coming to bed. The only difference was that Collins seemed to hold him tighter than normal during the night. Eventually, once the rising dawn of the sun streamed though their window, they did wake, but regrettably. Both had already started getting teary as they went about their early morning routine, before Devan just broke down and cried in bed, burying himself in Collins’s arms that had found their way around him after running from the kitchen, holding them up. After the small fit and of course, as soon as 7:45 ticked over on the clock, they found themselves in front of Devan’s apartment front door, staring at eachother. Devan’s lip was quivering and Collins’s hands were shaking on his bump as he said a very small goodbye to their girls on his knees. He didn’t know for sure, but he figured the girls obviously knew something was up given the lack of movement, just a small few twinges here and there. Soon enough, he eventually got up and it was just the two of them. Devan swallowed as Collins cupped his cheeks, sniffling. “Hey.” Collins just smiled at him, small as it was. “It’ll be fine. I”m going to call you every single day and then, when I get back, we’ll have two beautiful little girls you love you just as much as I do.” “I know.” Devan huffed. “I just…” He went to say something and shook his head instead, looking at the ground. “It’ll be okay, Dev. Promise.” Collins urged before tipping the younger boy’s head up into a kiss, a small, short one before letting go and picking up his bags. Devan’s knees shook as he stood at the open door, one hand pressed against the old wood as he watched Collins’s back retreat in the direction of the elevators. “See you soon, Col.” “See you soon, Dev.”
10515342
DEPART ACT - NEW -
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Teyla Emmagan, Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Ronon Dex", "Fandom": "Stargate Atlantis", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by randommindtime", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-01T00:00:00", "words": "55", "Additional Tags": "Fanart, Detective AU, Team Portrait", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
FYI - These portraits are for a fanfic, Depart & Act, that I'm currently working on about the team in a 'Law & Order' style AU.  I hope to have it up sometime by the summer, so keep your eyes out for it!  Click on images for Hi-Res versions!Come follow me on Tumblr! www.randommindtime.tumblr.com
10590543
Things Better Left
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Peter Parker, Johnny Storm", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Nanaea", "chapters": "3/3", "completed": "2011-05-11", "published": "2008-09-16T00:00:00", "words": "1,000", "Additional Tags": "Bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Swearing, Mild Language, Anal Sex, Biting, Drabble Collection, Community: slashthedrabble, Prompt Fic, Dialogue Heavy, POV Third Person Limited, Topping from the Bottom, Makeup Sex", "Relationship": "Peter Parker/Johnny Storm", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
"Where are you going?" "Out." "Out where?" Johnny glared at Peter. "What are you, my parent?" "No. Of course not." Peter watched Johnny's fists clench. "I'm just ... I'm worried, that's all." "Well, don't be." "You wanna talk about it?" "No." "I really think we should –" "Stop, Pete. Please. Just ... stop." "I just don't understand why you have to be so stubborn about this," Peter sighed. "You're acting like a five year old." "Oh, so now I'm being childish?" "Well." Peter shrugged. "If the tights fit..." "I don't have to listen to this." Johnny opened the door. "See ya later, Pete." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Peter gazed down at Johnny. The blond was stretched across his bed, naked, webbing binding his wrists and ankles firmly to the corner posts. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his fingers around Johnny's stiff cock and stroke him until he begged Peter to fuck him, but he kept his hands to himself. "Pete, please...." Johnny's voice held a hint of desperate frustration. His hips came up off the mattress, begging Peter for the attention he craved. Tempting him with his body. His need. Peter ignored the plea. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed, but somehow he managed."You can't leave me like this," Johnny said, and he believed it. He believed that Peter would take pity on him, just like always. But things were different this time. Peter was determined to prove to Johnny once and for all that he was the one in control. Not Johnny."Yes, I can." Peter leaned over and brushed his lips against Johnny's. It never failed to amaze him how soft the man's lips were. Johnny groaned and Peter swallowed the sound, savoring the taste of his lover's desire. It filled him with a sense of power. And lust. He pulled away abruptly, before his resolve could melt in the intensity of their kiss. Then he turned and headed for door. "Pete...?" Johnny expected him to stop, or at least turn around, but he didn't. "Oh, for the love of ... Pete! Please," he said. "This isn't funny."Peter's hand reached for the door knob. "Wait!" Johnny yelled. Panic was creeping into his voice. "I'm sorry, all right?" He sighed. "I'm sorry."Peter stopped. He hadn't expected an apology from Johnny. He had hoped for one, of course, but he had never in his wildest dreams thought that he would actually receive one. He was stunned for moment, paralyzed with his hand on the knob, unable to turn it, yet unable to let it go."C'mon, Pete. Please?" Johnny begged. "It won't happen again. I swear."Peter turned around. "Promise?""Yeah," Johnny nodded. "Of course.""You're not just saying it because I've got you tied up?" "C'mon, Pete. You know me better than that."Peter smiled. "Yeah, I do," he said.Johnny watched him turn and leave. This time he didn't stop. "Damn it, Pete!" Johnny yelled. "I'll burn my way out! I swear I will!"The silence was deafening."Pete!" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Peter lay snuggled against Johnny's side, his tousle-haired head resting on Johnny's shoulder, one leg flung over his lover's thigh. His fingertips idled in the coarse hair around Johnny's navel, occasionally dipping down into the slight depression. Johnny squirmed at the sensation. “I knew you'd come back.” Never mind that it had taken a lot longer than he had expected. He knew Peter couldn't stay mad at him forever. “And I knew you'd still be here,” Peter retorted. His fingers moved lower, following the trail of hair downward. He felt the sudden tension in Johnny's body – the anticipation – and stopped, smiling to himself. Once he had walked around long enough to cool off, he had realized something: Johnny needed him. And if Johnny was sometimes thoughtless and selfish, well … it was better than being indifferent. “I had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” Johnny said. “And?” “And I get why you were mad, Pete. I do. And … I want to say that … I'm sorry if I treated you like my 'beck-and-call boy'.” He kissed the top of Peter's head. “It won't happen again. I pro-” Peter sat up and pressed a fingertip against Johnny's lips. “Don't make promises you can't keep.” Johnny looked at him, but Peter ignored the question in his blue eyes. Instead, he leaned in and kissed him, his tongue sliding between those velvet-soft lips to twine with Johnny's tongue while his hand reached down to fondle his cock. “I want this,” he whispered, tugging a bit for emphasis, “inside me. Now.” He was on his stomach a split-second later, the hot, hard length of Johnny's body covering his, pressing him into the mattress and creating a delicious sort of friction as Johnny worked his way inside of him and began to move. Small sounds of pleasure filled the air. Johnny's pace quickened, and Peter clutched at the sheets, biting his lower lip to keep from crying out. Sweat slicked their bodies, it's salty drip stinging his eyes, rolling down his back. Johnny's mouth was next to his ear, his warm breath and the scrape of his stubble sending shivers through Peter's body. “Oh god. Pete. You feel so fucking good,” Johnny kept up a litany of praises and obscenities, every word, every groan, adding to the pressure that was building up inside of him stroke by stroke. “So close.... God. So close.... I'm not gonna last.” “Harder,” Peter gasped. His hips were moving now, grinding himself into the bed, the added stimulation almost enough to make him come. Johnny trembled above him, his muscles shaking with the strain of holding out just a few seconds longer. “Fuck. C'mon, Pete. I can't.... I can't....” He shoved hard and deep, and Peter gasped. 'Almost there. Please,' Peter thought, and then he felt Johnny's teeth sink into his shoulder. His gasp turned into a strangled cry. His vision went white, his body jerking as that tiny bit of pain pushed him over the edge.~fin~
10520532
Zen Truesdale
{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": null, "Characters": "Yugioh Characters, children of characters - Character", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by NikDean11194", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "1,383", "Additional Tags": "LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Self-Acceptance, Self-Denial, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Discovery", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Yugioh Kids", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Yugioh, Yu-Gi-Oh! GX, 2nd gen - Fandom, OCs - Fandom", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
From the day I was born I always sorta resembled my Uncle more than either of my parents. I don't just mean physically either. I wasn't really a talkative or outgoing. I preferred to keep to myself and hated whenever it would storm. I did, however, stand up for my friends and was a pretty good duelist almost as soon as I could hold a deck. Everything changed when I was about 5 years old. My siblings were away with uncle Syrus but I'd been with Uncle Atticus and had just come home. I was only gonna be home for the day and then would be joining my siblings at Uncle Syrus' since Ma and Pa were going on a trip and they'd rather us be together.It didn't exactly go as planned, though. I was laying in bed when I heard a crash from downstairs. I climbed out of bed and over to the door. I couldn't tell what was going on but the sound of a gun going off was all I needed to know that I needed to hide. I went over to my closet and climbed in. Curling up behind some boxes that were there. I heard screaming and few gunshots before the loud slamming of something being thrown against a wall next to my head, causing me to jump and nearly scream but I manage to keep quite. It wasn't long before the door to my room was thrown open "Zen?" It was my dad and I went to stand but I heard someone else enter the room. "Zen...""Well looks like your boys still here. Too bad" I could hear the fight but it I just curl up further into the corner, some of the clothes above me falling on top of me to completely cover me.I can see out of the corner between the box in front of me and the wall. I hear something big and heavy hit the closet door and a groan from my father before a loud gunshot goes off. I couldn't hold in the whimper but I don't think the guy heard me as he just sorta left the room.  After a while, when I was sure the guy was gone, I stood and quietly made my way over to the door, in case the guy was still around. I stepped in a puddle of something sticky, but given the lack of light, I couldn't tell what at the time. I tried to push the door open but it wouldn't budge "Dad?" I called softly, hoping he wouldn't just leave me trapped in here.After a few moments of no answer I sit down next to the door, the whole floor was by the door was covered in that same sticky stuck. I stuck my finger into the strange liquid and brought it up closer to my face. I could vaguely make out the colour of deep red....JayJay's povI'm going to take over from here. Please remember these aren't good memories for Zen and this part of the story involves me anyway. Most of you will probably question Syrus' sanity when he let a four-year-old walk down the street alone but we lived five houses down from them and a lot of the people in the area were old friends. So I was now walking down the street towards their house. Originally I was supposed to be going with Syrus but Tyler wasn't well and needed someone to stay with him. So I had to walk alone. But someone he called to one of the family friends and who lived in view of both houses to watch me as I went.I was a little weirded out when I found the door standing open. I was rarely ever just open like that. I stepped inside, hesitant of course. I knew something was wrong. "Mr and Mrs Truesdale?" I called out. At first, I was met by silence before a faint whimper came from the children's room. The house opened into a slender hallway. The kitchen was to the right. Living room on the left. The parent's room was connected to the living room. The bathroom was in the far back, door open so I could see that no one was in there. The kid's room was right next to the bathroom. I hesitantly start making my way down farther into the house. I looked into the kitchen and could see splatters of blood on the far wall. The one that led to the dining room. I wasn't sure I should but I made my way towards the dining room doorway and crept in. I didn't get far before I found Mrs Truesdale. I didn't need to get close to tell she wasn't breathing. There was just so much blood.I ran from the room and down the hall towards the kid's room only to find Mr Truesdale in a similar position. He looked a bit worse for wear then she had and just as I was going to leave the room I heard a faint noise from the closet."Zen?" I asked, hesitant but slowly made my way closer to the door. "J?" His voice was faint. Even in the room, I felt like I could just barely hear him.As respectfully as I could I moved Mr Truesdale's body out of the way so I could open the closet.Zen was curled up in a ball, shaking frantically. I crouched down in front of him. "Zen, we need to get out of here," I say, gently placing my hands on his shoulders. "Zen?""Jordan?" He asks softly and looks up at me. "W-why?" "Don't worry about it right now. Right now we need to focus on getting out of the house, alright?" I was fighting to keep my voice stable but I knew it was best for Zen that I not panic.Zen nods slightly and slowly get to his feet. He was covered in blood but I kept it to myself. He looked out into the room before clinging to me. "Jordan...." "I'm sorry Zen. I know it's bad but staying here won't help. Let's go to the Hassleberry house, just a few houses down and get help" I say, gently rubbing his back. He nods and we slowly make our way out of the house and down the road to the Hassleberry home. Tyson already has the door open and his mother is on the phone with the police to let them know what happened. I kinda just sit in the entryway with Zen. At this point, we were both pretty covered in blood and we kinda agreed that we didn't want to track it everywhere. Plus it'd be easier to just watch out the doorway while we waited for the police to arrive. From that point, things went kinda how you'd expect them to. The cops showed up. Questioned Zen on what he saw, which didn't go over so well since he wouldn't talk to them without me present. Then they questioned me on what I saw. I explained it to them of corse. Making sure to tell them that I was worried for my friend and had to be sure he was okay before I could just leave. They also took my fingerprints, so they could distinguish the one's I'd left when I moved Mr Truesdale's body from any possible one's the killer may have left.After that Mrs Hassleberry started a bath for the two of us. We changed into some of Tyson's clothes. They were a bit big on us. Tyson may only be four like me but he was pretty talk and Zen was kinda on the shorter side. After that Mrs Hassleberry walked us home. Syrus had gotten into some trouble for allowing me to go alone but I kinda just lied and told them that he'd told me not to. I mean technically he sorta had told me not to originally but that changed when he got no answer from his brother. I just sort skipped over the part where he asked me to check on them and told them that I walked out on my own. Oh well. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger right?
10508337
To Surrender to You Only
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Erestor (Tolkien), Glorfindel (Tolkien)", "Fandom": "The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Zhie", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-31T00:00:00", "words": "2,062", "Additional Tags": "Bunniverse", "Relationship": "Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It was hinted at, now and then, but ignored and shoved aside. There was compromise in every relationship, Glorfindel had to remind himself each time the subject snuck into a midnight conversation. Part of him always felt guilty when he gently rejected the idea and changed the topic, but that was just part of who he was. If someone was unhappy, so was Glorfindel – and he was most unhappy when it was Erestor.It took a long time for him to gather the courage to bring up the subject on his own – ironic, considering how fearless he normally was. He had gone over it in his head many times; nightmares often followed. The details took years to work out, but he finally seemed to have come to a solution.“These are my terms,” he said quietly once he had Erestor’s full attention. They were sitting in the parlor, very late at night, and only after adjoining rooms had been checked for stragglers. It was a conversation meant to be kept private, but Glorfindel knew he would be too nervous if they spoke about it in the bedroom. He had gone over his speech there twice, but each time a single glance at the bed made him forget his train of thought, feel trapped, and force him to seek the outdoors. The parlor was much better, with the open doorway, large windows, and ample space between them as they sat on chairs opposite one another. “No rope. No leather. No blindfolds of any sort, which includes no darkness. I must be able to see you at all times.”“Of course, of course,” agreed Erestor after each sentence, nodding, trying to keep his enthusiasm hidden. “That does limit the possibilities, though I suppose—““Nothing metal,” continued Glorfindel, picking up on the thought. “No chains and no shackles. Nothing heavy and nothing hard, and nothing that resembles any of that.”“What should I use?” questioned Erestor.Glorfindel shrugged. “That is your task to figure out. You will have to find something light and soft and gentle that is not metal or hithlain or leather. In addition, no... implements of any kind.”Erestor looked a little confused. “What do you mean?”He had hoped not to have to actually talk about this part, but Glorfindel had to be certain that they completely understood one another. “No whips or belts or... or... any of that,” he settled on when he saw Erestor nod again. “Finally, there are to be two safe words. One for you to stop for a moment and give me time to relax, and another if I should need to call it off completely.”“I understand,” replied Erestor. “I suspect you have chosen these words already?”“I have. Do you accept my terms?”Erestor almost laughed at how serious Glorfindel was, but knowing how difficult it was for Glorfindel to agree to this, he solemnly nodded. Four nights later, following dinner and a walk on the beach, the pair stood before the door of their bedroom. “Do not be afraid to stop me at any time,” whispered Erestor as he pushed the door open.Glorfindel nodded and stepped into the room, dimly lit by a single candle that was soon used to light the others that were spread over the surface of the vanity table and the armoire. As Erestor finished the task of illuminating the room in the soft glow of candlelight, Glorfindel crouched down at the foot of the bed so he could examine what had already been tied to each of the posts of the canopy.A length of silken ribbon, half the width of his hand, was draped over each corner. It looked pink or violet – it was difficult to tell in the dim light. As he stood, he felt Erestor standing behind him, and a pair of hands rested upon his shoulders and began to massage the tension from them. “Would you prefer something else?”“I think it... might work,” mumbled Glorfindel, his mind numbed as it all sunk in. This thing, that he declared he would never do, was about to be done. It made him shiver all the more as his clothing was stripped from his body, and in their wake, needful kisses on bare skin.They tumbled onto the bed when those delicious and delightful lips forced his to kiss back. Glorfindel forgot about their intended purpose that evening and tugged Erestor’s shirt off, hands now too busy to worry about the rest as they tangled into midnight tresses.When Erestor tried to gently turn him onto his stomach, Glorfindel shoved him away. “I need to be facing you,” he reminded him warningly. Erestor nodded, caught in the moment, and remembered himself. A kiss of reassurance followed, and then Erestor rose up, knelt between Glorfindel’s legs, and ran a hand down his lover’s smooth, heaving chest before lowering himself back toward the foot of the bed, and Glorfindel’s feet.Glorfindel breathed deeply, nostrils filling with the sweet smell of lavender from the burning candles. He felt one of his feet lifted up, and left to rest on Erestor’s thigh as the end of the ribbon enrobed his ankle. As the end was threaded through again and tightened, Glorfindel opened his mouth, about to use one of the predetermined words.But which one? He reflected upon this as Erestor moved to his other foot, and slowly repeated the steps he had on the other. Glorfindel’s gut feeling was to call off the entire thing, but then, he would feel terrible for having made Erestor think they were going to do this. On the other hand, he doubted there would be much pleasure in it for either of them if they got too far along before the decision was made.On the other hand – though Glorfindel’s mind was swimming too fast to realize he had actually run out of other hands at this point – everything he had demanded was given to him. The room was adequately lit, the door was closed, there was not a sign anywhere of any object that might distress him. The ribbon was comfortable; he barely noticed it, to be honest. Most importantly, Erestor, whom he trusted more than anyone else, was here and would allow no harm to come to him.“Are you alright?”Glorfindel looked up and nodded, and found he had been trembling. “Just a little nervous,” he readily admitted as Erestor lifted one of his hands from where it rested upon the bed sheet. “Always like that the first time,” he added somewhat jokingly.Erestor held Glorfindel’s hand with both of his own, and for a moment, Glorfindel wondered if the concerned expression he saw looking back at him was a split second away from calling it off. Indeed, it would be easier if Erestor was the one to, because Glorfindel would not feel so much a failure. It was unlikely, he knew as Erestor lifted his hand and tenderly kissed it before reaching for the length of ribbon tied to the nearest post. They had the words, and Erestor had sworn to stop upon hearing them, and only upon hearing them.For some reason, Glorfindel felt greater anxiety when his first wrist was bound, his limb stretched out and useless to him. He gave an imperceptible tug at it when Erestor walked around to the other side of the bed, and panic set in when his lone free arm was suddenly taken hold of by Erestor. The movements were slow and gentle, but in Glorfindel’s mind, it was happening too fast now – so fast, he could not recall the words, nothing, it was all a blank, only the fear and the panic and the—“Stop!” he cried out as the final knot was tied that would immobilize him. “Erestor, please, stop, let me go – Erestor, I cannot remember them – I have forgotten the words, Erestor, please!” He broke down, labored sobs tormenting him as Erestor quickly worked the knot loose and unwrapped the second wrist he had bound. Before he could move to the other side, Glorfindel was already hurriedly untying it himself, and he dropped back down against the pillows when his other arm was freed. “Sorry, I... I thought I would do better than that,” he shamefully apologized. A moment later, he was pulled up into his lover’s arms, held until his tears could be wiped away. “Sorry,” he muttered one final time.“Glorfindel, I should apologize, not you. I could feel your unrest, and yet I kept going thinking to help you overcome this. It was wrong of me.” He rubbed Glorfindel’s back until the blond was relaxed again. “Let me untie your feet and then we can sleep and forget about all of this.”While Erestor sat down at the foot of the bed and began to work on loosening the ribbon (which was tightly knotted up now due to the struggle Glorfindel had put up), Glorfindel sat up and watched with a frown on his face. “Part of me really wanted to do this for you,” he admitted. He received a sad yet appreciative smile in return. “I mean, you really seem to get excited by this sort of stuff.”“It is just the whole... trust and dominance thing,” Erestor explained. He made it sound as if it hardly mattered, but Glorfindel knew better from the sound of Erestor’s voice. “It makes no difference, really, I know you trust me, and there are other ways you let me dominate you.” He looked up and smiled not-so-innocently before returning to his task.“Do I actually have to be tied up for it to work?” questioned Glorfindel.“What do you mean?”“Well... wait a moment before you undo all of that.” Glorfindel lay back down again and grasped the discarded restraints. He held onto them and twisted his arms so that they wound around until tight. Knowing that he had the power to let go of them, and that they would unravel and leave him unrestrained, put his mind at ease. “What about this?”Erestor sat up a little and looked down the length of the bed, spying Glorfindel’s arms. “Works for me,” he said, enticed even more by the way the ribbon crisscrossed back and forth, his mind already coming up with other ways of incorporating the idea. He ran his hands up Glorfindel’s thighs and asked, “Do you recall the safe words now, should you need them?”“No,” Glorfindel sheepishly admitted, “though I doubt I shall have need of them now. I trust you,” he added before Erestor could object.In the years they had been together, much experimentation had taken place. Erestor’s first attempts at oral stimulation had been neophytic. The same could not be said now as he bowed his head and drew the head of Glorfindel’s penis into his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked on it several minutes while Glorfindel panted and attempted unsuccessfully to thrust up into the slick warmth.Normally Erestor avoided taking the rest of the length this way, opting to lick from base to head, but this time he felt he owed it to his lover to make the same amount of effort he had. It only seemed right considering the circumstances he decided as he relaxed his throat and lowered his head until his lips brushed the base of his lover’s erection.As for Glorfindel, he had more or less forgotten that, for all intents and purposes, he was tied to the bed. He trembled as he had before, but now the tremors came as he did. His breathing was erratic as every last bit was swallowed. Erestor licked him clean for good measure before crawling up to lie down beside him. “You never did that before,” panted Glorfindel as he slid his arms down to embrace his lover, the ribbons left to wander across the sheets.“You never did this before,” countered Erestor, his erection pressed against Glorfindel’s thigh. “I think you at least deserved that.”“What about you?” Glorfindel asked as he reached down to fondle the hardened muscle.“Turnabout is fair play,” responded Erestor. He rose up and held his hands out to Glorfindel, wrists pressed together, fingers curled inward in submission. “I surrender to you... master,” he added, bowing his head.Glorfindel hurried to untie the ribbons from his ankles.
10522923
Signal 99
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Beverly Katz, Jimmy Price, Brian Zeller, Bedelia Du Maurier, Alana Bloom, Mason Verger, Will Graham's Dogs, Jack Crawford", "Fandom": "Hannibal (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by feastingwithpanthers", "chapters": "1/4", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "8,655", "Additional Tags": "alternative universe", "Relationship": "Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "M/M, Multi", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It’s been twenty-two weeks.There’s a flat call to attention followed by a unison of feet. Right face is ordered. The room is heavy, made up of a divide of recycled Sunday’s best and business-ware and pressed uniforms and inexpression. March. The commands are for the audience; they’d practiced this a dozen times.It’s been twenty-two weeks.And today is graduation.Baltimore City wasn’t the intended destination, but jobs are difficult in this profession and Will was lucky to have landed the position. Or so he was told. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to be when he grew up but the fire department was where stood today. And today was the day, the culmination of twenty-two weeks of academy, in house training. Twenty-two weeks of learning ‘the greatest job in the world’ and Will was just as unsure of it now as he was when he was accepted.They were lined up in perfect straight lines, poised by the small stairway. Quiet, reserved. Ready. Rollcall was the last thing connecting them to recruit status.“Firefighter/paramedic, William Graham." There was muffled applause, polite, but to Will it just sounded like pity.The chief of the department, city mayor and other select members of the department created their own small line up on the auditorium stage. It was his turn. Will ascended the stairs, standing face-to-face with the most important member of the department: the chief. Older, like they always are, his age was masked by a strong handshake that Will had difficulty reciprocating. ‘Congratulations,’ quiet, genuine, and Will stood still with eyes averted as if he was pinned. This was the defining point; the transition to the rest of forever, or at least as far as the department is concerned.Will continued down the line, shaking more hands and avoiding more eye contact until time for descent from the stage and away from all of this.----“Alright, everyone. I know you all want to get out of here, but make sure you check the list posted in the hallway for your assignments. Some of you report tomorrow.”“Yes, sir.” Replied, in unison.The rest of the graduation was to be expected. Speeches and commendations and pomp and grandeur. Now all that was left was dressing down, or at least out of the suits they were required to wear. ‘Class A’s’ they were called, uniform dark navy suits adorned with the department badge on the shoulder and pins on the collar discerning rank.Will slid out of the heavy wool jacket and carefully folded it onto the back of a chair. The men were occupying one of the classrooms they had previously learned in, now transformed into makeshift fitting rooms.Everything was changing.“Did you see where they sent you, Graham?”‘This is the paramilitary,’ they were told. Formalities. Last names.Will shook his head. It was Mason Verger. He was generally ill-received by the rest of the class, staff included. It was a surprise to them all when he made it to the end. He was filed in Will’s folder of people to avoid more so than normal.Mason regarded him curiously, his expression contorting gleefully. He smirked. Mason’s smile was something Will be happy enough to never see again.“Engine 59. Real shit hole, enjoy.”                Will wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He wasn’t local, or even too familiar with the city in general, but he was aware there were good and there were bad parts of town.It didn’t really matter.Will shrugged him off, returning to dressing down.The room was alive with back-and-forths, with ‘I’m so glad to be finally being done with this fucking place’ and where the after party was going to be. Will undid his tie, draped it over his coat, changed out of the shiny formal shows in exchange for work boots. Everything placed orderly and neat.Everyone had multiple bags. They had to clean out their lockers, take home any remaining uniforms and personal items and their gear. Everyone got a full set of firefighting attire, ‘turn out gear; they were told to call it, and they were told to care for it like their life depending on it. Because it did. Will managed to consolidate everything to just a backpack and he was left with that and the large, department-issue duffel bag. ‘Where ever you go, your bag goes’ they told them in academy, accountability. ‘If you can’t keep track of your equipment, how are you supposed to keep track of each other?’The bag was heavy, fifty odd pounds of equipment packed inside it. Emblazoned on the side below the ‘BCFD’ insignia was Will’s employee number. He let his fingers slide along each digit.Ready, he gathered his things and made a turn out to check on his assignment. The women of the academy, a very small handful, dressed in the room across the hall. Beverly Katz was one of the few standing by the list. She regarded Will warmly.Will decided early on she was alright.“Engine 59, huh?” She asked, still dressed in full uniform, hair tied back. Must be true. Will turned, found his name and sure enough they were right.“I report tomorrow.” Will realized, seeing the date for his first shift in.Beverly’s eyes were kind and she placed a hand on Will’s upper arm, gave a soft touch. “That’s rough. Are you excited?”Will answered in a shrug. He still wasn’t sure about anything besides wanting to get back home to prepare for tomorrow. He took a step back to disengage from the conversation and the contact, but Beverly persisted.“Was your family able to make it?”And there it was.Will shook his head and looked past her and her change of expression. The urge to extricate became overwhelming. She started to say something else, most likely an apology, but Will excused himself politely, saying he really had to go.He didn’t want her apology. He didn’t need their pity.If the graduation wasn’t required, he most likely wouldn’t have come. There was a sea of people clustered in that hot auditorium and not a single one was there for him. He spent twenty-two weeks with Verger and Katz and everyone else; he didn’t need a graduation. Graduation is for people involved vicariously. And he just didn’t have that.He made his peace with it a long time ago.Once finally outside, he placed both bags in the trunk of his car, struggling to get them to both fit. Will then slid into the driver’s seat, wondering just what he was getting into this time.Now or never, he reasoned, looking down at the time. It was nearing five thirty and although not the most opportune time to hit the road, he really had to get going. Will sighed, readying for the hour drive back to Virginia, readying to be thrown to the wolves at a station with a reputation and a new group of people he wasn’t sure he wanted to meet.----Morning relief is at six AM, that means Will’s alarm goes off at four.It’s complete darkness until he turns on the tableside light on his night stand and even then, it illuminates just enough so he can see in front of his face. The farm house is quiet and it isn’t until he sets both feet on the floor that he hears a faint rustle in the sheets, reminding him he isn’t alone. “Good morning to you too.” Will says softly, face all the sudden full of hair and kisses.Winston is always first for greetings, despite being the most recent addition, then the other six take their turns. It’s all hopping paws and erratic tails and Will wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.The rest of the morning becomes routine; shower, forever tired eyes looking back in the fogged-up bathroom mirror. Small breakfast at his even smaller kitchen table, newspaper page flipping in the background. Will has a decided order for most things in his life and there’s comfort in its sequence, something picked up in academy.  ‘So is it an OCD thing or are you like, full retard?’ Will didn’t remember who said it exactly, but it was someone aligned with Verger and it was during ladder deployment drills. Will had his prescribed order for picking up the steel frame ladder from the ground and getting it to his shoulder for positioning. Sometimes he said things out loud to himself so he was hardly surprised when someone took notice.   Hazing wasn’t entirely new to Will and honestly the comment didn’t rub him enough in any way to seep under his skin, but he was a good bit older than most of the other recruits. And his quiet demeanor only masked his waning tolerance so much. ‘It’s more an Asperger thing.’ The honesty of his response took the other recruit off guard, both hands now raised palm forward to Will in hopes of discontinuance. Belatedly, the instructor took notice and redirected their attention. Will stepped back and began to break from the group a little more and more. Will catches himself at the table and presses his palms along the front of his shirt, smoothing out any invisible wrinkles. He checks his watch.“Ok, guys, outside. I gotta go.”The pack perks up, toenails on the old tile floor sounding like tiny tap shoes. Will holds open the screen door to the fenceless yard and the group runs out, making a direct line to the lone tree in front of the house. Looking out, there’s nothing for miles and Will wouldn’t trade that either. It’s a marked departure from the urban jungle of Baltimore so it’s almost funny that’s where he ended up.Luck of the draw.Will wrangles everyone back inside, makes sure there is ample food and water before saying seven individual good byes.He checks his watch, gathers his things, and estimates if he leaves now, he should have at least an hour of quiet time in his car before he has to officially report.----The quarters of Engine 59 were nestled off a main thoroughfare in central Baltimore City, sandwiched between what Captain Jack Crawford described as a ‘dilapidated crack-house’ and an abandoned Sunoco station.Will understood what Verger and Katz meant; it was a shit hole.“A shadow of its former glory, but it gets the job done.” Jack continued, giving Will a quick tour. His hand pounded on the masonry of the wall. The outside of station was sad, if Will had to describe it. Old brick in disrepair, moldings and other adornments worn from the weather. Broken down. Captain Jack Crawford, or just Jack as he explained to Will on introduction, was well respected within the department. He’d invested some twenty plus years to fighting fire and seemed like he enjoyed every bit of it. Will found him hard not to gravitate toward, his energy commendable.Will decided to disregard appearances and wandering if perhaps he was secretly lucky.“You’re on my shift, C shift.” Jack’s voice was commanding, but even, like somebody’s dad. Will wondered if he had any children of his own, besides the guys on the fire truck. “You made the mistake of getting your medic, so you’ll spend your probation split between the ambulance and the engine.”Across the street from the station stood a daunting line of rowhouses, stoops cracked, detached from the rest of the house. Windows blacked out. These were people’s houses and there were children playing in the street.They made their way inside, passing under one of the two open bay doors that separated them from the outside. Brick and sheet metal.The interior wasn’t much better; the engine and accompanying ambulance taking over most of the floor space, red and white and awaiting their next run. Parts of the ceiling hung down, exposing scaffolding and electrical wiring. The tiling that made up the floor was pulled up in places, crudely drawn circles outlining ‘trip hazards’. Behind the bays, where the apparatus parked, was an old set of couches with a TV. Beyond that was a washer and dryer and spiral stair case.Jack brushed past Will, telling him everyone else was upstairs in the kitchen and TV room, “Come on.”This place was the real deal, inner city department house. Old and probably littered with asbestos and even equipped with functioning fire poles. Will figured if he was going to do it, he might as well get the full experience.He followed Jack up the staircase which led into a small room, then the kitchen.  More people, more introductions.“Alright everyone, this is Will Graham. Let’s make him feel at home, alright?”Will felt small standing beside Jack. Not so much physically, although that was true, and not in a way that made him feel less than. Will felt like he had some impressing to do. He felt enabled, empowered. Comforted.He felt lucky.----The duration of the shift proceeded without incidence.Jack was a strategic leader who commanded his platoon well, Will fitting in surprisingly better than he could have imagined. It was a busy, lights and sirens back and forth across the city. Every time they managed to back into the station, the bells for would sound for another call. It was almost pointless. The runs varied but at the same time began to bleed together. Carbon monoxide alarms, medical calls, car accidents and more medicals. The engine was an extension of the ambulance, Jack explained. The call volume was so high, that in order to offset the wait time for ambulances, they’d send an engine to initiate care until a medic unit could arrive.Some of the guys weren’t pleased about it, ‘salty’ they called it. But it was part of the job. Those calls fell on Will’s shoulders as a paramedic, the only one on the engine. ‘There are levels, ma’am.’ Jack explained earlier to a woman who called 911. Abdominal pain. ‘It’s like doctors versus nurses. We’re the nurses and he’s the doctor; he can do more than us.’ He pointed to Will. One IV and vital signs later, Will was passing along report to the ambulance that had finally come to take her away. They ran all night, barely an hour of sleep between the four of them comprising the engine crew. Will had apparently displaced some other guy to a different fire house. Jack wasn’t bothered, informing him at some point that night, ‘He was a shit bag anyway,’ before patting him on the back.Jack sat up front in the engine, the officer they called it. He navigated and was on the radios with dispatch, the connection point between their unit and the rest of the city. Will was the fourth on the engine, of their ‘platoon’. He sat in the back, his responsibility being the lineman. Jack explained it best: ‘You get the hose off the engine and into the fire.’There was a creep of nervousness at the responsibility in the back of Will’s head, but it never came into fruition. There were no fires. Will wondered if perhaps he really was lucky. He was, however, relieved when six AM finally happened, when it was time for shift change. Will had fallen asleep sitting upright at the kitchen table, waiting for the next run that somehow never came. Jack on the other hand was up and awake, changed into a clean T shirt and jeans.If jack was fatigued, he didn’t show it.Jack explained to Will morning routines, that you gave a brief report to the oncoming shift about anything important from the day before. Damaged equipment, injuries, etc., etc. Will could do without the interaction, but would it tolerable with Jack’s assistance.After giving a quick and awkward report, Will set out to see if Jack had anything else for him. Being the captain, Jack had his own room, separate from the rest of the crew.Will gave a strong knock to the door. Jack beckoned Will inside.Jack’s office was small but neatly kept. A desk, shelf and empty bunk made up its contents. There were trophies and pictures framed on the walls. Lots of staged portraits with Jack and other members in the department. Pictures of Jack and a good-looking woman. No children, Will noted, but it appeared Jack was at least married, despite the absence of a wedding ring. It could have been questionable but Will felt he knew better of Jack. He had seen it before. Lots of guys didn’t wear them, degloving hazards. Guys getting their fingers and hands mangled, caught in machinery.“Yes sir?” Came Will cautiously, a strange worry of disappointment sitting in the bottom of his stomach.Looking upright from some official looking paperwork, Jack regarded him momentarily from his desk, as if testing to see if Will would crack at the wait. When he didn’t, Jack shook his head, offering a smile. “You did well, keep it up.”Unexpected.Will blinked then nodded, fumbling a, “Yes sir, thank you.”Jack held him a second longer before releasing him, allowing Will to slip out of his office to prepare to leave for the day. Will lingered outside his door once safely outside, feeling an unfamiliar sense of accomplishment in the aftermath. Maybe this was good for him.He shuffled his anxieties in the back of his mind, returning downstairs to finish putting away his gear. Wrangling up his equipment, everything accounted for, he put his things in his appointed locker. Jack had shown him earlier, their lockers next to each other. Will clicked the lock shut in the handle, ‘Graham, Will’ written on a strip of masking tape dead center of the locker.Like everyone else’s.It almost made him smile.He finished rounding up his personal items, not many, a rucksack with toiletries and other essentials for extended away-from-home-living when he decided himself ready enough for the ride back. Besides Jack still upstairs, the new crew was on board and unfamiliar. Will was halfway out the door when one of the other guys called out to him, “You didn’t think you were gonna get out of here with an Irish goodbye like that, did ya?”Will wasn’t sure how to react, something of an uneasy laugh escaping him. That was his M.O., his preferred exit strategy. He waved it off, placating the other man with a small apology with a goodbye before excusing himself to his car. He was embarrassed, replaying the interaction in the safety of his vehicle.All the pride from Jack’s words receded from the focus of his consciousness until he was left with feelings he wasn’t ready to combat. He sighed, gripping the steering wheel after turning on the ignition.This was going to be good for him.----The decision to move to Wolf Trap wasn’t one grounded in careful thought; it just kind of happened.The house was cheap and secluded, plenty of land and plenty of space. Will met the realtor for coffee, he remembered, the first time he was shown the house. ‘Now I have to warn you…’ the realtor told him at least a dozen times, apologizing for the state of the property, rattling off all the pros and cons it had to offer.When they finally pulled in, the realtor turned to him, flashing a remorseful smile before heading it. It was small and it was old. The realtor continued being apologetic, repeating how it was a ‘hidden gem’ with a ‘generous plot’, shuffling Will around from room to room.Will didn’t pay him much attention, happy enough with the tiny house.He put an offer in then and there.The rest was history and the next link in his timeline of travels. He rented previously, traversing from the south to the Midwest before ending up in Virginia. There wasn’t anything or anyone that caused him to drop anchor, but after the turn of events of getting picked up in Baltimore, he had to wonder if it had been predestined.Then came the dogs.The story between the seven of them was relatively the same; strays. Each one was found wandering somewhere nearby, Will unable to leave them on their own. In his previous lives, he never stayed put long enough for any sustainable relationships, which he rationalized taking on the group as making up for lost time.There was Heidee and Buster and then before he knew it, Will had six but Winston was lonely wandering down the road one night so he settled on seven. And it’s been them versus everything ever since.Besides the pack, there wasn’t much furnishing the farm house. Inside the modest two-story rancher was little more than bare bones living. Bed, dresser, couch, kitchen table with two chairs. Any furniture he had served some utility, there was little need for anything more. He had a TV but never bothered with cable but did manage to sign on for internet and had a decent enough computer.Which reminded him.Freshly showered, uniform pressed, Will sat on the edge of the bed, powering on his laptop. As it loaded, there was a crescendo of an unfamiliar sound; his cell phone ringing. Winston’s ears perked up like satellite dishes.Will grabbed his phone from the small night stand by his bed, swiped the touch screen and pressed the phone to his ear.“Hey, you up?” It was Beverly. Normally the inanity of the question would be frustrating, but from her it was tolerable.“Yeah.” Easy enough.He settled on top the bed again, Winston quick to jump up and join him, walking himself into a circle before settling down. Will’s hand found his way to ruffle Winston’s head, earning him a trusting and tired yawn.“How was it?”Picking his words at just how to answer; he still wasn’t entirely sure. Trying, “It was good. I think it’s a good house. Good crew.”She seemed satisfied enough, a small laugh echoing through the phone line. “That’s… good. You’re pretty much in the thick of things…” She trailed off, Will leaning back in bed. There was normally a purpose to Beverly’s conversations and she very seldom disappointed.“Ok, I know it’s late but hear me out really quick.” Will instinctively readied to get out of whatever Beverly was going to try to involve him in. “…But a bunch of our class that’s off is going to try to meet up to celebrate this Friday. I checked the schedule so I know you’re off.”“I don’t-“ Will started, but Beverly was too quick.“Whatever you can do. At least give it a day’s thought before you flat out say no.” No one could say she wasn’t tenacious.Will paused, thought about it, unable to formulate a good enough excuse.“Ok.”Pleased, Beverly was true to her word and not one to pursue purposeless small talk. She wished him a good night and reminded him about the weekend before getting off the line. Will made sure to plug his phone in for the night, returning it to the nightstand tabletop. His mind switching tracks, he went back to the laptop which was fully powered on now, starting up his email.Like the house, Will’s inbox was equally empty. Save for some undeleted spam, an online catalogue from Bass Pro Shop and a few other correspondents, it was mostly void. Clicking on his contacts, Will started a new email. He added a couple lines of text, attaching a picture from graduation. In it was the entire class, posed, standing outside on the entry steps to the old academy building. And there was Will, front and center and easy to identify. A cutout from the newspaper someone uploaded online, Will found himself nursing the tiniest sense of pride.Encouraged, he clicked ‘send’.Out of habit, Will scrolled over to the sent folder, opening it up. Winston was asleep now, Will careful not to wake him.There was a line of messages directed to a particular address, all clearly sent, time stamped and dated. Disappointment. Sometimes he wasn’t sure why he checked; his messages always unanswered.Consistency, maybe. He didn’t know. Will gave it another look over, the most recent title line clear as day: ‘I graduated, dad.’----Will’s day off came and went, soon finding himself in the early hours of the morning on the Capital Beltway to Baltimore. He knew the traffic patterns well enough to avoid the majority of commuter congestion, preferring to arrive earlier anyway.It wasn’t surprising that Jack was already there.“Good morning.” Jack offered, gesturing to a fresh pot of coffee on the kitchen counter. Will accepted, allowing Jack to pour him some in a department-issue mug.“You’re all the way out in Viriginia, right?”Will nodded, hesitant to take a seat. There was work to be done.Jack made a whistling noise, laughing. “More power to you, Graham. I hope you’re well rested for the day,” Jack gestured to another man sitting at the table. He was older and Will didn’t recognize him from the previous. “Today you’ll be working on your paramedic rotation with Price and Zeller.”As if on cue, the older man stood, reaching out to shake Will’s hand.“Will, right?” He asked, causing Will to nod. “Jimmy Price, I’m the senior medic. Brian is somewhere, probably checking out the rig.” Jimmy explained. There was a kindness to him that was calming, trustworthy. When Jimmy said it was time to go find Brian, Will followed, coffee in hand, the two heading down the stairs to the unit.Sure enough, as they descended the stairs the sounds of someone hard at work were audible. So was swearing. The rear doors to ambulance were wide open, a cardboard box thrown out in a fit as the two approached.“No one every restocks anything here, I don’t understand what they do all day.” It must have been Zeller.“Brian, we have a third today.” Jimmy called, voice singsong, sticking his head in the door. There was a small shuffling before Brian peeked out. He eyed up Will, the aforementioned ‘third’, the ride along.“You a medic?”Again, Will nodded.Brian sighed, turning to glance over at Jimmy with what could best be described as humor dashed with exasperation. “He has no idea does he?”Jimmy shook his head, laughing. “None.”----Will was quick to learn, but in Baltimore the call volume was quicker.By the afternoon, they’d taken at least five people to the hospital, each with various questionable ailments. ‘That’s just Medic 59 for you’ Jimmy had said, the name for the ambulance. As for the calls they ran, there was a ‘my stomach hurts’, a ‘leg pain’ and a young lady who didn’t have much of a complaint at all, ‘just wanted to get checked out.’ It was a departure from the life-saving extravagance produced by Hollywood. Brian said they were a tax-funded Uber.“It gets to you after a while,” Jimmy started, cleaning off the cot at the hospital after offloading a patient, “But it’s gotta be done. You just can’t let it make you bitter.” Jimmy made a shy gesture over to Brian who at this point was hunched over, typing away on the department computer. They had to write a report per patient, one of the more tedious aspects of the job. Brian’s brow was furrowed and he just looked miserable.Will’s interactions with Zeller had been mostly short, in stark contrast to Jimmy, who was anything but. Jimmy wasn’t married, no kids and loved his job. He also had been a paramedic for over twelve years and really liked cats, Will learned. He was easy enough to talk to and spent a lot of time showing Will the swing of things. How to use the cot, how to get an IV, how to prepare a bag of IV fluid, how to draw up medication. There was a love for teaching Jimmy conveyed, which for the new paramedic Will was, he found himself drawn to.It wasn’t the same as how it was with Jack, but Will still counted it as a notch in his favor.Continuing on, they had decided to split up the shift. For the first twelve hours, Jimmy drove, Will up front, Brian in the back. When six PM happened, they were clearing the hospital and returning to service. Brian switched, sat in the driver’s seat while Jimmy transitioned to the back. Will got on the mobile radio, telling dispatch they were back in service.“Ok, Medic 59. We got a run for you.” Dispatch advised, earning a grunt of annoyance from Brian. In the front of the ambulance, mounted to the front control panel was a computer, ‘the CAD.’ Jimmy told Will he remembered working when they didn’t have them, relying solely on listening to radios. When the call finalized, the computer alerted, displaying information for the new incident.“Of course.” Brian, sarcastic.Will read over the address, Brian saying he knew where it was. Skipping down, Will glanced over the posted information. “Says unknown injury, police on scene. Domestic dispute.” Will had to put on his glasses on to read the smaller font of the computer screen, squinting to make it all out. “Stage for police.”Jimmy explained the fire department’s relationship with police, saying it wasn’t uncommon to end up waiting in the unit until the police arrived to go into scenes. For safety, Jimmy said. Sometimes it wasn’t uncommon to wait until Police said it was OK.“Hopefully we’ll be canceled.” Brian, quiet. Hopeful.Will tapped the button for ‘responding’ on the computer, letting dispatch know they were coming. Baltimore was interesting in its composition. There were parts of the city that were immaculately kept, brand new structures and pristine streets. These were the ‘ritzy’ areas, foot police stationed every other block, kept picturesque for tourists. Juxtaposed to these spaces, however, were people’s homes that weren’t as maintained. Broken down row homes, boarded up but still occupied. Projects. Trash in the gutters and people crowded at bus stops. Jimmy said it best: ‘It doesn’t matter; we’re here for whoever calls.’The address they were responding to, lights and siren, was in the nicer part of town. Buildings whipped by, the sky darkening with the onset of nightfall, Brian precise and measured in his driving. Will removed his glasses, putting them away and slipping on gloves. He pulled out a pair for Brian, leaving them on top the box they had thrown on the dash.“Should be just around the corner.” Brian mumbled, rounding through the intersection after getting the right of way. They turned into a well-to-do residential area. Nice rowhomes with rooftop decks, tiny little lawns. Brian cut the sirens, there must have been at least four police cars parked.Brian did a size-up, “Maybe a drug bust or something.”Then there was the unmistakable sound of gunfire, loud and unexpected. A few houses down, through one of the windows, Will thought he saw flashing. Crosschecking, its address numbers matched the ones that they were dispatched. Brian tensed and Jimmy said something, but Will didn’t hear it.Silence stretched. Brian put the unit in park and got on the gloves Will had set him aside. Sure enough, an officer came out of the door where Will thought he saw gunfire. He waved one of his arms, yelling something.“Hey!” There was a pounding at Will’s door, an officer. Will hadn’t even seen the cop come up. He rolled down the window. “We need you guys in there.”Will turned to look at Brian and he couldn’t imagine what his expression must have read. Brian remembered what it was like to be new, told him to go.Exiting the vehicle, Brian got on the radio, saying something to dispatch about needing more manpower. Jimmy climbed out of the back, met Will at the side of the unit to grab the essentials: an over-the-shoulder ‘fix-all’ bag and another for oxygen. Jimmy started to tell Will to be ready, an obvious gunshot trauma waiting inside. ‘Control the bleeding’. Will stayed quiet.“Medics!” Someone yelled, an officer, from the doorway to the dwelling. This time with more urgency.Will reacted faster than Brian and Jimmy, hoisting the heavy aid bag over his shoulder and heading in. He heard the other two follow suit, grabbing the rest of their equipment before following the sounds of the police inside. He ended up in what appeared to be the kitchen, clean and put together and unassuming.That’s when Will stopped.They tell you over and over again, ‘whatever you do, do something.’ But Will froze.Standing in the entrance way of the open kitchen, Will saw him. He was wedged into the corner on the floor, held up by the cabinets, dead. An older man, older than Will, shot up, blood everywhere. Time slowed down, Will’s heart beat was thumping loud in his head. The police were shouting something but it all felt like slow motion. Purely reactionary, he felt himself look over, eyes shifting to other corner of the room.That’s when he regained motor function and let the bag fall to the ground. All ready gloved-up, Will dropped to a crawl, kneeing in blood, her blood. Another victim, this one still very much alive.Young girl, sixteen or seventeen, bleeding out from her neck, crumpling on floor. Will clamped his hand on her throat as tight as he could, making out someone telling him, ‘he slit her throat before we put him down.’Will tried to quantify the blood loss, unable to do so, instead held tighter.“Is my dad dead?” Will heard her say, eyes unsteady. Will knew better than to respond, the pieces of the puzzle coming together. He was surprised how intelligible and aware she was, given the situation, given the blood loss. Then came the noises. She started gasping and heaving, blood bubbling into her trachea and coughing out her mouth.In what felt like forever, Brian and Jimmy bounded in. Jimmy immediately dove into the aid bag, retrieving large trauma dressings, passing them to Will to pad against her neck. Brian was on the radio, telling the engine crew who just arrived to get a backboard and the stretcher ready at the door, that they were bringing out a live one. Out the corner of his eye, Will saw Brian crouch by the man’s body, performing a carotid pulse check then reading off the time from his watch.Brian pronounced him dead.“Let’s get her to the rig, now.” Jimmy ordered, all hints of personality dried from his voice.Will agreed silently. She was small enough Brian and Jimmy were able to lift her, coming up under her shoulders and the other grabbing her legs. Will stayed at her side, stationed with the responsibility of damage control on her neck.“Move.”Will did his best to obstruct her vision, forcing her to keep her eyes on him and not her father in the corner. She was young, too young. The trauma dressings had swelled with blood and some was leaking out from under his hand, dripping down his wrist. He could feel her pulses weaken, his increasing. Someone from the engine company was holding open the door as they crossed out of the house, the stretcher waiting with a backboard on top. The backboard was precautionary, Jimmy told him earlier, in case she went into cardiac arrest. It was for better traction when performing CPR.Will pressed harder into her neck.Cohesively, they got her secured on the stretcher and into the ambulance in no time flat, the ambulance doors shutting behind them as they climbed in the back. “One of the other guys will drive,” Jimmy said quickly, placing an IV in her arm. Sure enough, the driver side door of the ambulance opened and closed, and someone shouted back, “Hopkins?”The closest hospital.Jimmy gave an affirmative, getting an IV in her other arm. Protocol. More blood loss, more IVs. Brian had two bags of fluid flushed and ready, attaching them to the IVs in her arms. Fluid replacement. Will felt completely useless, crouching by her side, adding new insulation to her neck for makeshift pressure dressings.As if sensing his discomfort, Jimmy confirmed, “You’re doing everything you need to,” pause, “Ok, we’re ready, hit it.”“Got it,” Whoever up front responded, flipping the switch for the sirens and pulling out into the street. Will grabbed onto the stretcher at the sudden change in motion, knocking into her, making her gasp.“I’m sorry.” Will whispered, using his free hand to push some hair out of her face. She looked back at him, weakening, struggling to maintain eye contact. Will struggled too, but not because of the blood loss.He felt guilty.“What’s your name?” He asked, fighting for audibility over the sirens.“Abigail.”He felt responsible.The monitor beeped to life as Brian turned it on, the default display screen flashing on. Will put a new trauma pad against her neck and Brian cut down the front of her shirt. ‘Trauma naked’, Jimmy had told him, clothing removed for access.“Did you get cut anywhere else?” Will asked her lightly.Brian stuck the defibrillation paddles to her chest and her side, her heart rate slowing. This was also precautionary; they were preparing for her to go into cardiac arrest. It was inevitable at this point. Will pressed into her more, trying to estimate the amount of time she had left before the blood loss too great.She didn’t respond.Abigail’s eyes fluttered shut and the ETA to the hospital felt like a lifetime.----Wheeling into the hospital, it was something like out of TV show.There were people everywhere; front desk, nurses, doctors, more police, surgery and other name tags Will didn’t have a chance to read. He had his feet on the stationary rail of the bottom of the stretcher, holding onto the railing while he kept pressure to her wound. Brian was holding onto the other side of the stretcher, rhythmically inflating the bag valve mask attached to the tube they ended up putting in her throat.One of the doctors signaled them as they rounded the corner into the trauma bay, the place where they took the life or death cases. The resuscitation room.“What do you got?”“Ok, I have a female, laceration to the throat, involved in incident with police.” Jimmy reported, working to disentangle her from their equipment to move her over to the hospital bed, “She was initially alert, however during transport she became less responsive… we intubated her…” Jimmy’s voice trailed off to garbling, Will transfixed on Abigail’s lifeless expression despite the beeping of her cardiac monitor.She’s not dead, not yet.Jimmy was still rattling off vital signs and the other interventions they performed, but all Will could hear was the soft inflate/deflate of the bag valve mask breathing for her.“Everyone ready to move? On the count of Three…. One, Two, Three.” And Abigail was slid with ease to the hospital bed, the backboard, cot, floor and everything in between covered in an endless slick of blood. Her blood.Will was steadfast at Abigail’s side, feeling like his manual pressure was the only constant in keeping her connected on this earth.“I got it.”Will’s expression damped, fingers slick inside the gloves as he held to her.“I got it.” Louder this time. The nurse nudged Will out of the way, her hand on top of Will’s, taking over wound management. Taking his place. But he was responsible. Brian grabbed Will’s shoulder, pulling him back and out of the scene as Abigail was swarmed by white coats and scrubs.“It’s better to get out of there and give them their space.” Brian said matter-of-factly, guiding them down the hallway. His hand lingered on Will’s shoulder, gloveless, “You did good.”Will didn’t have a response.“Jimmy’s working on the report. It’ll be better to let him handle this one – there’s a lot that’s going to have to go into it. We’re going to be here for a while.”Will nodded this time, finding the blood-soaked stretcher and backboard at the end of the hallway. He realized he was covered too.“You look about my size. We have a lieutenant coming by with some extra clothes. I keep a couple spares for shit like this. You’re more than welcome to it.” Brian was surprisingly omniscient and surprisingly courteous.Will was grateful.----After cleaning up and deconning the unit as best as they could, Jimmy still typing away a novel of a report, Will found himself in the bathroom with the promised change of uniform. He peeled himself out of his work shirt, blood sticking to the undershirt beneath. He ended up taking that off too.It was everywhere.Will gave himself a once over, both hands tight onto the ledge of the sink, his reflection in the mirror starring apathetically back at him. He looked like hell. Faucet on, he scrubbed his hands and wrists and forearms clean, fighting to get the stains out from under his finger nails.It felt like it was futile.He looked back at himself, bags under his eyes and hair a mess. That couldn’t have been a comforting sight for Abigail; not the best representation of, ‘Hello, I’m here to save your life.’Will bent and splashed some water on his face.Get it together.He redressed into the new shirt, changing over his collar pins and trying to make himself presentable again. All he could think of was her thready pulse in his palm, her life dripping out of his hands.Exiting the rest room, he carefully put the soiled clothing into a red biohazard bag per Brian’s instruction. Brian was outside waiting, already changed into clean clothes. He was talking to someone, their back turned to Will. White coat, a physician.They were engaged in conversation when Brian’s head turned to Will. “Here he is.” Brian interrupted, prompting the doc to redirect his gaze.“Hello, Will.”Introductory. The doctor was tall, foreign sounding, hand outstretched in Will’s direction. “Brian was telling me about your unfortunate incident. Please allow me formalities; Dr. Hannibal Lector.”There was an instinct to keep still, something vaguely predatory about Dr. Lector’s attention, scrutinizing. Searching. But Will quickly remembered something important and didn’t shake the doctor’s hand. Hannibal retracted, analytical, filing away Will’s faux paus.“You’re the medical director for the department, right?” Will said, hoping it didn’t sound as accusatory as it did in his head.Hannibal nodded, the barest curve at the end of his expression, as if he was pleased. “That I am, yes.”Brian’s eyes widened. Hannibal may not have been brass, but he was important and had authority, or at least as far as Baltimore was concerned. He was the final say so in functioning as a provider in the city, roundaboutly godlike in his judgements of fit and not fit for practicing.Will was unimpressed, but curious nontheless.“Do you know the entire story?” Will continued.Brian shook his head a ‘you better fucking don’t’ to which Will ignored, against his better judgement, too busy magnetized by the pull of Dr. Lector. There was appropriate conduct in communicating with people like Hannibal, something Brian couldn’t believe the doctor was tolerating, from a rookie no less.Hannibal seemed in tune to the attention, but able to maintain professionalism. He looked around, as if checking to see if the coast was clear, then sighed. Will pressed him further, unable to look at anything else.“…It would appear the father found himself in a standoff with police. He used his daughter as a bargaining chip and then played his hand when loss was unavoidable,” Hannibal broke contact, trailing off as if trying to imagine the scene Will was just knee deep in, “I was told there was another body, the mother, found deceased of suspect manner in the upstairs bedroom.”Fuck.Will broke away too, his stomach churning at the gravity of what they had walked into. He was just knee deep in a spree murder. Someone’s family, dead. Hannibal regarded him with controlled curiosity, as if Will’s thought process was visible.There was something interesting about this one, something different.“Abigail?” Will asked weakly.“She is alive, thanks in no small part to the quick thinking of you and your partner’s behalf.”When Will looked up Hannibal was there to meet his gaze. He held it, finding it harder to maintain than he liked to admit. There was a coldness to the doctor, an indifference. But also a spark. Will wondered if that that an honest compliment, or why it even mattered.Loud, there was suddenly the shrill sounding of a pager, plucking him from his thoughts. Will reacted, realizing it wasn’t anything to do with him. The doctor pulled a small device from his pocket of his immaculate slacks, reading the text notification before offering a polite smile. “My apologies, if you’ll excuse me. No sleep for the weak and weary.”Brian nodded, courteous, whereas Will stood still, guarded. Hannibal brushed past him, turning around a few paces down the hall, “Brian, if you would forward my contact information to Will I’d be most appreciative. Again, keep up the good work, gentlemen. It was a pleasure.” Another white coat, a female, younger than Hannibal, intercepted him. She was saying something, looking like she had somewhere important to be, and ushered him away.Will made a face, unsure of what the addendum meant. Versed in the nonverbal, Brian shrugged. “Dr. Lector also has his hands in psychiatrics. He works with the department about employee… morale.” The last word sounded like Brian had spent some time choosing the right one. “Stuff like this, the department makes you meet with a shrink and talk about it. Says it cuts down on leave time, people looking for time off and saying they have PTSD.”Will put together what Brian was saying, shook his head.“I don’t want it.”Sighing, “You can’t fight it; we’re all going to have to do it at some point. And trust me, you rather meet with him than some of the other whackos they have working,” Brian conceded, briefly appearing like there was more to add before deciding better of it. More in line with his previous temperament: reserved and short.Then, out of nowhere.“Hey, I just got the OK to return to service. Report’s done, you guys ready?” Jimmy was back, visibly tired but still managing to put on a smile.Will found it admirable.----Jimmy offered Will the option of sitting in the back, saying it might be the only sleep he would get all night. Will refused, forfeiting the option to Jimmy who accepted with minimal prodding. Back in the unit, Brian driving, Will navigating, they were rolling down Orleans Street, the city a quiet shadow of its daytime self.  Will must have looked like shit; he kept catching Brian giving him measured glances.“Just tired.” Will explained.Dispatch was quiet, no radio transmissions in the entire city. Will checked the channel, the right one selected, guessing the city must be finally tucked in for night. Silence, except for wheels on uneven pavement and cool air feeding in through the windows.“I’m not going to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do,” Brian started cautiously, concerned almost. He may not have had in as much time as Jimmy, but he’s seen enough to know how things can pile up. “But you should really consider talking to –““Watch out!” Will shouted.The steering wheel jerked in Brian’s hands, skidding and kicking the ambulance into the opposing lane.  They were the only souls out, thankfully, the ambulance stopping in the middle of the street. ‘What the fuck?!’ came from the back, Jimmy nearly thrown from his seat. Brian didn’t realize how tight he was holding onto the steering wheel, trying to formulate just what exactly had Will so spooked.But Will was fast, disengaging his seatbelt and out the door before any protest. He exited the ambulance, making a visor with his hand to displace the bright of the headlights.“What are you doing here?” Escaped him, barely a whisper.It always amazed Will there were deer in Baltimore, but they were confined to mostly the northwest, where there were woods and trees and space for them to hide. But not here, not in the heart of the city where there was more concrete than grass.But here one was, a stag even, antlers pointed to the stairs, casting a shadow that looked almost terrifying. It was beautiful and disbelieving.Then it moved, the sound confirming this was really happening. The telltale sound of hooves to which Will was so incredibly familiar.Will held up his hands, attempting to pacify the animal, hoping to designate himself as not a threat. Then the stag let out a breath, the air cool enough for a slight puff of exhale to be visible from its snout. It took a strong step in Will’s direction, and Will found he couldn’t move.He didn’t want to.“Will, what the fuck?” Brian yelled, spinning Will from the encounter. Will was torn between being upset and being grateful at the interruption, turning around to regard the Stag but found it was gone. No noise, no remnants, no evidence left.Like it hadn’t even been there in the first place.Brian’s demeanor seemed in agreement that it was not and Will felt like whatever grip he had on the real world was slipping away, leaking between his fingers like Abigail. But it felt so real, it felt just as real as her.Will committed to the walk of shame back to the unit, pulled himself inside and didn’t say a word. Brian appeared upset, mulling over what exactly to say to his supposed partner. If there was distrust before it became magnified and all Brian could think of was ‘Oh my God, he is fucking crazy.’ Jimmy, however, peeked through the cutout window in the back, found himself much more compassionate.“What was it, Will?”Will shook his head and felt pressure behind his eyes like he wanted to cry, a pointless feeling. He let his eyes shut and allowed himself the protection of being unresponsive.Normal people just don’t go around seeing things that aren’t there. But it felt so real, like Abigail’s dad, dead in the corner. Like Jack’s pride in Will’s first day.Reflecting back to the stag, Will could see the shine of the street lights on its coat and the reflection of the rig in its eyes, all of it staring back at him. Maybe it was too much or maybe not enough, but Will wasn’t able, not after the events of the day, to properly say just what he did see.But he figured he might as well try.“I saw a deer. A big one. It was in the middle of the road… And I know you guys didn’t see it, but I swear it was there.”It was a confession, one to which Brian nor Jimmy had the faintest idea how to respond. It was the most Will had said the entire shift.When there was no answer, Will knew that was it. That there be more to this and maybe he’d have to pick up and resettle. Again. He felt wet at his eyes and knew he was only digging the grave deeper, surrendering himself to stare out the passenger’s window. Looking, searching. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to catch the stag out the corner of his eye and make it all OK.
10520661
Spring
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Okumura Rin, Suguro \"Bon\" Ryuuji, Shima Renzou, Miwa Konekomaru, Okumura Yukio, Moriyama Shiemi, Kamiki Izumo", "Fandom": "Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Ashapon", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "2,225", "Additional Tags": "Pre-Relationship, Canon Compliant", "Relationship": "Okumura Rin/Suguro \"Bon\" Ryuuji", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It was four days into spring break and Rin had managed to run straight into a tree, resulting in a nose bleed bad enough to send him to the nurse. Or rather, to see his brother, who spent the entire visit shoving swabs at his hemorrhaging nose and chiding his absentmindedness.Suguro, who had by some miracle convinced him to go on a jog that morning, reasoned it was because it was so early.“You haven’t been feeling well, right?” He sighed, eyebrows furrowed, apologetic. “Shouldn’t have asked you to come running, but I thought the exercise would help.”Rin laughed it off, because if there was one great thing about being half-demon, it was his ability to heal. The bleeding stopped within minutes, but there was a nasty purple bruise on the bridge of his nose for hours.He laughed it off because it was easier than admitting what had actually happened. Agreeing to go jogging with Suguro - who softened the blow of waking up early by conceding to push the time back a few hours - had been the first in a series of very bad decisions that he now had to deal with.One, waking up. Two, agreeing to do any form of exercise at nine in the morning. Three, not being honest with himself by believing that Suguro wouldn’t actually show up in a pair of fitted shorts and a tank.Four, not being honest with himself by thinking that he totally did not care about the defined curve of his friend’s calves, his ass, those arms.Five, tree.And this was not the first time his attention had been swayed by his friend.When spring break started, he admitted to feeling a little strange, light-headed. He was more easily distracted than ever, according to Yukio, and woke up throughout the night in a cold sweat, from dreams he couldn’t remember.It was Shura who offered the reasonable explanation that he was exhausted from recent events, it was possible his body was just attuning to the very appealing existence of a break for what felt like the first time in a long while. Yukio wasn’t convinced, but Rin was fine with it.Feeling light-headed ninety percent of the time wasn’t great, but he probably just needed some extra sleep. He couldn’t complain about that.Except he was beginning to notice that whatever the hell was wrong with him was worse when he was around certain people. The way he felt like he could barely breathe when Shiemi smiled at him or brushed her hair behind her ears. That wasn’t a surprise, honestly, because he’d long since developed a crush, one he thought would have faded by now since she’d turned him down.But then it wasn’t just Shiemi and it wasn’t just her doing anything adorable, which was anything. After it was Shiemi, it became Suguro, it became about everything Suguro.His laugh, his smile, his voice, the way he moved. The grain of rice stuck at the corner of his mouth at lunch when they all ate together. His mouth, his fingers carding through his hair, his eyes, how he sometimes snorted when Rin got him laughing hard enough. Every. Single. Thing.Rin couldn’t escape it, didn’t even think that he wanted to, except it was driving him insane. So the logical thing had been to agree to spending more time together and that was how he ended up with a bruised nose and too many regrets to count.Later that evening, when his nose had healed and their group had agreed to a collective study session/movie night/general hang out time, things got worse. It might have had something to do with occupying the dorm that Konekomaru and Suguro shared, but Rin was beginning to realize just how amazing Suguro smelled.It was everywhere, too, a scent so intoxicating that Rin’s head was swimming and Suguro accused him of slacking off at least half a dozen times while they studied. A unique and surprising combination of petals, the pages of a well-loved book, fire, and wood.As much as Rin wanted to retaliate in the face of these accusations, he thought against verbalizing that if Suguro wanted him to focus he should maybe consider not smelling so sweet.It wasn’t enough that he smelled good, either, because there was something missing. Something that became apparent when Rin looped an arm around Suguro’s shoulders in an effort to ‘comfort him’ when he said he was against watching a horror film.“No worries,” Rin grinned, puffing out his chest. “I’m staying the night, right? So I’ll protect you.”Suguro shoved him off, his ears pink, his mouth twisting to a scowl.“I’m not scared, idiot,” he countered. “You and Shima are wimps and I don’t want to hear you complaining all night.”Shima protested, even though he’d also been against the film’s genre, and Rin let the conversation go when his mind unhelpfully latched onto another observation.Suguro no longer smelled like himself, not entirely. Heady and potent, Rin caught his own scent winding its way to a permanent home among oak and paper and was all the more intrigued.Was it possible to hide the way his friend smelled entirely?It was much easier for Rin to experiment than to dwell on just how excited he was at the prospect of somehow becoming a part of Suguro’s being. So he nudged, he taunted and teased and got close and clung like the movie was actually terrifying instead of just lame.As breathtaking as discovering Suguro’s unique scent was, this was better. Way better.“Your hand’s shaking,” Rin accused, lining his palm up with Suguro’s when the movie ended. “It totally is!”“Shut up,” Suguro hissed, his cheeks pink in the dim lighting. “We’re done, we’re going to bed.”Shiemi and Izumo had left halfway through the film, both looking fairly pale until Izumo insisted she wasn’t going to deal with this ridiculous movie any longer. So it was just the four of them.Suguro stomped off with a sympathetic Konekomaru and Rin flopped on the former’s bed while they got ready to sleep.Shima was pressed against the side of the bed, pillow clutched to his chest. He heaved a shaky sigh, a weak laugh.“I get to choose the movie next time,” he said, head falling back. “How are you not freaking out right now?”Rin shrugged, rolling onto his stomach.“It all seems really fake, I guess.”Shima hummed, his expression amused.“If you didn’t find it scary,” he raised an eyebrow, “why were you all over Bon like that?”Rin knew he deserved that, but threw an annoyed huff in Shima’s direction regardless. He didn’t have time to reply before Suguro and Konekomaru were back and he was sitting up.“I forgot a change of clothes,” Rin announced, sheepish, but deliberate. “I’m not used to packing for these kinds of things-”Suguro silenced him by tossing a pair of sweats and a shirt at his face before sitting down on the edge of his bed.Rin beamed, darting off to get dressed.By the time he’d returned, enveloped in a shirt that was a little too big and pants an inch or two too long, everybody was settling down to sleep. He rolled into the futon that Shima wasn’t occupying and willed himself to sleep.Based on the past few nights, he knew that the likelihood of resting well was slim. He was happy to even fall asleep for what felt like a few hours before his eyes shot open, his breathing labored, forehead perspiring, memory of any dreams long gone.He groaned, bracing his face in his hands and taking a deep breath. Around him, he heard the soft inhale and exhale of slumber.He didn’t know how long he was sitting like that, struggling to recall what had happened in his dream that would have shaken him awake, but he realized belatedly someone was speaking to him.Rin glanced up, blinking through the dim light of the moon, and saw Suguro’s shadowed silhouette sitting up.“’Kumura,” he heard Suguro clear his throat and mourned the lost of the sleepy murmur. “Can’t sleep?Rin chuckled, whispered back a reply.“Guess not,” he shifted, arms resting behind his head. “You up because of the movie?”Suguro snorted in the silence, soft disbelief, a ‘Yeah, right’ without the words.Rin hoisted himself up onto his knees, leaning forward to rest his folded arms on the end of the other’s bed. It was easier to speak like this, even though Konekomaru and Shima seemed undisturbed.“It’s been like that for the past few days,” Rin admitted, tail swaying. “Can’t sleep very long or through the night.”He watched Suguro move, turn his head to glance out the window and sigh.“But you should rest!” Rin cut in, too loud, his laughter forced. “I’ll fall asleep eventually.”He could imagine Suguro rolling his eyes in response; he was about to pull away and lie down again when Suguro pushed his blankets aside and stood.“Taking a walk,” he said, not even bothering to slip on some shoes. “You can come with, if you want.”Rin hopped onto his feet, mindful not to step on Shima as he followed.He was fine with Suguro remaining silent while they walked, content with observing as his friend struggled to rake his bedhead into some form of order. He asked the occasional question (“Where we going?”) and received succinct, but appropriate answers (“Rooftop”) as they ascended the stairs.Rin considered he was about to witness something delinquent in nature, but was surprised to find the door to the rooftop unlocked.“Yeah,” Suguro raised an eyebrow as he closed the door behind him. “Some of the other guys come up here to smoke and they always leave it unlocked. They’ll probably get caught one of these days.”“Suguro,” Rin covered his mouth, feigning shock. “Is that why you’re here? Peer pressure?”“Yeah,” he stated. “Want one?”Rin grinned, exhilarated.“Really?”Suguro turned around, frowning.“Idiot,” he huffed. “No, that shit’s toxic. Lie down.”He watched Suguro obey his own request, chin tilted up toward the sky.“Fine,” Rin wilted, plopping down. “What are we doing?”“Closing our eyes,” he did just that.Rin squinted.“Now what?”Suguro exhaled, his breath clouded by the morning air, and shifted to rest his arms behind his head.“Meditating,” he offered. “So shut up and breathe in. Then out, slow.”Rin made a face, eyes still open, scrutinizing the rise and fall of his friend’s chest.Suguro’s eyelashes fluttered and Rin was swift to close his eyes and pretend.“Aren’t you not supposed to fall asleep when you meditate?” Rin asked.“There are different forms,” Suguro closed his eyes once more. “I use this one to help me sleep.”“Oh,” Rin noted the split of blue, orange and pink across the night sky, signaling the coming dawn. “You have a hard time sleeping?”The slump of Suguro’s shoulders expressed defeat. He rolled onto his side to face Rin, cheek resting on the edge of his elbow.“Yeah,” he supplied. “Once in awhile.”Rin understood the risks of facing Suguro full on with this weird stint of his, but did so regardless.“Is it because of ghosts?”Suguro shook his head, laughter escaping him, which Rin considered a success.“Why are you stuck on that?” it was getting brighter, Rin could see the way Suguro’s eyes crinkled at the corners, a smile so tender that he thought he might have been dreaming. “No, it’s…”The smile faded, replaced by an exasperated huff, a hesitant silence.“It’s like…” he tapped a finger against the smooth surface of the roof, searching for the words like they were carved in the stone. “Things get to be a lot, sometimes.”Rin nodded. He understood, maybe not in the specific way Suguro was looking for, but it was enough.“It’s like there’s too much going on,” Suguro continued. “Some nights my head is all over the place, so I come up here.”Rin didn’t respond right away. He wished he had the words available, the perfect thing to say in situations like this, but he didn’t know what was going on in Suguro’s mind, what bothered him. There was a lot about his friend that he didn’t know and these moments were painful reminders of that.The two of them sat like that for a few minutes, quiet, shivering from the early morning breeze, admiring the brilliance of daybreak. It was on the distant line of the horizon that Rin found his words.“Suguro?” Rin watched his friend face him again, eyebrow raised. “You know, you’re like the second coolest person I’ve ever met.”Suguro’s eyes widened a margin before his expression softened to something almost shy, a smile pulling at lips, the entire picture framed by the glow of the rising sun. He laughed and it was altogether an image Rin could savor every time he closed his eyes.“Second coolest, huh?”“Can’t be first at everything,” Rin shrugged. “Just preparing you for when I become Paladin.”“Yeah?” He shook his head. “Look at you, always thinking of me.”Rin laughed and hoped it sounded more convincing to Suguro than it did to himself.
10571586
The conquered beds case
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Loki (Marvel), Original Female Character, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by ArianaBlack", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-08T00:00:00", "words": "585", "Additional Tags": "Party, Avengers Tower, Drinking, One Shot, Avengers Family, Happy, Fluff, Fluff and Humor", "Relationship": "Loki/Reader", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
„Y/N, please get off the table, for God’s sake!” you heard Natasha’s voice trying to not yell at you. It’s one of the usual Stark party with lot of unknown people and lot of free drink. You broke up with your boyfriend two days ago, so you decided to have some fun without thinking about the consequences that may follow your reckless actions. All night long you sat along the bar ordering red wine. After one and a half bottle you started to act crazy inviting strangers to dance and making fun of everyone who showed up in front of you. After that you drank the rest of the wine that was in the second bottle. After that you lost control of your acts and ended up somehow on the table dancing like no one was watching.„I don’t think I’m disturbing anyone” you said continuing to dance. Meanwhile from one corner a dark, green clothed stranger was staring at you all night, watching your every move with joy. As you were dancing on the table a smirk showed up on his face. His piercing green eyes soaked up you every movement while thinking about how many things he could do with you. For you the party ended when the host showed up and took you by force off the table. „Let’s get you to a bed” he said while keeping you still in his grip. „But I’m not tired” you whined at him. „Yes, you are! You had a lot of drink tonight, you need to rest now.”After a little walk you ended up in front of a room. On the door was no sign that it belonged to anyone. Tony told you to get comfortable and left you by yourself but locked the door to make sure you stay in there. You were annoyed about it, but soon you resigned to get back to the party and just fell into the soft bed. You had long fell asleep when the room’s resident arrived. You didn’t noticed anything.As Loki stepped into the room he saw a body’s contour under his blanket. He wanted to just go to bed as soon as he arrived but it looked like his plans were messed up. The uninvited stranger moved to the other side. Even in the dim light Loki recognized you. When he realised that you are sleeping in his bed a smile appeared on his face. In your sleep you pushed down the blanket off you, so he placed it back and tucked it properly. To his movement you opened your eyes. First you didn’t recognize the man in front of you but after some blinking your eyes when wide open as you jumped up.„Loki!” you said surprised. „I... I.. Tony put me here!” „It’s okay, Y/N” he laughed at your reaction. „You can sleep without any trouble. I won’t disturb you.” „Wait” you spoke a little dizzy. „Please stay with me” „It’s fine. I will look for another room.”„No, please” you cried out for him. „Are you sure that this is what you want, Y/N?” he asked hesitantly. „Mhm” you noded and made space for him.Using magic he freed himslef from the suit and only in underpants he climed under the blanked but in respectable distance from you. You couldn’t stand his proximity so you crawled close to him and put you head on his chest. He placed his hands around you and you both fell asleep.
10564044
Glory Elven
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Solas, Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan, Lavellan", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-08T00:00:00", "words": "591", "Additional Tags": "Vanilla, Masterbation, Love, Crack Fic", "Relationship": "Cullen Rutherford/Solas", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
"ELVEN GLORY!" Solas moaned out loudly as he came all over his bed. Cullen had heard this all the way from his room, and wondered what was going on. He was the only one who went to investigate, thankfully, since everyone else was weirded out. He walked in on Solas naked, hand still on his dick. "Is that... Is that a portrait of me, Solas?" Cullen's eyes were wide and his face was bright red. Solas quickly threw it into a corner, "N-No! Of course not! Get out!" He shouted, trying to cover himself and the painting. Cullen just stepped closer, "If you wanted me, you just had to ask." Cullen blushed and smiled, "Though, I don't want to do anything without your permission, so..." Cullen scratched the back of his neck, looking away, "Would you like to?" Solas' face was bright red at this point. The elf gave a simple nod. This felt so wrong but so right. Cullen whipped out his halacious cock, stripping himself of all his armour and pinning Solas onto the bed, "If you'd only told me, Solas. We could have done this a lot sooner... Now, I need to make up for lost time." Cullen kissed Solas deeply and started stroking his elven cock. Solas moaned into the kiss, already getting hard again. Cullen was hard as well, but Solas was quite sensetive, or perhaps it was that his fantasy was coming true. The make-out was passionate, and both of them could barely breathe. Then Solas felt a sharp pleasure in his ass. Cullen's halacious cock was entering Solas, slowly and sweetly. It felt wonderful, absolutely so. Solas shivvered, "F-Fenedhis!" He cussed in Elven, moaning. Cullen looked a bit confused, "Does it hurt, love? Should I stop?" Cullen whispered sensually into Solas' ear. "I-It's fine. You surprised me." Solas shivvered, "Ke...Keep going, though. I like it." Solas sighed sweetly. Cullen nodded and started thrusting into Solas. Solas was overwhelmed by all of it. He was moaning like a bitch in heat. Cullen just chuckled that cute, manly chuckle of his and kept going. "Y-Your dinglehopper feels so good, Cullen-" Solas grunted. "My what?" Cullen looked a bit surprised despite keeping up his motions. "Y-Your dick! YOUR DICK! IT. FEELS. GREAT. NOW GO FASTER DAMMIT." Solas screamed. Literally everyone outside of Solas' room could hear him screaming this, but they didn't even want to know what was going on. "O-Oh, alright then." Cullen chuckled, a bit embarassed. He kept pounding into Solas' ass and Solas moaned out lewdly. "I-It's too good..." Solas groaned. Cullen wasn't quite as vocal but seemed to be enjoying himself as well. The pleasure just kept going, and going. Solas couldn't take it, and Cullen was reaching his limit as well. "Solas...~" Cullen moaned out, hugging Solas as he fucked him, "I'm cumming..." He groaned, "Ahh! Me too, Cully~ Do it inside!" Solas moaned. Cullen bit down on Solas' neck, giving him love bites as he thrusted his final motions, cumming into Solas' ass. The two gazed at each other and shared a warm kiss as Cullen pulled out of Solas. They layed on the bed together, and fell asleep. Unfortunetly, Inquisitor Lavellan wanted to check up on Solas. She walked into his room, "Hey Solas, can you tell me about-" She stopped in her tracks as she saw the two naked men. She decided not to wake them up. Lavellan, not even turning around, walked backwards out of the room and shut the door. She was now scarred for life.
10577796
Love Is Not Possession
{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": null, "Characters": "Kim Seokjin | Jin, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Taehyung | V, Original Characters", "Fandom": "방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by kuragecharms", "chapters": "30/30", "completed": "2017-09-16", "published": "2017-04-09T00:00:00", "words": "217,590", "Additional Tags": "Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Bonding, Smut, Fluff, Violence, Masturbation, BDSM, Praise Kink, Unhealthy Relationships, Healthy Relationships, Self-Lubrication, Scenting, Mating, Bonding, Mpreg, Master/Pet, Sex Toys, Nesting, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Full Shift Werewolves, Blood and Violence, Slow Burn, Some minor cross-dressing, And cumplay guys there's no tag foe this here but I KNOW I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE, Kim Jaejoong inspired OC, Brief appearances of GOT7's Jackson and Mark, Alpha Kim Namjoon | RM, Alpha Kim Seokjin | Jin, Alpha Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Omega Min Yoongi | Suga, Surprise Jimin, Surprise Taehyung, Surprise Jungkook", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin | Jin, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster/Original Character(s)", "Series": "Love Is Not Possession: The Collection", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con", "Categories": "F/M, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
“Love is not possession. It is not ‘being completed.’ It is two people walking along the path of life and saying, “I want to hold your hand along the way.”    133 DAYS ~~~~~“Fuck,” Hoseok groaned, shifting under the sheets as the banging continued against the wall. “Does it ever stop?” “Not for another three to seven days,” Yoongi chuckled from across the room, pulling his pants on, the block-shaped camouflage design of the stiff material bunching up around his thighs. There was a groan of the mattress as Yoongi sat down on the foot of the bed to put his socks on. Hoseok opened up one eye, watching the way Yoongi’s pale shoulders curved and molded under the white tank top. It was barely light outside, that pale sort of pink-blue morning glow peeking in between the slits left uncovered by the crappy sheet they’d tacked up over the window. The house was quiet, except for a distinctive thudding noise against the wall from Namjoon’s room. “But it’s fucking 5am, don’t they sleep?” With a whine Hoseok rolled over onto his side, curling his shins up against Yoongi’s back in a silent gesture for him to stay a little longer, drawn to the warmth emanating off the elder. “You know they’ve been all antsy all summer, and Kiara’s in her heat. It’ll cool down after a while and they’ll be more bearable.” Yoongi’s morning voice was still crackly, and Hoseok smiled a little at the sound, awake enough now to draw his ankles around the older boy’s waist, tucking his toes into the pockets and making Yoongi chuckle. “You’re gonna make me late, dumbass,” Yoongi teased, tickling at the soles of his feet and making Hoseok squeak and draw away with a pout. “I have ways of making you stay.” It wasn’t voiced like a threat, but Yoongi glanced over in question anyways, arching an eyebrow. “Not today.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, leaning over to brush Hoseok’s bangs back and kiss his forehead. “Do you have stuff after PT?” “Yeah, there’s just some lecture thing all cadets have to do. Most of us didn’t fill out our paperwork properly and people got pissed. Then I just have Com and I’m done for the day. I should be back by around 10:40.” “Okay. Maybe I’ll wait here for you to get back.” Hoseok snuggled more deeply into his pillow, smirking. Yoongi patted his shoulder and stood up to leave. “Have fun~” Hoseok half-sang, half-moaned into his pillowcase, and all he got was a chuckle in response. The distant sound of the door shutting echoed up the stairs, and the banging from the adjoining wall finally quieted down, and the house suddenly felt empty and somber. Hoseok tried to get back to sleep - he really wanted to. He just couldn’t, now that Yoongi’s soft form was no longer just behind him. The sheets felt itchy and uncomfortable, and his brain was on hyperdrive. With a sigh he leaned over and lifted his phone cord up until he could grasp a hold of his phone and see that it was only 6:30. He decided to get up and start some coffee anyways. Maybe he could get started on some homework, like a good student? Probably not. He’d never been much of a good student, that was Namjoon’s job. When Hoseok turned the water on to fill up the coffee pot, he heard a rustling behind him and a small whimper. Craning his head to look over his shoulder, he saw a dark form moving around underneath the dining room table. A wet muzzle poked its way out from between the rungs of the chairs, and the scrawny black wolf looked up at him curiously through bright golden eyes. A grey line streaked in the fur on his left cheek, like a scar. Hoseok smiled softly, reaching for the coffee filters. “Morning, Jungkook, did I wake you?” he asked. “I’m sorry, Yoongi woke me up too early for PT.” Jungkook said nothing, but quietly padded over to bump his nose up against the back of Hoseok’s knees affectionately. Hoseok turned away, opening up the red container and letting the biting scent of coffee grounds fill his nostrils. “I hope you’re ready for our new roommates today,” Hoseok said with a smile, “We’ll finally be getting the rest of the Kim brothers under the same roof again. They’ll probably be glad to be out of the countryside.” He glanced back over to see Jungkook curled up at his feet, ears down in a sign of distress. “Oh, come on, don’t be so worried. Of course they’ll like you. You’re our pup, after all.” Jungkook’s ear twitched a little, as if asking a silent question. “Yes, really,” Hoseok continued with a laugh, leaning down to rub at the boy’s head. He cocked his lip to one side, stage-whispering, “And if they don’t like you, you know Namjoon will beat it into them anyways.” Jungkook did not seem reassured at that, so Hoseok gave him a warm smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve met them a couple times and they’re both really nice. And Taehyung is closer to your age, so that should make you happy, right? Who knows? Just do your best.” With a little droop to his tail, Jungkook slid back underneath the table, curling up into the nest of blankets he had dragged underneath it last night and lying back down. Hoseok crossed his arms for a moment, listening to the coffee pot hiss and strain away, then sat down at the table and pulled out his phone. Several minutes of comfortable silence passed between them, and eventually Hoseok’s socked feet found their way to the soft fuzziness that was Jungkook’s back, and he absentmindedly rubbed against the boy in reassurance. By the time the coffee was done, the back he was resting his feet up against was covered in a bulky T-shirt, and Jungkook was fully shifted into human form. He stayed under the table a little longer, however, enjoying the quiet of the morning. When he poked his head out, Hoseok couldn’t help but smile at the sleep-ridden puffiness to the boy’s young face. “Do you want some toast?” Jungkook asked, crawling out and pulling his jeans on. “Sure, if you’re making some.” Hoseok wrapped his fingertips around the harsh heat from his coffee cup. A door opened and shut upstairs, followed soon by Namjoon, wearing pajama pants, an expression of utter exhaustion and nothing else. His blond hair stood up on end and his eyes were practically sealed shut. He sunk noisily into the seat across from Hoseok, looking half-dead. “Coffee?” he croaked. Jungkook reached up and grabbed a cup, filling it and handing it to him. “Angel,” Namjoon called him with a grunt,  drinking it black and scowling at the bitterness. “Kiara having a rough time of it, huh?” Hoseok asked lightly, feeling the coffee warming him up from the inside out and feeling less tired about the bit of sleep he had lost because of Yoongi, now that he had seen the misery written in Namjoon’s eyes. “Nothing helps. I haven’t slept more than five minutes at a time since night before last,” he sighed. “But she has it worse. I don’t think she’s slept at all.” “More like the night before night before last,” Hoseok corrected, sipping at his coffee. Namjoon was draining the last of his first cup, and Jungkook wordlessly filled it again, setting the milk and sugar on the table as a hint to the lead Alpha, now that he had survived his first cup. Namjoon dumped a - in Hoseok’s opinion - disgusting amount of sugar in, arching an eyebrow at Hoseok. “What?” “It’s Tuesday, Namjoon,” Hoseok informed him. “You guys have been in heat for three days now. Saturday, Sunday and Monday.” “Oh fuck, are you serious?!” Namjoon groaned, rubbing at his face with his hands in a way that looked painful. “Doesn’t that mean--?” “Yeah, your brothers will be here in a couple of hours. You’d better get some sleep while you can. You look like shit.” “But I have a paper for my Gender & Diversities class that’s due by midnight tonight,” Namjoon groaned. “It’s worth half our grade.” “Email the professor and tell him you’re having a heat,” Hoseok offered diplomatically, reaching over and slipping the sugar away from Namjoon’s reach, now that he’d scooped his fourth spoonful in between adding milk. “I’m sure she’ll understand. She likes you, right?” “Yeah, I guess. I hate to do that to her so last minute, though.” Jungkook set down a plate next to Hoseok, then crawled underneath the table with his own toast and milk to sit cross-legged between his and Namjoon’s knees. “Listen, Namjoon, professors are people, too. And if she doesn’t believe you’re in a heat, just send her a photo of your face right now and I promise she’ll give you as much time as you need.” There was a slight clinking of glass under the table, then Jungkook’s pale hand reached up over the edge of the table, his fingers wriggling a little. Hoseok passed the sugar container over to him. “I guess you’re right. Kiara’s in the shower right now so I should do it while I have a chance.” He sighed. “I don’t think I have anything else major coming up right now. But shit, this means I missed a night of work, too.” “Again, just send them your face.” Hoseok shrugged. Then he leaned halfway under the table, seeing Jungkook in the middle of folding his heavily sugar-coated toast in half to eat it. “Oh, Jungkookie, did you finish that paper for English?” “Not yet,” Jungkook frowned, taking a large bite and finishing off half the toast in one go. Around a cheekful of bread he added, “But I’ve got all my sources ready, and the outline done. Jimin and I have been working on them together in the library during our break.” “Good,” Hoseok nodded, straightening back up and starting to tear off the crust of his toast, leaving it abandoned on the edge of his plate and licking the bits of melted butter from his fingertips. Namjoon took his half-empty sugary mess back upstairs with him. Hoseok slipped his plate of crusts down to Jungkook, who took it eagerly. The kid was about to hit another growth spurt, Hoseok could tell just from the way he’d been eating. It was probably time to take him out for another hunt, too. “I guess that leaves you and me to do the clean up around the house before they get here, Jungkook. You only have your evening shift today, right?” “Yeah.” “Well, since Jimin slept in, he gets the bathroom duty. So I guess that leaves the living room and the kitchen for you and me.” Hoseok paused, trying to sound casual as he left the next decision up in the air, waiting to see if Jungkook would take the bait. “Mm? Well, whichever one you want, hyung.” Jungkook mumbled around the crusts of bread. Hoseok pressed his lips together a little, curious. Jungkook was coming up on his birthday soon, but he hadn’t shown any signs of presenting, like he normally should be. Hoseok and Namjoon had discussed a little about it when the boy was definitively out of earshot, but they were both a little concerned. Not that he wouldn’t present as a clear type, (if the boy was a Beta it was quite common to not have any clear heats or ruts all the way up to their 20th birthday, when a blood test was the only way to tell for sure) but that the boy wasn’t keeping up with his peers, at least psychologically, when it came to his wolf form. He was quicker at transforming than anyone Hoseok had met, and he had already exceeded their expectations at hunting. But the boy didn’t really have friends. He stuck close only to the pack members, and never mingled with his classmates. He of course had a great deal of admiration for Namjoon, who was not only their pack leader but was also the one who had also taken Jungkook under his wing as a sort of protege since the night he’d found him. But Namjoon was claimed by Kiara. Hoseok was worried about Jungkook finding a mate, and the struggles of his delicate demeanor weighed on the Alpha’s mind a lot. It looked to Hoseok like Jungkook was going to present, and probably soon. But was he going to be ready for all that came along with that? This was the hard part about being Jungkook’s unofficial surrogate parents. Maybe he should pick up some pamphlets at the clinic on his way to the grocery store later that afternoon… “I’ll take the kitchen, so you clean the living room,” Hoseok said decisively, swallowing the last of his lukewarm coffee and moving to the sink. Jungkook nodded, slipping out of the kitchen like a ghost. It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time Yoongi sighed his way into the door, shrugging off his boots and jacket and oozing the scent of freshly tilled earth into the house, his unique Omega smell. Jungkook looked up from where he was rolling up game controller cords, sniffing the air subconsciously. “They come yet?” Yoongi asked, and Jungkook shook his head. The Omega flopped down onto the couch, groaning. “They had us doing superman stretches this morning for their own amusement. They really wanted to punish the cadets today, and I’ve been slacking off due to it being so hot.” “Superman stretches?” Jungkook queried, tilting his head. “Yeah, I’ll show them to you later if you want,” Yoongi tilted back until his cheek rested against the back of the couch. “The place looks nice, by the way. Is Hoseok awake?” “He said he couldn’t get back to sleep after you left, so he’s been cleaning. He finished the kitchen and now he’s trying to air the hallway out after Namjoon and Kiara this morning.” Yoongi sighed, looking apologetic. “I’ll go help him out, then.” It was only a matter of minutes later when Jungkook heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway, and he peered carefully through the curtains to see an old blue pickup truck. Two forms were moving inside, and he could hear their voices. The spindly pine tree in the front yard obscured his view, but he could see the glimpse of a brown head of hair, and suddenly his heart seemed to leap into his throat, although he wasn’t sure why. Jungkook found himself ducking back into the kitchen and curling up underneath the table again. He hurriedly arranged his blankets around himself and pulled out one of his comics, laying it out on the seat of one of the chairs and trying to look settled in. The doorbell rang, and he jumped out of nervousness, praying someone else would answer. After the third ring Namjoon tumbled down the stairs, looking much more put-together than he had that morning and calling out, “Coming!” Jungkook watched him throw open the door and warm greetings started to mingle together in a family-reunion sort of air. Kiara came down the stairs just after, as did the other three boys, and introductions were tossed between them. “This is my little brother Taehyung, and my older brother Seokjin.” Jungkook could only see the two of them from the waist down, but he watched from his spot solemnly while Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged greetings. One of them wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, pale skin showing through and a pair of sensible blue sneakers. The other wore a dark sweater and a pair of oversized black pants that made Jungkook want to snort with laughter, since his clothes looked more like old man pants cut into a large, unskillful rectangle shape than anything else. There was a gap between the tops of his black leather sandals and the bottom of the pant leg that was several centimeters, and Jungkook watched the skin of the boy’s tanned ankles curiously while the others made small talk. Kiara sat down on the couch, and Jungkook could see her clearly through the open double-wide doorway to the living room. She looked exhausted but pretty as usual, and she brushed her curly bangs out of her eyes as she smiled. “I can see the resemblance between you three, must be a Kim family trait to be so handsome.” Jungkook was about to snort with laughter, but Yoongi beat him to it. “Namjoon is a lot of things, but let’s be real, here. They look nothing alike.” “I take after our dad’s side,” came a voice that could only belong to Taehyung, based on where everyone had been standing when Namjoon gestured his introductions, and Jungkook was surprised at how deep and gruff he sounded. He leaned forward a little, trying to catch a glimpse of the new kid. Taehyung’s hand dangled down at his waist, long, pretty, tanned fingers curled around a cell phone and entangled with a set of green earbuds. “Where’s Jungkookie at?” Namjoon queried, taking a step towards the spare bedroom. “He knew they were on their way, right?” “Yeah, he was just here,” Yoongi murmured contemplatively. “So maybe he’s--” Jungkook jumped when Taehyung bent at the waist and suddenly popped his head below the surface of the table mere inches from Jungkook’s face. Both of them stared at each other for a long moment, eyes wide in equal parts surprise and curiosity. Jungkook’s first thought was that Yoongi was right, Namjoon and Taehyung looked nothing alike. Not that Namjoon was ugly (honestly, Jungkook thought that a somber, coffee-blooded Namjoon hard at work, with his eyebrows knitted a bit together was intimidatingly handsome) but Taehyung looked unearthly pretty, with dark, intense eyes and a high, noble arch to his nose and a deep warmth to his skin tone that made Jungkook suddenly compelled to reach out and touch to see if he emanated a little heat of his own, like his coloring would suggest. His hair was dyed to a reddish-brown color, and his bangs fell heavily into his eyes, framing his face as though trying to downplay the beauty there. After a moment, Taehyung’s serious appraisal of Jungkook was ended with a low sniffle, and then Taehyung beamed at him with a squarish sort of grin that looked unbridled and down-to-earth in a way that threw Jungkook off more than him popping under the table had. It was disarming, the way he smiled, and Jungkook found himself starting to smile back. “Jungkookie, right?” Taehyung asked, and he got a quiet nod in response. He expected Taehyung to poke fun of the fact that he was sitting under the table when there was a perfectly good half-empty couch just a few feet away, but instead Taehyung fell to his hands and knees and crawled under with him. “I’m Taehyung!” “Hi,” Jungkook said awkwardly. There was a moment in the atmosphere between them where Taehyung put off an aura of kind acceptance, and Jungkook was still reeling from that particular sensation when suddenly Tae leaned forward into his personal space, almost touching his nose to Jungkook’s neck, and sniffing audibly. “W-what--?” “You smell nice,” Taehyung commented candidly, pulling back with a contented look. “You smell like an Omega, too.” Jungkook stared at him for a moment, a little dumbfounded. “I...I haven’t presented yet.” “Me neither,” Taehyung tilted his head to the side, his lips spread wide into an understanding smile. “But I’ll bet you’re an Omega. I was right about all my friends.” “I guess we’ll leave the kids alone to bond for a while,” Hoseok chuckled, drawing the two of them back out of their private conversation for a moment. “Oh, don’t mind us,” Hoseok waved dismissively at them, then stretched his long, slender arms out in front of him. “We’re gonna go take Seokjin on a tour of the house.”  Jungkook looked up, craning his neck to see properly from under the table, and felt his heart stop momentarily at the look that Seokjin was giving him. Yoongi had been right - Taehyung and Seokjin looked nothing like Namjoon, like they were all three different branches of their family tree. But just as Taehyung had been beautiful, Seokjin was breathtaking. Jungkook was starting to feel his palms sweat. He’d heard from Namjoon that his older brother was pre-med, and had gone through a lot of murderous months of study to get into a better program in the city on scholarships, so he was already intimidating, as far as Jeong ‘Cs Make Degrees’ Jungkook was concerned. But now Seokjin was staring at him with the cold sort of stare one gave a recently presented problem, with lips slightly parted and his hands tightly clutching his backpack, brown hair curling down into dark eyes. Even from the distance between them, Jungkook could smell the Alpha coming off of him. He looked cold. Beautiful but cold. In that moment, he was sure Kim Seokjin didn’t like him. Not one bit.  Jimin looked between the two newcomers and Jungkook, looking a little concerned, before following Yoongi up the stairs after hearing his name called.  Taehyung sent Hoseok a thumbs up, and the four elder wolves shuffled upstairs, and Jungkook could breathe again. Once they had left, Taehyung sent Jungkook another beaming smile, but this one was laced with a little shyness. “You’re younger than me, right? I’m finally a hyung!” Jungkook’s lips twitched in amusement. “So you’re Taehyung-hyung.” That made the angel-faced boy roll his eyes. “Can you shift much yet?” “Yeah, you?” “I can, but it takes me a long time to shift back,” Taehyung said. Giving a nod, Jungkook said, “I’m trying to cut down my shift-back time, too.” It was then that Tae gave a little tilt of his head. “What’s your major?” “Um...I haven’t decided yet,” Jungkook mumbled. “I was thinking something like social work or law enforcement?” “Ah, I’m studying criminal justice!” Taehyung shifted in, gingerly tucking the edge of Jungkook’s blanket over his legs so that they were sharing. “You should major in it, and we can study together. I’m going to be a private investigator.” “I was thinking about the police force…” Jungkook found himself saying. He hadn’t even told Namjoon that yet, but Taehyung’s eyes sparkled with interest, compelling him to share. “Wow, that’d be cool!” By the time Hoseok came downstairs later, the two wolves under the table were curled up around each other, asleep. “They’re so cute,” he sighed, straightening his back and sending a fond smile at the sleeping boys. “It’s good that he has someone closer to his age in the house now. Jimin is great, but he tends to have a bit of a hyung complex...and Jungkook passing him up in height last month hasn’t helped, in all honesty.” “How old is Jungkook?” Seokjin asked quietly, gently opening the cupboards and glancing mindlessly through their contents out of habit. It wasn’t that he was hungry, it was more like a dulled survival instinct, checking that there was food in the new place so his mind could rest assured. “He’s about to turn 18 in September, so there’s about 2 years between them?” Seokjin, however, was doing a different calculation in his head. He nodded quietly. An awkward silence passed between the two Alphas, and Seokjin shuffled his weight from foot to foot. True, moving in with Namjoon had been the most economical decision, but Seokjin wasn’t sure how he should deal with being adopted into a pack at last. His last attempt at it hadn’t gone so well. Hoseok reached out and laid his hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, and the weight of that tender hand wasn’t lost on him. “Hey, you okay? It’ll take some time to find out where, but you two will fit in, I promise.” Hoseok sent Seokjin a warm smile, and he nodded gratefully. “I know you’re older than me and another Alpha to boot but, you know… you can come to me if you need anything at all.” “Thanks, I really appreciate that.” Seokjin’s eyes sparkled a little, and he covered the hand on his shoulder with his own knobbly ones. “And I may be the oldest Alpha, but in the end, Namjoon’s the leader here, so… don’t worry about it too much. It’s not like I’ll be challenging his authority.” Hoseok met Seokjin’s gaze for a minute, an understanding on his face. He smiled. “I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”    132 DAYS ~~~~~ The first morning after the Kim brothers moved in Jungkook woke up to the sound of dishes clanging and oil sizzling. The smell was even more poignant, and Jungkook sniffed appreciatively at the air - the warm, greasy smell of eggs and bacon drifted through the air like a welcome home. Jungkook shifted, peeking around until his head and pillow were sticking out of the bottom of one of the kitchen chairs, surprised to see none other than Seokjin. His back was turned as he stirred the contents of the pan with a pair of long metal chopsticks. Jungkook frowned, his brow furrowing. He somehow hadn’t thought Seokjin was the domestic cooking type, but based on the smell in the kitchen he wasn’t burning it, at least, and that was something. Too bad he doesn’t like me. He probably wouldn’t give me scraps, either. Jungkook stared up at the broad back stretched before him, bare and muscular. Seokjin turned his head and Jungkook caught full view of his serious-faced profile. He didn’t even look real. Make him like you, a voice in his head screeched. He didn’t want to be the cause of tension in the household, especially if it was going to cause problems with the whole pack if he didn’t get along with Seokjin. He just didn’t know why Seokjin seemed to have a bad first impression of him.  Try something cool and casual-like. Like ‘What’s cooking, good looking?’  Jungkook bit back first a groan, then a laugh. Oh god, no. I would punch myself if I said that. It turned out he didn’t have a chance for any sort of comment, cringe-worthy or not, because suddenly Jin turned around, and seeing Jungkook’s head poking out from under the dining room chair, the cool, handsome exterior evaporated in an instant as Seokjin screamed, the sound making Jungkook jump and whack his funny bone against the table leg. “Oh my god!” Seokjin laid a hand on his chest, gasping as he realized who it was. Jungkook’s first thought was that his scream sounded masculine but nothing at all like he would have imagined.  “J-Jungkook? Are you always under there or something?” “Only when I want to be,” Jungkook replied quietly, shrugging as he crawled out from underneath the table. To his surprise, Seokjin looked a little thrown off by his off-the-cuff reply, his lips pursed as he stared, first at Jungkook, then at the ugly owl clock on the wall(which Yoongi had picked out at a yard sale a few months ago and repaired by himself, much to everyone’s chagrin). “What are you making?” Jungkook asked, sniffing the air and stepping toward the stove and (by default) Seokjin. The scent of scrambled eggs was suddenly consumed by a smell a lot like the smell of powdered detergent. Seokjin held up a hand, backing up until he was bumped up against the counter with his hips. “Uh, what are you doing?” he asked. “Looking?” Jungkook arched an eyebrow, unsure where the cool, calm exterior had gone. “Um, I’m making scrambled eggs and bacon, is all. Nothing fancy.” Seokjin wasn’t meeting his eyes, probably still thrown by thinking a random head had appeared on the kitchen floor at his feet. “Smells good.” Jungkook looked over at the pan, watching as Jin swooped in to save his breakfast. “Thanks, do you want some?” “Um, sure. If that’s okay.” Jungkook hoped his stomach wouldn’t growl and give away how hungry for real-looking food he was “You cook, then, huh?” “Yeah, my mom taught me how to cook. She said it’s good for a man to be able to feed himself. Or others.” “That’s cool, “Jungkook said, leaning in. A thought caught his attention. “Hey, could you teach me? Hoseok can make some things, but to be honest, they’re more like weird concoctions than real food…” “Um….sure, I guess.” Jungkook looked up to see Seokjin seemingly busying himself with a container of salt, and instantly he wondered if he had gotten too comfortable again. Seokjin’s cool, distant exterior was slipping back in. “Um, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to, really.” “No, it’s fine,” Seokjin amended. Jungkook was in the process of determining whether or not to believe him when he looked up and smiled at him. Jungkook instantly felt goosebumps rise up on his arms. Seokjin’s whole face seemed to transform under just that change of expression, looking warm and childlike, the edges of his jaw squaring out and his lips wrapped in endearing creases, as if he someone had tucked his mouth into parentheses. Jungkook completely forgot for a moment the cold impression he had initially been clinging onto. What had suddenly made him look so happy, almost blissful? “Hey,” Seokjin started to chuckle, “Just as a warning, I’m not eggactly a professional chef.” Jungkook stared at Seokjin for a moment, dumbfounded as his words sunk in. Then, a smile crept and crackled its way across his face unbidden. “Did you really just…?” Seokjin, meanwhile, had started to laugh at Jungkook’s reaction, a surprisingly breathlessly high-pitched sound, a series of tight little gasps, a contagious sort of laugh that made Jungkook grin. It was only 8 in the morning on a Friday but Jungkook had already experienced more than his daily share of surprises. Then, Seokjin’s laughing expression dropped, and he looked at Jungkook as if he had just said something wrong. Seokjin twitched his nose, wiping at it with the back of his hand before moving to sit at the table. They ate breakfast in a silence that was mostly awkward, especially since Jungkook hesitated, looking forlornly at his bedding under the table before taking a seat across from Seokjin. He could feel the elder’s eyes on him, as if silently asking if he was going to crawl under or not out of curiosity, and Jungkook felt his cheeks flush. Now that their moment of talking about cooking was gone, they faltered off suddenly down a precipice into awkward silence. Eventually, they both ended up scrolling mindlessly through their phones, not meeting each other’s eyes.    118 DAYS ~~~~~ It was two weeks after the Kim brothers moved in, and Jungkook was on dish duty with Jimin. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but Jimin was extra clingy these days. It had been worse before Taehyung had moved in, able to split Jimin’s attentions between them depending on who was in a better, more welcoming mood, but he was still extremely needy. He nuzzled against Jungkook’s neck, his nose and lips pressed to the little raise of his skin where he knew he’d find Jungkook’s scent gland. He inhaled deeply after he’d finished scenting, the mix of his own pepperminty smell and Jungkook’s salt and leather one causing an appreciative purr in his throat. It had taken almost a full year of living together before Jungkook had let Jimin Scent him, but now that he had, it was just a part of living in the pack house. Sometimes, he woke up and Jimin was curled up over the edge of his mattress, nose buried deep in the crook of Jungkook’s neck. It had been a shock the first time, but now Jimin clung to him so much he tended to just let him do as he pleased. Jungkook had severely disappointed the older boy by not being particularly inclined to chase after and Scent Jimin in reply, a cause of constant consternation between them. “You smell like my hometown sometimes, Jungkookie,” Jimin brushed his hand at the hair on the nape of Jungkook’s neck, causing him to shiver involuntarily as goosebumps rose on his skin. “Are you sure we aren’t both from Busan?” “I dunno,” Jungkook said dismissively, drying a plate with a small hand towel that probably was already in that questionable state of ‘is it stained or dirty?’ that none of them tended to question too closely. “I don’t remember.” “It smells so nice, like the beach.” Jimin sighed, caught up in the nostalgia. “You’re supposed to be washing, Jimin.” Jimin hummed, acknowledging and moving closer to the sink but his attention was still on the youngest wolf. “When you present I bet you’ll smell even prettier. All the other packs will want you to join them, maybe even Nobles. Just remember your loving hyung Park Jimin, okay?” He leaned in and nuzzled against Jungkook’s jawline, bumping him upwards a little crudely and making Jungkook’s teeth clunk together a bit. “Jiminie loved you first.” “What are you even talking about?” Jungkook laughed a little, despite himself. He was still unused to some of the more complicated pack dynamics, since he had been without one for so long. Normally Namjoon or Hoseok tried to help him keep up by explaining, but it’s hard to know what holes in education to fill when you grew up with the privilege of a proper pack. “Well, you know wolves can move between packs,” Jimin pulled his plastic gloves back on and reached into the bubbly dishwater wrist-deep. “Some packs are made out of more ‘elite’ wolves, like Nobles.” “Nobles? That’s like purebreds, right?” “Mmm...kinda,” Jimin’s voice had taken on the gentle air it did when he was taking care of Jungkook more like a little brother than a packmate, his expression light-hearted which meant his words were more important to pay attention to. “It’s kind of a complicated term nowadays, since there are more strict rules on in-breeding because of all the medical issues it caused. But basically, Nobles have more of the pure blood from older, established families.” He rinsed off a plate and handed it to Jungkook, adding with a smile, “They tend to have older, established money, too. Namjoon comes from a Noble bloodline.” “He does?” Jungkook’s eyes were wide and curious, and he dried the plate with only half the attention he should have. “Yeah, all the Kim brothers do. That’s why we’ll finally be able to hunt properly on established territory, instead of using the public parks. So you’ll get to a real, proper hunt in a few weeks.” Jungkook crinkled his nose, thinking about the public parks set aside for hunts, reservations that had more wolves coming through than hands to tend to it, leaving mostly a barren wasteland with too many mingled scents and not enough game. His hyungs had talked fondly of established territories, lush forests left exclusively for a certain pack that owned it, with trees that were actually alive and game aplenty, and no acres of fields with thousands of footpaths from wolves pounding through on the daily. “That sounds a lot nicer.” “You’ll love it, Jungkookie. You’re already better at hunting than I was at your age.” Jimin gave a sly little smile, tilting his head to the side cutely as he sighed, “Ahh, to be young again.” In response, Jungkook jutted his hip out and bumped it into Jimin, who stumbled over, dishwater dripping over the edges of the sink. “Hey!” Jimin cried out, lifting his knee up until he could kick at Jungkook’s waist, making him chuckle as he fended off the attack by grabbing the spray nozzle and turning the water on, splatting Jimin with a single shot of water, and making him screech. There was a sudden yip behind them, a young wolf padding into the kitchen, his fur a sort of white with gray spots dotted across his face, and his eyes were a vibrant gold. Taehyung yipped again, his front paws lifting off the ground like he was patting at the tile, and Jungkook laughed before shooting the wolf with a spray of water as well. Taehyung snapped at the spray of water excitedly, trying to catch it in his mouth as Jungkook tried to get him in the face instead. He blinked, wiping a paw at his nose for a moment, before happily yipping again. “Taehyung, what are yo--” Seokjin stepped into the kitchen, slipping instantly on the soaked tile an flailing back and forth for a few comedic moments, his bare feet dashing back and forth before he leaned back and to the side, catching himself on the island by his elbow with a painful-sounding grunt. Jungkook and Jimin froze, the nozzle still in Jungkook’s hand, and Taehyung’s ears twitching up and down in shocked wonder. Seokjin caught his breath for a moment before turning to glare at them. “Are you trying to kill someone?!” he snapped. Jungkook took note of the fact that his eyes were locked on Jungkook, not the other two, and he felt his neck heat up from embarrassment. “S-sorry..” he said quietly, slipping the spray nozzle back in its holder. Seokjin stood for a moment, staring at Jungkook as if to add something else, and then promptly turned and walked out of the kitchen without another word. With all the wounded ignominy of children berated by their parent, the two boys quietly went back to their task. Jungkook dropped one of the hand towels to the floor and half-heartedly pushed it around with his foot, while Jimin went back to washing. “I told you he hated me,“ Jungkook mumbled under his breath. Jimin sighed, “He does not. He’s probably just like that.” “He’ll get over it soon,” Taehyung said before them, now transformed and leaning heavily over Jimin’s shoulder. “He usually doesn’t get angry for long.” In the last couple of weeks, Taehyung had slipped in naturally with the younger wolves, and during that time they had discovered he had a propensity for nibbling. His teeth dug gently into Jimin’s shoulder, not scratching the skin there but irritating it until it was raised and reddening. “He’s really a big softie.” “I just don’t know what I did to make him dislike me,” Jungkook murmured quietly. “Seokjin is easy, he gets along with most anybody,” Taehyung reassured him. “He’s not the one to worry about.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means you can be a little standoffish too, Jungkookie,” Jimin chided in his quiet way, “You haven’t exactly tried to talk to him in more than monosyllables since he’s been here.” Jungkook wanted to say that that was because Seokjin scared him just a little, intimidated him with his cool beauty, but that seemed too much to admit. They hadn’t had a proper conversation since that first morning, and Jungkook tended to hover silently on the edge of the room whenever Seokjin was present.  He frowned, and Jimin nudged up against him, also effectively shaking Taehyung off his shoulder. “Just talk to him!” Tucking his chin into his chest, Jungkook blinked hard, trying to relax the way his throat constricted in nerves. He knew Jimin was right. Jimin had been right to push him when he’d first moved in, and he’d been so shy that whenever they told him to talk, he’d gotten so nervous he cried. Jimin had been right that Namjoon was someone Jungkook could trust with his life. Jimin was right about a lot of things, a deep source of wisdom wrapped in a soft sweetness. Peppermint suited Jimin. “Okay…” Jungkook swallowed heavily, drying the last pan. “I’ll try.” “Fighting!” Jimin encouraged with a cheer. A few hours later, Jungkook was sitting on the ground behind the couch reading a comic book when he heard the springs creak and a soft groan as someone sat down. He tilted his face upwards to look and saw the back of Seokjin’s head. He was dressed in a bright-orange T-shirt and grey sweatpants, a medical textbook balanced on his knees as he sucked on a popsicle. There was a long moment where Jungkook froze, uncertainty bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, but then Seokjin unknowingly made the first move. Absentmindedly, Seokjin scratched at the back of his neck, and Jungkook caught a strong whiff of Seokjin’s scent again. Without thinking, Jungkook found himself up on his knees behind the couch, his hands gently draped across the headrest as he leaned in and sniffed into the base of that long, pale neck. It really was like some kind of soap or detergent, a strong smell but not overwhelming. He just smelled clean and homey and comforting. At first he had thought it was actually the soap Seokjin used, but this smell was different, it emanated from his skin and drew Jungkook in, until his nose brushed up against the skin there with a feather-light touch. Seokjin gave a yelp at the contact, jerking up from the couch like he had spotted a spider and craning his head around. Jungkook’s eyes shot open, even though he didn’t remember having shut them in the first place, and he instinctively shrunk until he was almost hidden behind the couch. He expected Seokjin to snap at him or yell, but instead the man’s eyes just flashed at him in surprise and warning, his lips slightly parted. “S-sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…” He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to meet the elder’s eyes, that still flickered with the red around the irises with the signs of an Alpha. He stood up from behind the couch, feeling somehow exposed. “It’s just… your scent is really nice.” In response, Seokjin suddenly blinked hard at him, his eyes no longer their dangerous red, looking confused. “What?” “Your scent? It’s like soap or something. I… I like it.” There was an awkward moment of tense silence that hung between them, making Jungkook feel a bit nauseated, and then Seokjin gave a little sniff at the air. “You’re not presented, though?” Jungkook bit his lip, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “No, I’m not.” He stared down at his feet for a moment, then back up at Seokjin, adding a quiet, “Sorry.” “Why do you keep doing that?” Seokjin frowned, and that taut expression Jungkook could only label as dislike flashed across his face again. “Doing what?” “Apologizing. Every time I see you, you’re apologizing to me.” “Sorry?” tumbled out of Jungkook’s mouth, and then he gave a little smirk as he looked up at Seokjin, who rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Brat,” he lifted the popsicle back to his mouth to catch before it started dripping. “But I’m your hyung, right? So you should just treat me normally.” Jungkook somehow felt that buried within the light-hearted tone, Seokjin was trying to convince himself as well that that was how it should be. But the effort was still appreciated. “Okay, Seokjin-hyung.” Another silence enveloped them, with Seokjin nibbling at his popsicle while Jungkook fiddled with the edges of his T-shirt, wondering what constituted a comfortable or uncomfortable silence. At last, Seokjin removed the popsicle stick from his mouth, smacking his lips as though he’d made a big decision. “You can finish Scenting me if you’d like, you know,” Seokjin told him casually, “I don’t mind. You just surprised me.” Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Really?” Seokjin nodded, and he got the impression that the offer wasn’t going to be stated twice, so Jungkook slipped around the couch, his hand tentatively reaching out to rest on Seokjin’s shoulder as he leaned in to the man’s neck again. His movements were tantalizingly slow, afraid at any moment that Seokjin would change his mind or snap at him, but the curiosity towards the calming smell overpowered his timidity. After a few moments, Seokjin’s shoulders relaxed, and he tugged aside the collar of his T-shirt with one hand, revealing the skin of his shoulder and collarbone. Jungkook sighed heavily, closing his eyes and laying his cheek against the delicate warmth of Seokjin’s shoulder. It was like crawling beneath the softness of freshly laundered sheets, curling up within it and having nothing to rush off and do, nowhere to hurry, so Jungkook allowed himself to sink within that comforting image. After awhile, he felt Seokjin’s hands on his shoulders, and he lifted his head up in concern only to find Seokjin’s face buried below his jaw a moment later, the quiet sounds and slight coolness of Seokjin’s breath as he inhaled Jungkook’s scent, making him shudder involuntarily, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the inclination to wrap his arms around those shoulders, much broader and more intimidating than his own. It confused him, since he usually didn’t feel inclined to such moments of skinship, even with Jimin. So why was it different now? “Mmm,” Seokjin hummed appreciatively into the delicate skin of Jungkook’s neck, and he actually shivered, then. “You smell like saltwater and… leather?” Jungkook nodded, not sure why he was suddenly unable to speak. Then, Seokjin’s face pressed closer, until Jungkook could feel the hot wetness of Seokjin’s lips pressed against his shoulder. There was a ring of coolness at the center of Seokjin’s lips from when he’d been eating the popsicle a minute ago, and Jungkook could feel his body suddenly heat up, goosebumps rising on his arms and his eyes rolling back slightly into his head, lashes fluttering until his eyes were closed. He reached out his hands to grab at Seokjin’s sleeves, and then-- “Have you guys seen my helmet?” Hoseok’s voice interrupted abruptly as he strode into the living room, halting suddenly when he saw Seokjin and Jungkook leaping away from each other like the other was a hot-iron, their faces flushed. Seokjin wiped at his lips conspicuously with the back of his hand. “Um… everything okay?” “Yeah, yeah, of course.” Seokjin said, a quite natural-looking smile coming to his face, but Jungkook could see that the man’s neck was flushing a bright pink. Despite himself, he smiled bashfully, biting at his lip to try and hold it back as he lifted his eyes to Hoseok. They were just Scenting, that wasn’t a big deal within a pack, so why did he feel guilty? Hoseok gave them both a wary look, glancing between them with his gaze lingering a little longer on Seokjin, before he walked out of the room. “Um, I’ll go help him look for his helmet,” Jungkook said suddenly, rushing out of the room. He didn’t see Seokjin staring at his retreating back, a dark look on his face. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like." - Lao Tzu    88 DAYS ~~~~~ “JK, hand me that bungee cord, will you?” Seokjin called out from his perch, standing in the bed of the truck, bent awkwardly over a pile of military-grade backpacks and supplies. Jungkook stretched out, lifting one foot out behind him to give his arms a couple more inches of reach as Seokjin’s crooked fingers curled around the cool black hook on the bungee. The Alpha nodded his thanks, strapping the cord around the pile of sleeping bags stacked against the window of the cab, threading the black rubber through the nylon ties on each bag to secure them.   “Jin-hyung.” Yoongi stepped out onto the porch, the screen door clattering behind him. “I fixed the generator, you still got room?”   “I literally just strapped the last of the luggage in,” Seokjin sighed in exasperation, leaning against the truck roof. “But I’ll figure it out if you bring it out here.”   “Hey, muscle pig, go get the 2x4s from the shed,” Yoongi jutted his thumb over at the aforementioned shed, slipping back inside just long enough to roll out a large, heavy gas generator. There was a groaning sound as it pressed down on the two wheels attached to the back when he lifted the red metal handlebar. Jungkook hurried to retrieve the 2x4s before Yoongi could reach the back of the truck, helping Seokjin drop the hatch and lay the boards down as a sort of basic ramp, then helping Yoongi line the wheels up. It only took a few moments between them to push the generator up into Seokjin’s waiting hands. Jungkook leaned against the side of the truck, watching Seokjin’s bare upper arms pulse and strain as he pumped at the crank on Yoongi’s spare adjustable straps, each pull accompanied by an audible click and the rising smell of axle grease until the generator was virtually immovable from its spot against the side, wrapped up in one of the sleeping bags as a cushion. Yoongi raised two full gas tanks and tucked them into the back corner with an echoing thunk of metal being struck, then went inside to collect the others. The mid morning light was still drying the last of the chilly dew from the surface of the grass and the truck, but it still promised to be a clear, sunny day ahead.   “How far away is the island?” Jungkook asked, resting his cheek against his palm.   “Only about...three, maybe three and a half hours? Depending on if we hit traffic on the freeway or not.” Seokjin tugged at the sleeping bag that covered the generator. “Did you call in to the campus police and tell them you won’t be taking the night shift for a few days?”   “I texted my boss,” Jungkook said. “He said it’s fine. Since I’m only a first year, I’m not on the priority call list anyways.” After a moment, he stared at the generator and the pile of bags, then asked, “Will we really need all of this stuff, if we’re only going overnight?” “Hopefully not,” Seokjin hummed, “But this is basic safety procedures. You never know if you’ll run into a pack going into a high heat, or if someone will get injured, if the weather will get bad, or you’ll get lost or separated. So even if it’s just one night, we have to pack carefully, as if we’re going for a couple weeks.” He lifted his face up to smile. “Don’t worry. Yoongi seems like a really professional packer, I’m sure we have everything we need and more.”   Seokjin dropped down from the truck, crossing his arms to look approvingly at their packing job. After a moment, he looked over at Jungkook and sent him one of his atmosphere-altering smiles. “Well, then. We did pretty well, huh?”   Jungkook nodded, and something in the gesture made Seokjin halt.   “You’re really excited about this hunt, aren’t you?” Seokjin asked, almost incredulous in his tone. When Jungkook nodded, Seokjin gave a little chuckle and ruffled at the boy’s hair. “Can’t wait to see what you’re made of, pup.”   Jungkook smiled broadly, all teeth and crinkled nose. “I wanna see hyung hunt, too,” he said. Suddenly, Seokjin’s hand froze on his head. Jungkook lifted his chin so as to nudge his way closer into Seokjin’s palm, and the Alpha’s smile returned.   The others started to pile out of the house, Jimin tugging on the sleeve of Taehyung’s oversized black sweatshirt as they clambered into the bed of the truck. Jungkook watched Seokjin walk over to the driver’s side door, the Alpha laughing as he teased Namjoon about his brown-gray beanie with the stitching of a duck on the front. As the youngest, Jungkook was also designated to the bed of the truck for the ride. He looked on as Yoongi gestured Kiara and Hoseok into the back, before he slid into the last open seat in the cab, right behind Seokjin.   “Jungkook, come on, let’s go!” Jimin called out, waving him on. With a nod, he stepped up onto the bumper and swung himself into the bed, snuggling in between the boys as they arranged themselves as comfortably as they could against the small wall of sleeping bags. The truck roared to life and they pulled out of the driveway, and Jungkook watched the house vanish behind the half-dead oak tree on the corner. He hugged his knees to his chest, the cool wind of early October blowing around their faces and brushing their hair into their eyes. Taehyung and Jimin leaned in against his shoulders, laughing as they discussed what kind of game they hoped they’d catch. Jungkook didn’t have much to add, since he had only been able to catch small game like rabbits or some birds during their short excursions to the public parks. That in itself was quite a feat, since the land was so dead nowadays, but Jungkook wondered if he was ready to take on bigger game, or if he could keep up with the others. There was also the nagging feeling that he’d forgotten something, and he sniffed at the air, catching a whiff of Jimin’s peppermint scent pretty strongly today, He wondered why he felt like he’d left something behind when they were packing the truck or had forgotten to do something important.   “Jungkookie, don’t look so worried!” Taehyung said, nuzzling in and biting at the collar of Jungkook’s T-shirt where it was exposed from inside his jacket. “Just stick with us!”   Riding in the back of the truck was very fun at first, in all honesty. Once they left the city and got to the wide open air, the boys were positively wicked, standing up with their hands on the roof of the cab and whooping, an arm outstretched like they could catch the wind. Kiara and Hoseok kept voicing concerns that the boys would fall out, but Namjoon didn’t seem overly worried, and Jungkook could hear Seokjin’s laughter from inside, occasionally able to see his eyes crinkled by a smile in the reflection of the rearview mirror, and he knew Seokjin was driving carefully. He took turns reenacting the Titanic scene with Taehyung and Jimin, and they practically fell over when Taehyung accidentally swallowed and started choking on some kind of bug. It was only an overnight trip but it felt like they were going on a vacation, a real get-away.   Two hours down the road, however, and the ‘fun’ of riding in the back of the truck was over. They all started tapping on the window into the cab, complaining of thirst and cold and soreness. Jimin started getting irritable at Taehyung, whining loudly and shoving the boy away and claiming he’d sat on his hand. After some discussion between the three eldest, they decided to pull over into a rest stop for a few minutes.   “We’re not doing as great on time as I’d hoped,” Yoongi mused, pouring over the map application on his phone and pinching and scrolling around on it. He was following behind Hoseok around the little convenience store at the rest stop half-blindly, with his head tucked down as the Alpha tossed some snacks into a shopping basket.   “We’re doing just fine,” Namjoon reassured him. “We’ll reach the bridge before lunch, so we can set up at camp properly before setting out.”   Yoongi gave a little grunt to signal that he’d heard, then looked up and blinked with the realization that Hoseok had vanished down one of the aisles.   He slipped into the next aisle, calling out, “Hoseok, are we getting beer? We should get beer.”   “Do we really need it? I thought you already packed some in the cooler, “ came the cry back, and Yoongi followed the voice until he found the Alpha.   “My butt hurts so much!” Jimin quietly moaned to Taehyung, rubbing the aforementioned as they walked around the store, more to stretch their legs than to actually pick out anything. “And the bed of the truck is so cold to sit on.”   “I told you to bring two jackets,” Taehyung stated simply, tightening the straps of his hoodie, “Warmth over fashion.”   Jimin frowned, “I did bring two jackets, they’re just in my backpack. It was supposed to be warming up by now, so I thought it’d be fine.”   “Here, Jiminie,” Hoseok slipped up to their side, pulling two hot packs out of the plastic bag. “Why don’t you guys unstrap a couple of the sleeping bags and use those on the next half of the trip?”   “Or just use alcohol to warm up,” Yoongi suggested, holding out a beer. Jimin sighed, taking the heat packs but waving off the offered can.   Seokjin was crouched down in front of some individually packed boxes of cereal, contemplating cornflakes when he sensed Jungkook behind him. He looked up, offering a little smile to the younger. “Hyung… would it be alright if I switch places with Yoongi-hyung?”   “Hm? That’s really up to Yoongi,” Seokjin hummed, picking up two different cereals and turning them over in his hands, as though holding them would offer better insight as to which he was craving more. “Why?”   “Um, I’m feeling carsick, and it’d be easier to watch the road from the cab,” Jungkook lied. It was one of those small lies he almost made himself believe, a small lie told without knowing why it had to be a lie. “I think Jimin should come out from the cold, too, actually. So maybe we could all switch for the last hour?”   “That seems reasonable, but you should be asking Namjoon about it, not me, don’t you think?” Seokjin was staring at Jungkook now, his cereal forgotten as he arched an eyebrow. Jungkook felt his neck heat up with embarrassment as he realized Seokjin was right - it wasn’t his decision, he wasn’t the pack leader or ‘in charge’ of this trip, in the proper sense of the word.   “Um, yeah, I just wanted to check with you first? Because you’re the driver.” Jungkook felt awash with relief at his own fast-thinking recovery. Seokjin seemed to buy the reason as suitable, nodding his head and patting the back of Jungkook’s neck.   “Well, it’s fine with me.”   A few minutes later, Jungkook was tucked into the seat behind Seokjin’s, his arms around the driver seat headrest as he rested his mouth against the upholstery there. The others were still readjusting the blankets in the back for those now shifted to the truck bed, and Jungkook, Seokjin and Jimin were waiting in the car. Jungkook leaned forward, his fingers reaching into Seokjin’s hair and massaging lightly at the back of the man’s head. Seokjin’s expression relaxed, his blinks coming a little more lazily.  In little waves and drifts, Seokjin’s clean, refreshing scent wafted back to Jungkook, catching his attention. He inhaled before straining to squeeze into confining space around the headrest, rising halfway out of his seat to press as closely as he could to the scent gland on the Alpha’s neck and breathing in long and deep. His head gave a little rush and the traces of a headache that he’d been harboring and not been paying attention to suddenly lifted like a curtain.   Oh, that was what I forgot to do today,  he thought curiously. He had fallen into the habit of Scenting Seokjin a lot, but he hadn’t realized how much he had gotten accustomed to it until he had almost missed a morning. Seokjin hadn’t Scented him since that first day Hoseok had stumbled in on them, and Jungkook never asked why, but he could tell Seokjin was at least okay with Jungkook leaving his scent lingering against his mark on the regular. Frankly, the thought of a return Scenting happening again was a little frightening, even as he felt more and more comfortable with Seokjin himself. He sat back into his seat, his mouth quirking in puzzlement before he turned to look out the side window. At his side, Jimin gave a little whimper, leaning in to curl up against Jungkook’s side, Scenting him with the slight smell of jealousy to his movements. Jungkook let him Scent as long as he liked, but didn’t Scent back. The silence in the cab felt suddenly oppressive and awkward.   “Okay, we’re ready to go!” Namjoon declared, the doors slamming shut and Taehyung’s citrusy smell filling the back of the cab.   “Aw, are we cuddling?” Taehyung cooed, leaning in with a goofy smile and making childish little noises as he nuzzled up into their crooked pile of shoulders and elbows. Jimin squeaked, saying he was too sore from sitting in the bed of the truck and then insisting on using both of them as his human pillows.   Seokjin glanced into the rearview mirror, his eyes locking with Jungkook’s for the briefest moment as he pulled back out onto the highway. Jungkook noted with some trepidation that Seokjin was the first to look away.   ~~~~~   Jungkook was listening to music on his earphones with his eyes shut when he felt Jimin poke him in the side.   “Here we are, boys.” Namjoon was saying with pride, looking over his shoulder at the back seat.   As the lead Alpha had predicted, they were crossing the bridge to the island well before noon, and all three of the young pups in the cab pressed up as tightly as they could against the windows, staring out at the water as it glimmered and shone from the sunlight. Seagulls bobbed apathetically on the small waves that tipped and moved them along, and Jungkook’s mouth dropped slack as a long, white beach stretched out in front of them, hedged by a large lush forest of more greens than Jungkook thought he’d ever seen in his life. Shallow waters quivered up against the smaller coves, smooth rocks jutting their heads out of the water like watching sea creatures, and the trees appeared infinite, curving upward into sizeable hills that seemed to roll and hold secrets in their depths. There was a chuckle from the front seat, and Namjoon turned to smile at Jungkook.   “Much nicer than a public park, right?”   “It’s beautiful..” Jungkook breathed, pressing his nose to the glass. “Is it really all for us?” “Well, actually it’s split between four families in total, since it’s one of the bigger islands around here. Two of them are retired families, however, so they never come up here but collect taxes on it from the government for keeping it as a nature preserve. The other family has never given us any trouble, so long as we stay on our portion of the island, which is marked. It’s still a good-sized area, though. It’s...what...250 acres?” Namjoon looked over to Seokjin in question.   “248.3, to be exact,” Seokjin’s warm voice responded, his eyes trained on the road ahead. “Because the Locklears claimed that burial site at the northern point.”   “Right,” Namjoon hummed. “But we wouldn’t want to use that anyways.” He craned his head over his shoulder to signal that he was speaking to the kids in the back again, and added, “It’s one of three islands that our father owns. I talked to him last summer about letting me have my own hunting ground, since our pack has gotten so big so quickly, and he said it was time enough for me to run the place myself. But this island was originally supposed to be inherited by Seokjin, and I was supposed to get an island about an hour north along the main shoreline, so he knows more about it than I do.”   “Why isn’t Seokjin inheriting the island?” Jungkook asked.   Silence fell into the car, and Jimin stiffened a little at his side, making him feel like he’d done something wrong.  The atmosphere seemed to crackle uncomfortably. The roar of the engine echoed into the quiet of the cab, and Namjoon just looked over at Seokjin with a look of concern on his face.   At last, Seokjin spoke up, putting on a little smile as he looked up at Jungkook through the rearview. “Because Namjoon is a pack leader, Jungkook, and I’m not. So I have no need for it unless I decide to break off and make my own pack in the future. It’s not unheard of for a firstborn to be under a younger lead Alpha, but it’s not very common. If I decide to leave our pack and make my own, there is still the smaller island that can be left to me, depending on what our father decides.”   “You aren’t going to do that, are you?” Jimin breathed, suddenly leaning forward, his voice slightly strained. “Leave us and form your own pack?”   “Yeah, you’re not going to leave the pack, are you?” Jungkook’s voice mirrored Jimin’s own panic, and both boys leaned in over the headrest. Namjoon chuckled at the slightly nonplussed look on Seokjin’s face.   “No...I don’t plan on leaving,” Seokjin said placidly. “I like being part of this pack, and I honestly think Namjoon’s a good leader. I chose to join because I trust him as an Alpha.”   Namjoon smiled over at Seokjin, and Jungkook felt the constriction in his chest loosen a little of its ties. The window behind their heads opened, the rush of the wind deafening in their ears as Yoongi reached in a hand and slipped it into the back of Taehyung’s jacket, making the boy yip in shock at the touch of cold skin while the Omega laughed from the bed of the truck.   “Taehyungie, are you cold?” he teased in an impish voice, making Hoseok chide him even as he laughed as well. They pulled off the paved road onto one of rough gravel, and all of them bumped well out of their seats from the unevenness of the terrain, and Hoseok’s shouts came loudly from the back as his thin form was tossed. They could hear Kiara and Yoongi laughing, and Jungkook craned his head around to see Hoseok clutching onto the male Omega as his booted feet flew up into view.   When Jungkook turned back around, his head bumping up against the roof of the cab, Seokjin was pulling off onto a little dirt path off to the side, swinging smoothly into a sizable campsite. There were three wooden cabins (a large one and two smaller ones) and a large fire pit with a spit over it, surrounded by ash-covered stones and two picnic tables that stood crooked and gray off to the side. It looked somehow homey and familiar to Jungkook, despite the fact that he knew he had never been here in his life.   “Here we are!” Namjoon declared dramatically. The doors clattered open and they all tumbled out onto the soft overturned earth, well-trampled ground that was mostly even, save for some gnarled roots that jutted up at random intervals. Jungkook gave a deep inhale and relished in the overwhelming scent of pine, fur, dampness, and dirt that surrounded them on all sides. His hair stood on end like a thousand little pinpricks as his senses picked up on many, many little and big things that were moving out into the woods, a thunderous but silent roar of life waiting to be explored and hunted. The air was sweet and salty, green and brown, and he sighed in contentment.   Yoongi handed down designated bags and containers to go to the main cabin, and Namjoon led the way to the building furthest from the fire pit, the largest of the buildings. It had a slanted roof that had vines hanging from the gutter and a small wooden porch with a railing. The lead Alpha dug the keys out of his pocket and slipped one into the large metal lock, pushing the door open with a jolting creak as he handed Kiara the only other set of keys to the cabin with a purposeful smile. She laid a hand on his shoulder and followed him into the dimness.   The main cabin, which Namjoon called the Main Hall, was single roomed and made almost entirely out of wood. Jungkook noted that most corners of cabinets and furniture below waist level had been gnawed at, splinters of wood dangling off as signs of young teething pups that had come before. There was a simple kitchen to the left, the window over the sink facing the front porch (and therefore the dirt path leading to the main road) and a fireplace on the far wall, where sat two couches with white dust sheets clinging lazily to them.   After unloading most of their supplies into the security of the main cabin in a big messy heap along the empty wall, the boys grabbed their own bags from the truck and went to find their bunks.   “Normally it’s separated out Alphas and Omegas, with Betas choosing between,” Namjoon explained to Jimin as he walked them up the short path, leaves and branches crunching under their feet. “But I never really liked that set up, to be honest. And almost half of our pack are younger pups that haven’t presented yet, so I’m assigning you three youngest to this cabin with Seokjin, while Hoseok, Yoongi, Kiara and I will be in the other bedding cabin over there.”   “Aw, you mean we don’t get cuddly Yoongi to play with in our cabin?” Taehyung pouted. Yoongi rolled his eyes unconvincingly as Taehyung placed his chin on the Omega’s shoulder.   “Well,” Namjoon said diplomatically, “Although they won’t be officially claimed until the New Year, I’ve already approved of Yoongi becoming Hoseok’s mate, so this arrangement was made with that in mind.”   “Yeah, so paws off,” Hoseok sniffed dramatically, turning his nose up as he nudged Taehyung off of Yoongi. Taehyung giggled, moving to follow the others into the cabin. Jungkook lagged a bit behind, wondering why the room situation felt a little surreal for him. Maybe because he usually slept on the first floor, away from both of the newer Kim brothers, the idea of the four of them sharing the very small cabin seemed strange to him. That must have been it. But Taehyung naps with me all the time, he thought with a sigh. Maybe the long drive coupled with the nervous excitement for the hunt was just getting to him. Part of him missed his dining room table.   The cabin was simplistic, just two sets of rough wooden bunk beds with a small bathroom at the end.Each bunk had a little curtain to pull across for some privacy, and had a night-light and outlet for each.   “Wow, it’s pretty nice, huh, Jungkookie?” Jimin said, already having crawled into the lower bunk. He tugged on the little cord attached to his night-light, but no light came on.   “Yeah, is this even camping?” Jungkook mumbled, tossing his hefty military-grade backpack up onto his bunk. Jimin had actually lost the rock-paper-scissors match but Jungkook knew he hated sleeping so high up, so he’d chosen the top bunk and let Jimin take the bottom.   “Chim-Chim! Let’s share!” Taehyung crowed, barreling in and throwing himself onto Jimin, bowling them both over and making Jimin snarl grouchily.   “Tae, I’m still sore from the drive, you’re hurting me.”Jimin growled, pushing the boy off without ceremony. Looking wounded, Taehyung pouted, slipping off the bed and dramatically dragging his things to his own bunk.   “Where’s Seokjin?” Jungkook asked.   “Probably checking on the firewood supply with Namjoon. There’s a storage shed off the Main Hall with a couple cords at the ready, but it leaks sometimes and the wood gets a bit damp.” Taehyung explained, crawling across the mattress and tucking his sheet in. “I hope they’re quick, because I wanna get going!”   Jungkook wasn’t sure if it was because Taehyung was more familiar with the island or because he had been exposed to more hunts in general since being a puppy, but he seemed the most energized of the three of them by far.   There was a little tapping noise like glass clinking, and the night-light next to Jimin lit up. Jungkook raised his head suddenly at the sound of something rustling around beneath the window, and he pressed up against it with concern until he heard Yoongi’s distinct grunt and Seokjin’s voice. He forced the window open and peered out in time to see Yoongi sticking labels inside a light-gray metal box attached to the cabin wall. Seokjin was standing behind him with a small box of tools that it didn’t look as if it had been needed, and was talking to him about the weather forecast.   “These were totally unreadable,” Yoongi was mumbling under his breath, a black face mask pulled down under his chin.   “Hyung!” Jungkook called out, and both men looked up at him in question. He paused. He really had had no reason to call out to them, but he had wanted them both to look up and notice him. “What are you doing?”   “We’re going around and checking all the circuit breakers for the camp. We could do without it tonight, in all honesty, but it’s been awhile since anyone’s been up here, so it probably needs a test-run.” Yoongi shut the door of the breaker box with a loud clatter, bits of dew and leaves dripping from the top.   Jungkook nodded in interest, his eyes flickering over to Seokjin, who was looking at him with a soft smile. “Are you ready for the hunt, Jungkookie?”   “Yeah, I think we’re all settled in here.”   Taehyung pressed into the small opening of the window next to Jungkook, his shoulder bumping against him painfully. “Hyung, let’s go I’m ready .”   “Look at this excited pup,” Seokjin chuckled, playfully mimicking Taehyung’s eagerness by hunching his shoulders up and panting a little as if in excitement. Taehyung shifted a little as if he was going to do it back to Seokjin, but then decided not to, although an amused smile still softened his expression.   “ Hyuuung don’t be weird .” Taehyung rolled his eyes, stepping away from the window. Jungkook smiled toothily at the two hyungs, laughing when Seokjin did it one more time for him before turning to walk away with Yoongi.   “Seokjin acts different when we’re on the island,” Jungkook noted, as they made sure to empty their pockets and started for the cabin door.   “Yeah, he’s such a nerd,” Taehyung sighed, as if his older brother was a source of constant shame and embarrassment. But Jungkook thought that Taehyung secretly enjoyed it. Taehyung naturally led their way across the campsite.   “Wow, look at the beach!” Jimin said as they broke through the line of trees, the grass gradually reducing to straggling clumps dotted here and there until it broke away entirely to the white sandiness of the shoreline. The others were already there, standing looking out at the ocean. The saltiness stung at Jungkook’s nostrils, and despite the brightness of the sun overhead there was a chill to the air, making him shiver. He wondered if this was what he really smelled liked to the others, this salty coolness. “It’s so beautiful!”   Suddenly, Taehyung was giggling delightedly at his side, and the boys’ shoes flew away with abandon as he raced to the water’s edge, holding his pant legs up as he splashed his way in. “Uwah! It feels so nice!”   Seokjin kicked off his shoes, too, laying his socks across the laces before Taehyung tugged him in closer. Through laughter, Seokjin let out a dramatic cry, lifting one foot up above the foam. “Ah! It’s so cold!” “Of course it’s cold, it’s fucking October,” Yoongi stated in a deadpan, his arms crossed over his chest as Hoseok smirked, chin tucked into Yoongi’s shoulder as he Scented him.   “Come on, Jungkookie!” Jimin said, grabbing Jungkook’s hand, his shoes already laid out neatly next to Seokjin’s. Jungkook nodded, leaning in on his hand clasped with Jimin’s as he lifted one boot to tug it off, nearly tripping in the process but managing it.  They splashed into the frigid water, getting Taehyung’s pants wet and making him groan.   Namjoon and Kiara were taking photos together with the waves in the background, and he was leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. She let him take one photo like that, then poked at his dimples and used them to turn his face away from hers, scrunching up her nose at him and laughing as he continued to click away at the camera.   “Hello, there,” Taehyung said, bending down and picking up a thick strand of greenish-yellow kelp. “What’s your name?”   Jungkook had wandered off into the area mostly blocked off by rocks, his hand still locked with Jimin’s. The current wasn’t as strong there and there was stranded debris tossed up against the slimy surface of the rocks, little hermit crabs stuck stubbornly clinging on to fight against the tide.   “Jungkookie,” Jimin drew out the word in a bit of a long whine, “I don’t fee-”   “Look, hyung!” Jungkook’s eyes widened and he dropped down to the water suddenly, twisting his wrist until it was out of Jimin’s grasp and casually slipping his fingers around a large fish that had just started lazily swimming between his legs. Surprised that it didn’t seem concerned with swimming away or fighting, he picked it up and straightened, staring at it in disbelief. It must have been stunned, thrown up against the rocks on the shore unexpectedly, leaving it at the mercy of any passersby.   “What the--?!” Jimin gasped.   “Jungkook, what the fuck?!” Yoongi called out, his mouth agape over his camera as he blinked at Jungkook. Seokjin was just stepping out of the water but turned to look and instantly started laughing at the dumbfounded look on Jungkook’s face.   Hoseok stepped forward, his expression utterly confused. “Where did you get that?!”   Dumbly, still stunned at the catch himself, he just pointed down at the spot in front of him and said, “Here.”   They all started laughing, mostly from disbelief, and Jungkook found his chest warming a little in the hilarity of the moment. He looked at Seokjin, trying to catch his breath while leaning heavily against Hoseok. Emboldened, either by the salt air or the freedom of the island, Jungkook felt like being a little silly, laying the very limp and lifeless fish against his chest so it was like a tie for a suit, the long body stretching from his neck to just below his waist.   “Business fish,” he declared proudly, straightening his back as everyone almost collapsed in loud guffaws. But Jungkook noticed that Seokjin’s was the loudest, an endearing wheeze as he bent half-over and slapped at his knee. Jimin laughed at Jungkook’s side, leaning against his shoulder and laughing so hard he started to let out a little breathless squeak.   “Oh my god, Jungkookie, it looks dead, “Taehyung cried, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. Jungkook leaned over to set the fish gently back into the water, but it just laid there, motionless save for the ocean tugging it back and forth.   “You killed it,” Jimin wheezed.   “I did not! It was already like this!” Jungkook poked the fish in the side, and it rolled halfway over, then slowly started to move its tail fin back and forth, slowly regaining its awareness. It didn’t get very far, however, and Jungkook started to feel genuinely concerned for its well-being.   “Okay, it’s time to set out!” Namjoon called out, traces of that Alpha voice in his tone despite the merriment also there. They all splashed their way to circle around him and Kiara, the wind pulling at their hair as he looked intently at each of them in turn.   “All right, the woods here are very big, and there should be a lot of wildlife out there. But I want all of us to stay safe and healthy, okay? That’s the biggest priority. Don’t wander off on your own, always travel with at least one other wolf at your side. At least for today, I want you to avoid all large game. No bears, no boars, you know the procedure if you come across them. All catches are to be shared. Any injuries and you assume you have to return to the main pack, and then back to the cabins, unless I state otherwise. If one wolf can’t return you call out and wait there for me or another Alpha to come. The perimeters are marked by scent and by red tape, so they should be easy to spot. Don’t cross the perimeter, under any circumstances. We don’t want wars with our neighbors.”   “If you find yourself lost, you can smell your way back here by this,” Namjoon pulled a balled up pair of socks out of his pockets, and instantly all members of the current party leaned back and groaned in disgust.   “Oh my god, Namjoon, are those your dirty socks?” Jimin pinched at his nose, waving in front of his face as if that would help the smell.   “It’s so you can definitely remember your way back,” Namjoon explained, “It has my scent and the scent of the pack house, so it you get lost, just try to pick up on the scent. And besides, they just haven’t been washed, it’s normal dirty-smell, I swear.”   Seokjin hiccupped with laughter, holding his hand in front of his mouth as he whispered, “As opposed to all the other smells men put into their socks.”   Namjoon frowned, and Seokjin struggled to bite back his smile, the veins on his neck strained as he tried not to laugh. Namjoon shut him up really quickly by shoving the socks really close up against Seokjin’s face, making him cough and gag, then holding it out for every member to give a begrudging sniff. Namjoon turned to tie the socks to a small pole set up along the edge of the beach where the grass met the sand, the wind tugging at the grey, stained material like a gross little flag.   “We’ll be out until almost eleven. Now…” Namjoon laid out his hand, and they all placed their palms down one by one until they were a human-made star-shape of a connection. “After me, ‘teamwork makes the dream work!’   But to his surprise, no one shouted it after him, staring at him in judging silence. Bewildered, he looked up at them. “W-what?” “‘Teamwork makes the dream work?’ Where did you get that, a quote-a-day calendar?” Yoongi snorted.   “Couldn’t you have picked something cooler, like ‘All for one and one for all’?” Taehyung teased.   Jimin shook his head, giggling, “All right, all right, I’ll admit, it’s very funny. But hyung is the lead Alpha, so…” Jimin had to pause a moment, nearly falling forward onto their still-entwined hand pile as he gave a snort of laughter, “So he gets to choose our motto .”   “What’s the motto with you?” Seokjin wheezed suddenly, and they were already crumbling their focus again into loud bursts of unbridled laughter until Yoongi waved them into calming down again. But even then, Jungkook had to gnaw at his lips to try and maintain control.   “Okay, one more time ,” Namjoon said in warning, “Teamwork makes the dream work!”   “Teamwork makes the dream work!” Their hands shot up between them, and as they turned away, each of them shifted, snarls and groans cutting across the thunderous sound of the waves. Jungkook felt the sand rise up to meet his paws as he shifted mid-drop, barking excitedly and turning to Jimin. The older wolf was at his side, and gave a happy noise in return. Jimin’s wolf form was one of the cutest, in Jungkook’s opinion, but he never admitted it aloud because he knew Jimin wouldn’t like his wolf form of all things to be called cute . But he was definitely more rounded and muscular than Jungkook, warm golden-brown fur that was short and soft, and his tail had the sweetest curl at the end, with dark eyes and a short snout. He looked rounded and warm like a bun fresh out of the oven. Jungkook wanted to laugh at the thought, but settled for shaking the chill out of his fur, trying to get a feel for his wolf form in the new environment. Jimin nuzzled in at Jungkook, and since today was a special day, Jungkook nuzzled in back, shutting his eyes as he drowned himself momentarily in Scenting Jimin, brushing his neck up against the golden wolf’s fur and leaving his own smell. Taehyung of course nudged his way in, followed by Yoongi and Hoseok.   Kiara slipped over to Jungkook’s side, and the comforting, motherly scent of her Omega washed over him as she leaned in. Her fur was a complex design, like a painting of reds, blacks, and browns, and she had flecks of white all across her muzzle like the freckles she bore in human form, and her eyes were angular and attentive. She licked at his face tenderly, and he responded in kind, tucking his head beneath her chin and submitting to her, pleased at the feeling of familiar care. She nudged at him a bit roughly before leading them all back towards the edge of the beach, where the woods stretched out into dimness, an orchestra of greens, browns and grays. Namjoon, notably broader and larger than most of the other wolves, stood waiting patiently at the start of the trees. Kiara rushed to his side, her movements graceful and still quite feminine, and they brushed against each other before running off into the woods.   Jungkook moved to follow, when a flash of pure white caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin were stocky, round-limb wolves, and Jungkook and Yoongi were more of the gangly all-legs and angles type, this wolf had broad, even shoulders and thick front paws, his hip bones prominent and graceful on slender legs with a full, bristled-out tail of pure white. The fur around his head was thick and looked like a cloud. He was the wolf that people dreamed out onto the surface of paintings that hung in art galleries, emanating his own effervescent glow. Jungkook blinked. Seokjin .   Jimin rushed past him, waking Jungkook out of his thoughts, and they all rushed into the hunt. Jungkook’s first real hunt. The forest bed was mostly soft, made of dead leaves from autumn’s past and half-dying ferns, but it was very uneven. Jungkook had to adjust his weight carefully, unused to the rougher terrain, and found himself lagging a bit behind with Jimin. Surprisingly, only a few minutes in and the latter was already panting, uncharacteristic of the boy who often rough-housed with both Taehyung and Jungkook at once and held his own.   The leaves brushed against Jungkook’s black fur, dangerously sweeping past his eyes and almost cutting into them. He could see Hoseok’s dapple-gray tail up ahead of him, vanishing just around the trunk of a tree, and he raced to follow. Despite the difficulty of navigating the terrain, the slightly cool dampness of the ground beneath his feet was comforting, and the sweet smell that hovered beneath the branches of the trees, trapped in like a biosphere of nature’s gentle perfumes, was intoxicating.   Another flash of white and Seokjin was at Jungkook’s side, long strides letting him keep pace and a surprising confidence to his steps. He had been ahead of Jungkook but circled back around to run at his side, and Jungkook wanted to shiver from the aura that screamed Alpha at him. Jimin was at his other side, and seemed to deliberately bump up against him. Jungkook gave a bit of a snort warningly at the golden brown wolf, wanting him to back off a bit.   Somewhere ahead of them, Namjoon’s distinctive howl rose in signal of a scent discovered, making the fur on the back of Jungkook’s neck rise in excitement. He felt Seokjin’s eyes on him and turned. He could have sworn he could read amusement in the Alpha’s eyes before he pulled away to run ahead. Not to be outdone, Jungkook sped up, passing up the elder soon enough and catching up to Namjoon within a couple of heart-racing minutes. They were already closing in on a lone stag, the white of the fur underneath its tail and on its belly like a white flag of surrender, even as it leapt and bound over a small, dried up brook. Namjoon’s ear flickered a little, and Jungkook took the signal, moving over to the leader’s right flank and hurrying around to try and cut the stag off. In the corner of his eye he saw Yoongi’s form flickering through the underbrush, bent low and looking like a dark gray arrow shooting ahead, sure of its aim. Jungkook’s heart raced, his legs screaming from the exercise but his chest feeling light and eager.   They ran for several more minutes, weaving in closer together, then farther apart, avoiding briars and naked branches until they were out into a sizeable clearing. The stag was able to increase his pace but so were the wolves hot on his heels, and Jungkook forced his muscles to push off with more speed at the same time Yoongi did across from him, until they were able to circle around and cut off the stag’s escape. Long, spindly legs flailed, and the stag’s pupils were blown and panicked as it sought any escape. But as it was watching Yoongi, waiting for a moment to bolt, Namjoon and Kiara moved in. The former leapt straight for the stag’s throat and bit down ferociously, even as the Omega took hold of the stag’s back leg, using her own weight to pull the stag to the ground and helping Namjoon wrestle him down long enough to end him. The stag fought back as bravely as he could, headbutting at Namjoon and trying to throw him off. The stag lifted his front hooves in a valiant attempt to wriggle his flank out from Kiara’s relentless, bloody grip. Yoongi and Jungkook raced forward to press in at the stag’s front legs, and Jungkook felt the acrid bite of blood in his mouth as he took a mouthful of the stag’s right foreleg, shaking his head back and forth violently and helping force the stag to lie on its side.   It was strange, to see the stag finally yield, as though the energy was suddenly sapped from him like a dying battery as he bent his legs, almost calm as he laid down across the grass, exposed and doomed. Namjoon snapped at them after they had torn into the stag sufficiently to satisfy him, and Yoongi warning nudged Jungkook’s bloody muzzle out from the stag’s belly, and they stepped aside and let Hoseok pass them, the Alphas with first priority at the meal. Jungkook sat and watched, waiting his turn and licking at his paws in impatience. At the stag’s head, Jimin pressed in with ears pressed low, as though trying to pass by unnoticed as he reached for the tender meat of the deer’s neck. As he wasn’t noticed by Namjoon or the other Alphas, he was allowed to continue for the time being. Emboldened by that, Jungkook pressed in again, only to get snapped at by Hoseok, his teeth bared as his pink lip curled in aggressive warning. Jungkook’s ears angled down in apology, and he dipped his head as he stepped back.   A few minutes later and it was the Omegas turn, and since there were only two of them, the unpresented pups were allowed to join them. Jungkook buried himself in gleefully, the raw meat more pungent and appealing for the effort he had put in to earn it. He was happy have not only kept up, but helped in the chase.   But a snarl at his side suddenly interrupted the feeding time, as Jimin had tried to steal away the head that Namjoon had been gnawing on, provoking the leader to snap at the pup. Jimin yipped but tried again, until Namjoon bit at him in warning. The other wolves paused, the atmosphere suddenly tense again as they tried to continue to feed while avoiding getting caught up in the inevitable brawl. To Jungkook’s surprise, Jimin snapped his jaws back at Namjoon, even while he was bent low with his head raised to the Alpha, a defensive posture to protect his neck, to no avail as Namjoon grabbed Jimin and tossed him aside, fur bristled and eyes snapping into a fiery red. Kiara moved in with a smooth, quick step and placed her head beneath Namjoon’s chin, snarling at Jimin in her own wordless warning. Jungkook didn’t know why Jimin was being provocative, especially when there was plenty of meat for them to share without causing problems. Jimin let out a whimper, but stood up again and braced his paws against the grass, leaping forward with a growl and biting toward Namjoon’s front paw. A scuffle ensued, then, faster than Jungkook’s eyes could catch it, but he knew that every hair on his body stood on end at the dark, deep sound that Namjoon emitted, biting again at the pup and with none of the previous caution. Jimin let out a high-pitched cry, whimpering several loud painful yelps as he limped a bit away, one paw bent at his side. Namjoon stood firmly, as though just daring Jimin to continue the unnecessary assault.   Then, the breeze changed, and a new scent rose in the air. Jungkook lifted his nose, distracted from watching the fight, and wondered why it smelled so sweet. It made him shiver, something in his belly glowing warm and heavy. Yoongi whimpered at his side, once, then twice, with a deliberation. There seemed to be a piercing, shrill-sound in the air, like an unspoken scream, and Jungkook felt like Yoongi was trying to warn him of something. Namjoon’s ears twitched in realization, and it was several long moments until Jungkook figured it out, too.   That was the scent of a new Alpha, mingled with the powerful sweetness of a familiar smell.   The smell of peppermint.   Jimin was presenting .   Yoongi growled deeply in his throat, looking toward Hoseok, who bobbed his head up and down in understanding. The gray Omega wolf pushed roughly at Jungkook’s side, telling him to follow as he ran out of the clearing. Seokjin and Hoseok waited, but Taehyung, Jungkook and Kiara were corralled away, soon flanked by the two Alphas. As they started off into the trees, Jungkook couldn’t help but look over his shoulder, seeing Namjoon and Jimin alone in the clearing. Jimin still had crimson dripping from his jaw from their kill, both wolves with their ears pressed low and teeth bared in challenge. Just as they were falling out of sight, Jungkook saw Namjoon leap forward, maw open wide and menacing.   He was jolted back into gear when Yoongi bumped up against him roughly, shaking him into focus enough so that they could run back toward the camp. The distant smell of Namjoon’s scent marker drifted to him when the wind changed, and almost as one all the wolves shifted their direction slightly to the right. It was almost an hour before Jungkook started to feel the ground was familiar, and then the beach suddenly opened up before them.   They sat for a minute, panting, drool and drying blood alike hanging from their chins, before Hoseok led the way back toward the cabins. Jungkook followed, his steps a little shaky as he realized he couldn’t get the image of Namjoon and Jimin out of his mind.   Seeing both Seokjin and Hoseok back in their human forms, the former wiping absently at the blood on his pale skin as the two Alphas leaned close in heated discussion, Jungkook was about to start transforming back, when he noticed Taehyung for the first time since the fight had broken out. The wolf had his tail between his legs as though he had been the one berated, both ears tilted low and head hung near the sand. Jungkook twitched an ear at him in curiosity, moving forward to use his muzzle to attempt to lift Taehyung’s face upward. He seemed to ignore Jungkook’s presence entirely.   “I can’t believe he went into a fucking rut in the middle of a hunt, though,” Yoongi was saying, now having joined the others. “That was so dangerous! Didn’t he give off any signs?!”   “Um, he did say he wasn’t feeling well on the drive over,” Kiara offered, her mouth quirking to the side in concern.   “I wondered if he had a bit of a fever, when we stopped at the rest stop, but he said he would be fine if he just rested a bit,” Hoseok sighed. “And then during the hunt I hung back with him because he seemed to be struggling to keep up. I should have smelled it on him, though. I could have stayed back with him at the cabins.”   “ No, ” Yoongi snapped. Jungkook felt the air crackle as Yoongi’s possessive Omega scent rose, somehow blacker and more dangerous than the regular smell of earth around them. “You’re not his Alpha. EIther way, Namjoon would have had to take him off. Let’s just hope he’s not too wired up to listen to some sense.”   Meanwhile, Jungkook heard Taehyung give a little whimper, and he turned to him, trying to nuzzle against him in reassurance. It’ll be okay, Taehyung-hyung. Namjoon will take care of it! He’s our lead Alpha, after all. Truth be told, Jungkook didn’t understand everything that was going on, but he knew Namjoon wouldn’t really hurt Jimin. He just needed to establish his role as a lead Alpha in the pack. With Jimin’s new raging Alpha hormones, he just wasn’t thinking straight.   “What’s wrong with the boys?” Kiara breathed, stepping over and brushing a hand across Taehyung’s head, her pale hand gentle, even as Jungkook saw that there was still blood encrusted under her fingernails. “Taehyungie? What’s wrong?”   Taehyung still didn’t move, whimpering a little and holding his head low.   “Do you feel sick? Why won’t you transform back? Are you stuck?”   In response, Taehyung just lowered himself onto his belly on the sand. Jungkook whimpered, burying his nose in as many places of Taehyung’s fur as he could, feeling slightly panicked with worry as he messily tried to nudge the older wolf into standing up again.   “I don’t understand,” Hoseok said. Then, to Kiara in a quieter voice, he suggested, “Maybe he’s upset about Jimin?”   “Mm…” Kiara ran a hand under Taehyung’s chin, gently rubbing at the fur there with a motherly hand. “It’ll be all right, Taehyung, I promise. Jimin is just presenting, that’s all. That’s a very wonderful thing! It means he can finally have his own place in the pack, like an adult wolf. He was just a few days before his 20th birthday, too, so he chose a good day! We’ll just wait here for them to come back, all right?” She paused a moment, turning to Jungkook and asking, “Jungkook? Are you okay?”   Jungkook had laid down at Taehyung’s side, but at Kiara’s words he lifted his ears, tail lifting and wagging back and forth in reassurance. He was fine. But somehow he didn’t want to leave Taehyung alone. If Taehyung didn’t feel okay enough to transform back, then he wouldn’t, either.   “All right, you boys take your time and take it easy, okay? And let us know if you need us.” Then, in a deliberate, calm voice, emphasizing every syllable, she added, “We’re a pack, after all.” Kiara stood up, then, running a hand through her short, wavy red hair, letting out a sigh as she went to the Main Hall with the other boys.   Taehyung didn’t move, so Jungkook laid down at his side, their paws brushed up against each other as they rested their heads against the sand, facing the path that led into the woods. Over an hour passed, and Jungkook found himself dozing off, waking himself up with little snorts as he got jolted from a dream by the occasional sigh from Taehyung. At one point, he got up to stretch his legs, circling Taehyung as he walked slowly, arching his back to get the crick out of it. Still, Taehyung didn’t move. The sky started to darken, and the wind felt cooler as a grayness covered the sky. It looked like rain, but Taehyung just closed his eyes and sighed again, his nose sniffing for the millionth time as the breeze shifted. Jungkook spotted a black tree frog out of the corner of his eye and bounded over to play with it, not trying too hard to catch it because he liked seeing the way the sand flew up around it as it tried to leap away.   Kiara brought them food when it really got dark, but Taehyung didn’t touch any of it. Jungkook swore to himself that he would be strong and leave Taehyung’s portion alone, but a nibble became a bite, which became another bite, and soon he’d ended up eating both. Kiara insisted they sleep in their cabins, promising to come tell him if anyone came. Taehyung relented, but walked so weakly and reluctantly it was as if he had become an invalid, with Jungkook leaning into his shoulder for both physical and moral support. He crawled straight onto Jimin’s bunk and Jungkook crawled up after him without hesitation, curling around him and tucking his nose over the wolf’s pale golden fur, the smell of citrus stinging at his sensitive nostrils. Somewhere deep into the night, there was a yip, and a long wolf’s howl. Taehyung whimpered, and Jungkook curled in closer, as if embracing him. It was Jungkook’s turn to let out a sigh of his own as they settled in for a restless night’s sleep. And although Jungkook didn’t know it, there were now only 87 days left. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I wanted to see you again, touch you, know who you were, see if I would find you identical with the ideal image of you which had remained with me and perhaps shatter my dream with the aid of reality.” - Victor Hugo    87 DAYS ~~~~~ Lightning streaked across the sky almost constantly, flashing the earth with cold illumination as a loud crash resounded until it felt like the world was breaking apart. The two wolves entangled in each other were a mass of wet fur, blood and teeth. Paws thrashed, maws snapped, and echoing across the valley was the constant mingling of pain-stricken cries and infuriated snarls. Jungkook stood at the bottom of the valley, just a few feet from them, and he could hear the squelch of the puddle-covered ground beneath his feet, could smell the musky dampness of their fur. The pain in his chest doubled, his eyes widening as he tried in vain to distinguish the dark brown body from the golden brown one in the midst of the brawl, but he was powerless to stop them.   “Hyung, leave him alone! He’s just in his rut!” Jungkook cried out, but his words were swallowed by another crash of thunder. “Leave Jimin alone! He needs you!”   Namjoon wasn’t listening. Jungkook felt tears stinging at his eyes, biting at his lip until it bled. This wasn’t how presenting was supposed to be, was it? This wasn’t familial and safe, this was scary and uncertain. This wasn’t like the usual Namjoon or Jimin at all. He saw Namjoon’s teeth sinking into Jimin’s neck, causing the younger the whimper so loud it stung Jungkook’s ears.   “Stop it!” Jungkook cried, stepping forward, tempted to physically try and break it up, even though every instinct told him that that would do no good. “He’s presenting, he needs you to take care of him!”   “He is taking care of him,” said a voice at Jungkook’s side. He jumped, looking over and seeing Seokjin, looking calm and judgmental with his arms crossed. “This is how a lead Alpha takes care of a newly presented Alpha.”   “By hurting him?!” Jungkook snapped, his angry accusation choked with another sob.   Seokjin watched him for a long moment, as though trying to gauge Jungkook’s expression before adding on the next part. “He’ll only hurt him for awhile. Then it will feel good.”   “W-what? How will that feel good?” Jungkook pointed at the tumbling wolves. Now the cries had evened out into little whimpers from Jimin.   Seokjin moved forward, his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders the same way it had been that first day (that only day) he had Scented Jungkook. The weightiness on Jungkook’s shoulders felt familiar and warm, but the look on Seokjin’s face scared him. Seokjin turned Jungkook back to the others, and Jungkook’s eyes widened as he realized that their positions had changed. Instead of being curled around each other messily, Namjoon now had Jimin’s small, round body pinned beneath him, Jimin’s soft stomach pressed to the wet pit of mud and grass, his paws at either side of his face and his bottom in the air as he continued to whimper. Namjoon was crouched over Jimin in a way Jungkook could only see as lewd, moving back and forth violently as if they were mating. And the funny thing was, Jimin wasn’t trying to escape. He was quietly pushing back into Namjoon, nose buried between his paws as his eyes flickered shut, as though he had wanted it this way, as though it was bringing him relief. Jungkook gasped, and Seokjin’s hands felt heavier on his shoulders.   “Jungkook,” he said, lowly and in a voice he only heard when the elder was trying to be patient, when the warm, teasing, friendly hyung he had come to know in the last couple of months had vanished in favor of one that actually felt much, much older. “Jungkook, look at me.”   And of course he did, he looked at Seokjin. But suddenly Namjoon and Jimin were gone, and the world seemed to spin, and it was no longer Jimin pressed to the earth but himself, and the dark paws at either side were now white and larger. His cheek was pressed to well-trampled grass, and rain stung at his eyes, rain-smell swam around him, making it hard for him to see, hard to smell, hard to think. He gasped into the pools he was halfway sunk into, his heart pounding in his chest.   “Jungkook,” Seokjin said again, his voice exactly the same as before, even though Jungkook was crying out in shock, trying to decide whether to scramble away and look for Jimin or to stay and answer his hyung obediently. His hands dug into the grass but he couldn’t feel the wetness there anymore. There were other forms of wetness pooling above and below him, and he felt Seokjin’s stomach pressing against his raised hips….   “Jungkook!”   With a little cry Jungkook jolted out of his dream into a different kind of darkness. The cabin was dark and humid, the windows foggy and dripping condensation. There was the thick, distant roar of rain on the roof, as it had been storming all day and deep into the night, with no sign of stopping and no sign of their missing pack members. Jungkook touched a hand to his face, finding it clammy and covered in sweat, just like his sleeping bag. He was gasping for air like he had just been running, his chest rising and falling as he turned his head. In the dim, bluish-gray light in the room, he could see Taehyung curled up on the bottom bunk below and across, a strange looking form of fur curled up into a tight circle. He glanced up and saw Seokjin asleep in the top bunk above Taehyung, and his chest constricted like someone was sitting on it. Tentatively, Jungkook flicked on his night-light, facing it toward the wall so it wasn’t too bright, and blinked over at the Alpha’s still form. Even in his sleep Seokjin looked somehow more regal than he should be allowed, his lips pressed gently together and his arms crossed over his chest, head laid to the side and his cheek squished slightly up against the fabric of the pillow. The Kims always looked so peaceful when they slept.   Jungkook moved to roll over, but then found himself tensing up suddenly. To his surprise, his boxers now felt uncomfortably tight, the muscles of his groin taut like a rubber band pushed to his limits. Fuck.   It wasn’t as if it was the first time this sort of thing had happened, but he didn’t like the idea of it happening while Taehyung and Seokjin were sleeping just a few feet away. But there was no way he’d be going back to sleep like this. With a sigh, he rolled back over onto his back, biting his lip as he tucked his fingers inside the waistband of his boxers. He could just take care of it really quick once, then go back to sleep and it’d be like it never happened. It was late, anyways, so they were definitely asleep. Jungkook wrapped his hands around his stiff and complaining member, brushing his thumb over the tip to find it already moist and warm. Bending his knees up a bit, he shifted his hips on the bunk as quietly as he could, to avoid any telltale creaks. He noticed then that his body felt heavy, as though every sense was on hyperdrive. It was a lot harder tonight than it usually was from morning wood, and he wondered vaguely what had set it off. His palm curved around the base, twisting smoothly and applying a bit more pressure. A giveaway squelch of skin moving against lubricated skin, and he bit at his lip hard to hold back from making a sound. But despite himself, a deep little sigh escaped him.   That was when Seokjin spoke.   Or rather, mumbled. Jungkook’s whole body froze, his hand still wrapped around his dick inside his boxers, and he turned in horror over towards the Alpha’s bed. However, Seokjin lay as he did before, still and relaxed, deep in sleep. Confused, Jungkook stared at him, until Seokjin’s lips parted and incoherent babble tumbled from his lips. Jungkook sighed in relief. Seokjin was a sleep-talker. He smiled at the elder fondly, until his brain decided to remind him of what dream had tormented his sleep in the first place. His eyes widened to almost double their normal size, and he felt goosebumps rise on his arms.   The dark valley, the cries through the storm. Namjoon and Jimin, snarling and bloody. Seokjin and him.   Seokjin and him.   Images flashed through Jungkook’s mind from his dream, images of Seokjin pressing him roughly into the wet earth, and he shivered. The involuntary movement caused his hand to shift on his member, making his back curl a little in reaction. It wasn’t really a conscious decision to continue pumping at his erection, it was just something that happened. And to his shame, Jungkook’s face remained glued to Seokjin’s face as he did it, watching the princely pallor of his cheeks, the sweet pinkness of his lips. His face started to burn with embarrassment, praying to god that Seokjin didn’t wake up, that Taehyung couldn’t hear, that neither of them would smell him in the morning. The fear of being discovered only added to the difficulty of keeping his moans swallowed down, and Jungkook ended up slipping his forearm between his teeth, biting lightly down and muffling his cries.   He felt close, tantalizingly close, but he couldn’t quite finish. In desperation, in weakness of the moment, he let himself think back to the feeling of Seokjin’s hands on his shoulders, of the way he had looked at Jungkook in his dream, intently and focused, self-assured. Across from him, Seokjin let out another little murmur, unknowingly tipping the younger man over. Jungkook released a whimper, trembling as he came into his palm, his head tilting back to leave his jaw and neck exposed, his eyes squeezed shut as he panted through the oncoming wave. When he finished, his whole body sunk into the mattress with a deep sigh, and he lay there for a moment, unmoving, eyes shut, before deciding to clean himself up with one of the small towels in his dirty laundry bag, crawling back into his blankets and feeling much less tense than he had felt before.   It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that he really realized what he had done, and told himself to never think about it again.   ~~~~~   Jungkook slept in late the next morning, crawling down to find that both Seokjin and Taehyung had already left. The rain was still coming down in torrents, so he pulled his black hoodie tight over his head, yanking the drawstrings until the hood opening was bunched up around his face, before shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging over to the Main Hall. The first thing that greeted him was the scent of wood fire, the crackle of flames, and a quiet atmosphere. When he closed the door, he saw that Seokjin was seated on the far couch, a plate of food balanced on his lap and a book held slotted between his fingers on one hand as his other petted across Taehyung’s back, wide, soothing gestures that had the wolf blinking sleepily. Hoseok and Yoongi were sitting on the closer couch, somewhere between bickering and cuddling.   “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s just a worm. It’s not like it’s going to scream at you,” Yoongi was saying, a tackle box opened between his feet and a thick, dark fishing pole tilted towards him as he threaded line onto it. “Live bait makes a really big difference.”   “But don’t they bleed everywhere and continuing wriggling on it?” Hoseok shuddered, his legs folded and tucked up to the side as he had his arm wrapped around Yoongi’s shoulders. “And they’re so slimy .”   “Slimy worms are the best at catching that kind of fish,” Yoongi stated, as if the argument was over.   “Who’s the real slimy worm here? Shall we find out?” Hoseok pouted suggestively, leaning in to nuzzle at the space behind Yoongi’s ear, placing his teeth around the skin there but not really biting down. Seokjin, who had obviously been listening, started to giggle into the pages of his book. Yoongi frowned, moving the fishing pole over to lightly thwack at his boyfriend’s forehead.   “Get away from me, you’re grossing me out with that disgusting pick-up line.”   Jungkook took a step over to the kitchen island, where a small arrangement of now-cold bacon and toast had been left. He was starving, but he noted well that there seemed to be just enough food for three people, obviously two set aside for the two wolves not back yet. He decided to just make extra toast.   “Hoseokkie-hyung, where are the plates?” Jungkook queried, opening cupboards in his search for the pile of paper plates they had brought with them.   “Oh, they’re on top of the fridge,” he answered, craning his neck to look Jungkook’s way, even as his hand was tickling at the back of Yoongi’s neck, making the Omega swear under his breath at him. “And if you need me to make more bacon, I can.”   “No, it’s all right.” He pressed the button on the toaster and turned to the fridge.   “Speaking of food, it’s been about thirty minutes,” Seokjin said, “Kiara asked if someone would bring her a hot cup of coffee.”   “Yeah,” Hoseok nodded, “Whose turn is it?”   “It’s yours,” Yoongi poked a finger into Hoseok’s side so that he would remove his hand from Yoongi’s thigh, allowing him more room to detangle the spare line he was working on.   Hoseok whimpered, leaning against Yoongi’s shoulder. “But I don’t wanna leaaave you!”   “Then get going so you can get back sooner,” was Yoongi’s diplomatic answer, shoving his shoulder at the Alpha.   “How rude! Your mate just wants your affection and you have to be this much of a brat!” Hoseok’s lips pinched downward, the bottom lip protruding a little in the middle as his upper lip seemed to vanish, a portrait of discontent. But nonetheless he pushed off the couch. “Fine, but don’t come begging to me later. Oh, wait , you will .”   “Asshole,” Yoongi said, with no malice in his tone at all as Hoseok slipped around Jungkook, his hand brushing across the younger man’s shoulder with a natural physical intimacy as he retrieved a mug. Jungkook was leaning against the sink, his hands tucked into his pockets and his shoulders slumped. His eyes flickered back over to the couch where Taehyung and Seokjin were curled around each other, and the younger wolf let out a sigh. Glancing down, Seokjin reached down to pick up a small chunk of toast and held it out to his brother, who ate it reluctantly then dropped his head to Seokjin’s thigh again. Jungkook felt his jaw clench as he remembered the events of that morning, deciding he probably needed a bit more time away from the two brothers before he could go join them like normal.   “Hyung, I could take the coffee to Kiara,” he offered to Hoseok, “Where is she?”   “Oh? Would you? Thank you, Kookie.” Hoseok smiled, patting Jungkook’s cheek in affection and handing him the steaming plastic cup. “She’s down by the scent marker on the beach. Just in case. We’ve tried to talk her into coming back inside, but she said she’d wait until at least this afternoon.”   “No problem,” he said, shoving half of the still hot toast into his mouth and snapping a matching plastic lid onto the cup before preparing to venture out into the rain again.   “Finish your breakfast first, though,” Hoseok said, a trace of command laced into his light-hearted tone. Jungkook nodded, pouring himself a small glass of milk to help hurry things along so that the coffee would still be hot.   Meanwhile, Hoseok went back to the couch, moving to curl back up against Yoongi. But the Omega had just finished threading his lines, and moved to stand up. Hoseok growled a little, clutching at the back of Yoongi’s eggshell-white aran sweater. “Nooo!” he whined, tugging on the fabric, “Don’t leave me, I just got back!”   “It’s best to fish while it’s raining, and the cove will be really nice right now,” Yoongi tried to reason. But Hoseok just tugged harder. “Oh, come on , it’s not like I’m going far, Hoseok.”   “Stay. Here.” Hoseok insisted, his eyes flashing, even as his voice returned to playful. “I’ll miss you!”   Yoongi sighed, “Fine, just let me put the gear away in the lean-to, then.”   “No, do it later!”   “I won’t be gone for long, sheesh, just hold your horses.” Yoongi tugged his sweater out of Hoseok’s grasp, then took his stuff out to the lean-to attached to the side of the porch. Jungkook could see him messing around in the entrance from his spot at the window, where he was eating his bacon as quickly as possible. When Yoongi came back inside, Jungkook was chugging the last of a glass of milk and Hoseok was curled up on the opposite end of the couch, pouting. When the Omega sat back down, shifting over to lean into Hoseok, the Alpha pushed him away.   “No, I don’t talk to rude people, and I certainly don’t cuddle with rude Omegas.”   “Seriously?” Yoongi sighed in exasperation, having had enough of Hoseok’s finicky behavior. He crawled over into Hoseok’s lap, forcing a cute little sound of surprise from the Alpha before taking his face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. Easily, naturally, Hoseok’s hands slipped around Yoongi in turn, returning the kiss. Jungkook smiled a little to himself at the silliness of his hyungs, accidentally glancing over and making eye contact with Seokjin, who was smirking conspiratorially at the youngest, and rolled his eyes. There was nothing inherently out of place with the gesture, but the eye contact with Seokjin reminded him of the last time he had looked directly at Seokjin’s face and goosebumps rose up along his arms. He threw the last of his toast in his mouth and rushed for the door, heading back out into the rain. The air felt a lot cooler and cleaner than inside the Main Hall, and he sighed in relief.   The beach looked a lot grayer and desolate than it had the day before, but the salty air still stung pleasantly at his nostrils. Kiara was sitting on a small fold-up chair next to the ugly scent-flag, a green umbrella that was decorated like a kiwi held over her head and her knees drawn up to her chest, making her look very small. She had on one of Namjoon’s big, dark green sweaters, the sleeves bulky and loose, and practically covering her hands as it was almost big enough on her to be a sort of dress. Her reddish hair was damp and frizzy from the rain, tiny individual hairs filled with static and reaching up towards the material of the umbrella. Her eyes were sad and locked on the edge of the woods where the path ended.   “Noo-oona,” Jungkook sang out, his hand held over the cup to shield it from the rain and making the steam burn a little against the skin of his palm. She looked up, sending him a soft smile.   “Kookie,” she called out, reaching out a hand to draw him near her, tugging him down into a crouch beside her chair and attempting to cover them both with the umbrella. His shoulders were too broad, though, and his right shoulder became dotted with little rain droplets that clung there desperately. “How did you sleep?”   “Fine,” he lied. “I brought you some coffee. Hoseok made it.”   “Thank you,” she took the coffee and blew on it a little, her lips pursing over the rim of the cup. Jungkook watched her for a moment, then turned to stare at the path. He didn’t want to go back to the Main Hall just yet, and he felt the warmth and softness of Kiara’s Omega aura reaching out to him, offering comfort even as she needed it herself. It wasn’t really a scent, in the strictest sense, it was just a feeling he picked up on from her; it was one of the reasons he had always liked Kiara, from the day Namjoon had first brought her to the pack house.   “How long do you think they’ll be?”   “Who knows? It depends on Jimin’s rut,” she said quietly. Taking a cautious sip of her coffee, she added, “I’d like to take you boys out on another little run, but it’s a bit too risky, since we haven’t heard anything. But we’ll come longer next time, okay?”   Jungkook nodded, and she looked over at him with a smile, wrapping her hand around his neck and rubbing at the tense muscles there.   “You did great for your first hunt.” Her smile was radiant, even though her lips looked pale without their signature bright-red lipstick. She seemed smaller but bigger at the same time, and Jungkook felt as if he was seeing a bit of the strain that being a lead Omega could lead to. “As expected of our Golden Maknae.”   Jungkook did his best to smile for her, at the nickname Namjoon had given him. “Well, it’s technically not my first, I went to the public parks...” “Yeah, but the public parks are so pathetic and sad, it doesn’t really feel the same, does it? So everyone sees this as your first official hunt.”   He tucked his head into Kiara’s side, lifting one curled hand to cling to the pocket of her jeans like he was her pup. A silence enshrouded them, natural but painful for the waiting period they had been forced into. “He’ll be okay. Namjoon’s the strongest Alpha I know.”   “Yes,” she agreed, sighing as she tucked her fingers under his hoodie, tugging it loose enough that she could run a hand through his hair. Rain was collecting on the right half of him but he didn’t move, knowing the gesture was just as much to comfort herself as him. “He’s been preparing for this for a long time, it’s just… a lot of waiting.”   He nuzzled into her, and she rubbed her hands through his hair for a few more minutes, before patting his shoulder and tugging the hoodie back over his eyes. “Go back into the warmth, and check on Taehyung for me.”   Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, standing up and heading back to the Main Hall. Seokjin was nudging at Taehyung’s mouth with another piece of toast, the latter stubbornly refusing it. Hoseok and Yoongi had vanished, probably off to their currently-empty cabin. Jungkook wanted to curl up against Taehyung, but he didn’t trust himself to get physically close to Seokjin again yet, so he flopped onto the couch the other two had abandoned, still feeling the warmth lingering to the cushions. To keep himself busy, he pulled out his phone and started to browse the internet. An hour passed, and then two, and he almost forgot about the tension of earlier. Jungkook had settled deep into the recesses of the couch, his hand on his lower stomach as he scrolled through his phone, when suddenly Seokjin let out a long, deep moaning sound that surprised Jungkook so much he dropped his cell phone to his face with a thunk. Looking over, Seokjin had bent his back forward, arms outstretched over his head as he groaned, eyes shut and face scrunched up. Jungkook frowned, wanting to throw his cell phone at the Alpha in frustration. Just at that sound, he already felt his gut tensing.   “Jungkookie, I’m hungry again, let’s make some food.”   “You just ate like an hour ago,” Jungkook said quietly, hunching his shoulders and curling up closer with his phone.   “But I’m bored. I’ve already read this book before,” Seokjin sighed, his tone petulant like a spoiled child. “Jungkook, play with me.”   Jungkook didn’t answer, and Seokjin stood up, setting the now-empty plate onto the coffee table. Taehyung snorted out of his sleep as he was shifted from Seokjin’s thigh before looking over. Jungkook felt every muscle in his body pull tight in warning as Seokjin caged Jungkook in on the couch, with one arm leaning heavily against the back cushion and the other pressed deeply into the cushion at Jungkook’s side, warm against him. Jungkook swallowed heavily, wriggling his body around until he was facing the back of the couch, away from Seokjin’s smirk. Couldn’t he tell that everyone was tense and worried from their missing members? Couldn’t he just leave Jungkook alone? Could he stop smelling so damn nice?   “Come on , JK, let’s do something fun, ” Seokjin cooed. Jungkook side-glanced towards the older man and instantly regretted it when he saw the devilish grin, praying to god Seokjin wouldn’t notice the slight flush he felt rising to his cheeks.   “I said no,” Jungkook grouched, burying his cheek into the corner, smelling dust and the slightly suffocating muskiness of old furniture. The door to the cabin opened, letting in the thunderous sound of rain momentarily before being shut off again with a heavy click.   “What are you guys doing?” Kiara’s voice came, and Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief.   “I was trying to get JK to play with me.” He could practically hear the pout in Seokjin’s voice.   “Well, I’m game if you guys are, we could use some cheering up. Come on, Taehyung. Let’s play something together.”   Jungkook was holding in his breath so as not to smell Seokjin, whose attention was on the other two. He wriggled his way out from under the Alpha’s arm, crawling up and over the edge of the couch to try and escape. But Seokjin noticed, snatching hold of Jungkook’s jeans and tugging him easily back down to bounce against the couch cushions, his arms and legs flailing. “Hey! Where are you going? You’re acting all weird.”   “I am not, now let go,” Jungkook said, pushing at Seokjin’s hands. A mistake, as the slight coolness of the man’s fingers against his own suddenly made his hair stand on end. Seokjin crinkled his eyebrows in confusion, frowning. The disgruntled look only lasted a moment, though, before Seokjin threw his arms around Jungkook, pinning the dark-haired boy’s face in the crook of his elbow before rubbing his fist against the top of Jungkook’s head, making him cry out as Seokjin laughed.   “I’m trying to make sure you weren’t possessed by a body snatcher, wearing your skin,” Seokjin teased, grunting as Jungkook’s wiggling caused an elbow to thrust into his stomach. “Relax, they’re gonna be back soon.”   Jungkook realized that Seokjin was assuming the tenseness between them was only because of Namjoon and Jimin’s absence. He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief at the realization that Seokjin didn’t suspect the real reason.   “Taehyung, do you want something to drink?” Kiara asked, going to the fridge. Taehyung twitched an ear in her direction but otherwise gave no answer. When the female Omega opened the fridge, she let out a little, “Oh!” And pulled out the two six-packs of beer Yoongi had bought at the rest stop. “I guess we’re gonna play King’s Cup!”   Looking a little dubiously at the cans, Jungkook said, “But I can’t drink?” Both of the elders paused for a moment, considering deeply.   “We could let him drink just this once, don’t you think? Since he’s just with us?” Seokjin asked Kiara, who pursed her lips in thought.   “I’m not sure. What if let him drink if he gets the king’s cup, but otherwise we’ll have him drink orange juice?” She pulled out the liter container and set it in front of the boy, and all agreed that seemed fair enough. Jungkook had to admit, a part of him started off wishing he might get the King’s Cup, so he could drink. It wasn’t often the older pack members were this lenient with a rule. He didn’t know the rules of the game but he figured he could keep up.   Kiara set a large goblet-like cup in the middle of the table, then shuffled a deck of cards, laying them out so that they were spread out in a circle around the cup, face down. She gestured to Seokjin, who shook his head and gestured to her instead, saying, “Ladies first.”   Kiara rolled her eyes, flipping over the first card, a 10 of spades. “Categories,” she explained. “Um… animals, I guess?” She turned to Seokjin. “You’re first.”   “Horses,” Jin said quickly.   “Uh, wolves?”   Kiara rolled her eyes but took her turn, “Monkeys.”   “Bears.”   “Iguanas?”   “Rhinoceros.”   The play went around the table for almost ten minutes, until Seokjin accidentally named an animal they had already listed before, and he had to take a drink. Kiara and Jungkook cheered as he took a good-sized swig of the beer, his brows crinkling together at the bitter taste.   “Okay, my turn to pick a card.” He leaned forward and drew a King of hearts. Kiara gave a loud “Oooh!” so Jungkook did similarly, as Seokjin made a face as though he was facing a great challenge, raising his fist in a fighting salute before dumping some of his beer into the main goblet, foam floating at the top as Jungkook reached for a card tentatively. He flipped it over, revealing a jack of hearts. Seokjin moaned, smacking Jungkook on the arm while Kiara laughed.   “Yah, JK, why is this game so mean to me so early, huh? That’s not fair!” “Wait, what does a jack mean?”   “Jack for jacks,” Kiara giggled, “Meaning all the guys drink. Bottoms up, boys!” Jungkook and Seokjin tipped their glasses back, draining their cups. Seokjin moaned and complained, somehow blaming it all on Jungkook that he had to take the extra drink, and opened himself up another can.   “Okay, my turn again!” The Omega leaned forward and flipped over another card, turning over a 3 of diamonds. “Aww, ‘three for me,’ I have to take three drinks now.”   It was almost time for dinner when Yoongi and Hoseok finally came back to the main cabin, and when they arrived, they found Seokjin and Kiara rolling around on the couch laughing at something hilarious Jungkook apparently said, the youngest sheepishly sipping at the last of his orange juice while Taehyung looked on, looking more interested than he had since the hunt. Both his ears were perked up as Jungkook refilled his glass with milk this time.   “What’s going on?”   “Jungkook is cheating at King’s Cup!” Seokjin screeched, his face and neck red from the strain of laughter, one finger pointing accusatorily at the youngest. “We’ve played four...no, six times, and he hasn’t lost once!” Hoseok shook his head, stepping over to the fire and setting a new log on top of the coals that had been allowed to accumulate there.   “Well, he’s the Golden Maknae, and you’re one of the unluckiest people I know,” Yoongi said, sitting down onto the couch next to Taehyung and drawing the wolf’s head into his lap so he could pet him.   “It’s nice to see everyone a bit more upbeat now, though,” Hoseok commented, sitting back as the fire licked its way across the log it had just been fed, slowly feeling its way across the pine and giving the smell of sap in the air, crackling delightedly.   “Yeah,” Yoongi rubbed underneath Taehyung’s chin, but his smile disappeared when he gave the drinking party a closer look. “Wait, is that my beer?” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less." ― Marie Curie   85 DAYS  ~~~~~ “Jungkook!” came a cry, shaking him violently. He blinked open his eyes, and Taehyung was leaning over him, his bangs falling into his eyes as he beamed broadly, all teeth. “Are you awake? You were making all sorts of weird noises in your sleep.” “Wha-?” Jungkook blinked heavily, crustiness at the edges of his eyes making it difficult. He half-sat up, making his bed-hair stand on end as he did so. Taehyung bounced on the edge of the bed excitedly, waiting for Jungkook to withdraw himself from the deep caverns of his sleepy mind. He rubbed at one eye, giving a heavy yawn. “You… you transformed back?” “Yes!” Taehyung leaned in, a playful, eager smile there that had been missing the last two days. In a dramatic stage-whisper he explained, “Jimin’s back!” “Jimin’s back?” Jungkook instantly brightened, his body shot with a volt of energy. “Yeah, he’s sleeping in the Main Hall, the others are there now. Seokjin said not to wake you, but…” “I wanna see him!” Jungkook cried out, shifting forward and moving to throw aside his sleeping bag. Taehyung slipped down from the ladder, A few minutes later and Jungkook was tugging his jeans and boots on and rushing over to the Main Hall as fast as he could. The rain had stopped, although everything was still wet and the ground squelched beneath his feet. Jungkook grimaced up at the morning sun, inhaling a sweet breath of the October morning air before opening the door, Taehyung pushing eagerly at his back before they tumbled inside. They were greeted with the smell of soup and the gentle clanking of dishes as Kiara and Yoongi made breakfast. She was smiling softly at something he’d said, dropping the minced onions into the pot as Yoongi sliced cherry tomatoes. Namjoon was sprawled across one of the couches, already bandaged up and snoring, his head resting on Hoseok’s lap as the latter kept a hand on Namjoon’s chest. Hoseok looked up as the boys entered, offering a warm smile. Taehyung moved to perch on the arm of the other couch, looking like an eager bird waiting for its breakfast. He had put his beanie on, his forehead exposed now that his bangs had been tucked away, and he was leaning into his sleeve-covered hands and watching over Seokjin’s broad back as he tended to Jimin on the couch. Jungkook stepped up timidly, leaning over Seokjin but not touching him as he inspected Jimin’s face. The boy looked paler than usual, with scratches on his soft cheeks and a bruise beneath his eye. His shirt had been removed and Seokjin was dabbing at some pretty large open wounds with a wet cotton swab. Jungkook winced at the scratches running up and down Jimin’s gently sloping stomach, almost all clearly claw marks. The deepest looking marks were the little purple dots from teeth that trailed across the skin of his neck, and Jungkook swallowed as he saw images from his dream return. Seokjin was turned away from him, but it felt suddenly very strange to be in the same vicinity as his real, weighted physical presence. He didn’t remember his dreams from the previous night, but he had a sneaking suspicion he’d had the same one again. Yet despite it all Jimin looked as if he was sleeping peacefully, his dark pink lips slightly parted and looking very, very young. Jungkook felt compelled to throw himself over the boy and nuzzle into him desperately, unused to and not liking seeing one of his closest hyungs looking weakened and vulnerable. “How…” Jungkook’s word formed as a sort of creak and he cleared his throat before trying again. “How is he?” “He’s gonna be just fine,” Seokjin said, and even though Jungkook couldn’t see his face, he knew he was smiling. “All the scratches are shallow and clean, and he’s already gotten some food down.” “Namjoon was careful with him,” Hoseok whispered fondly, running a hand through the leader’s hair, that smile like a soft mother still on his face. “They came in at around 4am.” Jungkook moved around Seokjin, giving him a wide berth as he went to sit at Jimin’s head, leaning in with curiosity. He raised his hand to card it through Jimin’s bangs. At the warmth and movement, Jimin stirred, letting out a little moan as he opened his eyes. When he saw Jungkook there, his lips curved up into a weary but beautiful smile. He lifted one hand to reach for Jungkook, who leaned his cheek against Jimin’s palm. “Hey,” Jimin whispered. “Hey,” Jungkook breathed back, suddenly wanting to cry. “Are you okay?” “Of course I am,” Jimin’s smile broadened, the clear whiteness of his teeth dazzling. “It was my own fault, I let things get out of hand… but Namjoon took care of me.” Jungkook let his hand rest against Jimin’s, squeezing lightly as his blood ran cold. How did he take care of you, Jimin? He wanted to ask, but he was far too terrified. He knew that new Alphas had to be put into their place in the pecking order of the pack, to keep things from being unruly and chaotic, but he had never been told exactly what that entailed. Had his brain just made up an insane, perverted explanation, or was this a wolf instinct, warning him of what his own future could hold? “He looked really cool, right?” Jimin rasped, glancing over at the leader, who was sleeping with his mouth agape and still snoring loudly. “Tell me I looked cooler, Jungkook.” They both gave a bit of a giggle, and Jungkook nodded. “You both looked cool, to be honest. You’ll make a good Alpha.” “I think so, too,” Seokjin said with a smile, reaching over to dab at a bit of blood that had dotted along the cut on Jimin’s collarbone. His chest brushed up against Jungkook, making the boy shudder involuntarily. Jimin arched an eyebrow at Jungkook in confusion, but if Seokjin noticed, he didn’t say anything. Jungkook warily watched Seokjin’s long fingers tend to Jimin’s wounds with an expert hand, trying not to remember certain images. “Jimin will be a great addition to the Alpha team. He’s very hardworking. But remember, it’s okay to ask for help if you’re not feeling well, all right? Next time don’t be shy about speaking up if you think something’s wrong.” Jungkook squeezed at Jimin’s hand again, considering. “Jimin? Um.. Can I…?” After a quiet moment, Jimin looked confused,before seeming to realize what Jungkook was asking. He nodded, his eyes sparkling. “Of course.” And Jungkook timidly lifted onto his knees, leaning in and pressing his nose up against the scent gland in Jimin’s neck. The skin there felt warmer than it had before, and the smell of peppermint was now somehow aged and matured, a stronger scent with that underlying suggestion of Alpha dominance. Jungkook felt everyone else’s eyes on him, and his face flushed, but he tried to forget about it and instead focus on the way he could feel Jimin’s pulse beating through the veins of his neck, and the familiarity of Jimin’s scent. Although he held still at first, Jimin also nudged his way against Jungkook’s neck, a movement he had done a thousand times before but which now felt different. There was a feeling of distance, of power, and also of increased intimacy, as though the Scenting itself bore more weight and purpose, like naive curiosity blooming into interest. Jungkook knew things were different, now. But he wanted to have a little trace of that sameness, some edge that hinted at the way things had been for years, before this eventful first hunt. Jimin sighed against his skin, and Jungkook slowly pulled away to see the boy’s eyes were shut as if he was utterly relaxed. When he opened his eyes they were smiling up at Jungkook, and he rested back against the pillows. “You never really liked Scenting me before,” Jimin said. And if the Jimin of three days ago could sound sagely and wise and protective, it was nothing compared to the Jimin of today, who seemed to hold secret knowledge behind his smile as he continued to hold Jungkook’s hand possessively. “Well, I just-..” Jungkook fumbled for words. They wanted to come out all mingled together like mixed paint. “I missed you.” “You always smell so nice, Jungkook, like Busan.” Jimin sighed, letting his eyes shut. His brow crinkled a little, and Jungkook’s heart quickened in concern. “Mm. I think I need to sleep for a bit, though, Jungkookie. I’m really… I’m really tired. Okay?” There was no explanation given for what the ‘okay’ was actually referring to, but Jungkook nodded, letting Jimin’s hand drop while keeping it lightly encased within his own. He sat there for several long minutes, just watching Jimin’s face becoming soothed and lax with sleep. “You two are so close,” Seokjin said quietly, making Jungkook tense up as he remembered that Seokjin was sitting on the floor behind him. Flashes of memory from his dream shot up again, giving him goosebumps, spurred back to the forefront of his mind now that the two wolves had returned. The image of Seokjin leaning into him from behind, encasing him in those arms with just a little movement and a lot of strength, had Jungkook’s mind reeling. “Y-yeah, we’re very close.” He stood up, letting Jimin’s hand drop as he stood up and moved away. It was getting harder to breathe, and he felt a bit dizzy, so maybe he needed to eat something. “Noona, is breakfast ready?” “Yup, come and eat,” Kiara said cheerily, already dishing it out, the counter littered with eight mismatched bowls and cutlery. She set down two bowls on the coffee table and gestured for Hoseok to let her take his place, gently dropping Namjoon’s head to her lap and leaning in to kiss his cheek. She rubbed her hand through his hair, whispering sweet things to him and nudging him awake long enough to eat. Jungkook knew without asking that she was going to make sure he’d finished eating before she touched her own. Jungkook slipped up to the counter, reaching for a bowl as Taehyung came up behind him and pressed harshly to his neck. Jolting in surprise, Jungkook froze with his hand still halfway to his soup. “Tae?” In response, Taehyung inhaled deeply at Jungkook’s neck, rubbing his own scent gland there and mingling it with the smell of Jimin until their three scents were almost indistinguishable. Without a word, he grabbed a bowl and stepped away and went back to his perch on the end of the couch, leaving Jungkook standing there looking confused. He looked at Yoongi for an explanation, but the male Omega was staring after Taehyung with a contemplative look on his face, stirring his tea. Jungkook sat at the kitchen island, poking at his soup for a moment with his spoon. “Where’s Jungkookie?” came Namjoon’s voice quietly, and he looked up with a start. “Jungkook?” Kiara called. “Aren’t you going to greet Namjoon?” “Um…yes.” Obediently, Jungkook took his bowl and went to lean over the back of the couch. Namjoon had his head lifted, balanced on Kiara’s hand as she spoonfed him. He smiled when he saw Jungkook. “Hey, sorry your first real hunt was so crazy,” he chuckled. “You okay?” “Yeah,” Jungkook swallowed heavily. The atmosphere felt strange. Namjoon was usually the first person Jungkook went to with his questions or problems, the one he naturally drew to the most, but his mind couldn’t let go of the things his dream had put into confusion. What had Namjoon done to bring Jimin back? Was he going to do the same to Jungkook when he presented? What about Taehyung? Then Jungkook saw that he had the right side of his neck bandaged up pretty heavily, and he realized that Jimin probably hadn’t held back as carefully as the lead Alpha had. He saw the gentle, concerned look Namjoon was giving him, even while he was worn out and in pain. He felt a little guilty for not coming over earlier. Namjoon had never given him any reason to doubt his judgement, or his care. “Yeah, of course I’m okay, hyung. You’re the one that’s all beaten up.” “I’ll be fine, they’re just scratches, really. We’ll come out again around New Years and do another good week’s worth of hunts and make up for lost time, I promise. We’ll even go on a hunt, just you and me.” Jungkook dropped his chin to the back of the couch, feeling very small. Namjoon grunted a bit with effort but lifted his hand to pat the boy on the head affectionately. “Just make sure you get better soon,” Jungkook breathed. It had been a happy, but weird morning. ~~~~~ “Jungkook?” Yoongi’s voice called out, “Are you awake?” The boy was curled up on his bunk, the curtain pulled across to shut the outside world out for a few minutes. Not easy to do, with Taehyung bounding through and chattering about Jimin, and Hoseok coming in to ask if he was alright, if he was still hungry. He was supposed to have been packing his stuff together, but it remained tossed in a haphazard lump at the foot of the bed, untouched. “Yeah,” Jungkook mumbled. The window overlapped past the head of the bunk, and he was turned to look outside. Out on the dew-covered grass Taehyung and Seokjin were playing, wrestling with each other and laughing. Taehyung had his arms wrapped around Seokjin’s waist, trying to tip him over as Seokjin tugged at Taehyung’s leg in an attempt to throw off his balance. He could hear Seokjin whining, shouting that Taehyung was cheating, and really, Jungkook thought, it was a valid accusation, since Taehyung cheated at almost every game he played. He wasn’t sure why he found the two of them playing so fascinating, but he had been watching them for the last several minutes through the fingertip-stained window. Taehyung’s beanie had fallen off, his hair ruffled and standing on end, and Seokjin’s neck was all red and swollen looking, as it always was when he got flustered. With a grunt and a cry, Seokjin decided to just lift Taehyung up completely, tipping him over and landing on top of him. Taehyung started screaming about how heavy Seokjin was, making the Alpha laugh, pinning Taehyung’s wrists down to the grass. “You gonna tell me what’s up with you?” Yoongi said suddenly, drawing the curtain aside with one movement, accompanied by a rustling noise and making Jungkook jump. “N-nothing,” Jungkook growled, a little irritated that Yoongi had just burst in when the curtain had been clearly pulled closed. What if he had had another situation like that night? He was the youngest, but he needed privacy, too… Yoongi crawled up into the bunk, making Jungkook sit up suddenly. “What are you doing?” “I’m coming up to give you an awkward talk that neither of us wants to have, but that you need,” Yoongi said point-blankly, pushing the boy back down and curling up against Jungkook’s back. “Namjoon is too exhausted right now, and Seokjin and Hoseok are taking care of the others.” “Mmm…” Jungkook hummed noncommittally, turning to look back out the window at Taehyung and Seokjin. Taehyung had gotten the advantage and was now pushing Seokjin’s face into the dirt and rubbing it around, as Seokjin screeched and whined. At times like this, Jungkook wondered how he had ever thought Seokjin looked cold and distant, when he was really more ridiculous and playful. “Looks like Taehyung’s fine now, though.” “Yeah, but bouncing back doesn’t mean the low point didn’t suck,” Yoongi said quietly. He moved forward and wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s waist, hooking his chin over the boy’s shoulder. It wasn’t a possessive gesture, the way Jimin held him, but it was gentler, somehow more sweetly protective, and not expecting a return gesture. Without the expectation laced within the embrace, Jungkook relaxed, letting himself enjoy the way his back warmed up against Yoongi’s broad chest, his fingers reaching down to play with Yoongi’s squarish fingertips. Yoongi and him had had their share of ugly fights, both of them a little too honest and a little too passive-aggressive all at the same time, but Jungkook liked to think that Yoongi had a certain something in common with him, an unspoken understanding that meant they just got each other. Like with the hug, Yoongi didn’t require anything from Jungkook, didn’t require him to be anything he wasn’t already. “Jungkook, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Jungkook bit his lip, still watching out the window. Taehyung and Seokjin had moved now, until they were almost at an angle where he couldn’t see them. Seokjin was currently stomping Taehyung’s beanie into the dirt and cursing him out playfully, making Taehyung chuckle even as he scrambled to try and save his beanie. “I...I was wondering about ruts and heats. What happened out there? H-how did Namjoon ‘help’ Jimin?” Yoongi was quiet for a moment. Jungkook hated the silence, because it felt as if Yoongi was measuring out how much information he should share with the boy, and he hated the feeling of being behind, of being that much less experienced than the others, who didn’t seem to be wondering at all. Jungkook wondered if Yoongi picked up on what answers Jungkook was asking for, what help he had been imagining in his mind. He hoped Yoongi understood, so that he wouldn’t have to ask out loud. He was reminded of back when he had been a younger pup in the pack, and Yoongi had gone into a heat. After seeing Jungkook’s panic, Yoongi had insisted that he be the one to sit Jungkook down and explain everything, laid out in detail. Yoongi knew more about some of Jungkook’s questions and knowledge than even Namjoon. “Well,” Yoongi began with a little sigh, “As lead Alpha, Namjoon has the responsibility of making the rules when it comes to mating within the pack,” Yoongi explained quietly, “It’s got good points and bad points. Like the fact that Namjoon had first choice when it came to picking a mate.” “And he chose Kiara,” Jungkook said quietly. “Yes. That also means that he has to approve all the mates in the pack, so there isn’t fighting. As you know, he’s approved of me and Hoseok, but we won’t be officiated until New Years.” “Yeah, I know…” Yoongi paused, then added, “And that also means that he has the right to mate with any other pack member he chooses.” Jungkook was silent, then sat halfway up, whirling on Yoongi and saying, “But Jimin is an Alpha! And...and he loves Kiara! ….Doesn’t he?” “Of course he does,” Yoongi said, petting at Jungkook’s hair and down his neck, trying to soothe him. “But as lead Alpha, that’s one of the more common ways for him to assert his dominance. It’s also his right, because he carries the responsibility of the whole pack, and because he’ll always go into rut more often than Kiara will go into heat. However,” Yoongi punctuated his sentence with a purposeful look, “You should know that Namjoon did not mate with Jimin.” The world seemed to tilt a little on its axis, and Jungkook let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “He..he didn’t?” Yoongi gave a little smile, “No, he didn’t. Namjoon just helped walk Jimin through dealing with his first rut, so he’ll be able to do it on his own in the future. They fought, but they didn’t mate.” “Why not, if it’s his right?” Jungkook couldn’t believe he was asking, but the image of Namjoon mounting Jimin’s trembling wolf form wouldn’t leave his mind. “Because every pack leader is a little different,” Yoongi explained, “Namjoon and I decided to form this pack because neither of us liked the strict dominance of the packs we were in at that time. Some packs treat their inferiors like hunks of meat, and sometimes the Alphas get too cocky over their Omegas.” Yoongi’s voice had dropped to a solemn tone, and Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, reluctantly lying back down and letting Yoongi curl around him again, running his hand up and down Jungkook’s arm as if petting him. “Namjoon could just assume dominance over all of us, and to an extent he has to use that dominance to maintain order and earn respect, of course, but… he’s a bit more of a free-thinker, when it comes to that sort of thing. That’s why I respect him.” “So when you moved into Hoseok’s room…?” “We had discussed it with Namjoon, but we didn’t really need his permission. We just wanted his blessing,” Yoongi said, smiling into Jungkook’s neck. “You don’t have to be afraid of presenting, Jungkook. We’re all here to look after you, and Namjoon’s a good leader.” Jungkook nodded. He knew Yoongi was right, he had already known that Namjoon wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, or the other members. But the last few days had somehow shaken the way he’d always taken that for granted, and he was glad that he now had a more solid explanation from Yoongi. “You still smell like Jimin and Tae.” Yoongi pressed his nose to Jungkook’s jaw, sucking in a breath. “Yeah,” Jungkook mumbled, still distracted by his thoughts. “Was that all you wanted to ask about? Jimin’s presenting?” Jungkook hummed, entwining his fingers with Yoongi’s again. He had now dealt with the turbulence in his mind over the earlier images of his dream, but there was still the final one that he needed to contend with. “Well…” he swallowed. “I sort of had a dream. And in--” He cut himself off as the door to the cabin opened, both of them stilling as they listened to footsteps entering. “What are you two doing?” came Hoseok’s voice. “Cuddling,” Yoongi stated simply. There was a distinctive creak as Hoseok clambered up the ladder, and both of them craned their heads to turn and see the look of distaste on Hoseok’s face. His lips were pinched and his mouth seemed to form a triangle, suggesting he was really irritated. “What?” “That’s my Omega you’re cuddling with,” Hoseok whined at Jungkook, tugging on the aforementioned’s sleeve. “And he’s supposed to be helping me pack up the dishes.” “Why do you think I snuck into here?” Yoongi smirked, pulling Jungkook closer and earning a smack from Hoseok. “No, seriously, get off the boy. There’ve been enough hormones raging around this camp the last few days, and you’re close to your heat.” “Hey!” Yoongi snapped, sitting up defensively. Jungkook chuckled, throwing his arm over Yoongi’s lap and tugging on his waist. “He’s mine now,” Jungkook teased. “ Yoongles promised to love me forever, remember?” Yoongi groaned, looking up at the ceiling. They were never going to let him live down the time he’d injured his ear and gotten drugged up on a nasty concoction of pain meds, alcohol and loneliness. He’d ended up snuggled into Jungkook for hours, calling him cute and asking him to call him the nickname. Hoseok grabbed Yoongi’s other arm, tugging on it petulantly and whining, “No, he’s mine! Let go!” “Okay, okay,” Jungkook laughed, letting Yoongi go and pushed him a little towards the Alpha. Hoseok and Seokjin were really easy-going Alphas when it came down to it, and were fun to tease, but even Jungkook knew there was a limit. The door clicked open and shut again. “But then who is going to cuddle me ? I’m the baby.” “What about cuddling?” Seokjin poked his head up over the edge of the bunk, and Jungkook jumped away, spooked by his sudden appearance. Seokjin’s eyes curved up, signaling that he was smiling, even though Jungkook could only see the top part of his face. His face was pinkened by the exertion and from the chilliness outside. Hoseok tugged Yoongi out of the door with him, his hand tight around Yoongi’s wrist. “Are you ready to go, JK?” “Um, I just need a few minutes.” He sat up and shifted to the bottom half of his bed, hiding himself behind the curtain and starting to roll up his clothes and shove them into his backpack. “I wanted you finished so that you could help pack Jimin’s things for him,” Seokjin said in a bit of a complaint. “He packed with me,” Taehyung piped up, “We shared a bag, so I’ll just put his things in with mine. Just let me lay out some new clothes for him first.” “Wow..” Seokjin made a sound of concern at the back of his throat. “You both pack so light. What if he ran out of clean clothes?” “We didn’t, though,” Taehyung chirruped. Jungkook could hear him shuffling around on Jimin’s still perfectly made bed. Jungkook shifted his now-packed backpack towards the ladder and stilled, seeing Seokjin kneeling on his bed and rolling up his pillowcase. Half-hidden behind the curtain, he stared at Seokjin, his hand still clutching his backpack as he realized he almost told Yoongi all about the dream. He was relieved he hadn’t, and also wished he had. Maybe Yoongi could have reassured him in his mollifying way that the dream meant nothing and didn’t need to be worried about. Seokjin looked up, and Jungkook ducked back behind the curtain out of instinct. He heard Seokjin chuckling, and felt his face flush. Why couldn’t he just act normal around Seokjin again? ~~~~~ “Load up, it’s time to hit the road,” Yoongi slapped his palm against the metal siding of the truck, making it ring like a crude sort of bell as Namjoon locked the door to the Main Hall. Jimin and Namjoon had first dibs on the cab of the truck this time, so Taehyung, Jungkook and Yoongi were shifted to the bed, bundled up and with a sleeping bag tucked in around their knees. Hoseok was looking somewhat anxiously over his shoulder into the bed of the cab, but Namjoon had designated the seating arrangement without much room for negotiation. Yoongi was looking forlornly at the cooler, which he had checked at least five or six times since they had strapped it into the back, despite knowing that it was void of any beer that had been accidentally forgotten and left untouched during the drinking game the night before.“It’s gonna be a long ride,” he sighed. “You guys settled in back there?” Seokjin leaned over the side of the truck with a smile. Jungkook nodded but kept his eyes focused on his knees, and Seokjin ruffled his hair a bit roughly. Stubbornly, Jungkook tried to pretend that the spot where Seokjin touched now didn’t tingle a little bit in anticipation, that the smell that wafted down from Seokjin’s wrist wasn’t one he wanted to lean in towards, still starved for his daily Scenting that he had decided to end out of guilt over what he’d done. “Let me drive,” Yoongi pouted. “Could your feet even reach the pedals?” Seokjin teased, and Yoongi reached out to smack playfully at the older, but missed as he stepped away, laughing, and crawled into the driver’s seat. The truck revved up with an animalistic growl of its own, and Jungkook looked out the back of the cab as they pulled away, down the dirt road and away from the dimly-lit little camp in the grove. The trees hovered in close over the damp, puddled earth, and remnants of rain still dripped from the browning trees, making it look and smell like an enchanted grove where despite all the turmoil, he had felt at home. It would be months before they could come back, and the environment would be different, then, turned over into a new life. A wind picked up against the direction of the truck as they bounced and thudded along the bumpy path, and the scent of his packmates mingled with another scent for just a brief moment, making his hair stand on end. He sat up a little straighter, staring off into the trees, but the smell was gone before he even had a chance to identify it, something sickly sweet, like honeysuckle. He wondered if it was an animal, curious and sort of hoping it would be there when they came back. Taehyung leaned against Jungkook’s side, and sighed. Jungkook couldn’t agree more. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.” ― Neil Gaiman     2 DAYS   ~~~~~   Taehyung was beyond excited. He was wriggling around in his seat like an impatient child, practically falling out of it. Across the dining room table, Jimin smiled at him, blowing gently on the steam that floated above his cup of hot cocoa.   “Just hold still for five seconds, will you? You’re like a Mexican jumping bean,” Namjoon laughed, seated to Taehyung’s right, with Kiara sitting cradled in his lap. “There’s still like half an hour left.”   “I can’t help it.” Taehyung practically gasped out the words, his eyes locked on the blue-green glow of the clock on the microwave.   11:36.   In approximately 24 minutes, Taehyung would be twenty years old, and officially presented as an adult wolf in the pack. That is, as long as I don’t die of anticipation first.   He groaned, flopping down onto the table. “It’s sooo close!” A moment later, there was a chuckle in his ear, and Yoongi’s arms and earthy scent were encasing him, the Omega’s cheek pressed to his.   “Just be patient. It’s not like anyone’s going to be surprised.” He nuzzled in close to Taehyung, scrunching and squishing their faces up. Taehyung made a little whimper of petulant disapproval that he really didn’t mean. Hoseok glanced over at them, fiddling with his cell phone on the table and pressing his lips together.   “So long as he doesn’t present in the next 23 minutes and about 30 seconds as an Alpha or Omega.” Jimin laughed. But while his eyes sparkled, smiling over at Taehyung, the younger man wondered if Jimin could sense why he was so apprehensive. Jimin just seemed to know things sometimes, able to translate when Taehyung wasn’t able to clearly convey his thoughts, and he hoped that today, right now, was one of those times. He wondered if Jimin could hear the chanting in Taehyung’s mind. Anything but an Alpha. Anything but an Alpha.   “Is that likely?” Jungkook queried, his voice drifting up from beneath the table, where he was sitting cross-legged on one of his pillows, playing the newest Pokemon game. He shifted until his arms were spread across Hoseok’s lap, his chin resting on the Alpha’s firm thigh.   “No, it isn’t,” Hoseok said, reaching under the table and running his hand through Jungkook’s hair, as if seeking comfort. “It does happen, but he’s almost certainly a Beta, at this point. There’ve been no signs of ruts or heats at all.”   “Ahhh! why is the clock so slow today!?” Taehyung bemoaned.   “It’s the same speed it always is, Taehyung,” Jimin said through giggles. “That’s kind of how time works.” Taehyung had his elbows on the table now, and he pushed up at the corners of his eyes with the edges of his fingers, squishing his eyes into slits and continuing to complain with deep little noises. He turned to look over at Jimin, who was smiling serenely at him as he drank his cocoa. The young Alpha’s cheeks held a new, warm pink glow ever since his first rut, and in Taehyung’s opinion, he was looking prettier than ever.   “Well, actually, time is just a construct,” Namjoon said quietly, and Kiara slapped him on the arm while the others groaned. “What? It is…”   “11:36 still ?! How can a minute not have passed by?!” Taehyung’s foot was tapping heavily against the tile of the kitchen table.   Jungkook saw a hole in the thigh of Hoseok’s jeans, poking a finger through it and wriggling it around nonchalantly, making Hoseok yelp a little and jump, pushing at his hand. “But is being a Beta...like, a good thing?” Jungkook asked, “I always felt like they were seen as, I dunno, kind of... odd.”   “Well, they’re definitely a rarity,” Namjoon explained, “And Betas don’t have as many naturally strong instincts as a strong Alpha or strong Omega might. Betas are a bit peculiar, yes, and in a way that can be really useful or problematic, depending.”   “Basically, Betas are an ‘in flux’ sort of type,” he continued gently. “That’s why it’s harder to tell if they’ve presented before their 20th birthday. There’re no obvious signs, and lots of people opt for a blood test to make sure. They’re free from some of the hormones until they choose a mate, but then they kind of make up for missed heats or ruts by always being a little sensitive to their mate.”   “For example, if a Beta chooses to mate with an Alpha, his Omega-type hormones will kick in, and he’ll fill the role of an Omega for his mate. He’ll go into heats, he’ll be more protective the way an Omega is, and he’ll be more submissive. If his mate is an Omega, the same happens, but with Alpha-type hormones. He’ll get more aggressive, and have the protectiveness that Alphas have, and go into ruts. However, that’s a hormonal shift, and his body isn’t biologically an Alpha or an Omega, by scientific standards, so…”   “So it isn’t quite what you’d call permanent .” Kiara finished. “If his first mate dies and his second mate is another type, his hormones will change and he’ll fill the new role.”   “That’s amazing, it’s like having someone who is both types…” Jungkook breathed.   “Yeah, but you’ll learn soon enough that hormones are not to be fucked with. They fuck you ,” Yoongi sighed. “The flexibility may seem nice, but depending on the intimacy of the pack, it can be hellish for the Beta. A strong Alpha or Omega scent interrupting can cause the Beta to shift, mate or not. My mother is a Beta, and although my dad is a pretty strong Alpha, when I presented as Omega it threw her hormones so out of whack she had to take suppressants. They practically turned her into a zombie. It was one of the main reasons I left my blood pack.” “Not to mention it’s very difficult for a Beta to have pups,” Kiara said quietly, tucking her head underneath Namjoon’s chin, her arms encircling his neck. She frowned at Taehyung, her eyes sad.   “But it’s definitely not impossible,” Namjoon reassured her, patting her arm and sending Taehyung a reassuring smile. “And I’d be proud to have a Beta in our pack. There’s a lot of different things that the presence of a Beta can offer.” Taehyung was only half listening, though, as he practically jumped halfway out of his chair, eyes still locked on the clock. “11:38?! 11:38! Come on! ” They chuckled at his eagerness, and Yoongi rubbed at the boy’s shoulders, trying to calm him down a little. “Jungkook, would you go tell Seokjin that it’s about time? He missed dinner, so he might want to eat something before the time switches over.” Jungkook gave a noise of acknowledgement, crawling out from under the table and heading to the stairs. Seokjin had complained of a migraine and had gone back to his room for a nap, asking to be woken up about ten minutes before the presenting and apologizing to Taehyung. He had been complaining of headaches more and more in the last couple of weeks, blaming it on a shift in the weather added to the hellish levels of stress he’d had to live through for his final exams. Lately, all of them had taken to tiptoeing through the house whenever they were anywhere near his bedroom door.   Already at the top of the landing, Jungkook suddenly stopped, his heart racing a little from taking the stairs two steps at a time. He hadn’t really been in Seokjin’s room since the hunt, he realized. The awkwardness between them had only thickened, and both of them had been actively pretending they hadn’t noticed it. Jungkook hadn’t Scented him since the hunt, and though Seokjin still clumsily attempted to continue their growing skinship of before, Jungkook had kept a notable distance between them, ignoring the crestfallen looks Seokjin had sent towards his back. It was like the trip had caused them to take ten steps backwards, all the way back to how it had been when Seokjin had first moved in.   Jungkook very lightly rapped his knuckles against the door jamb, before pushing the door open with a gentle hand. It creaked, revealing Seokjin curled up on his mostly-made bed, the overhead light off but the desk lamp on and facing the wall, casting long shadows. For the sake of his nap he had folded the edge of the thick comforter with the blue ivy design on it over to cover his hips and shoulders, the lower half completely hiding his slim waist but his wider shoulders ensuring that only half his chest was covered. One hand was tucked underneath his cheek and the other tucked into the underarm of his sweater for warmth, his expression pulled a little tight, a little strained.   Fearing the mental attack of getting too close, Jungkook stepped cautiously into the room, stopping only halfway in. “Hyung, wake up. It’s time.”   Normally, Seokjin was one of the easiest people to wake up, but he didn’t respond to the call. Unable to abate his curiosity, Jungkook looked around the room. Seokjin was one of the neater residents of the pack house, and his room always smelled notably cleaner than the other Kim brothers, even beyond the usual strong headiness of Alpha scent and detergent. There were a few posters tacked carefully to the soft-blue painted wall, and a collection of video-game themed stuffed animals and figurines on a shelf over the bed. His laptop was shoved under the edge of the bed, along with a bag of chips rolled up neatly with a cute little bag-clip hold it shut. All in all, just as normal and unintimidating as Seokjin’s room had always been. After they had finally started getting close, Jungkook had even ventured up to hide in the eldest Alpha’s room, crawling under the bed frame, mooching off of the Alpha’s snacks and playing on his phone, or joining Yoongi and Seokjin for one of their quiet movie nights. It had been getting comfortable. Maybe too comfortable, he thought. But he couldn’t lie to his own mind very well. Despite how guilty he still felt over the dream(which to his horror and confusion had recurred at least four or five times in the months since), Jungkook missed being in this room. He missed the solace of quiet and Seokjin’s scent. But when Jungkook raised his eyes to look at Seokjin’s soft sleeping face, he remembered what he’d done that night in the cabin and his face flushed with shame, even as he had to admit that Seokjin was still, in his opinion, the handsomest hyung in the pack, and looked even more beautiful in his sleep.   “Hyung, wake up. It’s almost midnight,” he called again, venturing a couple steps closer. Seokjin stirred a little, rolling over until he was almost on his back, but didn’t wake. That was when Jungkook noticed the bit of white peeking out from Seokjin’s pillowcase, halfway fallen out as though it had been tugged free and tucked beneath Seokjin’s soft cheek.. He wouldn’t have given it more than a cursory glance, but Seokjin’s rolling off of it caused a slight whiff to shift up towards Jungkook, confusing him with its familiarity before he realized it was his own scent.   He reached out and bent down to sniff at the white fabric, and his nose wrinkled as he caught the smell of seawater, leather, and his own sweat loosely clinging to the material. He realized with a bit of a shock that it was one of his own plain white T-shirts, tucked into Seokjin’s pillowcase like it had been forgotten in there.   Jungkook’s hand was clutching the sleeve of the T-shirt and looking at it with an expression of bewilderment when Seokjin’s face crinkled a bit, his nose twitching in sleep and reminding Jungkook of how Taehyung’s did when he slept in wolf form and dreamt about a hunt. For a moment, the two brothers really did seem to resemble each other, Jungkook realized. Then, Seokjin’s expression relaxed, and he seemed to smile, mumbling something incoherent in his sleep that sounded like a name and turning his face a little toward the pillow to bury his nose in it. Then, his eyes fluttered opened, and he saw Jungkook leaning over the bed. There was a tense moment of stunned silence that felt like they had been suspended in time, and then Seokjin shot back away from the edge of the bed, crying out and clutching at the comforter in surprise.   “What the hell, Jungkook!? You have to stop that, I swear to--” he stopped mid-sentence, mid-rubbing a hand across his face, because he noticed what Jungkook was holding in his hand. Seokjin’s neck suddenly went the reddest Jungkook had ever seen it, so much so that Jungkook wondered if the Alpha was breathing.   “Why was this in your pillowcase?” Jungkook asked, his voice sounding numb and far away, dumbfounded. “Um, I don’t know, sometimes socks and things get stuck inside the pillowcases when we wash them,” Seokjin said in a breathless rush, shrugging and slipping off the bed on the side furthest from Jungkook.   That didn’t make any sense to Jungkook, since an XL-sized T-shirt was a lot easier to notice wadded up in a pillowcase than a random sock, but the unwritten rules of his distance with Seokjin, his own self-inflicted punishment for the night in the cabin, did not allow him to pry any further than he already had. He would have to pretend he bought that excuse.   “It’s time for Taehyung’s Presenting,” Jungkook said quietly.   Seokjin inhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face and nodding, “Oh! How much time is left?”   “About 15 minutes, Yoongi figured you would want to eat before.”   “Oh, right. Yes.”   When the two of them came back down, if anyone else noticed their flushed faces and the escalated smell of saltwater emanating from Jungkook, no one mentioned it. Jungkook went to grab something to eat and found a half-emptied bag of lollipops that Namjoon still had left, digging through until he found a blueberry one. He turned around, intending to crawl back under the table, but Seokjin had already taken the last empty seat at the table, blocking the most logical entrance back to his spot. Tilting his head to the side in an unsure gesture, he opted instead to hop up and sit on the counter, watching the party from the edges of the room. His back felt a little sore from where he’d been sitting under the table earlier, though, and he had to keep shifting his position.   “Seokjin, Seokjin, there’s only 11 minutes left now!” Taehyung cried, as Seokjin grabbed the cereal box in the middle of the table and filled his bowl.   “I know, I know!” Seokjin laughed out, smiling at his younger brother, reaching out one hand and placing it at the back of Taehyung’s neck and squeezing lightly there. Taehyung’s smile was broad and toothy, unrestrained. “It’s exciting, isn’t it?” “In a way,” Yoongi commented, cocking his head to the side. “But a Beta presenting seems a lot...calmer, somehow, than when an Alpha or Omega presents.”   At that, Jimin looked down at his lap and flushed a little. “Yeah, it’s nothing like mine, this feels really quiet and calm.”   “Each presenting is different,” Namjoon said consolingly. “You can’t compare one to the other.”   “I know, I’m just… I’m sorry I caused so much trouble back then.” Jimin sighed, his brow crinkling in effort. “I just didn’t want to delay the hunt when everyone was so excited. It didn’t seem as important, since I thought I was just feeling a little sick.”   “Even if it’s just a little sick, or a little problem,” Seokjin cut in, taking a pause from inhaling his cereal to give Jimin a pointed look, a little smile on his face. “It’s okay to tell others if you’re feeling troubled, Jimin. The same goes for all of us.”   “Yeah,” Hoseok smiled, leaning over to lay a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and squeeze gently. “You have to tell us!”   Taehyung smiled, and Jimin laughed   “I remember when I Presented,” Namjoon smiled, sitting back a little with that expression of quaint nostalgia. They groaned, but let him go on about the Worst Walk To The Park Ever, until Jimin tapped at the middle of the table to gently get their attention.   “TaeTae,” he said quietly, leaning forward. “1 minute left.”   At that, the boy shot halfway out of his seat, Hoseok’s hand flying away. Taehyung gaped at the microwave light, and Namjoon picked his cell phone up off the table.   “Only 20 seconds, actually!” He laughed, holding it out for everyone to see. Taehyung’s eyes seemed to deepen, the realization that the moment was finally here sending his body into tensity and shock. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, licking his lips fervently.   At 10 seconds to midnight, everyone gleefully joined in on a noisy countdown.   “10...9...8…”   For Taehyung, the world seemed to spin a little, and he felt hot and cold at the same time. He looked around at everyone in turn. Namjoon and Kiara’s, smiling proudly. Seokjin, clapping his hands together like a gleeful little child with every number. Jungkook, perched on the counter with the lollipop sticking out of the side of his mouth, smirking so that his nose crinkled. Hoseok, now holding onto Yoongi’s wrists as the Omega had his arms encircling the Alpha’s neck. And finally, Jimin, who was smiling so brightly his eyes looked shut, his expression somehow sparkling. Taehyung could hear the Alpha’s light, musical voice lilting in and out among the others. He smiled. Not an Alpha. Here was his family, the pack he finally belonged in. A household of warmth that hadn’t hesitated to welcome him, the pack he wanted to be a part of forever.   “3...2...1! Congratulations!” Everyone screamed, patting him on the back until it hurt. He beamed at them, his cheeks strained with the effort.   “You’re a Beta now!” Seokjin called out, pulling Taehyung towards him by the neck and bumping their foreheads together. “The first in our family in almost seventy years!” After a second, he caught Taehyung’s eye, their faces now close enough that he was able to gently whisper, “And Taehyung, I think grandma would be proud of you, if she could see you now.”   Feeling a tight constriction in his chest, tears stung at the edges of Taehyung’s eyes, and he could see from the momentary quiver of Seokjin’s lip that he was feeling overwhelmed, too. He smiled at Taehyung, the expression strained as their eyes started to get puffy and red. Seokjin sniffed, lifting up and pulling Taehyung to lean against his broad, dependable chest. He buried his face in his shirt and nodded, even though Seokjin hadn’t asked him anything. Suddenly Namjoon was at their side, patting at their shoulders roughly in a gesture of unspoken understanding.   “Seokjin, why do you always have to go and ruin the mood?!” Yoongi snapped playfully, “This is supposed to be a happy moment and you’re already making him cry.” The dependable chest rumbled against his cheek as Seokjin laughed. “Just because your eyes are the Sahara Desert, doesn’t mean he can’t have happy tears,” Kiara teased, even as she was wiping at her own eyes.   And then there was the angelic voice of Jimin from next to the fridge, and Taehyung looked up to see Jimin with a candle-lit cake, Jungkook still holding the lighter as they started to sing. Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you   Now Taehyung was really crying, letting out a happy, “Aaaaah!” sound as he wiped at his eyes, chuckling warmly as Jimin brought the cake up to him. It was decorated in beautiful mounds of whipped cream with deep swirls and grooves, topped with red, ripe strawberries and his name written on top of a little white chocolate plaque.   Happy birthday, dear Tae-Tae Happy birthday to you!   Taehyung blew out the candles in one big huff, and everyone clapped. Before Yoongi even had time to take off the still-hot candles, Taehyung had already picked up the biggest of the strawberries and popped it into his mouth, smiling and squinting his eyes shut in absolute glee. He was officially a Beta. He was officially a full-grown wolf. And in just two nights he would be officially presented as a full-blooded member of the pack. High off of his new position, Taehyung smirked at Jimin and Jungkook, stepping up onto one of the chairs and raising one hand, the other still holding the stem of his strawberry. “Everyone!” he said boldly, his chest swelling with anticipation as they smiled up at him with warmth. “Now that I am presented, I have an announcement to make! I want to make a Claim!”   The room froze, and the hands raised and poised to clap were suspended as if held back by invisible cords. The smiles faded from their faces, and Jungkook looked around uncertainly.   In a small voice, the last of the unpresented pups asked, “Um… what’s a Claim?”   “He means Claiming a mate ,” Kiara said, sounding surprised herself.   “Yes, and I’d like to announce my Claim, I cho--”   “Taehyung,” Namjoon said warningly, gently lifting Kiara off of his lap and moving to stand up. “This isn’t the way to do things. Claims aren’t made so publicly, at least not at first.”   “Yeah,” Hoseok’s shoulders looked tense, his lips pursed tightly together. “You’re supposed to confer with Namjoon first. That’s how all Claims work. You don’t get to just choose so suddenly. We won’t recognize it.”   Between the short, abrupt declarations, Taehyung’s entire mood deflated like a balloon. “But...what if I want to make the Claim now ? What if I don’t want to wait?”   To Taehyung’s surprise, Hoseok was looking increasingly agitated, his posture tight and tall, his jawline more defined than usual due to the way he was tilting his head, as if challenging Taehyung.   “We won’t recognize it,” Hoseok stated firmly. Then came Hoseok’s Alpha scent. Taehyung felt his hair stand a little on end at the dark Alpha undertones to the normally comforting smell of vanilla, overwhelming in a dense cloud that had Taehyung stepping down from the chair, eyes wide.   “Hoseok, sit down, right now. You’re overstepping,” Namjoon snarled, and quickly the vanilla was sapped away, as if someone had run through the room and sucked it into a bottle for later use, and out spat the smell of woody smoke from Namjoon’s side of the table. Everyone’s eyes turned to lock on Namjoon, who rarely used as much of his Alpha voice as he was in that moment. Hoseok withdrew, physically and emotionally, shrinking down into his seat and dipping his head in submission. Namjoon lifted his eyes to Taehyung then, who started quivering a little on the spot.   “I’m sorry, Namjoon,” Taehyung breathed. “I’ll do it properly.”   “Come with me,” Namjoon stated, turning to the stairs, throwing a gesture over his shoulder to indicate Taehyung after him. Taehyung looked to Seokjin with worry and questions evident in his eyes, and Seokjin frowned, but tilted his head towards the stairs,remaining silent. “The rest of you stay downstairs. We might as well have this conference now.”   When the two Kim brothers had ascended to the upper floor, everyone stood around for a moment, really awkwardly.   “Someone should explain things to Jungkook,” Seokjin said after a while. “He seems confused.”   “Someone should have explained things to Taehyung,” Hoseok said pointedly. “It’s undermining to Namjoon’s authority to make a Claim that way.”   “He just got overexcited,” Seokjin snapped. Jungkook looked between the two Alphas, shrinking against the cupboard at his back. Seokjin’s scent was reaching out and whipping at the lingering edges of Hoseok’s, biting and acrid as though Seokjin’s anger had charred the edges of it. “You know he didn’t mean to offend.”   “Maybe you know, but I don’t,” Hoseok shot back just as quickly. There were lingering snarls that seemed to echo beneath their words, and for a moment Jungkook thought that they were about to jump at each other. Fortunately, Kiara and Yoongi stepped in between, back to back and holding up their hands to the agitated Alphas.   “Calm down, you’re both being ridiculous!” Kiara growled, her eyes a shimmering blue, her teeth subconsciously baring as she stared Seokjin down. “There’s always some tension in pack-member shifts, you both know that. And there’s always a little misinformation, always a little more we can teach the younger ones. That’s our job .”   “And Taehyung is no threat to you,” Yoongi added, his own sky-colored orbs meeting Hoseok’s red-tinged ones. “There’s no reason to get angry with him. He’s just presented - as a Beta, nonetheless - not twenty minutes ago. And more importantly, he’s one of our pack . So why are you all worked up?” Hoseok opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped himself, glancing up towards Seokjin before pinching his lips together and straightening up his back. The expression on his face wasn’t quite guilty, but somewhere in the realms of torn, wounded.   “I overreacted, I’m sorry,” Hoseok said at last, looking down at his feet. “And I got defensive,” Seokjin admitted, albeit a little reluctantly. He turned, then, as if to walk out of the room, but his eyes flickered over and locked with Jungkook’s, making the younger wolf freeze in his tracks at the uncharacteristically dark look in Seokjin’s eyes. He looked like another person entirely, someone capable of cruelty and bitterness. But as quickly as the darkness had flashed across his face, it washed away. Seokjin seemed to be a little thrown aback by something in the way Jungkook was watching him, his expression suddenly one of surprise and almost vulnerability. Jungkook blinked, slowly removing the lollipop from his mouth with a gentle little pop .   “Someone explain Claims properly to Jungkook,” he said, even as he was still looking straight at Jungkook himself. He then walked out of the room, and following the light jingle of keys, the front door opened and shut.   Jungkook turned to Kiara, his eyes wide. “Aren’t Claims like an engagement?”   “Well, yes. It’s more like a request, or a first-stage betrothal. A pack member - usually an Alpha puts in a request for a mate, and it’s up to Namjoon to approve it or deny it. But honestly, depending on the pack leader, that Claim can be changed or completely ignored at any time. It’s more to stop fights from between pack members in the long run.”   “But other members would respect it usually, right? Hoseok, did you lay a Claim on Yoongi?”   “At the time there weren’t any other Alphas in the pack, so I didn’t see much need to,” Hoseok said sullenly, his arms crossed. “I should have, though. Now that we have Seokjin and Taehyung.”   “ And Jimin,” Yoongi added with some venom to his voice. “I don’t think any of them are interested in laying a Claim on me , Hoseok. They know we’re going to be mated.”   “But Taehyung’s a new Beta, and male Betas usually choose an Omega to mate, you know that,” Hoseok snapped, “Why would he choose to be an Omega when he could be an Alpha?!”   Yoongi’s eyes flashed, and immediately Hoseok’s face showed that he knew he had crossed the line. “You say that like being an Omega is a bad thing.” Every syllable dripped like acid from Yoongi’s lips. “Like being an Omega is somehow lesser. ”   “No, no, I didn’t meant that,” Hoseok raised his hands in apology, and suddenly tears were at his eyes. “Please, no, Yoongi. I just meant that he might--” He stepped toward Yoongi, who brushed him off with one brusque movement and a snarl.   “I don’t know what scent’s got you hyped up like a pup on Nip, but you need to fucking get your head screwed back on straight, Hoseok. Until then, don’t talk to me.”   “Yoongi! I’m sorry, I--”   The door to the closest empty bedroom - Jungkook’s - slammed, with Yoongi locked behind it, the air crackling in his wake with the scent of musk and earth. From somewhere up above, a door opened and shut, and for a moment they could smell the citrusy Beta scent of Taehyung returning to his room.   Kiara frowned at the remaining party, a stressful wrinkle forming between her brows, and she looked a little breathless. “I think,” she said slowly, “That it’s been a rough day for everyone. Let’s just… let’s all go to bed, and talk things through once we’re a little less tired, okay?”   Jungkook nodded quietly, looking over as Jimin came up to his side, tucking quietly up against Jungkook’s arm and snaking his hand around his elbow. Jimin’s head was downcast, his expression out of Jungkook’s sight as he whimpered a little, laying his cheek against Jungkook’s shoulder.   “Jungkookie,” Jimin said quietly, “I don’t want to go upstairs tonight. Can I… Can I sleep down here with you?”   Again, he gave a nod. And he looked over at Kiara, who was trying to smile despite the obvious worry written in the lines of her face. She ran a hand through Jimin’s hair, then Jungkook’s. “Do you boys want me to stay with you for awhile?”   But even as she said so, the booming sound of Namjoon’s voice echoed down from the landing, calling out to her somberly. “Kiara?””   She looked up, swallowing as Jungkook could see in her eyes the need to go to her mate, and he offered a smile to her. “No, we’ll be okay, thanks.”   “But thank you, Kiara,” Jimin said, reaching out and squeezing her hand for a moment before she left them. Hoseok still stood in the middle of the room, looking lost as he stared at the locked door attached to the kitchen.   “Hoseokie-hyung?” Jungkook asked, stepping forward, awkwardly balancing Jimin on his shoulder by wrapping an arm around him, the Alpha stumbling reluctantly forward. “Are you alright?”   He turned to them, and Jungkook’s heart constricted at the way Hoseok’s face had become all blotchy and red, his face covered in wet as he sniffled thickly. To Jungkook’s surprise, Hoseok still tried to offer him a tear-stained smile. Hoseok had been attached to Yoongi almost as soon as he’d entered the pack, but he had always taken the time to take care of Jimin and Jungkook, who he called ‘his pups.’ He was close to them, protective of them, probably more than a little biased toward them. But while he had felt cared for and trusted in Namjoon and Yoongi, Hoseok was the one who had given Jungkook a taste of what it meant to love someone unconditionally. And it hurt to see him hurting.   “It’s my own fault,” Hoseok managed, his voice thick with phlegm as he sniffled again. “I was just so s-scared of having so many new Alphas...and he’s the only other Omega, so…”   “Hoseokie-hyung,” Jimin said quietly, looking up into the older Alpha’s face with concern. “You know I wouldn’t, right? And Taehyung wouldn’t, either.”   Hoseok tried another smile, letting out a choked sob, but nodding. “Yeah, I know. I know you wouldn’t. And I don’t think Taehyung would, either. I’m sorry.”   The two of them stepped forward, leaning up into him and laying against his chest on either side, pressing into his neck and Scenting him in a gesture of comfort. Hoseok’s body wracked with sobs, but he seemed to warm under their ministrations. They all ended up crawling under Jungkook’s table, squished with their legs sticking out the bottom and with blankets awkwardly bunched up around them. Hoseok lay in the middle, both of the younger boys laying on his arms as he hugged his arms over their shoulders, the two of them curling in against his chest. At some point Jungkook went and flicked the kitchen light out, coming back under the warmth of the covers to find Hoseok had cried himself to sleep, worry still pressed between his eyebrows. But at least he looked a little more relaxed in sleep, and could dream of something pleasanter for a while. Jungkook saw the shadow of Jimin’s head lift a little in the dimness.   “Jungkookie?” Jimin whispered.   “Yes?” Jungkook whispered back, feeling the sensation of Hoseok’s hot, even breathing against his face as he adjusted into a more comfortable position, his hand rested under his cheek.   “Um, who do you think Taehyung wanted to Claim?” “Honestly?” Jungkook paused, blinking into the darkness, and thinking about it. “I don’t know.”   “Oh..” Jimin sounded crestfallen, as though that hadn’t been the answer he’d been seeking.   “I mean, it would be weird for him to lay a Claim on me, since I’m not presented yet or anything, right?” “Well, maybe, but…” Jimin hummed a little, a delicate sound, “But to be fair, he’s a Beta, so it wouldn’t matter much what you presented as, I guess?” “Maybe.” Jungkook paused, then said, “I don’t think Taehyung cares about being an Alpha or Omega, Jimin. I know Hoseok is worried, but.. I don’t think that sort of thing matters to Taehyung.”   “Yeah, that’s what I think, too.” Jungkook heard Jimin sigh, a little breeze of his breath and the smell of his peppermint Alpha flavor so strong in the air for a brief moment that Jungkook could taste it. “Jungkook, could I tell you a secret?”   “Yes,” Jungkook said without hesitation. He felt Jimin’s Alpha perking up with hesitant hope in the darkness, reassured by Jungkook’s solid affirmation. “Anything.”   “I...I hope he picks me.”   Jungkook stopped, the silence in the air thick as he considered. In one sentence he could sense all the anxiety Jimin was so determined to hide away, the hopes and dreams he’d been tucking out of sight and turning over in his mind whenever he could. In all honesty, he couldn’t say he was surprised at Jimin’s draw to Taehyung. The Beta was warm and beautiful and earthy, he was smart and hilarious and easy to be with. More importantly, he and Jimin had a sort of playful rapport, a closeness that had skipped over the initial awkward stages, as if they had always known each other. What surprised Jungkook was that his first thought was wondering where that left him in the pack, and an anxiety he thought he had buried started to bloom in the pit of his stomach as he irrationally feared that once everyone else was mated off, that he wouldn’t matter as much to the pack anymore. What if Taehyung and Jimin left him alone?   “J-Jungkook? Say something.”   In response, Jungkook reached out, fumbling a little blindly for Jimin’s hand as it rested between them, entwining his fingers into Jimin’s. “I think you two might be soulmates. I hope he picks you, too.”   He heard a little sniffle, and he could faintly smell Jimin’s tears as he squeezed Jungkook’s hand. “Thank you, Jungkookie.”   “Are you going to Claim him?”   “I was going to, after he presented, but now that he already has someone in mind, well… I’ve lost my confidence.”   “I’m sure he’ll pick you, Jiminie,” Jungkook whispered into the darkness. “You didn’t see him when you were away in your rut. He was like a different person.”   Jimin seemed to mull over those words for a bit, and his hand squeezed again at Jungkook’s. “Thank you, Jungkookie. I hope you know... that if it wasn’t Taehyung, then--”   “Don’t worry about that,” Jungkook said quietly, sounding more certain than he usually did. “I’m not worried about it at all, so you shouldn’t, either.”   Jimin gave another sniffle, his thumb rubbing the back of Jungkook’s hand. “Liar,” he accused, and Jungkook heard the sad smile in the uttered syllable. “You only sound that confident when you’re lying. I meant it when I told you not to forget - Jiminie loved you first.”   Jungkook smiled. The words carried more weight with them now, and his chest ached horribly, and everyone was fighting and tense and nothing was going right. But in a strange, twisted way, Jungkook felt reassured, curled underneath the kitchen table with two of his Alphas, that everything was going to be okay, because he was loved. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Our lives improve only when we take chances ... and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves. ” ― Walter Anderson    1 DAY   ~~~~~   The drive back out to the island was much tenser this time, and colder. They left in the afternoon, and Jungkook would have thought the afternoon sun would have given them more heat, but even with hot packs and sleeping bags piled up around them, Jungkook, Yoongi, and Taehyung were still shivering from the constant wind caused by the movement of the truck. Eventually, Yoongi told them to get into wolf form, curling up around each other inside two sleeping bags zipped together into one large one, their wet noses the only thing peeking out and causing little white puffs from their exhales. Fur brushed up against fur, and soon they were able to get comfortable with the higher internal body temperature.   Taehyung had said nothing to the others the next morning after his announcement, and his birthday thrill had been quickly dampened by the scent of aggressive Alpha bitterness, mixed with defensive Omega smells. He seemed to sniffle next to Jungkook, and the younger pup’s ears flickered back and forth, wondering how to reassure him. When they arrived at the campsite, it still smelled and sounded like home, but Jungkook felt lethargic, almost heavier than normal, his mood weighted under the thickness of the atmosphere. He stood up from the bed of the truck, body drooping, and then saw the snow that now covered every available surface. His tail lifted up a bit in interest, and he leapt down into the powdered snow, whiteness flying up around his paws as he let out a little half-whimper of appreciation. He leapt around for a minute or two, forgetting for a moment in his fixation all the built up stress from last night. He hopped on all fours, slamming his front paws into the snow to see it leap up again, brushing up against the fur of his belly and chest and yipping. He looked up and saw Seokjin, big puffy black jacket zipped up to his neck and holding an enormous backpack, smiling softly in his direction. Jungkook hopped a few more times comedically, bringing his front paws down as hard as he could, and letting out another squeaking whine, his tongue lolling. Seokjin laughed, and Jungkook felt like he had done something right at last.   “What a pup!” Seokjin chuckled, heading toward the cabins. In retaliation, Jungkook barked at Seokjin’s back, making the Alpha jump nearly a foot in the air and nearly drop his backpack into the snow. Seokjin sent a glare over his shoulder and Jungkook seemed to be laughing in pants, running in a quick circle to show off. Taehyung came up next to Jungkook and sniffed heavily at him, snorting a little and then padding off through the snow as well, dramatically lifting his paws up away from the cold, wet substance.   “Jungkook,” Namjoon called out, taking the keys out of his pocket. “Once you get unpacked, you and I are going out on a run.”   The pup lifted an ear, tilting his jaw to the side and upwards as though uncertain. Then, he turned around on the spot in a tight circle and transformed back, nearly falling into Taehyung as he did so.   “Just me?” he called out, face a little flushed and pink from the quick shift. Taehyung sniffed at Jungkook’s ear curiously, and Jungkook lightly pushed him away. Neither of them saw Jimin standing, waiting at the entrance to the cabin and biting his lip.   “Yeah, I promised you a one-on-one hunt, right?” Namjoon smirked, his lips seeming to stretch across his face in an expression of childish warmth, a rare expression for him. “Let’s make up for lost time and get one hunt in before dinner.”   “Oh, okay.” Jungkook said, still pushing at Taehyung, who was transformed back and now trying to Scent Jungkook. Namjoon walked off to unlock the Main Hall, most of the others following behind him with the rest of the shared supplies. “Kookie,” Taehyung murmured, “You smell different today. I thought it was just the sleeping bags, but…”   “Huh?”   “And your body feels different, too,” Taehyung whispered, rubbing his nose up against Jungkook’s adam’s apple. It would have been a much more disconcerting gesture if it wasn’t for the way Taehyung did it, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was no big deal. “I don’t think you should go out on a hunt.”   “But, Namjoon specifical--”   “Taehyung? Jungkook?” Jimin called out, still waiting at the cabin entrance, now with his arms wrapped around his backpack and hugging it tightly to his chest. “Are you coming?”   “Tell Namjoon to let you rest for tonight,” Taehyung told him, his eyes flashing gold for a moment, his Scent rising in warning. “If you don’t, I will.”   “Taehyung? What’s wrong?” Jimin’s voice rose again, and he was suddenly at their side, pressing in closely, sniffing at the air. “Why are you…?”   “Jungkook smells different, I don’t want him to go on that hunt with Namjoon,” Taehyung stated, his eyes still dark with worry as he turned towards Jimin. Peppermint rose in the air, and Jungkook identified the aura of jealousy there, growing quickly. Jimin’s eyes started to go red.   “Jimin, Jimin, don’t. He was just worried, that’s all.” Jungkook said, touching a hand to the Alpha’s arm to calm him. At the rare gesture, Jimin turned over towards him and then pressed his lips together.   “He’s right,” Jimin stated finally. “You smell totally different today. You’re not going.”   “What?!” Jungkook gasped, surprised at the straightforward command in Jimin’s voice. He could feel that Jimin had tried to use his Alpha voice on him, and failed, making Jungkook  irritable. “I feel fine, I’m just tired! I wanna go on the hunt with Namjoon.”   “Don’t make the same mistake I did, Jungkook,” Jimin said, furrowing his brows in an attempt to look intimidating, but his soft cheeks betrayed him. His words, however, held a sting. “If something’s wrong, you have to say something. You could be getting sick, or… Let’s go talk to Seokjin--”   “I don’t want to talk to Seokjin,” Jungkook said too quickly, the panic in his tone. He had managed to stay more than six feet from him at all times, and when there was that distance, he was fine. But the idea of Seokjin looking deeply into his eyes and throat, using his medical skills to inspect him closely, had his skin flushing.   “Why not?” came a voice just behind him, and Jungkook jolted, turning around to find Seokjin just behind him, looking at him with an arched eyebrow, frowning.   “B-because I feel fine!” Jungkook snapped. Without giving him time to slip away, Seokjin grabbed Jungkook by the upper arm, his grip surprisingly gruff, and placed the back of his hand against Jungkook’s forehead. Instantly, Jungkook shivered, and he was certain it wasn’t because of the cold wintry air, but the sudden wave of Seokjin’s clean, powder-like Alpha scent that washed over him. He had been deprived of Scenting Seokjin for over two months now, but each time he got even the slightest whiff, it was torture, like he needed it. Today was even worse, possibly because of the addition of the gentle smell of the snow and dead foliage, but it was like he was a man starved and that scent was the most delicious nourishment in the world. Jungkook bit at his lip, trying not to lean into Seokjin’s hand. He didn’t deserve a touch, much less Scenting Seokjin. Not until he had come to terms with the dreams.   “They’re right. You’re a bit feverish. It may have been because of how cold the bed of the truck was. I’m going to make you some tea, so go lie down in the cabin.”   “What?!”Jungkook finally found the strength to pull away from Seokjin’s hand, shaking his hair, his bangs fluttering away from his eyes like a black curtain.   “I’m not sick though,” Jungkook snapped, batting Jin’s hand away. But Jin just frowned, pointing a finger to the cabin.   “I’ll let Namjoon know you can’t hunt right now, so just go lie down.”   “But I’m fine, I can go!” After the stress of the night before, Jungkook wanted nothing more than to run off at full speed into the woods as a wolf, away from the tension and towards his instincts to hunt, and most importantly, away from Seokjin’s tempting scent.   “I’m not asking, Jungkook,” Seokjin started, and Jungkook felt a prickle at his spine to hear that darker, commanding tone from the Alpha. Then, Seokjin seemed to recover himself, a smile coming to his lips as he tilted his head to the side. “I know you’ve been up late playing video games anyways, so you’re probably tired. Pups need their sleep too, you know.”   “Don’t call me pup,” Jungkook mumbled, his fight somehow threatening to instantly deflate at the nickname. “What will you do if I Present as an Alpha and become stronger than you?”   His words were meant to be a little dramatic, meant to inspire a sort of half-truth tease, but Seokjin’s face suddenly fell, his mask of a smile falling away and leaving him looking almost wounded. Jungkook stared at him, waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t move.   “Seokjin?” Jungkook said.   “Go lie down. Now. You look feverish.” Seokjin said, turning away and going to the Main Hall. Jungkook watched after his receding back, then turned to Jimin and Taehyung. They just sent him a similarly puzzled look, and went into the cabin. Jungkook jerked his jaw to the side in a gesture of uncertainty and confusion, then followed after them. He shrugged off his backpack and tossed it up onto his bunk, clambering up after it. He was halfway up when a hand slapped against his buttocks lightly, stopping him in his tracks. Jungkook craned his head around to see it was Jimin just behind him, the Alpha’s brows crinkled together.   “We’re just worried about you, you know that, right?”   Jungkook nodded, climbing up and turning over onto his side, curling up with his arms crossed.   “Jungkook?” Taehyung called out, concern evident in his voice.   “I’m fine, just let me rest,” Jungkook sighed, burying his head into his pillow. He could hear the two of them talking in hushed whispers below him, the sound carrying up much clearer than either of them realized, and he could make out that they were discussing going out on a quick hunt before dark.   “I hate to leave him alone, but… it’s probably best if he just rests, you know?” Jimin was whispering. “Besides, I think we could all use some stress relief, and a hunt seems the way to do it. I asked Yoongi if he would come, too. He’s probably the best hunter in the pack, although Hoseok is faster. But he won’t come if Hoseokkie comes.”   “What happened last night after I went upstairs? They seem so angry with each other?” “Well…” Jimin sounded hesitant, but Jungkook noticed he was surprisingly straightforward when he explained, “Hoseokkie was upset, because...he thought you might try to Claim Yoongi…”   “What?!” Taehyung hissed in surprise. “ Yoongi ?!”   “..So he said some things he didn’t mean, and crossed a line. They have this thing about being equals, no matter who the Alpha or the Omega is. Back before Hoseokkie, Yoongi really wanted a mate, but he kept finding these really mean Alphas who just took advantage of him. So it’s a real sore spot.” Jimin paused. “It was awful to just hear about, so I can’t imagine what it was like for Namjoon, who was friends with him then.”   Jungkook laid quietly on the bed, withholding a sigh. He remembered Yoongi coming home with a broken arm once, scratches all over and a face blotchy and swollen from tears. It had taken Namjoon ages to find out he’d run into one of his exes. Namjoon had asked if he was hurt, and at first Jungkook didn’t understand why Namjoon would ask when it was obvious from the wounds, but when Yoongi shook his head and more tears fell, he realized what Namjoon was suggesting.   “He didn’t get what he wanted,” was all Yoongi said, “But his bark was definitely worse than his bite.”   Jungkook remembered Namjoon’s feral growl, one that shook the room as he squeezed his hands into fists, telling Jungkook to lock the doors and stay in the house with Yoongi until he came back. Jungkook, then timid and unsure, had tried to gently tend to Yoongi’s wounds, letting Yoongi nuzzle into him as much as he needed. He patted his shoulder, whispering reassurances that Namjoon would look out for them, would protect them, like he always had. Namjoon was gone all night, and when he came back he looked exhausted but satisfied.   The day Yoongi had brought Hoseok home, Jungkook had refused to speak to him for over two months, simply glaring at him with uncertainty, until he walked in and caught them on the couch, Yoongi’s head resting in Hoseok’s lap, his neck bare and exposed as Hoseok ran his hands through Yoongi’s hair, humming softly to him. The look of bliss, of trust and relaxation on Yoongi’s face imprinted into Jungkook’s memory for a long time. Even when they were bickering - which was often - Jungkook had known with certainty that Hoseok would never raise a hand to Yoongi, and he never used his Alpha voice. In all honesty, he cried the most out of all of them, was gentler than any Alpha Jungkook had known, softer, more Omega-like, even. It had taken a long time for Yoongi to trust him, and even longer for Namjoon and Jungkook. But he had a long record of years of patience and sweetness on his side, and Jungkook knew that Hoseok had regretted his words the instant they left his mouth.   “That’s so sad,” Taehyung said, forgetting to whisper for a moment. “I knew Yoongi had a thing about Alphas, but I didn’t know what. But still…”   They were quiet for a moment, then a strange scent filled the air. Jungkook sniffed at it curiously, recognizing Taehyung’s citrusy scent. “Jimin?” Taehyung whispered again, sounding nervous. “I’m sorry.”   “You’ve been saying that to me all day, TaeTae, what are you even sorry for?” Jimin giggled lightly.   “I’m…. I know we only joked about it before, you know, about being soulmates, but… I wanted to Claim you.”   Jungkook froze, and the room was encompassed in silence for a moment. Jungkook had a sneaking suspicion they had forgotten all about him.   “Y-you do?”   “Is...is that okay?”   “Is it okay?!” There was a sniffle, and then Jimin laughed. “ I was going to Claim you , but you beat me to it!”   “Well, I do have longer legs, so you’re just gonna have to start running faster to keep up!” Taehyung’s deep, hearty chuckle echoed through the room, and there was a rustle of clothing, a creak of the bed. The smell of citrus and peppermint were mingling together, until Jungkook could barely tell them apart. “Namjoon was really angry last night. He said I should have talked to you first, then him. I tried telling him we were soulmates but he wouldn’t listen…”   “So did he approve of it?” Taehyung sighed, “No, he told me I had to wait and think it through, that there was too much going on right now. He said he’ll talk to me about it again in the spring. So, I’m sorry… I can’t Claim you yet. But wait for me, Jimin! You have to! I don’t want you to go through another rut without me!”   “Me neither…” Jimin sighed, and it was a happy sound. “I’d feel safe with you there.”   They lay there for a moment in the quiet, and then Taehyung started a gentle hum. Jungkook could almost picture them, as they always were when they had their sleepovers in Jimin’s room. Jimin rocking back and forth with Taehyung curled up against his chest contentedly, pressing his head into Jimin’s jawline and gnawing playfully at the boy’s arm.   “Stop nibbling on me, you’re not a teething pup,” Jimin chuckled, and Jungkook knew he’d been right.   “I’ll nibble on more than your arm, if you let me,” Taehyung teased flippantly. “I like eating peppermint sticks.” Jimin shushed him, a light smacking sound cracking across the room.   “Tae hyung, you can’t just say that! What if Jungkook hears you?!”   “Then let him,” Taehyung said. “I don’t want to hide. It’s harder to hide your feelings, and it’s messy. Seokjin hides his feelings all the time, and I hate it.”   “Mmm,” Jimin hummed. “I’m not very good at hiding my feelings. Hoseokkie says they’re always really clear on my face.” “I know, I like that.”   “Mmm.”   A few minutes of silence encompassed them, and their breathing evened out until Jungkook wondered if they had fallen asleep. Then Jimin sat up and hissed. “We’d better get going, the others are probably waiting!”   “Oh, right,” Taehyung whispered back. There was the cry of a zipper, and some shuffling, and then the two of them left, and the last pup was alone.   Jungkook frowned into his pillow, disgruntled as he remembered why he was being left behind. As sincerely elated as he was for Taehyung and Jimin, he hated that they had gone on the hunt without him. He didn’t want to make the others worry, but he didn’t want to miss another chance at a full hunt, much less one with Namjoon. Him being sick right now and stressing out the others was the last thing the pack needed. His only consolation was that at least Taehyung and Jimin would be too distracted by each other to worry about him too much. Jungkook sighed, but eventually managed to doze off into fitful rest.   He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the door opened again and a creak of the ladder whined. There was the faint smell of soap in the air.   “Are you awake?” Seokjin said quietly. “I brought ginger tea.”   “I’ll drink it later,” Jungkook mumbled, not wanting to face Jin just yet.   There was a slap, and Jungkook jolted up abruptly. “What the hell, why is everyone slapping my butt today?!”   “Because you like it,” Seokjin retorted easily, holding out the tea again. “Now drink.”   “I’m not sick.”   “You might be becoming sick, though,” Seokjin argued simply. “Drink.”   Jungkook took the cup reluctantly, his nose wrinkling at the bitter taste. The cloudy sand-colored liquid had a slightly grainy texture with a burning sort of aftertaste, but he had to admit it felt somehow soothing on his throat, filling him with warmth. Seokjin stood quietly on the ladder, patiently waiting for Jungkook to finish the cup.   “Where’s everybody else?” Jungkook queried.   “Kiara and Yoongi are at the Main Hall, the others went out on a hunt together.”   Jungkook handed the emptied cup back to him with a quiet thanks. He was surprised when, instead of just taking the cup back, Seokjin encased Jungkook’s hands with his own; long, crooked fingers with callouses on the ends. Jungkook looked at their joined hands for a moment, his face and neck flushing at the contact that felt much more purposeful and intimate than any Jin had ever initiated before. When he looked up at Seokjin, the Alpha was still staring at their hands, an unreadable expression on his face.   “Seokjin?” Jungkook breathed. His heart was thudding in his chest, his mind reeling with concern. Had something happened with Hoseok, or the others?   Seokjin let out a long, low sigh, his broad shoulders allowed a rare moment to slump in weakness.   “Jungkook, did I do something wrong?” Jungkook felt like his skin rose in goosebumps even as his stomach sank through the floor, all from a single, simple question. “W-what?”   “Did I… say something? Do something? Because if so, I didn’t mean to. I try to be careful, but…” Seokjin’s thumb lifted, bending back to rub gently along the skin at the back of Jungkook’s hand. Jungkook’s entire body instantly reacted, his stomach flipping as Seokjin’s touch felt like the most amazing thing on the planet. Jungkook wanted to pull away, scared of how powerful the effect was, but he found himself incapable.   “But I’m actually very selfish,” Seokjin finished, the word whispered like a dark, twisted confession.   Jungkook stared for a moment, trying to figure out what Seokjin meant. What was there to be selfish about? He knew that they had been getting closer up until the first hunt, but he couldn’t think of anything especially that--   Suddenly Seokjin was leaning forward, pressing in against Jungkook’s shoulder, inhaling Jungkook’s scent deeply. The skin there tingled in delight, and he felt as though every nerve in his body rose up at attention to meet him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his jaw tilting back, shamelessly baring his neck to Seokjin’s continued attack.   ‘Attack’ was not quite the right word, but it was the only one Jungkook was able to use to express the way his whole body felt flipped inside out, his mouth open, gasping as his groin started to scream with need. It only got worse when Seokjin’s cheek pressed against the soft skin below Jungkook’s jaw, and he inhaled sharply, his hand coming up against Seokjin’s shoulder, his fingers digging into skin before he could stop himself.   Shit.   Seokjin was pressing in further, until Jungkook was pushed back against his backpack, Seokjin crawling up onto the bed and over Jungkook as though to lie on top of him, his nose still buried deep into Jungkook’s scent mark, almost abusing it the way he rubbed his own scent into Jungkook’s. When his mouth pressed to it, his lips parting and mouthing there, Jungkook keened, a light whimper escaping him as involuntarily his hips jutted upwards, clumsily knocking against Seokjin’s stomach.   “S-Seo...Jin…” Jungkook managed, as Seokjin started to suckle his mark, his tongue brushing up against it delicately and making Jungkook cry out.   But then, for a moment the world stopped spinning, and he remembered himself. He looked down and saw Seokjin, rosy-cheeked and swollen mouth suckling, his brown hair brushing against Jungkook’s skin, one shoulder curving sensually as he bent even lower into Jungkook, pulling aside the collar of his T-shirt to access more skin. Through the beauty he was seeing, the fireworks he was feeling, Jungkook panicked. He remembered the dream and the actions that followed and as much as his head screamed and his body ached to Scent Seokjin back, he found himself gasping.   “S-stop!”   His hands pushed at Seokjin’s chest with a surprising limpness to them. But the moment Jungkook had spoke, the Alpha froze, drawing himself back. They were both panting, Jungkook’s sweat glistening on his skin, his chest heaving up and down. Seokjin’s face was flushed, and Jungkook noticed his eyes were traced in a red he had never seen before, a deep reddish-orange flecked color that was like flames.  But it quickly faded, reminding him of the way water turned fire into murky ash, as the Alpha’s eyes filled with tears.   “I’m...I’m...sorry, Jungkook. I shouldn’t have done that. Jungkook, I’m sorry.” Seokjin was choking on his sobs, trying desperately to swallow them down. “I really did come to apologize, I didn’t come to do that, really. Fuck. It’s just that you...you’re so …” Seokjin buried his face in his hands, pressing so hard into his eyelids that it looked painful. He let out a frustrated cry, and in a flash clambered down off the bed, snatching the cup up and abandoning a stunned Jungkook, alternating between swearing under his breath and apologizing profusely.   “Jin, wait, I--”   “No, please,” Seokjin’s voice cracked, and he was already headed to the door. “Shit. Shit. Please, don’t say anything right now. I’m sorry.”   “Seokjin!” he sat up, hand reaching out uselessly, as if he could stop the Alpha with a gesture.   The door slammed, and then a pause, silence starting to drift in with little steps. Suddenly from outside Seokjin let out a scream of frustration so loud, so unbridled it made Jungkook leap nearly a foot in the air, his blood seeming to curdle and every nerve on edge, making the sound painful and cutting into the throbbing of his new headache. Jungkook lay back onto the bed, surprised by how exhausted he suddenly felt. He could barely breathe, and he realized after a moment that he was shaking like a leaf.   Yet the only thing revolving in his mind, the thing he couldn’t stop asking, was:   ‘Why did I tell him to stop?’   And to his dismay, he didn’t have any very good answers. Jungkook pulled the curtain over his bed with a clatter, turning out his light and curling up in the blue glow of twilight spilling in through the window.  ~~~~~  0 DAYS  ~~~~~  It was dark when Jungkook woke up again, and he slowly pulled aside the curtain to see Seokjin’s bed was empty and unused. Hoseok was lying in the bed below it, his mouth hanging open and one leg sticking entirely out from under the blanket, despite the chilly bite in the air that the floor heater couldn’t quite take the edge off of. Jungkook sat up, a strange sort of calm encompassing him. Perhaps it was because Seokjin’s scent in the room had faded, or the cool quiet of the snowy night, but Jungkook felt almost numb, removed from himself. He crawled off the bunk as quietly as possible, grabbing clothes and blindly getting bundled up. There was a bit of a snoring sound, and Jungkook turned to see Jimin shifting on the bottom bunk in his sleep, an arm wrapped around a sleeping Taehyung curled against him. Jungkook pulled his jacket on and slipped outside, careful to shut the door quietly behind him.   It was around one in the morning, and snow was lightly drifting downwards in a sluggish sort of aimlessness, the moon reflecting off its surface and giving everything a soft blue-ish glow. The snow that had already fallen crunched beneath his feet, a sound loud and abrasive in the uncanny stillness.   When he got to the Main Hall, he was surprised to see a fire in the hearth still, a thick pile of wood turned black, gray and white all entangled in flames of sunset oranges and yellows. Jungkook went to the cupboard to search for food, spotting an empty bowl on the island with a note tucked beneath, a handwritten scrawl reading Jungkook’s dinner in microwave . He smiled, going to open the microwave just as he heard a groan from somewhere in the room. Jungkook jumped, turning around so fast he hit his fingers against the microwave door, making him hiss at the sting of pain. He looked up and saw a figure was lying on the far couch, a small blanket draped over him, socked feet poking out of the bottom because he was too tall. A large backpack lay at the side of the couch, half unzipped with a pair of blue-jeans draped across it. Jungkook, even without being able to see his face in the dim light of the fire, knew that it was Seokjin. His presence, now acknowledged, was both a comfort and an uneasiness. Jungkook decided to eat his soup cold, the taste and texture thick in his mouth as he sat on the couch across from Seokjin, his knees drawn up to his chest. Part of him wondered if Seokjin would wake up, and he couldn't help but imagine a scenario where Seokjin would calmly talk everything out with him, and then it would all be back to normal. He heard Taehyung’s voice echoing in his head. ‘Seokjin hides his feelings all the time.’ He didn’t expect a habit like that to change in Seokjin so easily, when he himself still slept under a dining room table half the time.   The only revelation he could currently come to, the only clean fact that had been conveyed (as far as he could figure) was that far from hating him, Seokjin was trying to fight against a desire to get closer to Jungkook. Whatever that desire was built on, Jungkook wasn’t sure. Was it instinct as an Alpha? Was it protectiveness as the eldest member of the pack? Only Seokjin could say for certain. But Jungkook knew now that Seokjin must not hate him. And after the way Seokjin had Scented him earlier, and from what he had found the other day in Seokjin’s room, Jungkook was now of the mind that he hadn’t been the only one that had been missing their Scenting desperately.  He sighed, setting his bowl on the coffee table. The headache from earlier that had gotten worse steadily, thrumming painfully in his skull and making even his eyes feel hot. Jungkook raised one hand and placed it gently over his Scent mark, the skin there still feeling swollen and hot to the touch, inflamed from earlier. He now had a sneaking suspicion that his headache would immediately alleviate if he were just to go over and Scent Seokjin back. But could he stop himself there? Would Seokjin come to really hate him if he knew what Jungkook had done? Or would he smile in relief and say, “Ah, is that all?”   He figured this last option was highly unlikely.   Jungkook wasn’t often very sure of himself. He knew the things he knew and the things he didn’t, and he had learned a lot while living in the pack house. But knowing the world around you and knowing yourself were two very different things - not to mention knowing what you wanted. And yet in that moment, the one thing Jungkook wanted was to wake Seokjin up and tell him to Scent him again, and to keep going this time.   Jungkook didn’t think he was ready to tell Seokjin that, though. There was something he wanted to check, just to be sure. Jungkook stood up quietly, sliding over to kneel next to Seokjin’s backpack, and he started digging through it. He needed something strong, like that sweaty T-shirt Seokjin had had tucked into his pillowcase. Jungkook had been very sheltered and naive, he knew, but he wasn’t stupid. Seokjin shifted again on the couch, starting to mumble again in his sleep. “Forget mind green stage fall.” The words were quite clear but their meaning severely convoluted. Jungkook paused, his hand deep in Seokjin’s backpack, praying the Alpha wouldn’t wake up and catch him red-handed.   Eventually, he pulled out a plastic bag with Seokjin’s dirty laundry wadded up inside of it. He hesitated a moment, debating on taking the lesser of two evils - the socks - instead of the black boxers with the white band. But Jungkook didn’t like to half-ass things. He bunched up the underwear and shoved it deep into his pockets, getting up to leave. Halfway standing up, he paused, then retrieved one of the less torn-up spare sleeping bags, draping it over the sleeping Alpha.   “Mmmm,” Seokjin murmured, his head lolling to the other side as he curled up into the back of the couch like it was someone warm. “Carpet butter vicious.”   Jungkook smiled, tucking the sleeping bag in a bit so it didn’t slip off too easily, before shrugging his jacket until he was huddled up in it better. He had just placed his hands on the cold metallic surface of the doorknob when Seokjin spoke once again in his sleep, this time almost panting out the phrase like he was a pup again himself, chasing after in play.   “JK! Hey, JK!”   At that, Jungkook looked over his shoulder, his eyes softening. It was something he had called out a hundred times - maybe even thousands - and it made Jungkook chuckle before he stepped out into the snow.   The night was freezing, but Jungkook wasn’t even shivering. His feet felt numb in his boots but the rest of him felt quickly warmed by the heavy jacket that he wore. The eldest wolves had all bickered for hours about the matching jackets, trying to find the best outerwear for their pack to wear for their winter hunt, relentless even though they were shopping online in the middle of August for it. The snow was falling even heavier, until it started to accumulate in Jungkook’s hair and clung to his eyelashes, making him blink a little harder to dislodge the weightless flakes. He had been walking for probably an hour, and slowly. But he felt tired, attributing it to the extra effort it took to walk in the deepening snow. Jungkook sniffed at the air, noting that he could no longer smell the camp, or Namjoon’s scent marker, and his tracks were getting buried deeper by the minute, the boot marks just behind him already softened and rounded by a fresh covering.   Feeling as though he’d gone far enough, Jungkook leaned against a nearby tree, allowing himself to slide down it until he was seated. He sighed, tilting his head back to look up into the naked, dark boughs of the oak tree he was sitting beneath, the sky still eerily aglow from the moonlight. Jungkook tapped the back of his head against the bark of the tree, feeling bits crumbling off and falling down the back of his shirt, making his neck and shoulders itch until he wriggled around again.     He hadn’t been alone in the woods for a long time, not since before he had moved into the pack house, and that was four years ago. It was weird to think that it had been that long, yet it also felt as though this new life he had stumbled across was all still new and challenging. From the very first moment, up until this night, and probably many nights after, he would never understand how Namjoon had just known , what had compelled him to take the small, gangly, wide-eyed wolf stray under his wing. Just a few minutes of talking to him, of looking into his face, and Namjoon had understood. It wasn’t until almost a month in that Namjoon really started asking any questions, like “How long have you been living in that public park, Jungkookie?”   At that time, Jungkook had been too scared to tell him the truth, so he had simply told him it had been one year. He tried not to make it obvious that the truth was, before that year in that public park it had been other parks, under bridges, in alleyways, curled up under tables at street bars to escape the rain, moving quietly to escape notice and stay out of everyone’s way. He had lived most of that time in wolf form, making it easier for his sensitive nose to pick up on the smell of food and finding it easier to stay on alert as an animal, rather than a scrawny young boy. The only thing that 14 year old Jungkook had known then was that he didn’t want to go back to the pound. That he would rather die. Even a scraggly, barren, scary public park had been much more welcoming, much freer. It had felt like heaven, back then.   It wasn’t until several months later, when gentle Jimin had come with his soft voice and gentle smile, that he had told them about the pound, begging them not to take him back there, to please let him stay.   “Don’t be stupid,” Yoongi said, his tone almost berating but rounded out at the edges, pillowed and swollen from realizations. “You’re in our pack now, you don’t belong there, and you never will again.”   Jungkook sighed, looking down at his hands as they dangled over his knees, feeling stiffer as the cold soaked into them, feeling like a thousand tiny hands grabbing hold of his skin and pressing in until he couldn’t feel his fingertips. He exhaled hot air onto them, then reached into his pocket, pulling out the wadded material of the underwear there. The instant it left his pocket, he could smell the edges of Seokjin’s Alpha scent, pungent and tickling at the edges of his senses in eager anticipation. He could already feel the hand clutching the material start to feel clammy.   He didn’t know what it was like to be born into a pack. He didn’t know what it was like to learn about mating gradually, naturally, alongside your parents and siblings.   He wasn’t sure what the difference was between admiring the way Namjoon looked with his reading glasses fogged up as he drank coffee and read, and the way Seokjin looked as he stood in the front lawn on a warm autumn evening, answering a phone call with one hand plucking at the needles of the pine tree in the front yard. He didn’t know what the difference was between the way Jimin had rubbed his thumb along the side of his hand earlier that day, and the way Seokjin had done the same thing not long after. But he knew they were different. He knew on some emotional level, he loved Seokjin. That, he had worked out somewhere between learning about the Seokjin that could sit quietly for hours and read medical journals, his free hand running absently through Jungkook’s hair without him even realizing it, and the Seokjin that yipped with endearing laughter, the one that screeched at television dramas and danced stupidly, making fun of everything and anything until he could make Jungkook laugh.   He knew that at least in some way, he loved Seokjin.   But in what way, in what inner instinct so ingrained into his psyche that it manifested in physical form, did he want Seokjin?   Here goes nothing.   Jungkook sighed, raising the black material to his nose and pressing into it, inhaling as deeply as he dared. He expected himself to cough or his breath to stumble over an overwhelmingly gross dirty-laundry smell, but instead there was only Seokjin’s elegant Alpha scent. It filled up his lungs, and he felt himself trembling, like a muscle spasm but all over. Jungkook leaned his head back, inhaling again as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his breath shaky all of a sudden. He allowed a low rumble to escape, thrumming deep in his throat before the chilly air swallowed the sound. Jungkook knew out here no one would be able to smell him or hear him. It was only a matter of minutes before he felt his groin warming, began to smell his own arousal drifting up from where he was pulling back the waistband of his sweat pants and slipping his hand inside to grab his erection. After being deprived of the comfort, the smell, the familiarity for months now, he was becoming quickly overwhelmed, surprising himself with the reckless abandon with which he was now pumping at his own cock.   The only sound on the night air was his own pants, the slight squelching sound against his hand, and the deep sniffs he gave to the underwear. He felt lewd, he felt cold and hot at the same time, he felt lost and simultaneously so grounded, so ready and hungry. His stomach lurched, and then…   Something snapped. Jungkook gasped, his neck convulsing a bit and making him look upwards, jaw dropped and eyes wide, before he felt the little trickle of wetness. At first, he thought that he had just came, but that wasn’t it. This was... different . It felt scarier, like a first ride on a roller coaster, like a first kiss. Jungkook found his hand going limp against his cock, even as he let out a long, low moan that he hadn’t expected. It echoed around the trees, sounding almost feral in the stillness of the night. His whole body was trembling and twitching violently in slow, deep waves, and he started rocking back and forth as he couldn’t hold still. His head spun, and his mouth felt dry from panting. Every nerve was screaming, pulsing, waving. His heart was thudding in his ears and his senses felt heightened, but only selectively so. He could only focus on the texture of the underwear pressed to his cheek, or the sight of the snow that had started to accumulate on his knees like miniscule flecks of paint, or the throbbing of a place deep inside him, that he hadn’t expected. He was about to slow, to catch his breath, when he accidentally took another inhale, catching Seokjin’s scent again. Like a trigger being pulled, he was shot back to the image of Seokjin from his dream, the domineering, powerful one that had pinned him down and spoke of making it feel good.   There was another wave, like the first one, and this time, instead of a trickle of wetness, there was a hot, watery release, and Jungkook whimpered. He let go of his cock, slipping his hand past his balls and deeper, further back, and he found a scary amount of sticky wetness there, as though a full cup of whatever-it-was had just been dumped unceremoniously into his pants. It smelled thick and almost yeast-like, and the strong scent stung at his senses, making his breath stop short. He started to shiver, feeling cold and hot at the same time, and he realized he was now covered in a thick layer of sweat. Jungkook removed his hand from his pants, holding the wetness centimeters from his face as he blinked dumbfoundedly at it, gently prying his fingers apart to watch the way the liquid strung across.   “H-holy fuck,” Jungkook breathed.   That was how, alone in the middle of a snowy wood at 2 in the morning on the first day of the new year, Jungkook discovered he was an Omega. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Sometimes the course of our lives depends on what we do or don't do in a few seconds, a heartbeat, when we either seize the opportunity, or just miss it. Miss the moment and you never get a chance again..” ― Aidan Chambers     “Seokjin? Seokjin, wake up,” Namjoon shook the eldest, who jolted up with a start. The Main Hall was dark and cold now, the fire dying out while Seokjin had been asleep. The cold grayish blue light in the sky signaling that the sun was preparing to rise shone into the room, illuminating the look of concern drawn tensely across Namjoon’s face. The scent of ashes and smoke was thick in the air.   “What happened?” Seokjin mumbled, his eyes still squeezed shut from sleep and his face feeling puffy and numb, but he was trying to force himself into a state of alert.   “Have you seen Jungkook lately?”   “W-what?”   “Jungkook is missing. We can’t find him.”   Seokjin pulled himself into a sitting position, nearly slamming against the lead Alpha’s head. “What?!” he snapped, his voice unnaturally loud and crackling.   “Hoseok got up to go the bathroom about an hour ago and noticed he wasn’t in his bunk. His jacket and boots are gone, there’s no sign of him. He came and woke us up because he was worried. Kiara’s waking up the others now, we need to send out a search party. I’ll leave a couple people here just in case he comes back, but most of us will go out and spread over as much of the woods as we can cover. It’s too cold to wait any longer.”   “I’m going,” Seokjin stated, and it was very obviously not a question. It was a little too direct perhaps, a little too aggressive to say to a lead Alpha, but Namjoon just nodded.   “Of course, that’s what I figured,” Namjoon patted him on the shoulder, rising and tugging his hoodie up over his head. “We leave in five minutes.”   Seokjin reached over hurriedly to his backpack, grabbing his jeans and tugging them on before standing up. He was about to go to the door to retrieve his jacket, when he noticed an empty bowl sitting on the coffee table, the spoon laid next to it and still dotted with bits of leftover soup that had long-since dried. He looked at it for a moment curiously, his brow crinkling. A sick feeling was sinking into the pit of his stomach. Seokjin abandoned the bowl, shaking his head and rushing out the door to follow Namjoon.   It was still snowing quite heavily, and Seokjin pulled his hoodie up onto his head as Namjoon had done, looking around at the white-covered world that was slowly lightening with the oncoming day. How long had he been missing? Why had he gone out and not told anyone? Why hadn’t he come back?   Was it all my fault again?   “Kiara and Hoseok are staying here, I need at least one Alpha and one Omega at the Main Hall in case something happens.” Namjoon was surrounded by the younger wolves already, so Seokjin hurried up to join the circle. Everyone was huddled, expressions worried and the white puffs of their breaths mingling together in the middle. Taehyung was clutching onto Jimin’s sleeve, his eyes looking watery, and Hoseok looked pale and sickly, his face morphing into one nearly unrecognizable to Seokjin.   “Normally, I wouldn’t have us split up like this, but time is of the essence. We’re going to spread out but try to keep a connecting chain. I don’t want you running anywhere that’s too far that you can’t smell one of the other pack members, you hear me? No exceptions . The moment anyone finds him, I want you to send up a call, and stay there with him until at least two other wolves come. If he’s hurt, do what you can.” He paused, his words having come out in a rushed, breathless voice that gave away the Alpha’s bubbling nervousness. “This is serious, guys. Don’t do anything stupid. If there’s no luck we meet back here in two hours. That’s one hour out, one hour back. No excuses. Putting yourself at risk won’t help us find him any easier. Okay?”   He looked at each of them in turn as they nodded, his expression hard and somehow more aged than it had been a few months ago, when Seokjin had arrived in the pack house. When Namjoon looked his way, he hesitated a little longer, his gaze meeting Seokjin’s with purpose.   “Don’t do anything stupid,” Namjoon repeated.   Seokjin pressed his lips together, but nodded, his head hung a little lower as he stared at their boots in the snow. Please, let’s just go !   “Jimin, you take the side along the beach. You’ll be able to distinguish more over the salty smell. I’ll go in the woods alongside the beach, then it’ll fan out like…” Namjoon gestured the directions as he assigned everyone a place, so they knew who the closest wolves on either side of them were. Finally he waved his arm, and they set out, shifting as they raced off into the designated areas. Seokjin raced off into the deeper part of the woods, leaping over brush and brook alike, his panting heavy in his ears as he sniffed at the air, trying to catch that smell of salt and leather.   The tearing sensation against his lungs and chest as he continued to run, limbs screaming, was a welcome one. It woke him up and distracted him from the other tightness in his chest, the one that kept telling him that this was because he Scented Jungkook last night. He’d crossed a line. He kept continuing to cross lines that he wasn’t supposed to. He had once prided himself on his self-control, his ability to present to others only what he chose. But Jeong Jungkook had thrown all of that out the window.   He had honestly gone last night to find out what it was that had happened to make Jungkook so distant, to make him clam up again like they hadn’t made any progress in their delicate dance of getting to know each other since August. Both of them had an awkward tendency to be quieter, more withdrawn. A sneakier, more manipulative side of him had thought that if Jungkook was coming down with a cold, he could have been more loose-tongued, a little needier and more likely to open up. He hadn’t banked on the fact that half-asleep, soft-faced and slightly flushed Jungkook was very endearing, or that his smell always got stronger when he had been asleep, or on the fact that he had been harboring a migraine all day long and he knew that it was too easy to lean forward and just take what he wanted. Jungkook’s teeth, with their extra outward curve that made his lips part delicately, had caught his attention. The way the cabin light reflected off the droplets of liquid clinging to his lips was distracting. The freckle beneath the impossibly pink mouth had been too tempting. The smell of leather, the slight clamminess of the boy’s skin had been too intoxicating.   Maybe he was just a weaker man than he thought he was.   It was natural for Jungkook to react the way he had, with shock and probably disgust. Especially after finding the T-shirt in his pillowcase the day before, there was no way Jungkook wouldn’t catch on to him now, wouldn’t realize that Seokjin was in love with him, trying his best not to be obsessed with him.   Seokjin’s chest ached. But that was nothing new. ~~~~~ Jungkook was burning.   Not literally, of course, but he might as well have been. Covered in a pool of sweat, he was now sitting in mud made from the melted snow beneath him, as well as his own slick. It just wouldn’t stop . He had been aroused for hours, his body gushing out more of the natural lubricant every few minutes with no sign of relief. Nothing helped. He had planned on being back to the cabin, showered and his activities untraceable, before anyone woke up. Now he physically couldn’t even stand , much less make the long trek home through the snow.   Jungkook whimpered, shifting his leg a little as his body quivered, that deep slit inside of him aching and itching, begging to be satisfied. He felt gross and slimy, and he knew his body temperature was actually lower than it felt, due to the snow around him, but he couldn’t bear to keep his jacket on. It lay uselessly on the ground next to him in pitiful abandon as he shivered and whined. He had frantically tried to come for the first hour, hoping the throbbing and aching would let up, but nothing seemed to help. If anything, he only made it worse, because now his body had dispelled so much liquid he felt shriveled up inside, his mouth dry and his throat rough from gasping and moaning helplessly into the night. Why had he snuck out? Why had he gone so far? Why did he get himself into this kind of shit? While his body felt so dragged and worn to exhaustion, his mind had fought on a lot longer, trying to use his anger to fuel some energy into his limbs.   Eventually, though, he had given up. His mind was now numb like the tips of his fingers as he clutched at the mussed snow around him, lifting a handful to his mouth and relieved at the cool wetness as it melted against his tongue. He could taste a bit of bitterness to it, probably from the palm of his hand, and he wanted to gag. He weakly brought his wrist up to wipe at the sweat accumulating on his brow, his vision blurry, his lips chapped. He whimpered. The world was spinning and he wondered if he was finally close to passing out, to slip into sweet relief. Anything sounded better than the ache in his gut.   He moved to bring another handful of snow to his mouth and missed entirely, the powder-like snow crumbling softly against his cheek, slipping into his shirt and soaking the material there afresh with chill. Then, he heard something. It wasn’t the rushing, pounding that had been in his ears since he had first Scented, it was a crunching noise of paw to snow, a low snarl. Jungkook looked up, his eyes crossed and his eyelids feeling so, so heavy. There was a wolf there, standing a few yards away from him and sniffing the air.   “S...Jin…” Jungkook mewled, one hand reaching out to the blurry image of the wolf, his fingertips aching to touch and be touched, for some comfort and relief. He wondered if this was a hallucination. If it was, why couldn’t he hallucinate less pain in his ass?   The wolf moved closer as Jungkook blinked sleepily, his breath now in weary, ragged gasps. Then, a smell hit him, an Alpha scent. But it wasn’t Seokjin. It was some strange smell, a sort of biting sweet scent, like honeysuckle. A warm smell to accompany high summer. It contrasted strangely with the winter sensations around him, but Jungkook was just way too tired to think about that now. He fell back against his tree again, the skin at the back of his neck now scraped and bleeding a little from the abrasiveness of the bark. The wolf in front of him looked dark-furred, eyes glowing red as it slowly walked towards him. Some part of Jungkook’s brain protested, strong but too distant to be much use, that this wasn’t Seokjin. This wasn’t his Alpha. That’s not mine.   There was a snuffling noise, then the figure in front of him changed, a smooth transition that he almost missed with the lazy blink of an eye. The man was suddenly barebacked and crouched in front of him, tilting his chin to the side in curiosity. Jungkook tried to squeeze his eyes shut and open them again with a deliberation meant to clear his vision, and he got his first clear look at the man’s face. He was beautiful, his skin unbelievably pale and a silver earring dangling from his right ear. His eyes were dark and intense, thick eyebrow pressed together and his lips in a frown. The skin of his chest and shoulders were positively covered in black tattoos, scripted markings across his heart and an elaborate sun drawn like the drip of ink on the other side. The man turned slightly, his hand shuffling around Jungkook’s jacket as though looking for something, and Jungkook saw that on his back were tattooed two black shapes that reminded him of wings, a strip of text down the middle of his back like a spine created of words. The muscles of his body were thin, but impressive, rippling with each movement, his upper arms thicker than Jungkook’s thighs, and each movement smooth and powerful.   In all honesty, his beauty and aura reminded him so much of Seokjin, it hurt. He hadn’t even spoken but the intense way that he stared up at Jungkook through loose reddish-brown bangs told him in no uncertain terms that here, right now, was a man who was Seokjin’s equal. Jungkook shuddered, and the man seemed to sniff distastefully.   “Well, you’re in a real pickle, aren’t you, little Omega?” the man whispered. His voice was light but it had a sort of breathy huskiness to it, like the air as it came out from between his lips was measured a little differently than most people. He placed two curled fingers with painted black fingernails underneath Jungkook’s chin and lifted it gently, and Jungkook whimpered loudly, his skin feeling like it was being slowly peeled away and towards his middle. The man laughed, and Jungkook’s heart stopped. His laugh was warm and pleasant, even though Jungkook was slowly starting to feel the danger of the situation sinking in, as the fingertips against his skin started to feel electrified and stimulated, like it was waiting for this.   “Did your pack abandon you out here in the snow? In the middle of your heat?” The man’s voice was taking on a smooth, sultry tone, and he leaned in closer, the fingertips becoming fingers which became an entire palm that cupped his jaw. “That’s awfully cruel of them, you know.”   “Jae? What the--?!” came a voice from behind, and the tattooed man looked over his shoulder. Jungkook raised his eyes to see the additional newcomer, and was surprised to see the man had a very feminine looking face, with long, slightly wavy brown hair that brushed his shoulders, a delicate chin that came to a point and soft, pink lips.   “Sukkie, look what I found?” the tattooed man named Jae smirked, lifting Jungkook’s head a little higher, making him inhale sharply. “He’s all alone.”   “Wow, he smells so strong . What is that, leather?”   “And saltwater. It’s really pretty-smelling, isn’t it? He almost smells like a Noble.” Jae ran a hand through the greasy clumps of Jungkook’s bangs, and Jungkook caught another strong wave of the man’s Alpha scent, the sweetness burning at his nostrils. He was staring into Jungkook’s eyes so intently, as though debating something. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably and Jae’s eyes suddenly flashed red, and the hand in his hair clenched down, grabbing hold of Jungkook’s hair but not pulling it just yet.   “God, you’re just completely soaked in it, aren’t you? What is this, your first heat?” Jae hissed, breathing through his mouth now. He paused, his breath coming a little more labored as he considered. He saw the glazed look on Jungkook’s face, watched the streaks of tears that were quietly trickling down his cheeks. “Wow… it is, isn’t it? A pretty Unmated Omega in the middle of the woods on his first heat. That’s awful...” He smiled softly, “Don’t worry, we can take care of you.”   “Uh, Jae, I don’t think--” the man behind him called out, stepping forward and fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket nervously.   “Sukkie knows I don’t care much for Omegas,” Jae told Jungkook in a whisper intended to be soothing, and for all the world, it was. “But I know how it feels to be frustrated and abandoned, and honestly, you look so pitiable…” He ran his knuckles against Jungkook’s jaw, and the boy let out a little sigh, wishing he could drown in the sound of the man’s voice. It took him a long moment to realize that that was on purpose - Jae was using his Alpha voice to soothe Jungkook, to force his tense muscles to relax. Whether or not that was a good thing, Jungkook’s brain still wasn’t sure. His nerves were too busy to take a vote.   “Jae, Jae listen, doesn’t he smell almost like a Jeon?” Sukkie crept up behind Jae, laying his hand on the man’s shoulder and staring down at the pitiful sweaty pile that was Jungkook.   Jae smiled. “Wow, you’re right, he kind of does. Do you hear that, pup? You may be royalty. If you are a Jeon, it might please you to know you can meet your brother soon.” Over his shoulder, he said to his companion, “Let me Scent him and we’ll get him out of here. The Scenting should calm him down long enough for him to relax for a bit.” Jae leaned forward, ignoring the way Jungkook started shivering, one hand weakly raising as if to push him away. But all he could manage was to limply place his hand against Jae’s chest. The Alpha leaned in, inhaling deeply, and Jungkook tried to mentally prepare himself for the Scenting, as much as it made his skin crawl. But then, Jae hissed, a growl escaping him as he leapt back as though Jungkook were on fire.   “What is it?” Sukkie asked, looking wide-eyed at the Alpha.   Jae’s eyes flashed a deep, glowing crimson. Jungkook could only whimper, not understanding what he’d done wrong, why Jae had stopped, why everything was feeling warm again as he slowly became more and more willing to do anything to make the world stop spinning. Jae’s next words were, ironically, the last words Jungkook expected, and the first ones he had wanted to hear, although not in their current context and tone, spat out like a vile taste.   “Kim Seokjin.”   ~~~~~ “Hoseok?” Kiara said quietly, following behind the Alpha, their arms loaded with wood. The weight in her arms was welcome, in all honesty, as was the smell of the smoke from the fire as they unloaded. She had loved the smell of smoke since childhood, but it was also like Namjoon’s scent, which made it not only familiar but comforting and safe. The sound of the wood thunking against the black metal grate they used as a woodpile was a pleasant one, even though the atmosphere was still tense and ringing with unspoken fears. “Have you and Yoongi…? I mean… Are you two still?”   The man gave a sad smile, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s still angry at me, and to be honest, I can’t even blame him. I deserve this.” “Hoseok… You didn’t mean it, and I’m sure Yoongi knows that.” Kiara laid a hand on his shoulder, her soft Omega scent reaching out as if to embrace him in a comforting hug. “Yeah, but I broke his trust. No one knows as much as me how sensitive Yoongi is about Alpha dominance, and I just…. I just spit it out without thinking.”   “Well, to be fair, you had a valid point. You were threatened by a new Beta, and Taehyung did cross a line,” she said. Her voice was gentle and diplomatic, as though reassuring a mourning friend. “But you should know, Taehyung’s not like that. I really don’t think he’s the type to Claim someone he already knows is chosen as a mate. The Kim men are all kind of like that. Loyal to a fault, and the first ones to sacrifice their own happiness for their mate.”   Hoseok nodded, his bottom lip protruding. After a moment, he glanced around, as if double-checking that they were alone, and then he turned back to Kiara and said more quietly, “Did Namjoon tell you who he chose?”   Kiara smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she patted Hoseok’s cheek. “Even if he had, as his mate, I wouldn’t tell you without his permission, Hoseok. I trust Namjoon’s decisions. But I will tell you, you don’t have to worry.”   “I’ll worry anyways,” Hoseok sighed, and they went out for another load of wood, the snow now falling a lot gentler than before. “The only other Unclaimed wolves in our pack are Jimin, Jungkook and Seokjin. One of them is his brother and the other two… the other two are like my pups.”   “They’re like our pups,” Kiara corrected, a slight note of playful possessiveness to her voice.   He held the door for her as she stepped into the lean-to where the wood had been left sheltered from the snow, a dark shed that smelled of moss and wood chips. She loaded up his arms first, his gloved fingertips brushing bits of sawdust.   “Fair enough, our pups. But you know what I mean. I’ve known them longer than Taehyung or Seokjin. I still don’t understand them quite yet, to be honest. But I think Taehyung is a good kid, he’s just… brash.”   Kiara nodded. “Either way, Taehyung is young but he’s not stupid. He doesn’t want Yoongi, so you two should talk and make up. You’re supposed to be officiated tonight, anyways.”   Hoseok let out a dark sort of chuckle, shaking his head. “Even if Yoongi were to forgive me, with all that’s going on right now, I don’t see that happening.”   “Well, let’s focus on the current situation, then deal with that later. I’m sure Namjoon can figure something out.”   They went back into the house, dropping the last load of wood next to the fire. Hoseok brushed the wood chips off his belly and went to stare out at the snow, seeing that the boys’ tracks had already disappeared from just an hour ago. “I really hope they can find him... Why would he have just run off like that?” “I don’t know,” Kiara sighed, her brow crinkling. “Maybe he panicked after all the stress?” “No, Jungkook is the type to internalize and pretend like it’s all okay, for our sakes.” Hoseok crossed his arms. “He hates being a bother, so he’s going to feel terrible for adding to the pile right now.” They fell to silence for a few moments, and Hoseok decided that he very much hated waiting periods in life. The uncertainties that had enshrouded their pack, the unspoken worries, the threats looming on the horizon.   Kiara sighed yet again, sitting on the couch and hugging her arms to herself. Hoseok looked over at her, arching an eyebrow.   “I’m surprised Namjoon didn’t send you out with the rest of the search party, actually,” Hoseok said, his tone forcedly light as he tried to lighten the atmosphere. “You’re our best nose, after all.”   At that, Kiara seemed to flush a little, looking down at her knees and smiling. She touched her knuckle to her lips, as if to suppress the giveaway expression, then looked up at him through thick eyelashes. The warm crackling of the fire seemed to make her face seem a little more flushed than usual, a little more girlish. She toyed with the ends of her sleeves, nibbling a bit on the frayed ends.  “Actually, he knows I shouldn’t be exerting myself right now. I would probably be fine, but, Namjoon is a worrier.”   “Wait, what? Are you sick?” Hoseok instantly moved in, sitting next to her on the couch and looking her over with more care, looking for signs of fever, or anything. “What’s wrong?” Kiara giggled, and played with her hair, one arm resting gently across her lap. “Actually, we were going to announce this after your Mating with Yoongi, but… I think in light of the circumstances we could use a little good news, right?”   “What is it?!”   She reached out and took Hoseok’s hands in hers, smiling with that warm, tender smile she gave all the wolves of the pack.   “Hoseok, I’m pregnant.”   ~~~~~   Taehyung’s breath ran ragged as he leapt over a pile of brush, bits of the branches whipping out as if trying to catch hold of him. He needed to find Jungkook. The tell-tale seawater scent was so distinctive usually, but it was harder on the little island, where they were surrounded on all sides by the sea, so he would have to try to pinpoint the smell of leather.   He was running for almost an hour, and he sped up, worried that he would have to head back before he could find anything. Something in him just seemed to know that none of the others had found him, a feeling in his gut as well as the fact that he hadn’t heard a howl or a yip in the distance. His ear twitched, checking for the millionth time as he rushed around a particularly thick oak tree. The trees seemed to change as he went deeper into the woods, since the firs closer to the shore had seemed to thin out until he couldn’t smell them anymore over the other scents bombarding him on every side.   His nose twitched suddenly, and Taehyung halted, his paws digging into the dampness of the snow, blinking through the lazily falling whiteness.   The smell of leather.   He sniffed again.   And something else. Some one else.   Taehyung approached slowly, stepping into the edges of a clearing and making sure that he was downwind from whoever it was. The precaution was one he was ingrained with since he was a very young pup, but in this case it was probably unnecessary, since once he got to the edge of the clearing it was difficult to smell anything over the smell of an Omega’s slick. Jungkook was braced against a tree, looking completely wrecked. His hair was stuck to his forehead in thick, black clumps, his mouth parted wide as he gripped at the snow around him. He only wore his T-shirt and sweatpants, and the latter looked completely ruined, and neither left any room for imagination as far as what was going on. Taehyung felt his whole body stiffen, first at the smell and then the realization that Jungkook had Presented. He was an Omega. Oh, thank god.   Then, he noticed the intruders. Two figures were leaning in towards Jungkook, causing the look of fear in his eyes. The Alpha was gripping into Jungkook’s hair now, forcing Jungkook’s head back, baring his neck against his will. The Alpha seemed livid.   “How the fuck do you have Seokjin’s Claim?! You’re an Omega ! You’re still a fucking pup !” The man was screaming, his eyes flashing red as the man behind him laid a hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm him with quiet words that were increasingly panicked. “Where the fuck is he?! Is this some kind of a fucking joke?”   Oh no. It’s Jae . The almost rabid ramblings of the Alpha were a terrifying mirror of the last time Taehyung had seen him. Part of Taehyung wanted to run away, his ears dropping in reluctance. But Jungkook needed him. He debated for a moment whether to jump in and use the moment of surprise to put himself between Jae and Jungkook, but opted instead to throw his head back, jaw snapping as he let out a long, powerful howl, catching the immediate attention of the other party and, he knew, his pack mates. He could still faintly detect their scents, and they would now be moving in closer.   While the Alpha was still stunned, Taehyung bolted over, snapping at the Alpha in an attempt to make him back away from Jungkook. More vulnerable in his human form, Jae stepped back, a look of bewilderment on his face until his expression crumpled into one of recognition.   “Taehyung,” Jae spat. “So I guess the whole family’s here, huh? Where’s your asshole of a brother now, huh? Busy boning the rest of the pack to his satisfaction?”   In response, Taehyung growled, baring his teeth at the wolf. This wasn’t the time for old feuds, Jungkook needed help. He needed to get him back to camp, to warmth and safety, but he couldn’t do it alone. He would just have to stall for time until backup arrived.   Taehyung prayed that Jae couldn’t see the way his legs trembled.   “Back the fuck away, pup,” Jae snapped, waving his hand and almost earning a bite from Taehyung just at the gesture, his muscles tense and ready for attack at any moment. “He’s Claimed but that doesn’t mean shit to another pack. This kid’s Unmated, which means he’s free game. Do you really want to leave him like this?” He nodded his head to Jungkook, and in a moment of weakness, Taehyung craned his head around to look at the younger boy. His heart ached, seeing the obvious pain on Jungkook’s face. His eyes were practically crossed and his hand lifted weakly to reach for the Beta.   “Tae…” Jungkook rasped, his voice barely audible. Taehyung knew a beg for help when he saw one.   “Look at him, Taehyung,” Jae added, spitting out his words with the kind of emotion-based reasoning that he knew people were weak to, that he knew could get everyone else to see his way. “Going this long in this condition, and being Unmated...he could die. And even if he lives, what are you going to do to stop me from taking him? What are you going to do, Mate him yourself?”   Taehyung shivered, and not at all from the cold around them. The snow had stopped, and it seemed like the world was holding its breath. He knew Mating Jungkook would buy the Omega time, as well as make it utterly taboo for Jae to touch him. Jae was an idiot and manipulative and broken, but he didn’t break the rules. That aspect of him was probably the only reason he hadn’t already done something about Jungkook.   But Mating Jungkook, even in a desperate attempt to save his life and get him home… Could he do that? As a Beta, it was one of his rights, to be allowed to Mate with an Omega. The boy rasped out Taehyung’s name again, but this time it was more of a moan. Jungkook shuddered, and the fresh scent of slick rose in the air. Even in his misery, Jungkook looked ashamed, looked embarrassed by the state he was in. The usually calm and delicate Jungkook was silently screaming in the depths of the Omega’s eyes.   Taehyung stepped toward Jungkook, nudging his wet nose against Jungkook’s, his eyes locking on the still-swollen Scent gland, irritated with hormones and from being roughly Scented. The smell of Seokjin was buried beneath the aroma of Jungkook’s arousal and sweat, but it was still there, confusing Taehyung for a moment. But there was no time. What if Jungkook was already too weak to make the trip home? What if Jae tried to Mate him right there, right then? He didn’t want to lose a pack member, not for anything. He loved Jungkook, an important, gentle part of their family.   But what about Jimin? Taehyung’s chest felt like it was being ripped in two. He couldn’t imagine having to go home and tell Jimin that he had Mated someone else, that he couldn’t be with his true partner, his soulmate, the other half of his heart. He felt utterly broken just thinking about it. So even though looking into Jungkook’s face made him feel like the scum of the earth, he knew he would regret this moment forever.   I’m sorry, Jungkook. I’m so fucking sorry. Please forgive me . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings -- always darker, emptier and simple r.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche    “W-what?! You’re pregnant?!” Hoseok breathed, a smile coming to his face, bright white mouth of teeth gleaming and lighting up his face as he squeezed Kiara’s hands. “Oh my god...You’re gonna have puppies!” Kiara laughed, tumbling over and falling into Hoseok’s warm arms as he hugged her tightly. “ Namjoon is gonna have puppies! Our pack is gonna have puppies! This is such great news!” “Yeah, we’re so excited!” Kiara was wiping at tears now - happy tears, and Hoseok thought she looked even more beautiful than usual. Her green eyes sparkled with what he could now properly call a motherly warmth, and small, upturned nose wrinkled as she laughed. “When did you find out?!” “Just before we left for the trip. We had signs after that weird second heat I went into in November, but we didn’t know for sure until recently. I think Namjoon cried more than I did.” Kiara smiled fondly, looking over at the fire and nibbling at the edge of her sleeve again. Hoseok could imagine it, Namjoon’s smile spread wide, the dimples of his cheeks deepening as he stared shyly at the ground, trying to contain his glee. Then eventually being unable to and rushing to Kiara, lifting her up and whooping loudly. That was just Namjoon, in Hoseok’s mind, a side that lately had been shown more and more rarely as the stress and number of members in the pack had increased. Puppies would be good. Hoseok beamed, sitting back onto the couch with Kiara still curled up against his chest. He sighed, and she lightly swatted at his arm and said, “So you’d better make up with Yoongi soon, do you hear me? I won’t have the uncles stressing the puppies out.”  Uncles. For the first time in days, he laughed. He imagined Yoongi cooing over the pups, spoiling them with treats and then trying to act like he  was one of the strict parents, when he really was a sucker for round cheeks and small fingers and toes. Yoongi wanted kids. He hadn’t talked about it to the others, because that wasn’t Yoongi’s way, but Hoseok had known for a long time that he wanted pups.  ‘I honestly don’t know if I’d be any good with pups,’ he had said, watching the wall as Hoseok ran his fingers through the Omega’s hair, his head in Hoseok’s lap. ‘But I want them. I want to take care of them and raise them up well, to be stronger and braver than me. I want to leave something behind, a mark. I felt ready for pups before I even Presented, but it’s not smart to have pups without a Mate. And none of the Alphas or Betas I came across before were anything like the person I wanted to raise my pups with.’   ‘That sounds reasonable enough,’ Hoseok hummed, leaning down into Yoongi’s hair and burying his nose in it, in the smell of earth. ‘Raising pups is a big responsibility. And I’m sure you’d be wonderful at it.’   ‘Yeah... ‘ Yoongi shifted, wriggling his body until he was on his back, facing up at the Alpha and meeting his eyes. ‘I don’t NEED a Mate, Hoseok. I don’t NEED an Alpha. But I WANT a partner, to share things with, to make the experience worth it.’   Hoseok smiled, pressing his lips to Yoongi’s brow. ‘I understand.’   And he had.   And he did.  “You smell sad again,” Kiara murmured, lifting his face up enough to press in against Hoseok’s neck, elegantly Scenting him. She inhaled the smell of his vanilla sweetness, brushing against him with her own neck to leave her smell of Omega mingled with coffee. The action helped relax him, calming in its familiarity, and he let his shoulders drop. “Sorry. I was just...thinking about Yoongi.” “It’ll be okay,” Kiara tried to reassure him, her nose still pressed into the curve of his neck. Hoseok bent his head to the side, leaning down to return the gesture, even though his mind was still somewhat distracted. It wasn’t often that the two of them Scented, only in quiet moments when the other needed a little wordless reassurance, a trace of something that wasn’t complicated or weighted with meaning or subtext. It wasn’t that being paired with Namjoon and Yoongi was difficult , per se, but it had difficulties , strained moments and stubbornness, layers burying linguistic and psychological subtleties. Basically, as Kiara had put it, ‘They think entirely too much.’ “Thanks,” Hoseok said, patting around her shoulder and letting her remain laid up against his chest, half-hugging her as he stared into the fire. “And congratulations.” “Thanks,” Kiara yawned. He knew without being able to see into her face that her eyes had flickered closed. All things considered, it was reasonable enough that she was exhausted, and he left her there to doze, glancing up at the clock over the mantelpiece. The boys had been gone almost an hour. The sound of a truck roaring its way down the uneven path startled them both, and instantly Hoseok was on high alert, rushing to the window and peering out at the bright red Dodge Ram that was parking just at the edge of the camp. “What the hell…?” Hoseok mumbled. Then to Kiara he gestured with one hand, “Stay inside. Let me check this out.” Kiara seemed to consider this for a moment, standing up, but then she crossed her arms and nodded, frowning as Hoseok slipped his jacket back on and stepped outside. Hoseok walked off the porch and into the untarnished stretch of snow toward the trucks, his hands tucked into his pockets as he watched the four men clamber out of the vehicle. The man in the passenger seat slammed his door shut, running a hand through his blonde hair and calling out something to the man on the other side of the truck. His voice was deep and somewhat raspy, as though there was a permanent smoker’s cough sort of edge to it at all times, but it was friendly. Hoseok stood waiting at the corner of the house, trying to place himself in a place where Kiara could easily peer through the window and see what was going on. It wasn’t that he actually thought the ‘intruders’ meant any harm in the least - quite the contrary - but the visit had an as-yet-unknown purpose, and they couldn’t afford to take risks now. “Jackson Wang,” Hoseok called out at last, a little smirk playing on the edge of his lips, “What brings you here?” The blond haired guy looked over and beamed at Hoseok, “Heeey! Long time no see!” He practically bounded over, wrapping Hoseok in a hug. It was more affection than Jackson usually showed the Alpha, but it was a wordless show of friendship to reassure, to prelude the meeting with a little show of goodwill. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you since the barbeque, I think?” “Yeah…” Jackson’s smile remained, but it was a little more stressed at the edges, a little more still and less fluid than a true smile seemed. “Um, hey, is Namjoon around?” “No, he’s not,” Hoseok said, leaving his location purposefully unclarified. “What’s going on?” “Well, see I just came by to let you guys know that the Cano pack sold their portion of the island just over the summer,” Jackson said, his hands burying into his pockets. “It seems the last of the elder wolves in the pack died off, and the younger ones are joining into different packs in the city, so they can’t afford to keep it up.” “Wow, that’s sudden…” Hoseok pinched his lips together, considering. This wasn’t going to be good news, in all likelihood. One of the reasons Namjoon had been glad to have this island was that there weren’t many other packs to rival it. Jackson’s pack was on surprisingly friendly terms with them, due to his history with Namjoon, but other packs, especially newcomers, were more likely to challenge the boundaries and power balance of the hunting grounds and the game therein. This would just be one more added stress onto Namjoon’s already full plate, but it was a vital one. “Thanks for letting us know, Jackson. I’ll make sure to talk to Namjoon about it when he’s available.” “There’s one more thing…” Jackson said quietly, his gaze flickering over to his companions, then towards the Main Hall, then back to Hoseok. “The pack that bought the new land? It’s the Rising Gods clan…” Hoseok stared, blinking in surprise. He wasn’t sure what Jackson meant by that, but he could tell it wasn’t good. “Oh. Um. Thanks.” “Namjoon will know what that means,” Jackson offered, trying to be helpful. “Just make sure you tell him it’s the Rising Gods clan, and tell him to take all precautions. I haven’t heard any nice news about them lately, and it’s not going to be pretty.” Coming up to him with a quiet stride, one of the men placed a reassuring hand on Jackson’s shoulder, shaking his head a little to brush the brown bangs out of his eyes. “Also…?” the man reminded. Hoseok had met him only once at a social Namjoon had taken the whole pack to, but he remembered the man was an Omega named Mark. Jackson nodded, meeting Hoseok’s gaze in a powerful but subtle display of the Beta’s developed ‘Alpha’ side. Normally, Jackson was one of those loud, cocky, boisterous Betas with only one volume: obnoxious. But right now he was eerily calm and quiet, his voice uncharacteristically low as he said, “And tell Namjoon that if he needs us, to call. If worst comes to worst, we’re on the same team here.” It wasn’t completely unheard of for packs to join forces at a new incoming pack’s threat, but it wasn’t common by any means. Hoseok nodded gravely, knowing that this suggested that even Jackson’s pack was afraid of the consequences of this new ‘Rising Gods’ group of wolves. Hoseok shook Jackson’s hand, the deal sealed as well as triggering Jackson’s smile back in its normal overwhelming brightness, which Hoseok returned in kind. He dawdled around for a few minutes more, joking about the abundance of seagulls on the island this year, and then excused himself, his arm wrapped around his partner. Hoseok stood and watched them pull out of the camp, his arms crossed and his mind worrying. They had a pack of mostly Unmated wolves, some of which were still practically pups (one of which was currently missing). They had dissension between most of their more mature wolves, and now they had fresh pups on the way. If he had been paranoid about Taehyung overstepping bounds with his rights to Mate, that was nothing compared to what a completely unknown, very likely cocky clan of wolves was going to do once they caught whiff of their pups. Hoseok was worried. ~~~~~ Jungkook looked up into Taehyung’s golden wolf eyes, seeing the apology and the pain there, and he swallowed heavily. His throat felt like sandpaper, and he wanted to reach out and pull Taehyung to him, to hug his warm, soft fur and bury his face into the whiteness with the flecks of warm brown-gold in it. He wanted comfort, he wanted relief. He wanted to stop feeling on fire and frozen at the same time. Jungkook shuddered, another wave of slick rushing out of him against his will, and he moaned. All three wolves visibly reacted, their bodies tensing from instinct, the call to Jungkook’s Scent. His heat was only getting worse, and the presence of not one, but three wolves so close that could help relieve the pain and aching in his body was pure torture. His world kept spinning, and his eyes refused to focus as he wanted them to. Was Taehyung really going to Mate him, right here, in this way? Jungkook continued to tremble, unsure if it was from fear or the hormones rushing through his body and setting it alight as though his blood was gasoline. But you have Jimin. If you Mate me, what will happen to Jimin? What will happen to Seokjin? They’ll be alone forever. Jungkook felt tears streaming down his face. He didn’t want Taehyung to Mate him. Maybe his body would have said otherwise if he was a wolf at that moment, but as it was, he knew that Taehyung was not his Mate, was not someone he wanted in that way. He wanted Taehyung to be happy with Jimin, wanted them to whisper sweetly to each other on their bunk for a long, long time. The idea of being Mated to Taehyung in front of these strangers, forced to do so by ‘necessity,’ was terrifying, was harrowing. But he couldn’t even speak to tell Taehyung that, because his body was too busy burning. “Well? What will it be? Take your brother’s precious Omega or watch me do it?” Jae hissed. Taehyung shifted, turning to crouch in front of Jungkook, facing Jae and taking on a defensive stance. Jungkook could almost hear him. Neither. I won’t let either happen. Jungkook’s body wanted to scream in frustration, but the Jungkook trapped inside, watching everything happen with very little strength or awareness, wanted to cry with relief and gratefulness. After a moment, he also wanted to cry in fear, because in the flash of an eye Jae had switched back to wolf form, growling as he leapt at Taehyung’s throat. The Beta being much smaller, he didn’t stand a chance, and whimpered as he was thrown to the side. Jae snarled, coming after him again, and Taehyung forced himself back onto his feet, wobbling but bracing himself. He tried to sidestep from Jae’s second attack, but the two of them ended up colliding heavily instead, biting at anything available. The strong scent of honeysuckle mixing with citrus rose in the air, along with a thick aggressiveness to the atmosphere that was inescapable. After several long seconds of scuffle, they finally parted, panting and circling around each other. Jae leapt forward, his maw closing around Taehyung’s front leg and snapping his head to the side roughly, sharp teeth tearing skin and fur, attempting to break the leg there as well. Taehyung’s whimper rose in the air, but he continued to fight. Jungkook could see through the haze that he always seemed to be placing himself between Jungkook and Jae, whether he was leaping or limping over to block Jae’s path. Jae’s mouth was dripping with Taehyung’s blood now, and he bared his teeth in a low growl, the two of them staring each other down in a lull moment. Jungkook realized with a sinking heart that there was no way Taehyung would win against the older, stronger Alpha. Taehyung was visibly panting hard, limping on his front leg, and his tail hung limp, dragging against the snow and blood at his feet. Jae lunged forward once more, taking advantage of Taehyung’s sluggish movements. The Beta tried to twist, to bury his snarling teeth into Jae’s neck, but he was thrown to the ground first, a whine echoing around the woods. Jae had rammed head-first into Taehyung’s side, biting down into the flesh there and pressing Taehyung into the snow, where he flailed in a panic. Jae just seemed to continue tearing into Taehyung’s side, his head shaking back and forth, his head tilted almost unnaturally to the side. Taehyung’s paws tried to push Jae off, but eventually he twitched and went limp. Jungkook had tears in his eyes, panting as his gut clenched in fear and pain. Taehyung wasn’t moving, as far as he could tell. But he didn’t quite trust his eyes because they still weren’t focusing. He could barely keep them open. His eyes flickered over to Sukkie, who was standing a ways back, wringing his hands with a worried look on his face as he watched. Jae turned his head to meet Jungkook’s eyes, and the Omega felt a shudder run through him. There was no one left to protect him now. Jae let out a growl, stepping towards the oak tree, his tail held erect in a show of confidence and victory. Jungkook gasped, curling up into himself as much as possible, his legs numb and quivering at this point, but he tried to pull his knees to his chest even though it made his stomach and ass hurt so badly, and his cock was still pressed up against his belly, hard and throbbing. Jungkook tried to shield his head with his arms, smelling his own sweat and his Scent as he did so.   He expected Jae’s Scent to swarm in around him, burying him beneath it and consuming him in seconds. But there came a deep grunt, a sort of half-bark and a familiar howl. Jungkook blinked his eyes open to see that another wolf had come, grand and white and snarling ferociously. The white wolf’s face was contorted as he bared his teeth, instantly leaping forward and catching hold of Jae’s neck and whipping him off to the side. The scent of soap, strangely mixed with the smell of blood and slick, met Jungkook’s consciousness in a slow, purposeful wave. His eyes widened, his mind clearing like fogged up glass starting to fade into condensation, allowing him to see what was going on. The throbbing in his gut was worse, but he felt like he could suddenly breathe a little, his body wanting to relax through all the tense muscles and silent screams of the last few hours.  He’s here. He came for me.  Jungkook blinked away the tears, lips parted as he tried to sit up, wanting to reach for him, to hug him to his chest and be buried in him. “S...Jin…” he rasped. But his croaky exhale was left unheard as the wolves continued to fight. Seokjin barked in warning, cornering Jae as the darker wolf tried to back up, to give himself some space for defense. He lowered on his front paws slightly, teeth bared as he snapped.Seokjin watched him for a moment, unmoving. The wind blew past, sending his Scent towards Jungkook and lightly brushing the top layer of powdery snow past. Seokjin’s tail stood erect and his eyes focused on Jae alone. Trying to catch him off guard, Jae shot forward, much as he had done with Taehyung, attempting to knock Seokjin off his feet with a bold move. Seokjin lifted onto his hind legs, catching Jae beneath his front paws and pressing him into the ground before Jae could react. Seokjin bit violently down into Jae’s neck, shaking his head back and forth wildly as Jae seemed to be leaping, flailing, reaching for any sort of foothold to escape with. Seokjin held him there as he continued to fight, whimpers and growls blending in alike. The longer he held Jae pinned there, the more Jae’s deep snarls turned into cries, until he was left with little hiccupping whimpers, panting helplessly beneath Seokjin’s mouth. Jungkook blinked, scared to even move as he stared in wonder. Seokjin’s posture changed, his ears going down against his head as he slowly released his hold on Jae’s neck, allowing the wolf to scramble frantically away. Jae limped over to Sukkie’s side, looking over his shoulder at Seokjin. The instant Jae looked back his way, the fur at the back of Seokjin’s neck seemed to rise in fear or warning, and he barked loudly at Jae, making both of them jump. Sukkie quickly shifted into wolf form and the two of them ran off into the woods, kicking up snow and unanswered questions behind them. Seokjin watched after them until they were out of sight, then he turned towards the still unmoving Taehyung. He sniffed at the wolf’s wounds, burying his nose in the Beta’s neck and nudging at him, trying to garner a response. There seemed to be a lot of blood, and Taehyung’s darkish white coat with its little gray marks was stained in vibrant red, especially in his side and injured front leg. Part of the skin of Taehyung’s leg was torn away, exposing a deep triad of gashes that tangled together from where Jae had sunk his teeth. At first, Taehyung didn’t respond, and the world seemed to stop in fear and uncertainty. Then, Jungkook wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw an ear twitch, and Seokjin patted Taehyung roughly with one paw. Taehyung then whimpered, a loud, piercing sort of sound in the back of his throat that seemed to cut into Jungkook’s sensitive ears, and Taehyung’s belly started to rise and fall with deep, pain-stricken breaths. Seokjin started frantically licking Taehyung’s face all over, the force almost lifting Taehyung’s head out of the snow entirely, and making him groan in half-hearted protest. Jungkook sighed in relief, shifting in his spot in the snow, trying to relieve some of the ache in his body now that the ache in his heart was starting to let up and allow him to breathe. At the slight rustle of movement, Seokjin whipped around and locked eyes with Jungkook, who froze. The Omega let out a little whimpering sound, his eyes locked on the stains of blood that seemed softly blotted all around Seokjin’s mouth and neck and chest. He looked powerful and intimidating, the darker version of Seokjin that he had seen reflected in the man’s eyes the moment they had first met. This was the Seokjin that had bent over him in the bunk, mouth pressed to his neck in reckless, heated abandon. And now Jungkook knew for sure that he would have no fight in him to say no, no strength in him to convince himself he didn’t want it throughout his whole body, to pretend he didn’t need him. Seokjin let out a sort of snuffling, snorting type sound, then took gentle hold of Taehyung’s good leg, dragging him over closer to where Jungkook lay. Jungkook winced at the little yelps and cries from Taehyung, who wriggled but was too exhausted to rise, but then he saw that Seokjin was protectively trying to get them into one spot. When Taehyung was half-buried in the snow drift next to Jungkook, Seokjin lifted his head and released on long, deep howl that echoed through the trees, reaching out to their companions who were surely already on their way. Then, Seokjin finally turned his full attention on the new Omega. Jungkook blinked, sitting with his back still against the tree and his limbs laying limply against the snow and the mud, and he licked at his chapped lips in wonder, waiting to see what Seokjin would do. The wolf stepped forward, nudging against Jungkook’s neck, his wet nose feeling soothing and cool against the sweaty, clammy skin there. He seemed to be fearfully checking Jungkook’s neck for a Mating mark, or Jae’s Scent, and upon finding neither, he seemed to relax, almost falling into Jungkook’s lap. The weight of Seokjin’s paws on his legs felt like iron, pinning his already numb thighs to the ground uncomfortably. But the sensation of him being close , of the somehow soothing heat of Seokjin’s underbelly and fur pressed up against him, covering him and shielding him from the falling snow and the pressing cold, made him feel like his body was waking up, shaking off the weariness of the early morning hours into a new, brighter moment. His hands reached out and buried into Seokjin’s fur, taking fistfulls of the beautiful whiteness before he dropped his face into it, inhaling the smell of wet fur and soap. His head spun again, but in a pleasant, drugged sort of way. He felt Seokjin’s pulse thrumming wildly against his thighs, could feel the tenseness in the atmosphere as Seokjin started to sniff more and more heavily. The wolf at last gave in, craning his head to burrow into Jungkook’s filthy T-shirt, the tickle of his nose against Jungkook’s side somehow calming to him. His feet seemed to tingle and he knew that his legs were falling completely asleep under the massive weight of Seokjin, the wolf’s stomach across Jungkook’s legs and his large, blood-covered paws resting against Taehyung’s back. And as uncomfortable and painful as it was to bend over and lay against Seokjin’s wide, soft back, Jungkook breathed, finally finding a bit of relief as he mindlessly indulged in the addiction of Seokjin’s Scent. He positively swam in it, felt himself continue to wet with slick, but more calmly now, with less fear. It was exhausting, it was draining, but it wasn’t terrifying. Presenting alone as he had, he knew had been extremely risky. So much could have gone wrong - so much had gone wrong. But now that Seokjin was here, surrounding him with warmth and possessiveness and protection, Jungkook actually smiled, closing his eyes as he let himself drift off. Seokjin wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, he knew. Seokjin was strong and older and capable, and he was exactly the sort of home Jungkook wanted to fall into right at that moment. He had saved both Jungkook and Taehyung, he had found him when Jungkook had been certain for hours that they wouldn’t. He had let Jungkook touch him, when he needed it so desperately, when he needed it the most. But now Jungkook was so, so tired. The world tilted once again, and then turned black. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “ The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.” ― Fernando Pessoa   The wind was blowing harder, kicking up wispy clouds of the powder-like snow around them. Seokjin’s muscles remained tense against Jungkook, his body intently focused on self-control as the Omega laid against his back, collapsed forward into unconsciousness. A low whine formed deep in his throat as he felt the slick of Jungkook’s heat soaking against his belly, and he started to pant, attempting to lessen the effects the heat was having on his body. He had to wait for Namjoon and the others to come. He knew that they would be there any minute now. But it was dangerous for him to continue being so close to Jungkook while in wolf form, as much as Jungkook needed the extra warmth he was providing. His Scent was intoxicating, and his touch tingled and swept waves beneath his skin.   He whined, trying not to shift and disturb Jungkook, carefully laying his head down between his paws. He sniffed at Taehyung’s still form to distract himself, and the wolf finally seemed to be waking up, his ears twitching and his legs kicking out in little bursts as he tried to lift his head. The Beta whimpered, looking over at Seokjin, then shuffling awkwardly on the three legs he had available until he was close enough to press his nose up against his older brother. Seokjin blinked heavily, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tried to concentrate on not moving, to focus on his breathing. Taehyung let out little whines, licking at Seokjin’s face frantically, causing irritation and gratefulness to swirl awkwardly in his belly. He opened his eyes, seeing the apologetic look on Taehyung’s face, and he nudged his nose underneath the Beta’s chin, playfully pushing his head up and away. The Beta’s tail had been drooping, but it gave the slightest wave back and forth, dragging through the snow as he laid down against Seokjin’s paws. The whimper in Seokjin’s throat grew from a whine to a warning growl, and he shifted a bit on Jungkook’s lap, feeling a slight pull from where Jungkook’s fist clenched around a thick tuft of his fur even in his sleep.   The sound of someone approaching made both Seokjin and Taehyung lift their heads up in alarm, only to see Namjoon, Jimin and Yoongi gallop over to the oak tree, all of them visibly thrown back at the scent of Jungkook. Jimin buried his nose into the snow, snuffling in shock and desperation, trying to tone down the smell. Yoongi was the first to recover, shifting back into human form and stepping forward.   “Holy shit…” he breathed, running a hand across his face as he stared at the unconscious Jungkook in disbelief.   Namjoon sniffed at the battleground, pawing at the bloodied snow and trying to identify all the different scents involved. Jimin was hovering worriedly over Taehyung, letting out little whimpers as he licked at Taehyung’s face and neck. Taehyung lifted his head and returned the licks in a slower manner, trying to be reassuring even as he couldn’t move.   Yoongi shifted forward on his knees to reach for Jungkook’s head, to see if he was conscious, and suddenly Seokjin’s enormous form twisted halfway around, and he snapped his jaws toward Yoongi’s reaching hands, narrowly missing them. Yoongi jerked backwards on instinct, more vulnerable to attack while in human form. He blinked at Seokjin with a perplexed expression.   “What the fuck, Seokjin?” he snapped. “We have to move him, he can’t stay here.”   Seokjin just growled in response, teeth bared at the dumbfounded Omega. Namjoon was instantly at Yoongi’s side, bracing his legs and growling back at Seokjin in warning. A voice echoing in Seokjin’s mind was telling him to stop, to ‘not do anything stupid,’ as Namjoon had warned him. But the smell of Jungkook had washed over him heavily, and seeing him so vulnerably at the mercy of Jae had made him paranoid. The instincts overwhelming his wolf body were making him tremble, forcing him to give up control. Namjoon was not Namjoon right now, but another Alpha. A threat. A possible danger to Jungkook, who was in heat and hurting, who needed Seokjin to protect him. The next thing Seokjin knew there was a flurry of teeth and snarls, and the fleshy, thick skin near Namjoon’s neck was being torn at by Seokjin’s maw, and Yoongi was yelling, covering Taehyung up and swearing at them in fear. Jimin leapt in, jumping back and forth with his teeth bared ferociously, despite the size difference between him and the other two Alphas, and he managed to slip in between the two of them and snap at Seokjin’s back leg, knocking him over. Jungkook, still lost to the world, tumbled quietly off Seokjin’s back and into a little crumpled pile in the snow. With Jimin and Namjoon both snarling at him, teeth clenched carefully around his skin, drool coating his fur as if in preparation to mingle with the bloodshed, Seokjin finally stopped. The overwhelming power of their two Alpha Scents made him pause long enough for his eyes to focus again, and he instantly shifted back, tears in his eyes as within moments multiple hands were reaching around him, patting him reassuringly. Jimin whimpered, even though he was now in human form, and he leaned down into Seokjin’s vision, tilting his head in question with the most heartbroken look on his face. Namjoon knelt, panting in the snow, one hand dropped to Seokjin’s shoulder, tiny droplets of blood sliding down Namjoon’s neck and down onto his chest from the small puncture wounds Seokjin’s teeth had left.   “I’m...I’m sorry…” Seokjin sobbed. “I don’t know what came over me.” It was a lie, when it came down to it. He knew exactly what had come over him. He looked over at Jungkook, and even in sleep, his hands were still partially clenched where they had been holding Seokjin’s snowy fur a moment ago, and Seokjin’s chest ached. He turned back to Namjoon. “I’m sorry, I...I promised you and I--”   “We’ll deal with that later, alright?” Namjoon said, his tone gentle but his expression hard and stony. “We’re all here for one reason: to get Jungkook, and now Taehyung, home safe. Okay?” Seokjin stared down, his eyes glassy, and Namjoon nudged his shoulder hard, to make a point, “ Okay ?”   Seokjin nodded, sniffing a bit as he stood up. Yoongi crawled over to Jungkook again, turning him over and checking his forehead, his breathing. Seokjin felt goosebumps rise on his arms as Yoongi nonchalantly pulled back Jungkook’s sweatpants, peering inside as if inspecting a cupboard’s contents. The Omega then grabbed Jungkook’s jacket from where it had been discarded, placing it onto Jungkook and turning to Namjoon.   “He’s pretty fucking bad, Namjoon, I don’t know if you’re gonna be able to carry him. Your lead Alpha is so dominant, it’ll react to him no matter what you do.”   “I’m Mated, though. It would still be tough, but that helps a little,” Namjoon protested, gently. “And if it gets too hard, you can take a short turn and then--”   “I’ll carry him,” Seokjin said firmly. “Please, let me do it.”   Yoongi pursed his lips together, meeting Namjoon’s eyes in frantic question. It was a bad plan, but Seokjin had been with him this long, hadn’t he? The thought of anyone else carrying him home made his blood start to boil, and made him worry, even when it was just a logical proposal given to get them all home safely. And Namjoon was aware that, as dangerous as it was for Seokjin to stay that close to Jungkook, it would likely be much more dangerous to put another Alpha between the two of them just then.   “I don’t know, Seokjin, you’re not in a great state…” Namjoon was slipping into his diplomatic voice, and Seokjin knew he should just back down and play it demure, but he just couldn’t.   “Please, Namjoon, I swear, I’ll be okay until we get to the camp. But please don’t take him away from me until he’s safe.” He knew his voice was trailing off into desperation, knew the worried look in Namjoon’s eyes and what it meant. He was begging, pleading, because every fiber of his being wanted to stay next to Jungkook until he was sure the boy was going to be okay.   To his relief, and possibly his downfall, Namjoon agreed. With surprising lightness Seokjin stood up, going over to where Yoongi was still knelt at Jungkook’s side and was brushing his hair back from his face.   Behind him, Namjoon was carefully trying to pick up Taehyung, the wolf yelping as the Alpha touched his injured leg.   “Should he transform back? It would probably be more comfortable.” Yoongi suggested.   “Taehyungie?” Jimin pressed in. “Can you transform? Are you strong enough to?”   Taehyung slowly uncurled, shifting into human form. There was a deep wound of torn skin in his side, still bleeding quite profusely, scratches and bite marks along his neck, and his forearm was a ripped, mangled mess that was hard to inspect through all the blood. He was almost finished transforming when he let out a loud cry, clutching his arm bent across his chest. Tears were stinging at his eyes as Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin shot forward in panic.   “What is it?! What happened!” Jimin practically screeched.   “I think he’s dislocated his elbow,” Yoongi breathed, “I don’t know if it happened before or after he shifted, though. Shit. We should have let him stay in wolf form.”   Jimin looked to Namjoon, who pressed his lips together before turning to Seokjin, who was already rushing over. He carefully lifted Taehyung’s sleeve, ignoring the boy’s protests as he stared at the quickly developing discoloration at the Beta’s elbow.   “It’s definitely dislocated,” Seokjin inhaled. “Jimin, hold his shoulder like this for me.”   “What!? No! Please, no!” Taehyung cried, but Seokjin ignored him, meeting Jimin’s fear-stricken eyes as he expertly placed his hands around Taehyung’s arm, the skin there feeling unnaturally warm from the injury. He felt for the best grip against the bone, pressing in firmly through the bruises. He was trying to avoid the deep gash there, but it still made Taehyung cry out.   Taehyung started to flex his fingers wildly, trying to pull back, “Wait, wait a second, I, I-”   “Shh,” Jimin reassured, brushing his lips against the side of Taehyung’s temple, “Please, just hold still, Tae, it’ll just be a minute. We can’t move you with your elbow like that.” In response, Taehyung just whimpered, his whole body trembling.   “Namjoon,” Seokjin said in a dark warning, and the lead Alpha moved in to help Jimin. “Okay, ready?” There was a popping sound, and Taehyung screamed, then whimpered, weeping as he fell back into Jimin’s chest. Seokjin looked up into his brother’s eyes, touching his cheek, his expression apologetic and pained. “I’m sorry, Taehyung. Does it feel better?”   Taehyung blinked, one eye a little before the other as his gaze was obviously swimming from the pain, but he nodded, clutching his arm to his chest. “I’m gonna go get Jungkook now, okay?” Taehyung nodded again, and Seokjin moved back to where Yoongi had been running a soothing hand through Jungkook’s hair, the boy still dead to the world despite Taehyung’s screams.   Yoongi frowned at Seokjin, but stepped back reluctantly. “Careful,” he snapped. Seokjin was lifting Jungkook up as though he were a delicately folded up paper crane, his metaphorical wings folded in as his head rested up against Seokjin’s chest, his expression surprisingly peaceful. Yoongi fretfully tucked Jungkook’s jacket in against Seokjin, ignoring the way Seokjin watched him unblinkingly.   “There,” Yoongi said, at last satisfied. He turned then to Namjoon, who was bending down and lifting Taehyung up. The boy whimpered, biting at his lip as he let himself be picked up bridal-style. It was lucky that Taehyung was not as heavy as some of the others, being more gangly and all limbs and skinniness. Jimin hovered around Namjoon’s shoulders, a pallor to his cheeks that rivaled the snow around them. He shivered, and Yoongi touched his shoulder reassuringly. “Our job right now is to protect Seokjin and Namjoon while they’re carrying the boys,” Yoongi told him quietly, “So do your best.”   Jimin nodded, straightening his shoulders and lifting his head as his eyes started to scan the woods around them. Yoongi noticed the tears glistening in Jimin’s eyes, but didn’t comment.   The walk back to the camp was thankfully uneventful, but it was agonizingly long. Seokjin felt so guilty for the way that holding Jungkook and walking ahead from the others reassured his inner Alpha, made it believe that relief was coming soon. He breathed in through his mouth, focusing on the lovely feeling of Jungkook’s weight in his arms, the physical contact calming him, and the fact that he was in human form now all aiding in his self-control. It was almost noon by the time they came back, and as soon as they left the last copse of trees, Kiara and Hoseok were running out of the house. Seokjin could see they were already bursting into tears at the sight of Jungkook and Taehyung, curled up like children in their arms. Kiara instantly went to Jungkook, brushing back his shaggy bangs and sighing, kissing his forehead affectionately.   “Thank god he’s alive,” she cried. She started planting little kisses along his cheeks and on his hands, simultaneously inspecting him for any scratches. A low growl was rumbling in Seokjin’s chest in warning, but she ignored it, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that he was - for the most part - left unscathed. Now there was just the matter of how his skin was so cold it looked discolored, and the dryness to his lips that suggested dehydration.   Hoseok was looking at the arm Taehyung had tucked away, inspecting the bruises and the deep gash there. “God, that’s so… Um, I think we have a splint in the first-aid supplies? Come on, the fire’s going and we already brought everything out. We figured something happened when you weren’t back on time.”   “Shit, he looks so pale,” Kiara breathed, as she and Hoseok switched which boy they were fretting over. Namjoon and Seokjin shared a brief glance of impatience, their arms numb from carrying them through the underbrush.   Hoseok moved forward to touch Jungkook’s arm, then the smell of Jungkook’s heat as it continued dripping from him and down Seokjin’s shivering legs hit the Alpha, and he reeled back, his nose wrinkling as he gave a sharp inhale of surprise.   “Oh my god..” Hoseok breathed. Seokjin fought to keep his face carefully blank, trying to remind himself that Hoseok was no threat when it came to Jungkook’s safety. The weight and warmth of Jungkook in his arms, his nose crumpled slightly up against Seokjin’s chest, helped keep his racing mind busy and allowed him to take a calming breath.   Walking the last 15 feet or so to the Main Hall was the longest stretch of the journey, because all of the wolves were pressed in close, staring at the two injured wolves and wringing their hands in worry, fretting and whispering weakly, as though the strength had left their souls.   Once inside, chaos began, as Kiara and Yoongi started shouting orders, sending people for more towels and blankets. Jimin frantically ran back and forth, securing every available sheet, blanket and pillow and preparing the two couches for the boys as quickly as he could. By the time he was finished it was like they were balanced on top of a precarious stack of blankets. Seokjin washed his hands then went to move back to Jungkook’s side, but Kiara stepped forward and placed a halting hand on his chest.   “You’re needed more with Taehyung,” she said firmly. Seokjin narrowed his eyes at her, his jaw stiffening and his shoulders rising in defensiveness. But she met his eyes evenly, traces of blue encircling her green eyes, making them look like the sea in the middle of a storm. “Jungkook isn’t injured , he’s in a heat . And unless your intention is to Mate him right now, while he’s passed out, how do you expect to help him, hm?”   Seokjin halted, considering her words, and hating how his inner voice weakly admitted that she was right. “But I...is he going to be okay?”   “I don’t know, but trust me, if anyone knows enough to help him through this heat, it’ll be Yoongi and me, understand?” She waited until he nodded in acknowledgement, knowing they made an amusing sight. The tiny, fairy-esque Omega pressing one reprimanding hand into the Alpha’s broad chest, her expression unwavering and self-assured as Seokjin’s shoulders slumped. “Taehyung’s injuries are bad, and the rest of us don’t have the medical know-how for that. Take care of your brother.”   Seokjin nodded again, turning and focusing his attention on Taehyung, who was now awake again and clinging desperately to Jimin’s hand, his injured arm still folded up against him. The elbow all the way halfway up his arm looked purpled and bruised, and it badly needed a splint, or he might injure it worse. Jimin’s other hand was occupied with putting pressure of the damp, soft towel he had pressed to Taehyung’s bleeding arm. Seokjin knelt down, and Taehyung’s dark eyes flashed towards him, and he instantly burst into tears.   “I’m s-s-sorry, Seokjin, I...he said I should Mate him to keep him safe, b-but I just c-c-couldn’t.. I’m s-s-sorry! I’m sorry!”   “Shhh,” Seokjin soothed, reaching out and running a hand through Taehyung’s hair, then grazing it downward to rest behind his neck. “You did well, Taehyung. You did wonderful . Didn’t he, Jimin?”   He turned the praise-giving to the younger Alpha, who was crouched and leaning in close to the Beta’s head. He swallowed, then nodded, squeezing Taehyung’s hand as he met his eyes squarely. When he spoke, his voice sounded a little strangled, like it had to fight to escape, but his words were sure. “I’m so proud of you, Taehyungie. You found Jungkook. You were so brave. And you did exactly what Namjoon said to do.”   Taehyung blinked, his face contorted and Seokjin wasn’t sure if it was in physical pain or emotional relief. He clutched Jimin’s hand to his chest, sniffling for a few moments. “I just c-c-couldn’t, Jimin. I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”   There was quiet in the room, and the older wolves shared looks of surprise. Hoseok and Yoongi’s eyes met for a moment, and the Alpha’s face crumpled. Namjoon had a look of strain on his face as he held out swabs and bandages to Seokjin, but Seokjin could have sworn there was a trace of amusement written ever-so-briefly across the lead Alpha’s face, before it was drawn in worry once more.   “Shh, shh, don’t worry, Tae-tae,” Jimin reassured, touching his forehead to Taehyung’s and brushing the tips of their noses together. “You have me, I promise. You have me, and I have you. We have each other. We’re soulmates, right? Right?” Taehyung nodded, sniffing thickly, and Jimin smiled at him. After a moment, Taehyung smiled back through his tears, and Seokjin felt his chest clenching at the scene. Trying his hardest not to glance over and check on Jungkook, he continued cleaning up Taehyung’s wounds with Namjoon’s assistance, as Jimin continued whispering praises and reassurances to the Beta. The wound on his stomach was better than it looked, once cleaned up it was mostly just loose skin that he had to disinfect carefully, wrapping a large bandage around his middle with Jimin’s assistance. There were bite marks along Taehyung’s neck and color that looked like a meteor shower drawn in red, long, angular marks like apostrophe’s stretching across the skin, the dot of the origin a deeper puncture wound. Jimin patted gently at them until they stopped bleeding, touching his fingertip with a feather-light touch against the darkening bruises that surrounded each other. His arm was definitely the worst of it, eerie purple and almost greenish bruises painting the tan skin. The gash was not only deep and wide, but it wasn’t a clean cut, and Seokjin’s frown grew increasingly by degrees as he rushed to clean the wound and stitch together the skin so that it would heal. Taehyung had passed out again, from a severe combination of exhaustion and pain, but Seokjin warned Jimin that he would need to drink water as soon as he woke up again, and that they had to be careful about blood loss. Eventually, the boy was covered in clean, bright white bandages instead of open wounds. Seokjin sat back and sighed. Jimin was staring down at Taehyung, his face weighted with steady concern, humming lightly as he ran a hand through Taehyung’s bangs in even, slow movements. He had lost quite a lot of blood, but Seokjin felt confident that he would be okay, as long as nothing got infected and his elbow healed properly. Seokjin dropped his hands from his work, watching Jimin for a moment.   “You really love him a lot, don’t you?”   Jimin looked up, his expression a little taken aback. But he set his jaw and nodded.   “How… how long have you known?” Seokjin asked, his voice quiet and gentle.   For a long minute, Jimin didn’t speak, continuing his ministrations on Taehyung as he considered. “Taehyung and me were reading this book together. He was reading it out loud whenever we got bored. I’m not very good at reading, but Taehyung likes it. Sometimes we read poetry, or he reads books to me, or reenacts movies… I like how his voice sounds when he reads.” He trailed off, but Seokjin - and the rest of the pack - all waited patiently, in silence. “Recently we read this book together, and it said something like ‘I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.’”   Everyone in the room remained still, surprised by the slight sniffling noises coming from Jimin as he blushed. “That’s how it felt to me, anyways,” he finished, rubbing at his tears as if impatient with them, then returning his attentions to his Beta.   Seokjin took an inhale of breath and stood, as if brushing away the weighty covering of a different world. “Well, he’s going to be all right, I promise. Hoseok is already working on assembling a splint for his arm, and it’ll be a few months before he’s all healed up, but things look good.” He patted Jimin on the shoulder, sending him a tight-lipped smile. “And congratulations.”   Jimin looked up, his eyes wide as a soft, ghost of a smile came to his face.   “Namjoon, back up!” Yoongi snapped suddenly, calling everyone’s attention as the lead Alpha stepped away from the opposite couch in shock. There was a low sound from Jungkook, deep and innately sexual in nature. “You’re triggering his heat even more.”   “S-sorry, I was just…” Namjoon frowned, his brow furrowing against his forehead. Kiara stood, placing a hand on his arm.   “Namjoon, why don’t you go help Hoseok with Taehyung’s splint?” she offered. More quietly, she whispered, “You didn’t do anything wrong, just...your Alpha Scent is really strong today, okay? So go try to relax. We’ve got this.”   The Alpha nodded, straightening his shoulders as he went to go help Hoseok. Seokjin stood in between the two couches, feeling lost. He had promised Namjoon he would back off and do as he was told once they got back to camp. But with every tender touch from the two Omegas, dabbing cool cloths at Jungkook’s face and carefully dripping water into his mouth, every time Yoongi rubbed at the boy’s limbs to try and get the warmth and life back into them, Seokjin felt his belly light a little more on fire. And the saddest part, the most painful part of it all… was that Seokjin knew it wasn’t just because of the boy’s heat, but something deeper, maybe more selfish and poisonous than any biological need.   Tentatively, he stepped forward, trying to lean and see over Kiara’s shoulder as she wiped at Jungkook’s face, washing away the grime and sweat of the snow. The cleaner and warmer he got, the more soft and innocent Jungkook looked. His mouth was lightly parted, opened in the middle in a delicate, almost diamond-like shape, with white pearly teeth peeking through as he breathed softly. There was a gentle blush to the apples of the boy’s cheeks now, making him look younger than he was. Yoongi murmured a warning to Kiara, then pulled the soiled sweatpants down and clear away. The smell of Jungkook’s slick hit the air, mingling thickly with the smell of firewood and sweat. Everyone’s breath caught, and Jungkook whimpered, shivering a little and dropping his head to the side, a crinkle in his brow.   Seokjin flushed, the sight of Yoongi slowly wiping a cloth up and down Jungkook’s pale legs with methodical delicacy making the Alpha’s stomach turn. He bit his lip, turning away.   “Um..” Jimin said quietly, standing up and going over to Seokjin’s side. “Seokjin?”   “Yeah? What is it?” he asked distractedly. His eyes had flickered back over and he was now watching as Kiara focused on washing down Jungkook’s chest, his shirt now removed.   “I, uh, found this in the snow, next to Jungkook. I think he brought it with him when he went…”   Seokjin turned, and saw Jimin holding a crumpled piece of clothing, the band pinched between his two fingers as he held it out to Seokjin. The Alpha arched an eyebrow, reaching out and taking it from Jimin, until he realized that they were boxers. And they were his own. He froze.   Why did Jungkook take my underwear with him into the woods? Was that what --?   Seokjin felt something in his belly twist, and his heart seemed to have decided to take a momentary break from beating. He needed to get out of there, and immediately. There was too much temptation, too many hints to make him hope. His body seemed to flush with heat and embarrassment as Jimin looked at him in question.   But then there was a little moan from Jungkook, sleepy and unsure, and the smell of slick rose again. Kiara reached over and slapped the back of Seokjin’s leg, surprising him.   “Stop reeking up the place with your Alpha Scent, what the fuck is wrong with you!?” Kiara snapped. Seokjin looked over in surprise, before he stared at Jungkook again, worry etched across his face and stiffening the muscles between his eyebrows. “Why are you being so…?” She trailed off, distracted by her work so much so that she couldn’t finish the sentence.   Before he could let his brain catch up, he noticed Yoongi staring up at him, and their eyes met for a long moment. After a moment, Yoongi’s mouth dropped, and he gaped at Seokjin in surprise and realization. Flushing once again, Seokjin turned away before Yoongi could settle a more judgmental gaze on him, rushing out of the Main Hall.   Instantly he rushed toward the empty cabin bunk, needing an escape from the close air, from the reminders. He closed the door after himself, before his eyes instantly darted up to Jungkook’s empty bunk, and his breathing seemed to stop completely. Seokjin stood a moment in the doorway, his nerves screaming with the memories, before he darted back outside, slamming the door shut. He panted at the freezing air, his heart pounding heavily in his chest as he sank to the ground, crouched with his hands over his mouth as he choked out a sob. Everything in him was screaming in fear and regret. Everything that could have gone wrong, had. Jae was back, a haunting on the edges of Seokjin’s memories, reminding him of his own lack of self-control, of his own dark desires, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. He had crossed so many lines, heated in the moment and only focused on one thing - Jungkook. He had challenged Namjoon’s authority, which he had promised never to do. He had Scented Jungkook before he was ready, which he had promised never to do.   And now Jungkook was in a horrible, dangerous first heat, and Seokjin was powerless to do anything.   The snowflakes fell lazily from the sky, drifted farther away by the biting wind. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “ Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ― Lao Tzu     Seokjin sat with his head in his hands, tempted to ignore the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow as they approached, halting in front of him for a long moment.   “What the fuck, Seokjin?”   He looked up, sniffling a little, and met eyes with Yoongi. Seokjin’s face crumpled, and he looked away, but he could still feel the look of disapproval from the Omega.   “Did you put him up to this? Did you tell him to Scent you?”   “N-no, I didn’t, Yoongi. I wouldn’t, I mean…” Seokjin sniffed again, hugging his knees to his chest as he stared down at the unsettled snow between their feet. “I mean, I don’t think I did.”   Yoongi stared at him for a moment, his voice getting darker. “Hoseok said he saw you two acting suspiciously after Scenting, not long after you arrived. If you’ve been fucking touching him, Seokjin, I swear to god, friends or not, I’ll--”   “I haven’t, Yoongi!” Seokjin yelled, covering his eyes and his voice rising in frustration. Touching him  was exactly what he’d been careful to avoid. Until last night, at least.   “Then why the fuck was he out there, with your underwear, Scenting it by himself? Have you been fucking with his head, telling him about your Alpha complex? He’s still just a pup, for fuck’s sakes!”   “He’s not a pup anymore,” Seokjin said quietly, “But no, I haven’t talked to him about any of it. But now he’s Presented and he found Jae of all people and I just… It’s all so complicated right now.”   Hands reached down, grabbing a hold of either side of his face and forcing him to look upwards. The smell of freshly tilled earth seemed to emanate from Yoongi’s hands, even though they were clean, and the tips of his fingertips still carried the softest traces of Jungkook’s Scent. Yoongi was staring hard into Seokjin’s eyes, as though searching for something very specific. Back when Namjoon had first brought Yoongi home for a visit, Yoongi hadn’t liked him one bit, but somewhere between the lines and the infrequent visits and the quiet, trailing talks that went until three in the morning, the two of them had realized they had far more in common than they should have. It was one of the reasons Seokjin had known he could join Namjoon’s pack, a friendship that liked to remained hushed, and faded in and out of their lives as needed. There were things Seokjin could never have admitted aloud, not to Namjoon, his brother. And there were things Yoongi knew the lead Alpha would never really understand.   “Seokjin. Do you love him?”   His lips parted in awe, staring up at Yoongi. The words were in and of themselves so simplistic, so beautiful. His gut, his heart told him to say yes. But his head, now cautious from its previous wounds, was more hesitant.   “I...I think I do. I really, really think I do,” Seokjin’s words sounded thicker as he fought to stay calm, to not choke on a sob. “But after what happened before, I… I dunno. Am I even capable of loving someone? Or will it always come back to my Alpha?”   At that, Yoongi gave Seokjin a deep, disapproving frown. “Speaking from personal experience, you’re never gonna know for sure. You’re always going to wonder if it always comes back to biology, bad habits, just being fucking lonely. You’ll wonder if your mate is really happy, or if they’re just putting up with you. That’s how it is for people like us.”   Seokjin sighed, and Yoongi laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, maybe a bit rougher than necessary.   “Why Jungkook?”   A hollow sort of laugh escaped Seokjin, his shoulder slumping, dislodging a few of the snowflakes that had been accumulating there, and shifting Yoongi’s hand. “Everything? It’s the strangest thing. I never would have expected it from someone like him. He’s really nothing like anyone I’ve ever met before. He’s so quiet a lot of the time but he can be so playful, he looks up to you all so much, even if he likes to tease you a little. I… I wanna make him happy. I want to be near him, all the time.” He glanced up at Yoongi, a demure look on his face. “Isn’t it...kind of a good sign, though? I can’t lie, even though I was scared shitless at the time for his safety, a part of me felt so relieved, seeing that he was an Omega.”   Yoongi hummed, considering for a moment before answering. “I dunno if it makes it a good sign or a bad sign, but either way, you’d better figure things out soon. That isn’t a normal heat.” He tilted his head, sniffing at the air experimentally, his eyes narrowing a little. “And you’re sure you haven’t touched him?”   “Well…” Seokjin shuffled a little. “Just the Scenting, but, um…I think I took it too far? Like I--”   Yoongi held up a hand to the Alpha, his nose wrinkling. “Ugh, stop. I don’t think I can handle details when it comes to Jungkook. “But you really didn’t touch him? And he’s this bad?”   “What do you mean ‘this bad’?”   “Seokjin, he’s in there right now, still delirious and in a more intense heat than I’ve ever seen…” Yoongi looked away, his expression hardening. “And...he keeps calling for you.”   The hair on the back of Seokjin’s neck rose, his body awash with warmth and self-consciousness as he let what Yoongi said sink in.   “W-what?”   “Namjoon knows, right? He’s probably going to ask you to help him through the heat. He can’t stay like this much longer, his body just isn’t prepared for it.”   “But, what about suppressants? Why can’t he --? I can’t , I--”   “You’re not supposed to take those on your first heat. It can fuck you up worse than a Beta being affected by a strong packmate’s hormones. But most first heats don’t start in the middle of fucking winter with him spending hours in the snow like that.” Yoongi sighed. “The thought of you even getting close to him right now makes me want to punch you in the face, to be honest. But I’m just telling you what Namjoon is likely to do.”   “I… I didn’t want it this way. I just.... Part of me is really jealous of everyone.” Seokjin stared at the ground again, looking ashamed and angry at the same time.   “What? Why the fuck..?”   “It just seems like everyone else has got their shit together. Namjoon and Kiara are like, the picture-perfect couple, Taehyung and Jimin are so… I don’t know . “ He threw his hands up in exasperation. “And then there’s you and Hoseok.”   “Me and Hoseok?” Yoongi scoffed, “I think you must have hit your head on a tree or something, because me and Hoseok are not having the most rosy of times.”   “Yeah, but everyone already just knows you two will work things out eventually, once you get your head out of your ass and forgive him.” Seokjin rolled his eyes, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand and looking up at the Omega, who was shifting weight from one foot to the other. “You two are like soulmates. It’s kind of disgusting.”   “Soulmates?” Yoongi seemed to almost choke on the word, as though he had heard it before and it was coming back to haunt him unexpectedly.   “You know he didn’t mean to challenge your worth as an Omega. Hoseok of all people treats others like they’re made of glass. I’ve only seen him angry once. And he’s able to be so gentle with you...like, any idiot can see he loves you more than anything.” Seokjin sighed again. “I admire him a lot, as an Alpha.’   Yoongi stood still for a moment, turning what Seokjin had said over and over in his mind. “I’m gonna go...I have to, uh, go check up on Taehyung. Go talk with Namjoon and see if there’s something you can do.”   “Okay…” Seokjin sounded dejected, like a world-weary hot air balloon, drooping listlessly over a grassy hill with no energy left to fly.   “And I still don’t forgive you for touching him,” Yoongi started to say as Seokjin stood up.   “I told you, I didn’t!” the Alpha snapped defensively. Yoongi pursed his lips together in a bit of a smirk.   “No, but I have a feeling once you get your head out of your ass, you will. And to think the only reason Hoseok was okay with our movie nights was because Jungkook was there as an oblivious chaperone.”   Seokjin started to splutter as Yoongi headed toward the Main Hall, waving nonchalantly over his shoulder while the Alpha frantically called out after him. “I...we...it’s not even like that!”   “You’re the one that said he’s not a pup anymore, and you’re the one falling in love with him. Don’t give me your half-assed bullshit and woo him properly. The kid deserves to be treated right.”   ~~~~~   “Jimin, he’s gonna be just fine,” Hoseok reassured the younger Alpha, patting the back of his head gently. The Beta had been moved to his own bed, and Jimin was sitting at the foot of it, watching him sleep with a worried look on his face. “He just needs to rest.”   “I know, but… he had to go through so much today…” Jimin sighed. “He even fought an Alpha, without even hesitating. It makes me feel bad…”   “Bad? Why would it make you feel bad?” Hoseok’s voice dropped into gentleness, mirroring his physical movements as he dropped down to kneel in front of Jimin, who was pouting at the floorboards. Hoseok ran a hand through Jimin’s bangs, carding them back and watching them flip stubbornly back into place, brushing into his eyes.   “Well, it’s just that… I haven’t been a very good Alpha so far. Or even a good wolf. I’m not very big or as strong as the others, I don’t have a strong nose like Kiara and I’m not a very good hunter like Yoongi…” Jimin looked over at Taehyung's gently sleeping form. “But the moment Taehyung needed to protect Jungkook, he just did it. The most important thing I’ve done as an Alpha is Present, and that was a disaster… So what if..what if Taehyung is meant to be an Alpha? What if he’d make a better Alpha than me, but he’s giving it up so that we can be together?”   “Oh, Jiminie,” Hoseok let out a gentle little chuckle, leaning in to nuzzle against the boy’s nose. “You’ve only been an Alpha for a little while, you can’t possibly have everything figured out yet, so give yourself some time! And Taehyung did very well with Jungkook, yes, and he did exactly what Namjoon told him to do. It was brave of him, but don’t you think any one of us would have done the same?”   Jimin thought about that for a moment, a soft, cute pinkness to his cheeks as he reluctantly nodded, unable to find any counterarguments to that.   “You need to learn to be more patient with yourself. And trust that Taehyung knows what he wants.” Hoseok leaned back, watching Jimin’s eyes for a long moment, reading into him and enjoying the smell of peppermint mingled with his own vanilla scent, reminding him of Christmas. “Relationships are all about learning how to compromise. That means learning how to give and how to take, it has to always go both ways.’   Jimin nodded again, looking shier this time, and Hoseok chuckled.   “And I’m sorry, for, you know, doubting Taehyung so much. I guess a part of me was still stuck on how most other packs work, not ours. We do things a little differently, and I think--”   They both looked up as the door to the cabin opened, and Yoongi stood in the doorway. He said nothing, but he met Hoseok’s eyes squarely in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, since even months before their fight, and Hoseok’s mouth dropped open a little in surprise. The smell of earth wafted in, calling to him. It’s time.   Hoseok smiled, “And I think it’s really nice.” Hoseok stood, kissing Jimin on the forehead. “You keep an eye out for him, but don’t forget to eat, or Kiara will kick you later, okay?”   “Okay, and thanks, Hoseok.” Jimin sighed, slumping forward with all the dramatic weightiness that came with young love’s struggles, resting his chin in his palm and staring at his Beta.   By the time Hoseok was at the door, Yoongi was already slipping out, leading the way to the empty second cabin without looking back towards the younger. Hoseok widened his steps to catch up, glancing over at the Omega in question.   “Where are Namjoon and Kiara?”   “They’re bickering with Seokjin about what to do with Jungkook.”   “Wait, what does Seokjin have to do with it?”   “I’ll explain later,” Yoongi said, a trace of impatient bossiness to his voice and mannerisms as he opened the cabin door and waited for Hoseok to step inside. “Now isn’t the time.”   The little shiver of nervousness that ran through Hoseok’s body, waking him up to the little insinuations he was now able to read from Yoongi’s subtleties, was something that had always made him feel a little afraid, but simultaneously a little comforted. It was something words didn’t quite have a proper explanation for, but luckily, Yoongi didn’t need an explanation.   Once they were inside, Yoongi shut and locked the door, flicking on the light and moving to close the curtains.   “Yoongi, look, I just wanna say I’m really sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean to suggest that Omegas were anything less than an Alpha…”   The Omega had his back to Hoseok, who was standing in the middle of the floor and watching Yoongi move around him. He bent to lean into the lower bunk, his bottom sticking out just in front of Hoseok. The Alpha looked at it, blinking for a second before licking his lips.   “I was just speaking from the experience of what I’ve seen other Betas do in other packs, you know. Not that it makes it okay, but… that’s why I -- Oh.”   Yoongi turned around, a long, thin coil of hemp rope in his hands, neatly wound. It had been awhile since Hoseok had last seen the ropes, the ones that Yoongi usually hid at the bottom of his pile of ‘necessary’ tools and emergency kits he packed around with him. Hoseok couldn’t deny the way his throat went dry, his heart rate increasing as he stared fixedly at the way Yoongi’s thick, masculine hands curled around the coils, one fingernail prodding into the threads and gently playing with them.   “My mind has already forgiven you, Hoseok. It had as soon as I was away from all those angry hormones and all the bickering. I know you didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but it still hurt, hearing those words from your lips, and it just sent me to back to all the fucktards who thought they could get away with it. So my mind knows better, Hoseok. You don’t need to explain yourself any further than your apology. But words only go so far, and you know it. Convincing my body that it’s over, that we’re back to the balance we had, is another thing entirely.” Yoongi’s fingers gripped down on the rope, squeezing it roughly, and he pursed his lips with seriousness.”Are you still willing to prove that?”   “Yes,” Hoseok breathed, barely letting Yoongi finish the question.   “You’re sure? This isn’t because you just want to make it all better and make it go away? I never said you had to indulge in my quirks, Hoseok.”   “But I want to,” Hoseok said, and tears were stinging at his eyes as he swallowed heavily, relief at the reconciliation hitting him like a tidal wave. “I really want to. Please, Yoongi, do what you need to do to feel safe. I’ll still be here.”   Yoongi nodded. It was a question he had put to Hoseok a hundred different times. The first time,he had been so overwhelmed and scared, his choked sobs making it almost too difficult for Hoseok to understand what he was saying. But now, his expression was just neutral, passive as he asked, “And the safe word?”   “Pineapple,” Hoseok said. He remembered giggling over the word when they had first discussed it, both embarrassed and unsure. It had made sense at the time as they had argued (well, playfully bickered) over pizza toppings on a rare night alone in the pack house. But now he said it while holding out his wrists to the black-haired male, smiling softly as he asked, “Should I stay dressed?”   “Leave your shirt on, but take off your boxers.” Yoongi said in cool command. It wasn’t the eerie, blood-shifting power of an Alpha voice, but it was still plenty spine-tingling for Hoseok, who peeled his jacket off and quickly tossed it aside, before lifting his leg and pulling off his pants and boxers. His black t-shirt still smelled faintly of the fire from the Main Hall, and it didn’t take long before Yoongi was rushing forward, slipping the ropes down around one arm so he could trail his hands up Hoseok’s t-shirt. The Alpha hissed, wanting to instinctively grab Yoongi’s wrists but keeping them obediently at his sides. He knew this was Yoongi’s turn to take, it was his moment of power, his ritual. Hoseok allowed him to touch as he liked, even as he tucked his head beneath the folds of Hoseok’s shirt and licked and nibbled at the dark, raised nipples, causing Hoseok to hiss, his knees a little less sure. His body wanted him to throw Yoongi back, pin him down. But his mind wanted it deeper, harder, darker. It was a shadowy realm he thought would never be understood by someone else, until he met Yoongi.   The Omega expertly started to twist and roll the rope into an intricate shape, one hand firmly bending Hoseok’s arms until they were stretched down in front of him. Then, Yoongi’s hidden art resurfaced. Yoongi looped the ropes around, down, above, counter-clockwise and in figure eights, tugging it through like an unconventionally complicated shoe lacing. The skin of Hoseok’s arms became pressed inward, looking puffed and swollen around the tightness of the ropes as Yoongi created knots in between that made Hoseok think of flowers. The expanse between his arms, a V shaped cobweb that was a shield, a canvas for his chest, was beautiful. Yoongi had Hoseok’s thin, bony wrists looped delicately but firmly, a thick-set knot in between that reminded Hoseok of a waterwheel, holding his wrists about three inches apart. Subconsciously he flexed his fingers, twisted his hand around and testing out the tightness of the ropes, feeling their restriction.   The fabric bunched under the tightening ropes, curling almost defensively as Yoongi’s deft hands started to knot back up into the top with a thick, stiff section that almost braided its way up Hoseok’s chest and turned into a collar that wrapped around his neck more times than Hoseok could count. The rope’s embrace was broad, firm, and with very little yield, and Hoseok found he couldn’t lower his chin anymore, the hemp restricting his movement and making every breath, every swallow a show of resistance against the constricting wraps.   As Yoongi tied him, Hoseok chose to watch the Omega’s face. Yoongi’s brows were drawn together, a little bump forming between that Hoseok could only barely catch glimpses of when he moved and his bangs shifted a little to the side. There was a slight jutting out of his thin lower lip, and occasionally his tongue snuck out to trace the top lip from one side to the other in a slow, thought-filled moment. Yoongi’s hands worked expertly - these were ties he had practiced for hours until the pads of his fingers had been covered in calluses, little cuts and abrasive spots dotting his knuckles. The rope he now held was treated for this specific use and was soft, almost impossibly soft considering how iron-clad it held Hoseok’s arms to his chest. Hoseok’s expression relaxed and warmed as he watched Yoongi work, and a little smile played on his lips as Yoongi’s fingertips brushed up against his skin. His chin was tilted up a little as the back of Yoongi’s hand pushed against his jawline, and Hoseok’s eyes fluttered closed. Heavily he swallowed as Yoongi reached around and tucked the last of the rope in, stepping back to admire his work.   “You look beautiful, Hoseok,” he said softly, two broad, squarish fingers reaching out and brushing up against the plumped up skin between the rope ties. “Can you try to shift it for me? Does it pinch anywhere?”   Obediently, Hoseok tried to move his wrists back and forth, up and down, and attempted to shift his arms in a circular motion. He overestimated the give, tugging too hard too suddenly and ended up half-choking himself, since the collar was attached to the center of the knots, and he coughed. Yoongi instantly stepped forward, lifting Hoseok’s arms back into the permissible area and waiting until Hoseok’s coughing had ended. Then, he went and grabbed the pillows and thick blankets from off his bed, laying them out on the narrow floor space. Yoongi always seemed to run colder than Hoseok, and he usually brought at least two blankets if they had room for it. Hoseok remembered that they had used the faded green one last time, too. He wondered if he would still be able to smell the ghostings of their Scents.   “Lay down,” Yoongi ordered, pressing down gently on Hoseok’s shoulder. Carefully, so as to not tumble over, Hoseok went onto his knees, noting with the skip of his heartbeat that his face passed precariously, purposefully in front of Yoongi’s crotch as he lowered himself to the ground. Yoongi took hold of Hoseok’s ropes and leaned him carefully back until he was laying up against a soft pile of pillows and blankets. The chill of the room crept across his barren lower half, and Hoseok bit at his lip as Yoongi ran his hands up and down Hoseok’s legs, appreciating each curve with the pads of his fingers. Hoseok shivered a little as Yoongi bent and unbent one of his legs, pressing his fingertips in the crease behind Hoseok’s knee as he folded it completely over his hand, then unbent it, repeating the movement several times. Gently, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the inside of Hoseok’s calf, his left hand supporting Hoseok by the ankle and his right hand slipping up, up, up the thigh and then across Hoseok’s hardening cock, brushing lightly, tantalizingly over the warm, sensitive skin. There was a difference in Yoongi’s posture and gaze, whenever he went into this headspace, this in-between zone where the rules didn’t matter and in between shaking breaths the two of them rewrote a new set of definitions for the words ‘instinct.’ Hoseok liked to see the subtle change, he liked the slight hardness of Yoongi’s jaw, the possessive glare in his eyes, challenging him, daring him with a look. He liked the way Yoongi’s hands became so masculine, every movement deliberate like a dance. He was sure Yoongi didn’t know, but this headspace had a bit of an ironic side effect - Hoseok knew Yoongi was fully in when he could see the telltale blue Omega glow around Yoongi’s irises, gleaming coolly and shimmering with dominance. The best part, though, the part that had Hoseok trembling every time, was the change in Yoongi’s voice. It went impossibly deeper, and seemed to vibrate into Hoseok’s very bones, even when he wasn’t touching the Alpha, and it crackled and hissed in between the long pauses, a touch-and-go pattern that was so uniquely Yoongi that no one could quite recreate it.   “Look how beautiful you are, baby,” Yoongi purred, rubbing the heel of his palm against Hoseok’s reddening erection, making Hoseok gasp in pained surprise. In the next moment, Yoongi twisted his wrist around the bony, tanned ankle, causing it to burn and sting. Hoseok cried out, his head wanting to tilt back, mouth open as he gasped for air, but the ropes around his neck, the elaborate, thick collar, held him back, and he gaped uselessly. “You’re a work of art now, with all these pretty ropes holding you down. You’re so beautiful, it makes me want to make you scream.”   “Y-yoongi…” Hoseok breathed. He was always so quick to melt into pliancy in Yoongi’s rough but gentle hands, but it wasn’t enough. He needed Yoongi to go deeper.   “What’s your safe word?” Yoongi said.   “Pineapple,” Hoseok said quickly, too easily, proving that he needed Yoongi to go further. Yoongi nodded, waiting a moment before he twisted at Hoseok’s ankle again, his fingernails digging in to add a little scrape to the burning edge, and he leaned downward to suckle at the soft, sensitive skin at the inside of Hoseok’s thin thighs. He let his back curl up a little, lifting his torso away from the blankets, his bound hands lifted upwards as if reaching towards Yoongi himself.   “You embarrassed me, out in front of all the pups,” Yoongi said. Only this wasn’t the normal Yoongi, the daily one he teased and bickered playfully with, who was ticklish behind his ears and slept curled into a little endearing ball. This was the Headspace Yoongi, the one who would lie through his teeth to get the reaction he wanted, the one who knew exactly all the things Hoseok had ever felt guilty or ashamed about, and exploited it with elegance and strength. It was a strange sensation, like hearing the voice in his head out loud, hearing his worst fears confirmed. “We’re supposed to be one of the senior couples, but now they’ll think it’s okay to let Omegas be treated like shit, because of what you said.”   “I didn’t mean to,” Hoseok mumbled, frowning. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”   “But you did ,” Yoongi hissed, “You did babe. You can’t take back what you said. I’ll bet you meant every word of it, too. You think Alphas are superior? You think you’ve got some sort of magic dick that gives you power over me?” He ground his palm into Hoseok’s arousal again, making the boy hiss and wriggle his hips back and forth. “Well, look at your ‘magic dick’ now, it’s under my weak little Omega palm. Does it feel weak, Hoseok? What does my Omega hand feel like to you, right now?”   “S-strong,” Hoseok managed, “It feels strong and powerful. I’m sorry.”   “Your power only reaches so far, you see? All power can be taken away, if you let it. And you always let me take it away for you.” Yoongi folded up Hoseok’s leg again, until his heel rested up against his plump buttock, folded like a broken wing, and Yoongi reached around for another length of prepared rope. He tied more simply this time, anchoring Hoseok with both heels bound to the bottom of the heavy metal bunk beds. His legs were spread wide, his cock twitching with anticipation and excitement beneath his loosely clasped hands, the edges of his bonds rested across the bunched up folds of his t-shirt and leaving everything below cold and exposed for Yoongi to stare at unblinkingly.   He ran a hand wherever he wished, now that Hoseok had been rendered incapable of sitting up, moving his arms or even moving his head as he wished. Now that his legs were spread, he had Hoseok as vulnerable as possible. He shivered, and Yoongi resumed the honey-flavored laying out of Hoseok’s mind, his fingers now exploring the veiny underside of Hoseok’s half-hard cock, the warm crease inside his thigh, then moving around to grip a handful of his round bottom.   “You like being the Alpha when you think my guard is down. You never admit it to me, but you like the feeling. You could have even used your Alpha voice on me, when I wasn’t paying attention. Little things, little ways to get what you want. To take what you want. After all, what is respect when you can possess a little Omega, right?”   “No, I don’t, I respect you…” He swallowed roughly, the rope-collar biting into his adam’s apple. “I respect you, Omega.”   “You act so strong, so carefree for the pups. You make them think you’re so motherly and sweet. Now that they’re growing, does it scare you? Does it make you want to challenge them, before they can challenge you? They’re threats to you, after all, aren’t they?” Yoongi leaned down until he was on his belly, resting one of Hoseok’s thighs over his shoulder, his face pressed up against the dark, velvety inner thigh curve. His breath was hot up against Hoseok’s balls, and Hoseok started to struggle with his arm bonds, trying to find some way to escape the tingling, the itching sensation. “Baby, your power is so, so limited. And your strength only lasts so long. But look at you now. You’re no all-powerful Alpha. You’re under my power right now. And you like it, don’t you?” Yoongi leaned a little forward, leaving butterfly-touch kisses that had Hoseok wanting to weep, his eyes squeezing shut. “You like playing the weak one sometimes, don’t you?”   “Yes, I do, please, Omega.”   “You challenged my authority, and now you have to be tied up. I can’t let a wild dog do as he wishes,” Yoongi growled. “Open your mouth, Alpha.”   Hoseok did, not daring to open his eyes as three of Yoongi’s fingers slipped between his lips. They tasted salty, bitter, and the scent of earth seemed to drown him from the inside out. He suckled on the fingers as Yoongi laughed at him, mockingly, “You look like a real baby. All needy and whimpering. But you’re a beautiful baby. My baby, for tonight.”   At that, Hoseok wanted to speak, wanted to tell him it didn’t have to be just for tonight. That he wanted to be with Yoongi forever, because Yoongi could make him cry in a way that no one else could, could make him release and let go of his unspoken terrors that no one even thought he possessed behind a sunshine smile and warm embraces. Yoongi knew his dark side, his needy, selfish side - and loved him nonetheless. But Hoseok couldn’t speak, because Yoongi was pressing his fingers even further down Hoseok’s throat, making him gag and splutter a little while Yoongi wrapped his fingers around Hoseok’s member, rubbing the pre-cum up and down the length with care until he had enough to start the up and down movements, squeezing it rather roughly as his fingers tickled at the warm softness of Hoseok’s throat. Hoseok was gagging, choking, tears stinging at the edges of his eyes and the veins of his neck strained and visible over the top edge of the rope-collar.   “Alpha, look at you, crying for me so prettily. Are you really sorry for what you said, or was all of it just a scheme to get us here, right now? Did you really want me to fuck you over that badly?”   Hoseok couldn’t answer, so he just whimpered. Part of him almost believed Yoongi’s lies could be the truth. The pain felt like relief, and he could feel that tense twisting in his gut heating up and intensifying, and his back arched gracefully off the blankets, pressing him up towards Yoongi’s hand, begging for more even as he could barely breathe. Yoongi removed his hands, moving out of the limited view Hoseok’s rope-collar would allow, and then came back. He leaned in against Hoseok’s chest, wriggling over to straddle the Alpha, and he could feel that Yoongi had removed all his clothing, his skin feeling cool and strangely soft.   Push me farther, Yoongi , Hoseok begged in his mind. Punish me so I’ll know you’ve actually forgiven me.   “You’re fucked up,” Yoongi lied, and the sound of the words on the air, for all the world, was the color of truth to Hoseok. “You’re so selfish and twisted, Alpha. How dare you cross the line, how dare you even fucking suggest that Alphas are better, when you, my Alpha, are sitting so happily helpless below me?” Yoongi tugged back Hoseok’s T-shirt, kissing at the collarbone gently, a sharp contrast to the sound of his words. “You like giving me all the power. You don’t want to take responsibility.”   That’s right. Because under your hand, I don’t have to be responsible for anything, or anyone. Oh, thank god. Tears were streaming from Hoseok’s eyes now, trailing down his temples and into his hair. Yoongi leaned down and pressed his mouth to Hoseok’s, teeth clattering against teeth and tongues lashing out almost angrily at one another. Hoseok tried to lean upwards, to taste more deeply into Yoongi’s mouth, but his binds wouldn’t let him, his bound hands still helplessly tied against his stomach, fingertips brushing against the cock Yoongi was still pumping mercilessly. Hoseok twisted his wrists around as much as he could, until his fingers found the edges of Yoongi’s own hot member, dangling just out of reach and thus far left unattended. Yoongi physically jolted a little at the contact, and he blinked at Hoseok, who flushed.   “You sly bastard,” Yoongi chuckled. “I didn’t tell you you could fucking touch me.”   Then punish me properly for it, you cocky asshole.   And the punishment came. A slap resounded into the empty cabin, along with Hoseok’s audible gasp, and his cheek was quickly reddening. He let out a sigh, feeling as though a tension in the room - no, between the two of them as a whole - had finally lifted. His body suddenly went limp underneath Yoongi, his posture only held by the bonds as he blinked slowly up at the Omega. The pain was a relief. The pain had wiped his mind clear, even if just for a brief moment. It was heavenly.   Yoongi didn’t ask him for the safe word, not aloud, but he stared at Hoseok for a moment in such a way that Hoseok knew he was asking. When Hoseok said nothing, the headspace mask folded its way unevenly back across Yoongi’s face, like flames slowly eating across a page and turning it black.   “Now lie still and let me fucking ride you.” He leaned away from Hoseok’s lips, repositioning himself over Hoseok and ripping the condom open with his teeth. The long moments where Hoseok had to patiently, painfully wait for Yoongi to prepare were some of the longest and most beautiful. Then, Yoongi was roughly forcing the straining member into his entrance, crying out a drawn out curse until his ass was rested against Hoseok’s hips like he had always belonged there. He sat still for a minute, his expression taut, and Hoseok was helpless to do anything but sit still and watch, waiting. He had no control, no ability to comfort or lead the way. It was all up to Yoongi, and he trusted Yoongi to set the pace.   After a moment, Yoongi planted his palms against Hoseok’s shoulders, digging his fingernails into the skin there. He leaned forward onto his knees, lifting his ass up and then slamming it roughly back down without warning. Both of them crumpled at their centers like a synchronized boomerang, half-folding towards each other, pulled by some invisible string that drew them towards each other. Yoongi did it again, and Hoseok was gasping, his head spinning from his inability to properly take deep breaths in the rope-collar. Yoongi himself was sweating heavily, his hips moving faster and faster. As twisted as they were, as needy as they both were, Hoseok couldn’t deny that he loved being inside of Yoongi. He loved that it was on their own terms, not anyone else’s, and he loved that sensation that he had restored the balance between them, tearing down Hoseok’s build up in his mind until it all crumbled like a terribly built rickety tower.  Yoongi panted, growling as he grabbed handfuls of Hoseoks hair and yanked his head painfully forward, crushing him into a sloppy kiss that ended with Yoongi biting down a little too hard on Hoseok’s lip as the Alpha gasped for air. He could feel it bruise, could feel the little lump of pain forming there as Yoongi’s cries lost their huskier, deeper sound and got more frantic, more high pitched as he was reduced to desperate whimpers. Hoseok could only take advantage of the little bit of leverage he had in his hips, trying to thrust up and into Yoongi, pressing in deeper and making the Omega shout, “Fuck!”   Hoseok couldn’t quite see straight, the hands tugging roughly on his hair sending piercing pain into his skull, and Yoongi was half falling forward as he pressed his hot cheek against Hoseok’s, rasping into his ear, “ My Alpha .”   The Alpha growled, the sound morphing into a scream of frustration, and Hoseok’s hips were mindlessly jolting upward, almost dislodging Yoongi from his lap as he came, and Yoongi let out a series of little half-pants, half-cries as he fell limply against Hoseok’s chest. He was quivering in short little shuddery bursts, and Hoseok realized that the Omega had come completely untouched. Obviously they had both been more wound up than either of them had expected.   Hoseok felt himself finally spiraling downwards from the eye of the tornado, somehow gently dropped back down onto the makeshift bed as Yoongi started dotting kisses against Hoseok’s jawline. The blue in his eyes was fading, but more importantly, the Headspace Yoongi was being folded neatly away, tucked into a private part of their love until the day it was needed again.   “Hobi, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said.”   “I know,” Hoseok breathed, his blinks slow and tired, his hair matted to his forehead in thick, sweat-filled chunks.   “You’re so good to me,” Yoongi whimpered, his hand gently caressing the reddened cheek, then continuing his kissing trail up and down Hoseok’s face, going to place one even against both closed eyelids, his lips soft. “You’re so respectful of me, you’re a wonderful, selfless Alpha. I’m so lucky to have you, you know. My beautiful Hoseok.” As he spoke, Yoongi’s hands fumbled for the edges of the rope, tugging them free and quickly dropping the ties away, making Hoseok sigh and fall limply against the blankets. Dutifully, Yoongi rubbed the feeling back into every limb, running his practiced fingertips over every crease and spot the ropes had pulled, pressing feather-light kisses to his throat. “Beautiful, strong big-hearted Hoseok.  I’d do anything for you. Anything.”   “Then love me,” Hoseok breathed, smiling up at Yoongi, his polar opposite, his soulmate. He entwined his fingers into Yoongi’s pale ones, and he sighed, lifting their clasped hands so he could press a kiss to Yoongi’s knuckles. “Just love me unconditionally.”   “I already do, I promise,” Yoongi leaned down, touching his nose to Hoseok’s, their foreheads leaned together, the scent of earth and vanilla mixing. It didn’t sound like a mix that would work, two things that were never deliberately placed together, but it was the most lovely, homely smell in the world to Hoseok. The world’s way of doing things had never suited either of them, anyways. Hoseok wrapped his arms around his Omega, pulling him close and weakly tugging at one of the blankets to cover them both. “I want to be your mate, Hoseok.”   Hoseok smiled up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes, blissed out to the sound, the sureness in the man’s voice. “Of course. I know you wanted to do it on our anniversary, but… I’m really okay with any day, you know. As long as we can finally be official mates.” He nuzzled up against Yoongi’s pale neck, quietly cuddling as well as giving the Omega a gentle Scenting. He practically purred as Yoongi reached up to run his hand through Hoseok’s hair.   “Let’s talk to Namjoon about it tomorrow. Together.” Yoongi said. Hoseok nodded, exhausted and sighing happily against his Omega’s chest. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “ Desiring another person is perhaps the most risky endeavor of all. As soon as you want somebody—really want him—it is as though you have taken a surgical needle and sutured your happiness to the skin of that person, so that any separation will now cause a lacerating injury.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert    For Jungkook, everything was hazy and far away. He felt like he was floating, the world softened at the edges and his body either unable to move or utterly unmotivated to do so; he wasn’t quite sure which. The fuzzy noises of voices were over him, harsh against the dull ache throughout his whole body, sending jolts of pain to his groin and the small of his back, making him whimper again. “If the fever doesn’t break soon...well…” The smell of wood fire was slamming up against his senses, the strong presence of his lead Alpha in the midst of stress. “There has to be something !” At the sound of Seokjin’s voice, Jungkook let out a little whimper, shifting in his half-consciousness. “You know exactly what something has to be done!” “I can’t , Namjoon, this isn’t how I want to do things.” “This isn’t about your ego, Jin, this is about Jungkook. It’s your fault things got this bad, so get your head out of your ass and do something.” Jungkook faded out of awareness again, unaware of how long he was sleeping before he woke up again to the gentle smell of soap. He smiled, turning his head to sink into the cloud of it more, the welcoming relief. He felt Seokjin’s presence again, a hand pressed to his sweat-covered cheek, and he opened his eyes, but everything looked blurry. He could just make out the shape of Seokjin’s face, his expression one undiscernible blob. But he knew it was him. That hand on his cheek was so familiar. “Jungkookie?” Seokjin’s voice sounded so lovely, and Jungkook remembered by feeling, rather than a cohesive thought, that Seokjin was the one protecting him. He sighed, letting his eyes shut again happily with that knowledge. Seokjin would let him sleep. Seokjin would take care of him, would protect him until he felt well again, he was sure of it. Meanwhile, he was being asked a question, one that sounded important, but he had no energy to answer it.  Whatever, Seokjin, I don’t care. Just let me sleep!  A warm golden light seemed to press in on his eyelids, making him scrunch up his face slightly. He felt the cool pressing wetness of a rag against his forehead, pushed down slightly by an unknown hand. Sweat was still forming on his brow, and he still felt gross, but he was warm and whatever he was laying in felt soft and comfortable. Jungkook groaned, not willing to open his eyes yet and face the world. There was a gentle shushing at his side. Jungkook knew that hours had passed, and he knew that he was still deep into his heat. He whimpered a little as the rag was shifted a little on his brow. “Seokjin?” he mumbled, his eyes still shut and his hand blindly reaching out, seeking the arm attached to the hand holding the rag. The movement against his forehead stilled, as though surprised, and his clammy hand brushed against someone’s cool one for a brief moment before it was pulled away. “Yes, Jungkook?” Seokjin said quietly. Jungkook paused, his lips slightly parted, and he knew a little smile was on his face. He forced his eyelids to open so he could see the Alpha leaning in at Jungkook’s side, wearing a grey turtleneck and looking quite domestic and soft as he frowned at Jungkook in concern. His lips and cheeks looked a little more flushed than they normally did, a little warmer and pinker than Jungkook was used to. Jungkook realized Seokjin’s hand was laying on the bed next to him, and without thinking, he reached out and gripped the Alpha’s hand in his own, entwining their fingers. Instantly, Jungkook felt as though his body relaxed, feeling cooler and less stressed against the Alpha’s touch. But although it made him feel better , it didn’t make him feel good , and he wasn't satisfied yet. He frowned, letting out a crackled whisper. “Why hasn’t it stopped yet?” Seokjin bit his bottom lip, looking away from Jungkook and looking ashamed. “I-- We don’t know, Jungkook. This is the worst heat any of us has seen. We… we think it may have been because you were left alone in the snow so long.” Jungkook frowned, his brow furrowing deeply. That didn’t seem to be quite a good enough explanation to him.  A petulant, child-like irritation bubbled up in his belly, and he tugged at Seokjin’s hand. Thinking he wanted him to let go, Seokjin started to disentangle their fingers, only for Jungkook to squeeze tighter. “Seokjin, fix it.” The Alpha choked a little, coughing and thudding his fist against his chest to help himself breathe, an obvious redness to his neck and cheeks. “W-what?!” Jungkook pouted more deeply, letting his voice break and crackle as he attempted to whine pitifully. “I said fix it . Make it go away. Isn’t that an Alpha’s job?” “Well, y-yes, sometimes. But that’s usually only for, you know…?” He stared at Jungkook, a meaningful raise to his eyebrows. Jungkook just glared back, refusing to answer him. “Um, I assumed Hoseok and the others already explained to you about how, um, mating and things work, right?” “Seokjin,” Jungkook said quietly, “I may not have grown up in a pack but I’m not a pup.” “You say that like you weren’t technically a pup just a few days ago, you little asshole..” Seokjin shot back automatically. “And you’re still so… I don’t know… innocent.” Jungkook fell back deeper into the pillows under his head for a moment, staring up into Seokjin’s face and thinking back to the dreams that had been haunting him. “I’m… I’m not so innocent, Seokjin.” At that, Seokjin raised an eyebrow, and the smell of soap seemed to get thicker in the air, until Jungkook thought he might be almost able to taste it. Seokjin was staring at him, unblinking, and then suddenly he flushed and moved to stand. “I should go tell Kiara and Namjoon and the others that you’re awake. They’ve all been worried, so--” “No! Don’t leave me again…” Jungkook whimpered, gripping as tightly as he could to Seokjin’s hand, anchoring him to the bed. Seokjin stared at their tangled fingers as though utterly perplexed. “Stay, please? It feels better when you’re near me.” Seokjin lifted his eyes to Jungkook’s, the turbulence that had been clouding his eyes clearing away into an almost childlike wonder. “It does? Like…? Wait, how does it feel better?” “I dunno, when you hold my hand the heat doesn’t feel as bad. Less achy. Even when you found us in the woods, as soon as you got near, it... I couldn’t even talk, before.” Jungkook considered for a moment, blinking in thought. He was now almost coherent, almost normal. He hadn’t slicked up in the last few minutes while talking to Seokjin, despite the headiness of his Alpha scent. He still felt that telltale clammy, feverishness, and he was still aching with that need from his core, but it was - for the moment - tolerable. “Wait, did you do something? Why does it feel so much better now?” Seokjin flushed deeply, turning his face away from Jungkook. “I just Scented you again, to help calm you down. Your fever was so high it was dangerous, and the Alpha hormones can help… I didn’t do anything weird, I promise.” “Oh.” Jungkook looked around the cabin, seeing that it was empty. “Where is everyone else?” Again, the Alpha bit his lip, this time even looking a bit angry. “There was… a bit of a fall-out… Namjoon seems to think I’m the best person to help you through this, but I don’t think--” “Seokjin,” Jungkook said calmly. “I want you to help me through the heat.” Without further ado, he tugged and wriggled, using his weight until Seokjin finally gave in and crawled into the bed, laying down at Jungkook’s side. Jungkook tugged the blankets loose so that he could shift up against Seokjin’s side, pressing his cheek up against his broad chest and hooking his ankle over the Alpha’s calf. He felt him stiffen, surprised by Jungkook’s forwardness, but Jungkook just took Seokjin’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. The weightiness on his body was comforting, and it was as if Seokjin’s skin sapped out the heat from his body, replacing it with coolness, with relaxation. He felt safe and protected there, underneath Seokjin’s arm, pressed up against him. He decided in that moment that a table-fort just didn’t quite compare. “There,” he sighed, “That’s much better.” “Are you…” Seokjin licked his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want one of the others? Like Yoongi or Namjoon?” “No, I only want you.” The finality in his voice seemed to have a profound effect on Seokjin, who clenched his eyes shut as though pained. “Seokjin…” Jungkook said quietly, squeezing the Alpha’s hand. “You want to help me too, don’t you?” “Of course…” Seokjin answered quickly. He turned his head away from Jungkook, taking in a shaky breath before saying lowly, “But I don’t want to stay just because your Omega wants me to, you know? It’s...it’s complicated.” “Seokjin, you know I went out into the woods to Scent you.” At those words, Seokjin flinched, a redness forming on the back of his neck that crept up from the collar of the gray sweater.”That was me testing my Omega, in a way.” He tugged at Seokjin’s hand, whimpering a little for sympathy. “But I already knew what I wanted. Me , not my Omega.” “How can you be so sure of that?” Seokjin’s question didn’t sound accusatory, more genuinely curious, and he looked back to meet Jungkook’s eyes again at last. “I just am,” Jungkook said, staring up into Seokjin’s face evenly. His eyes were dark, eyelashes fluttering up against his thick, long bangs. The traces of blue hovering around the edges of his irises seemed to deepen, pulling Seokjin down into them and rendering him incapable of turning away. “Like right now, you make my heat feel better, yes. But even without my heat, I’d feel better with you right here.” His hand reached up and gripped at the fabric of Seokjin’s sweater, bunching the material up under his palm, his knuckles able to feel the soft firmness of Seokjin’s bare chest underneath. He leaned his head forward, pressing his forehead against Seokjin’s chin, feeling the slight wetness of his mouth against skin as he inhaled Seokjin’s Scent. “Then..why did you stop Scenting me, Jungkook?” Seokjin whispered, his voice cracking a little bit with emotion. Jungkook had been distracted by his own inner turmoil the last few weeks, but he was a bit surprised to hear just how deeply Seokjin had seemed to be affected by the absence. “I thought I’d done something to make you mad at me, or distrust me…” Jungkook thought for a minute, working his bottom lip with his teeth as Seokjin’s hot breath continued across his skin. Eventually, he murmured, “Because I felt guilty.” “Guity? About what?” Swallowing heavily, Jungkook’s voice dropped to an even quieter volume, his words slurring together as he finally admitted out loud what had been on his mind almost daily since the previous October. “The night of Jimin’s Presenting I… I had a dream. Well, more of a nightmare. Jimin and Namjoon were there, but then it was you...and me, and…” “Oh.” Seokjin didn’t seem to know how to respond, and Jungkook was a little glad he couldn’t see the Alpha’s expression. He was carding a hand through Jungkook’s hair, as if to reassure him. A silence fell between them as Jungkook’s words sank in. “It was just a dream though, so you don--” “But I liked it,” Jungkook cut him off, leaning back suddenly and wriggling until his head was free, allowing him to look up directly into Seokjin’s eyes. The Alpha looked utterly taken aback, lips parting in surprise as if he wasn’t sure what to say in response. “I liked it, Seokjin. That’s what made me feel so guilty. Here I was, dreaming of you all--” Jungkook’s voice broke, and he had to take a breath to continue, staring at Seokjin’s neck instead of into his face, the words choked as he barely held back a sob. “ All the time, and you didn’t even want to Scent me back...it was unfair to you, having those feelings. But then you had my shirt in your room, and I realized maybe it wasn’t quite as simple as I thought. Then you did Scent me back, and everything changed. I realized you didn’t hate me.” “Hate you? You thought I hated you?” Jungkook sniffed heavily, rolling his eyes. He wished he wasn’t crying - it made him feel like a dumb little kid, some child who couldn’t control their emotions properly. But it was difficult when he wasn’t used to having all these emotions in the first place. “From the first day you moved in. You looked at me, l-like…” “Shh…” Seokjin ran a hand through Jungkook’s hair, the movement making him suddenly relax, breathing deeply. He hadn’t realized that his heat was picking up again, making the blanket unbearably hot and itchy. Jungkook wriggled in closer to Seokjin, burying his face into his sweater and inhaling his Scent for a few moments, while Seokjin kept shushing him soothingly. “I never hated you, Jungkook. I promise.” “After the first day, things changed, you know? You let me hang out with you, and we got close. But you never Scented me back. And all I could keep wondering was why ? I know why I don’t Scent Jimin back, but it wasn’t the same. I thought maybe I smelled bad to you? Or you at least didn’t think of me that way.” “It wasn’t like that,” Seokjin said in a quiet murmur. He ran a hand through Jungkook’s hair again, allowing his hand to pause against the Omega’s forehead a little longer each time. “It wasn’t like that at all, Jungkook.” Jungkook reached up, cupping his hand along Seokjin’s cheek. He was staring at Seokjin’s mouth, transfixed, then he let his eyes flicker up to the Alpha’s dark brown eyes, the tinges of his irises encircled in a thin red border as he stared back. Something felt electric between them, warmed by the self-assuredness threaded throughout Jungkook’s entire body as he pulled Seokjin’s jaw towards him and gently pressed his lips to Seokjin’s. The Alpha let out a sigh at the contact, and Jungkook’s lips parted slightly so he could swallow the hot exhale, making goosebumps rise on his arms as Seokjin tilted his head, one hand coming up to rest against the small of Jungkook’s back, pulling him closer. A little moan of relief escaped Jungkook as he indulged in the hot sweetness, the kiss chaste and delicate. He tilted his chin forward, his arms threading around Seokjin’s long neck and clutching into the hair at the back of his head, pulling him forward as a deep thrum started in Seokjin’s throat, almost like a purr. He started to slow down, as though about to pull away, and Jungkook subconsciously let out a little whine that slipped into Seokjin’s mouth, making the elder relinquish a sigh of relief. The hand that had been around Jungkook’s waist tugged him closer one more time, pressing their hips together before he slipped his hand against Jungkook’s jaw, his previous shyness melting away and becoming a butterfly-touch appreciation of every curve, trailing from the jaw down the neck and down to his shoulder, one thumb caressing back and forth appreciatively along the dip of Jungkook’s collarbone. It felt like they had just stepped across a line together, one that went beyond and below a heat and into something that burned lower and deeper, more archaic than something that had a name, and Jungkook couldn’t help but smile sweetly, overwhelmed by the nervous fluttering sensations that had now taken over his entire chest cavity. His eyes were still shut as Seokjin finally pulled away - the slight wet sound of their parting lips and Jungkook’s breath the only sounds in the room - then ran the back of his knuckle along Jungkook’s jawline as though he was petting him, an inquisitive expression on his face. When Jungkook finally opened his eyes, Seokjin’s lips parted as though to ask something, but nothing was forthcoming, so they just looked at each as another minute or so passed in silence. “Stop over-thinking it,” Jungkook finally reprimanded in a quiet voice, and for some reason, it made them both smile. Seokjin even chuckled a little, flushing with guilt. “When did you get so self-assured, Jungkook?” “I’m not the kind of guy to second-guess myself, is all. It seems like a waste of time.” Jungkook tilted forward, nuzzling his nose into the little soft lump of skin below Seokjin’s chin where it met his neck, feeling the slightest abrasive spot he’d missed while shaving. “I’m ready for you to finish what you started last night.” He felt, and almost heard , Seokjin’s heavy swallow, his lips pressed to the Alpha’s adam’s apple as Seokjin’s fingertips gripped a little harder at Jungkook’s shoulders. But he made no further moves, so Jungkook wriggled his hand up to take hold of Seokjin’s knobbly fingers and shift their hands awkwardly downward, splaying Seokjin’s fingers and pressing them to his erection. Seokjin let out a little choking sound, his legs shifting nervously towards Jungkook with a bit of a frantic air. Jungkook kissed at Seokjin’s neck, pausing and closing his eyes as he pressed Seokjin more roughly against him, guiding the first clumsy movements. “Please, Seokjin… it’s been hurting for hours …” “But Jungkook, there’s something I have to tell you.” Seokjin licked his lips nervously, his gaze glancing away as if in apology. “Don’t you thi--” “I promise, we can talk after,” Jungkook mumbled through gritted teeth. “We’ve already established that 100% of me wants this, so please . I’ve been trying to be patient and good but goddamn it hurts .” As if to punctuate his statement, his hips bucked forward into Seokjin’s wide palm, and the Alpha’s fingers curled inward instinctively, creating an instant moan that bubbled from Jungkook like a sigh. “Ah... please .” “Shit…” Seokjin gasped, the word surprisingly soft for its intended meaning. “You’re so ...so seductive… and I feel like you’re barely even trying.” “Just for you,” Jungkook promised, bucking into Seokjin’s hand again with a little grunt. “Fuck, please , just move .” And at last, although it felt like forever, Seokjin’s fingers tickled their way up to the waistband of Jungkook’s sweatpants, cool knuckles brushing up against his hot belly and making him shudder, a tight winding at his center that had him already breathing heavily. Seokjin’s chilly fingertips curved, making the climb over the waistband and down, into the wet and warmth hiding away there, winding around Jungkook’s trembling cock and making him moan just from the temperature difference. When the blind grip tightened, Jungkook could feel the light calluses on Seokjin’s fingertips, could feel the roughness of the unique bumps between each knuckle, the softness of the palm. Seokjin dipped his fingertips to the swollen tip, using the slippery pre-cum to lubricate. Jungkook didn’t realize his hand was clutching desperately at Seokjin’s sleeve, his eyes shut and his mouth opened as he gasped with need. If he had opened his eyes, he would have seen the steady, cool stare of his Alpha as he drank in every muscle, every change in Jungkook’s expression as he started to writhe happily beneath his hand. “S...Jin…” Jungkook moaned, his voice rising up in pitch as Seokjin started to gently move his hand up and down, twisted his hand back and forth to memorize each feature and imperfection. “F-fuck!” Jungkook’s shoulders were tense, his grip on Seokjin’s sleeve tightening as the muscles in his neck visibly tensed, his ankles entangling and disentangling from Seokjin’s, itching and straining for relief as his nerves were being overwhelmed. Seokjin craned his neck forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to Jungkook’s sweat-dotted cheek as the Omega bit at his lip in frustration. “You look beautiful,” Seokjin whispered, so lightly as if it was some sort of secret, a taboo truth he wasn’t allowed to say or the moment, the illusion, would shatter completely. Jungkook panted, forcing his eyes to open as he met Seokjin’s gaze. His movements remained slow and steady for a few moments, letting Jungkook adjust and catch his breath. When the hunger returned, flickering blue around his irises, Seokjin sped his hand up, making Jungkook moan loudly, lifting his fist that was full of Seokjin’s sweater and then slamming it back roughly down against the Alpha’s shoulder. “Fuck! Oh, god! Jin! ” “I know,” Seokjin said, the calm tone starting to give way to a deeper, throaty sound in the back of his throat, his self control quivering a little in its foundation. Lowly, he growled, “Does it feel good, Jungkook?” Jungkook just whimpered, tugging then pushing at the fistful of sweater sleeve, bucking his hips forward in desperation. “Jungkook, I asked you a question,” Seokjin said, his voice lower now, and the sound alone would have been enough to raise Jungkook’s member to attention even if he hadn’t been tending to him so lovingly by hand. “Does it feel good?” “Yes!” Jungkook cried. “Please, don’t stop!” Seokjin chuckled, rolling his eyes a little. “Like I’d stop now .” Jungkook blearily forced his eyes back open, staring open-mouthed at Seokjin’s toothy smile for a moment. Then, he used his grip on Seokjin’s shoulder to propel them back towards each other, crushing his lips back against Seokjin’s, his mouth open and begging for free-falling heat as his hips started to rock back and forth steadily into Seokjin’s hand. The world was spinning, heady and heated and thick. He felt like he was about to pass out from the vertigo, from how tired he was, from the overload his nerves had taken in the last 24 hours, but he didn’t want the moment to end. To his dismay, his mouth remained pitifully empty of Seokjin’s trespassing, but he didn’t have long to think about that before the coil at his belly finally got wound up enough, and he felt himself nearing his edge. “Jin! Jin!” He cried, each repetition getting higher and more worked up until he was practically wheezing, brokenly gasping as he clutched at Seokjin while he came. Shudders overcame his body, but for all the world it felt like the greatest, most satisfying deflation, lowering him gently back to earth as he fell limp against the mattress, boneless. His eyes shut as aftershocks rolled through him, waves and an undertow that kept his movement choppy and messy as Seokjin kissed his forehead, letting his plush lips linger there for several seconds until Jungkook finally stilled. The Omega was gasping, his member finally flaccid for the first time since he had gone into the woods, finally releasing the tension in his body so that he could curl up into Seokjin’s embrace properly, feeling suddenly small and in need of comfort. Seokjin slipped his hand out of Jungkook’s sweatpants, quietly leaning away from Jungkook long enough to reach for the box of tissues that had been left surreptitiously at the edge of the bed behind him, wiping himself and Jungkook clean. The instant Seokjin’s chest shifted away from his cheek, Jungkook let out a whimpering complaint, cuddling up closer until Seokjin wrapped his arms around him once again, resting his chin on the top of his head. With each passing moment it felt like his heart rate was gradually slowing down, calmed by the rhythm of Seokjin’s heartbeat thudding against his cheek, and his body temperature was cooling, the sweat on his skin drying into a cool clamminess. “It’s cold,” he complained, and Seokjin wordlessly tugged the blanket higher up around Jungkook, tucking it over his shoulder and wriggling until he was under the blanket with him, pressing more of his warmth to the Omega. “Thank you,” Jungkook whispered. He sounded sincere, but then he followed it up with a cheekily whispered, “I’ve only been waiting for that since October.” Seokjin chuckled a little, and Jungkook could feel Seokjin untucking his other arm and running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair soothing him as he pushed the bangs away from his forehead. His eyes were shut but he was still able to feel Seokjin watching him, that same soft expression on his face as Jungkook slept soundly at last. His mouth drooped open, crooked teeth peeking through as his breathing evened out, each inhale sweetly heavy. Seokjin ran his hand through Jungkook’s bangs again, smiling softly to himself. “Well, I’ve only been waiting since August,” he chided at the sleeping Omega. He considered for a moment, staring at the way Jungkook’s eyelashes rested against his cheek. “Maybe even longer, to be honest.” He adjusted the pillow beneath his head, preparing himself for hours and probably a crick in his neck from the way he was pressed up against the headboard. Once settled in, he was caught by the vision of the Omega sleeping, staring at him breathlessly for a few long, chest-aching moments. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the boy’s forehead, smiling as he heard the little murmur the boy released. And with a sigh he curled up against Jungkook, closing his eyes and sinking into the rising, thick scent of soap mixed with saltwater and leather. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Don't leave me Don’t leave me behind Your heart that turned away Please turn it back towards me I want the you who is desperate It’s everything that I’ve risked my life for Into the light that has been scattered Take me there, please To the end of that world ” ― Even If I Die It’s You  When Jungkook woke up again, he felt clean . It was a sensation he didn’t know would stand out to him before, and wasn’t sure why it did now. But he loved it, wanted to wriggle happily into the clean warmth surrounding him and the lack of itchiness in his legs and arms and the feeling of not being soaked and clammy. Words were being spoken gently somewhere around him, but he couldn’t make them out, much less form them into coherent thoughts, so he tried to sink into unconsciousness again, wanting to escape from the heavy bodily weariness around him. This was made difficult, however, when he realized that what had woken him up was the feeling of something heavy weighing down his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He tried to shift the heavy thing off, to no avail - it just clung to him more tightly. Jungkook forced his eyes to open, finding a black hoodie-wearing lump that was recognizable as Taehyung mostly from the heavy scent of fresh oranges wafting from his sleeping form. He was sprawled face-down and spread-eagled across the tiny bed (and therefore across the Omega) his good arm tucked up and across Jungkook’s neck, phone clutched loosely in hand. Jungkook smiled softly, shifting a little so that Taehyung wasn’t quite suffocating him, and looked sadly at the arm brace that held his injured elbow to his side, bent at a 90 degree angle to protect it. There was a little tickling sensation at his foot, and Jungkook mumbled, trying to tug his foot away from whatever warm wetness was pressed up against it. There was a chuckle, and a hand grasped his ankle with a gentle firmness, continuing to wipe down his foot with the wet washrag. He was in fresh clothes, and they didn’t even feel stifling or abrasive this time. “He’s been here since like 5 o’clock in the morning,” laughed a voice quietly, and Jungkook craned his head upwards to see Jimin seated at the foot of the bed, carefully wiping Jungkook down to clear him of the last gross stickiness from his heat. “As soon as we heard your heat broke we insisted on coming to see you.” “He saved my life,” Jungkook said quietly, staring fondly down at the Beta, sleeping soundly on him, soft and sweet. “He was really great, Jimin.” “I know.” Jimin smiled, a warmth and pride glowing in his eyes. He crawled up the bed until he was at Jungkook’s side, opposite where Taehyung’s bottom hung off the new Omega. He leaned forward until his nose touched against Jungkook’s, a grateful smile fluttering across his face as the Omega reciprocated with a little reassuring nudge of his own. “I’m glad you’re okay. We were so worried.” “I’m sorry,” Jungkook said quietly. “I really didn’t mean--” “Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone was quietly commanding. “I’m serious. Next time, just ask if you need something, okay?” And Jungkook didn’t have the heart to tell Jimin that it was definitely something he had had to do on his own, that it wasn’t something Namjoon or Yoongi or Jimin could have fixed for him. It was something utterly within himself, but connected to Seokjin irrevocably, like a lighthouse beacon searching. Jungkook looked toward the cabin doorway, and Seokjin was standing there, watching them. He was leaned up against the wall just next to the doorjamb, his arms crossed in an almost uncomfortable looking gesture. Jungkook’s eyes widened as he took in the fact that Seokjin was wearing his outdoor jacket and a black baseball cap, and he looked strained, almost preoccupied. Jungkook’s stomach dropped to the floor in dread. “Seokjin? Why are you all the way over there? Come here.” Seokjin bit his bottom lip a little. The Alpha had underestimated how powerfully the sight of the innocent-looking morning face the Omega always seemed to bear could affect him, but he had needed to wait for Jungkook to wake. He deserved that much. But looking at Jungkook’s parted lips and smelling his Scent from even across the room, soft and comforting, was making him lose stamina and willpower fast. He didn’t have much time. He swallowed roughly, arms crossed tightly over his chest and his hands tightly clenched at his forearms in an attempt to distract himself from the now painful heat in his groin. This wasn’t going to be easy. He parted his lips to speak, but Taehyung woke first. “Jungkookie, you’re awake!” the Beta cried out sleepily, attempting to jump forward to deepen the hug but not getting very far with one arm, wriggling like a playful pup. “I’m so glad! We missed you!” “Tae-Tae,” Jungkook breathed - or attempted to, pinned as he was. “Thank you, for saving me, and for… you know. Everything.” “Of course,” Taehyung said quietly, and he laid his forehead against Jungkook’s, nuzzling in. Seokjin’s gut clenched with a plethora of emotions, the most prominent and painful being self-doubt, and bit his lip, saying nothing. He knew better than that. Something in his silence seemed to draw Jungkook’s attention again, and this time the boy looked as though he wouldn’t be deterred. “Seokjin? Why are you all the way over there?” His eyes seemed to be measuring the distance between Seokjin and the edge of the bed with a pointed glance. Jungkook’s tone rose in an almost accusatory tone - almost . The kid knew him a little too well now, in the worst ways. “I’m glad your heat broke, “ Seokjin managed, surprised by how thick and strained his voice already was. “Why are you so far away?” Jungkook pressed. “Why aren’t you the one taking care of me? Jin, what happened!?” “Jungkook, calm down,” Jimin murmured, pressing the freshened cloth to his cheek, but Jungkook brushed it away with the tips of his fingers so he could meet Seokjin’s eyes, already seeing the resolve written in the older Alpha’s eyes - and that was what had him panicking. “Jin...J-Jin come over here,” Jungkook’s voice softened, worried and needy, and... shit. Seokjin really wanted to indulge him, to comfort him. But he knew that once he was in that bed with him, his oncoming rut would take control. “Jungkook, listen. Last night, you were really in a vulnerable place, you know? Heats and hormones, they can fuck with your head, trust me, I know. So if you feel differently after today, I wouldn’t blame you at all.” “Don’t fucking m-mess with me, Seokjin,” Jungkook said, tears starting to form in his eyes, his lips trembling so delicately. Every instinct in the Alpha’s body was screaming for him to go to his side, to embrace him and tell him it was all going to be simple from here on out. But Jungkook, exhausted from his post-heat, hadn’t woken up when Seokjin had been jolted out of his sleep at 3am by an overwhelming lust-inducing rut that was the worst Seokjin had ever experienced. Jungkook didn’t know the disgust Seokjin had felt towards himself with the realization of how easy it would have been to demand from Jungkook at his most pliable point. And Seokjin knew that he would never be able to stop or be satisfied with a handjob under the blankets. He knew himself too well by now. “Jungkook,” he said quietly, taking in a long, shallow breath to steady himself. “I have to leave for a little while. I’m sorry.” “But why ? Why now?!” “I broke my promise to Namjoon. Already I’ve crossed more lines than I can count.  I disobeyed his orders when we needed to work as one pack the most, and I challenged his authority. I even attacked them…” Seokjin said quietly. He knew that a lot of that had been his Alpha hyper-reacting to all the Omega heat hormones he had directly exposed himself to, but still. Seokjin didn’t see that as an excuse. Hormones weren’t a place to hide behind anymore. He didn’t intend to tell Jungkook that Namjoon had already forgiven him, because it didn’t matter. “That’s bullshit,” Jungkook whispered, and Jimin looked up at the Omega in surprise at how forward he was being. “That’s not why you’re leaving. You’re running away again.” Seokjin inhaled sharply. Jungkook’s words weren’t even loudly or harshly spoken, but they cut through the air like a knife. He wasn’t going to make this any easier for either of them, because he didn’t understand anything. “Jungkook, I already feel bad for pressing you forward before you’re ready. I...I know what it’s like to get wrapped up in hormones and think something is what you want.” Jungkook’s eyes flashed, and two twin tears fell down his cheeks in silent, frustrated fury. “Fucking hell, I already told you --” “Okay, okay,” he gestured for the Omega to calm down, as he had started to sit up roughly from the bed, almost dislodging Taehyung unceremoniously. Protectively, Jimin nudged Taehyung into a sitting position over on his side, his hand resting on the Beta’s forearm, demurely trying to shield his elbow. “Let’s just assume for a moment that you are ready. That you are sure. Even so, I need to leave. I need to figure out something from the past before I can move forward 100% with you. It’s just not fair to you if we do this now. Okay?” “But why can’t you just tell me and we can deal with it together? Why won’t you let me help?” Seokjin gave a grimace, trying to even imagine Jungkook having to face the Alpha’s demons, of having to deal with a side of him that was anything but gentle and protective. He imagined the looks of disgust and disbelief that would inevitably follow, the denial. No, he couldn’t do that to Jungkook. His baggage was his own, and forcing that onto Jungkook would just pull him, the one piece of hope he had to cling to, into that spiral. “Even if you think you’re ready, Jungkook, I don’t think I am. I’m sorry.” “That isn’t fair!” Jungkook cried petulantly. Seokjin just helplessly shrugged, turning to open the door. Jungkook roughly tossed the sheets aside, scrambling to his feet despite Taehyung and Jimin trying to cling to his arms and hold him back, telling him  he shouldn’t be out of bed yet. Seokjin inhaled, and it was a mistake. Jungkook’s anger seeped thick, defensive Omega Scent filling the room, and the once-comforting salt and leather was now a torment. Like a punch to the groin, he felt the heavy, mindless arousal, making him want to double over, but the only outward sign he showed was the nervous biting of his lip and the tenseness in his shoulders, which Jungkook took as a silent challenge, or a possible opening. “Why won’t you trust me!? I’m not a baby you have to protect, I’m a full-grown wolf, too!” Jungkook planted his feet in front of the Alpha, his eyes flashing blue as he frowned, seemingly unaware of his own aura. “ Look at me ! Why won’t you look at me!?” He reached out and roughly grabbed Seokjin’s collar, meaning to pull him down a little so that their eyes would meet, but Seokjin let out a shout, pushing him away with a snarl that was aimed more at himself than at the Omega. Wide-eyed, Jungkook got tipped off balance, making him stumble backwards into the ladder of the other bunk bed. He stared at Seokjin in surprise, questions in his eyes. “Seokjin, why do you…? You smell….” Jungkook’s mouth dropped open a little, and Seokjin’s neck flushed with heat as he knew the ruse was up. “You’re in a rut. My heat pushed you into your rut, didn’t it?” Seokjin swallowed heavily, shifting his weight from foot to foot in an attempt to alleviate the aching in his crotch. It wasn’t easy when a solution - the solution - was right in front of him, flushed from sleep and deeply inhaling his Scent with a dizzying expression. Jungkook leaned forward and shoved roughly at Seokjin’s chest, making his shoulders thud against the cabin wall. “You asshole. You helped me with my heat. Why can’t I help you?!” Fresh tears were cascading down his cheeks, his face now crumpled in despair and flushing with shame. Seokjin was painfully aware of Taehyung and Jimin, quietly watching from the bottom bunk. “I asked you to help me, but you’re just running away again. If it’s not me, then who is it? Who is gonna help you through your rut, Seokjin?! Is that where you’re going?!” “Jungkook, just--just SHUT UP , okay!?” Seokjin exploded, clenching his hands around his ears as each tremulous quivering of Jungkook’s voice, each fearful, accusatory exhale was setting him on fire from the inside out. Every defensive movement Jungkook made just made his Alpha demand to reach out to him, to protect him from whatever was causing his panic and stress, but it was Seokjin himself doing the damage. He opened his eyes after a moment, panting heavily through the intoxicating Scent of Jungkook, and frowned at the way Jungkook had stilled. He had sucked in his lips until they almost disappeared, as though to bite back any further accusations, but his eyes still gleamed and burned with equal parts melancholy and bitterness. He looked small and he looked hurt. Seokjin’s head tilted to the side, blinking heavily as he felt his own eyes starting to sting. But somehow he had to be the strong one here. He ran his teeth across his bottom lip, collecting himself before he finally looked back at Jungkook, meeting his eyes squarely even though it made even his bone marrow seem to ache. “Look, Jungkook. I understand. I do. But you have to let me do this. When I come back, I’ll do my best to explain everything, okay?” When Jungkook released his lips from their prison they instantly started to quiver violently again, against his will. “You will come back, right? I mean..” He narrowed his eyes, and he sounded heartbroken as he fearfully asked, “You do know, right, Jin?”  You know that it’s gotta be you, right?   You know that I love you, right?  Seokjin gave a sad little smile. He decided to risk stepping over to close the gap a little between them. It was his turn to take the risk at moving a little closer anyways, right? And he cupped Jungkook’s cheek in his wide palm. “Yes, I know.” “And you believe me, right?” A sigh escaped him, and his thumb wiped away at some of the tears on Jungkook’s cheek, making the Omega bite at his lip again. “That’s exactly why I’m going, Jungkook. Because I really, truly want to believe you.” Jungkook blinked up at him for a moment, sniffing noisily as he straightened his shoulders. “But why can’t you just stay here and let us figure it out together?” Seokjin grimaced again, shaking his head. “Jin…” Jungkook whimpered, watching him as he went towards the door. “Jin!” “I’ll be back when I can, I promise,” Seokjin said, refusing to look over his shoulder again this time. Even still, he heard Jungkook’s feet shuffling on the floor, starting slowly after him. He was halfway out the door when Jungkook let out the most pitiful whine, like a pup that had just been kicked. It felt like a stab right into his chest, and it was already hard enough to breathe. “I’m gonna wait for you to come back, Jin! I already chose you! Do you hear me?!” Seokjin closed the door with a soft click, and he heard the low murmur of Taehyung and Jimin moving in to comfort. But just when he thought he was safe, standing outside the cabin, he heard Jungkook scream out, “ JIN! I’m waiting, so hurry back, goddamn it! ” He blinked away the tears, wiping roughly at his face with his sleeve and letting them fall rampant, now that he didn’t have to hold back. When he let out a sigh and finally lifted his head to walk away, his backpack already waiting next to the door, and he saw Yoongi standing ankle-deep in the snow, staring at him. He didn’t say a word, just watching the Alpha with his narrow, fox-like eyes boring into him like daggers. Without speaking, Seokjin could already feel the oppressive weightiness of his disapproval. “You’re bailing on him now,” Yoongi murmured, “When you should be trying to communicate.” If Seokjin hadn’t been as observant as he was, he would have written off the ambiguous tone as meaning that Yoongi was almost asking a question. But he knew better. He shouldered his backpack, frowning as he stepped forward. “I have to deal with my past before I can even think of a future right now,” Seokjin mumbled, “To be honest, it wasn’t that long ago I didn’t even think a future was possible, so I just have to--” Yoongi hand drew back, a strained grimace on his face as he sent his fist heavily forward to make contact with Seokjin’s jaw, nearly bowling him over in surprise. His hand flew to the tingling skin, goosebumps of alarm rising all over his body as he gaped at the Omega in surprise. “I told you not to fucking half-ass things, Kim Seokjin,” Yoongi snarled. “You better get your shit together fast or I swear I’ll make good on that threat to string you up by your balls from a tree. That’s your future mate in there but that’s our pup. Don’t fucking forget it.” Seokjin let out a shuddering breath, keeping his hand held against his cheek as he strode past Yoongi, ducking his head against the wind that was blowing flakes up out of the deepening snow drifts. He was determined. As soon as he could, he would come back. He would come back whole and healthy and ready to do Jungkook’s sincerity justice. But at the moment, that felt a long, long way off. ~~~~~ “Are we ready?” Namjoon called out for the nth time, pressing his thick-rimmed glasses a little higher up on the bridge of his nose. His breath rose in front of him in a thick, white puff as he smiled over at the youngest three pups, where they were adjusting the fake flowers tied to the white wooden arbor they had set up in the middle of the camp. It was a pretty little arch, several inches taller than Namjoon but just wide enough for two people to stand comfortable in, width-wise, and the lattice had been woven with plastic green vines dotted with yellow flowers they had brought at a home décor department store, but it looked pretty against the snow. “Just about!” Jimin chirruped, straightening up and almost bumping into Taehyung’s chest with his head, as the Beta had been reaching over Jimin to adjust a flower arranged higher up on the latticework. It hadn’t worked well, trying to do it with one hand, but he had managed. “I’m glad it’s a bit warmer today, at least.” “Yeah,” Taehyung grumbled. “It’s still freezing though. How long will the ceremony take, again?” “We’re doing it pretty traditional, so we’ll be out here about 20 minutes, is all? Then Hoseok and Yoongi will go on their hunt, and we are free to do whatever, while they take care of the rest.” “‘The rest,’” Taehyung said, a bit of teasing to his tone as he rolled his eyes back and smirked, the expression suggestive enough to make Jimin smack lightly at his good shoulder. But that only made him release a deep, throaty chuckle. “ Really, TaeTae?” Jimin rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s go get the others and help them finish making up all that food that Hoseok and Yoongi won’t even enjoy.” They started to head off, but Jimin paused when he noticed that Jungkook wasn’t moving to follow, his solemn attention still on the yellow flowers he was adjusting above his head. He saw Namjoon wave the other two to go on ahead, and he frowned, not looking forward to another lecture about how he was ‘young’ and ‘had options’ or ‘just needed to have patience.’ “Jungkook?” Namjoon said lowly, standing at his side with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Are you doing okay?” Jungkook frowned more deeply, not wanting to grace the dumb question with an answer. But this was Namjoon, his lead Alpha. He shook his head, hating the way his throat already felt thick and weighed down, tensing up with emotion. Namjoon’s soft hand dropped onto Jungkook’s shoulder, squeezing a little in reassurance. Silence enveloped them, and Jungkook knew that Namjoon was debating how much to say or not say. Honestly, he was in a bad mood so he felt like telling the leader to just give up and not put in the effort,because it wouldn’t do much good to lift his spirits just then. He was unbelievably happy for Yoongi and Hoseok’s special day, of course. But that didn’t exactly erase the way his lungs felt as if they had been in a vice for the two days Seokjin had been gone. When he had finally been allowed to go back out on a hunt, a part of him had secretly hoped that Seokjin would be out there, the white wolf sitting at the edge of one of the clearings, watching solemnly and waiting for Jungkook to come to him at last. “He’s not on the island anymore, you know,” Namjoon said quietly, as if reading Jungkook’s thoughts. “But he knows we’ll be heading back to the house in a few days.” “Did he tell you he’d meet us there?!” Jungkook perked up instantly, his tone demanding and desperate, and Namjoon frowned at the sound in disapproval. Jungkook’s momentary lift wilted just as quickly as it had blossomed. “Jungkook,” Namjoon said after a long moment. “I think there’s something you should know. Now, to be honest, Seokjin made me promise not to tell you, but… considering the circumstances, I don’t think it’s right to keep it from you any longer.” The Omega looked up, eyes wide, wondering if this was it, this was the thing that was keeping him and Seokjin apart with no decent explanation. “You understand about Claiming now, right?” Jungkook tilted his head to the side, a little confused. “Um, I guess? It’s a verbal contract with a pack leader, like a pre-betrothal. But it can be broken, and other packs don’t have to honor it, because it’s not a Mating.” His brow furrowed, and he glared at the ground as though the face he saw in his mind was now in front of him. “ Jae said Seokjin had Claimed me, but even if he had, he wasn’t going to let it stop him.” Jungkook frowned deeper, a thought that had been turning in his head like an over-flipped pancake came to the forefront of his mind, and he lifted his eyes to Namjoon. “But if Claims are just verbal agreements, then how could Jae smell that on me? He was wrong, of course, but why did he think that?” Namjoon gave a little smile, patting Jungkook’s hair and ruffling it a little as his lips seemed to stretch proudly across his face. “You’re the Golden Maknae after all. The reason he thought that, to be frank, is because of the way Seokjin Scented you.” Jungkook’s body flushed with an embarrassed heat as he realized everyone in the pack must have known by now that Seokjin had Scented him, must have had at least some idea of what had gone down in the cabin that night, and based on the way it had been phrased, it wasn’t a normal Scenting. “There’s different levels of Scenting,” Namjoon said quietly, his teaching voice smoothly sliding in. “You know there’s a difference between the way I would Scent you and the way Jimin Scents you. The smell goes deeper in certain Scentings, lingers longer, has a different aura or flavor. There’s Scenting you do with your mother and Scenting you do with your pack, or your friends...and then there’s the Scenting you only do with a mate.” Jungkook’s eyebrows arched. Namjoon pinched his lips together as if to punctuate the sentence with a ‘Well…?’ kind of unspoken suggestion. “But Seokjin’s not my mate. He hasn’t Claimed me. Is that why he felt guilty? For Scenting me like that?” Namjoon’s lips pressed more tightly, and Jungkook felt like he wasn’t getting it, and it frustrated him. “ What!? ” “That’s... part of it, Jungkook. It’s not typical to go that far without having Scented more casually before. In addition…” Namjoon paused, meeting Jungkook’s eyes squarely, “In addition , Jungkook. Jae might have been jumping to conclusions, but he wasn’t wrong.” “Wrong about what?” Namjoon let out a little sigh, rubbing his hand over his eyes and then matching their gazes again. “Jungkook, Seokjin has Claimed you.” Jungkook’s jaw dropped slack, his lips parting in surprise. “W-what?! Since when?” The lead Alpha gave a sharp inhale, working his thick lips for a moment before responding. “Since about two days after he moved into the pack house. He came to me and asked if he could Claim you, because otherwise he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, he was getting so paranoid of another pack member moving in before he was ready to make his move.” Jungkook’s eyes fluttered in surprise, and he finally got himself to blink properly and take in air. “W-wait, how can he Claim me without my knowing? And how could he have done it so soon? Why didn’t anyone tell me?!” Namjoon raised his hands to quiet the Omega, shushing him gently. “Listen, no one else knew. Not even Kiara knew, until last night. Yoongi realized it while we were tending to your heat. Seokjin begged me not to tell anyone unless absolutely necessary. And that’s why I decided to tell you, Jungkook. I may be the lead Alpha, but Seokjin is also my older brother, and one of my best friends. It’s not my place to tell you everything I know, but….but this, I think you should know.” A moment of tense silence passed between them, and Jungkook squared his shoulders, preparing himself. Namjoon was essentially offering a little explanation, which could mean turmoil or some peace of mind. Jungkook wasn’t sure which, but he was willing to take the risks, at this point. “Okay, shoot.” “He knew you weren’t Presented yet, he knew there was an age gap that you may have had a problem with, that’s the simple stuff,” Namjoon began slowly. “But the main reason he didn’t want you to know is because Seokjin has been through a lot when it comes to ‘Alpha roles’ and ‘Omega roles’ and the way people let those unwritten rules control their lives.” Namjoon took in a slow breath, a sad little smile coming to his lips. “The reason he didn’t want to tell you, Jungkook, is because my brother is a deadass romantic at heart. He didn’t want you to accept his Claim because he’s an Alpha, he wanted you to fall in love with him , Kim Seokjin as himself, not Seokjin the Alpha.” Jungkook stared down at the snow, his eyes wide and his world seeming to tilt a little to the side, giving him vertigo. When he said nothing, Namjoon continued, “That’s the only reason I allowed him to have a Claim - even though it was a tentative one - without telling you, until he was ready to talk to you about it. We agreed that the Claim would be considered broken if you tried to Claim anyone else. It’s still in place now, as far as I’m concerned. But if you say the word I’ll consider it broken, and you can move on from it with no hard feelings.” He paused, seeing the way Jungkook’s jaw tensed even at the mere suggestion. “But based on what I hear, that’s the last thing you want, right? In all honesty, Seokjin and I thought you had another two years before we even had to deal with any of this. But either you sped it up with your little underwear stunt--” Jungkook winced. “-- Or ...there’s something else going on here, which I don’t quite understand yet. I have a few theories, but… I don’t think that’s the main point right now. My whole point is…” He clapped his hand back on Jungkook’s shoulder, thudding it down roughly and squeezing the Omega’s shoulder, staring in his eyes with a hard, meaningful look. “My brother loves you, Jungkook. He may have his head up his ass right now, which is something he’s good at, and I’ll never really understand him, but that’s one thing I don’t doubt. You should have seen how messed up he was, the day he came to see me, begging me to let him Claim you... I’ve never seen him that upset, that emotional.” It was hard to picture in his head when he tried to imagine it, an overly emotional Seokjin. Seokjin was the one who was always calm or quiet, playful or withdrawn. Silly or studious. He didn’t seem the type to get overwhelmed by much of anything. It was something that, in a weird way, Jungkook really wanted to see. He wanted to see Seokjin completely unwound and unrestrained. He wanted past the walls and hesitation. And at this point, he was about two pregnant pauses away from just taking a jackhammer to the damn wall and calling it a day. “You okay?” Namjoon queried, leaning down into Jungkook’s view. Jungkook nodded, sniffling heavily and wiping at his eyes. “Yeah, yes. I’m okay. Thank you, Namjoon.” “Just do your best, alright? Things will work out, one way or another. I don’t know where it will end up, but I know that much, at least.” He patted Jungkook’s shoulder one last time. “I’m going to go inside and get the others to come out, it’s well past the scheduled time. But you come to me if you have any questions, okay?” Jungkook nodded, sniffling a little more as he watched the Alpha trudge off into the snow toward the Main Hall, where faint ghosts of laughter and voices could be heard from inside. Jungkook turned and stared up at the arbor, at its pretty (but fake) flowers, misplaced in the wrong season but still looking realistic enough to work for what they needed for today. He thought they made a lovely contrast, and he wished Seokjin was there. He would probably pluck one off and tuck it behind his ear, posing dramatically to be funny but still looking unfairly fresh and handsome as he laughed with Jungkook, shoving one of the plastic buds in the younger’s face. With a slow swallow, Jungkook pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. For once, he actually had a bar of signal on the island, so he decided it must have been a sign. He opened the front face camera, angling it so that his upturned face showed, surrounded by the yellow flowers and the snow in the background. It was a colorful mix of his pink cheeks, brown eyes, yellow petals and white flakes. He threw up a solemn peace sign, curving the corners of his lips up in a bit of a melancholic smile as he took the picture. He added the caption and sent it before he could hesitate and regret it.  The ceremony is going to be really pretty - wish you were here with us. Please hurry home.  He glanced back up at the photo in their private chat. In all honesty he thought he looked pretty nice in the photo, so he hoped it made Seokjin happy. He scrolled up a little and saw that their last messages had been when Seokjin had gone to the store to get bread, and asked Jungkook if he wanted some ‘special surprise bread’ as a private treat for the two of them. He smiled a little, and pocketed his phone just as the Main Hall door opened, and the rest of the pack tumbled out in a noisy gaggle. Most of them were in their matching thermal pack jackets, but Yoongi was dressed in a suit that was all black from head to toe, a cross necklace dangling from his neck and a nervous pinch to his lips as his eyes seemed to dance. Hoseok followed close behind, wearing a bishop-sleeved white button-up with a silky black vest over top, an eggshell white scarf tied elegantly at his neck. They both looked amazing but they were already shivering violently by the time they went to their positions, standing facing each other about three feet in front of the arbor, smiling shyly at each other and glancing down at their feet in the pressed snow. Namjoon stood just through the arbor, and Kiara stood waiting at a small folding table they had set up, upon which stood two matching wine glasses. The others stood numbly in front of Hoseok and Yoongi, shifting in the snow and making soft crunching noises. Jungkook glanced over at Jimin and murmured, “Is this like some old tradition from the wolf ancestry side or something?” Jimin shook his head, smirking at Jungkook in such a lovingly condescending way that Jungkook wanted to shove him in the shoulder. “No, this isn’t a wolf ceremony. This is purely for the human side. Wolves don’t hold ceremonies.” Jungkook just nodded, confused why any of it was necessary at all.But the couple of the day looked happy enough, even as their teeth had started to chatter, so he wasn’t going to argue. Namjoon started in on an elaborate and elegant speech about the beauty of winter and the fittingness of having the ceremony on a day so close to the anniversary of the day they’d met. He even made a few halfway decent jokes about Hoseok’s wilder college days, which were interesting enough, but Jungkook was starting to notice Yoongi’s lips turning a little purple from the cold. Kiara gave Namjoon a warning glance, and he wrapped it up after a few more minutes. “And that’s the power of communication, showing that despite how different we may be from each other, that has no bearing on whether or not we can make things work, which is an inspiring and hopeful sign to us all. But without further ado, I, as leader of Bangtan pack, would like to begin the proceedings. The wine..?” Kiara stepped forward, handing each of them a glass of the red wine. Hoseok and Yoongi had barely broken eye contact the entire time, and even now, they held their glasses delicately and their gazes hard, barely seeming to breathe. It felt like almost too intimate a moment for them all to be standing there, watching. “Jung Hoseok, Min Yoongi, may your blood always run together, your battles be side-by-side, your paths continue as parallels and your dreams align with your realities. With all the blessings in my heart, I now pronounce you Mates.” As Namjoon said these last few words, Hoseok and Yoongi moved forward a little, linking their arms around each other and slowly tipping their wine glasses back, still not breaking that intimate-feeling eye contact as they drank. When they finished the glasses, Hoseok licked his lips a little, and Yoongi suddenly bolted forward, catching Hoseok’s mouth with his own. Their arms still awkwardly entangled, he pressed the Alpha backwards, making him giggle and his bright, wide teeth flickering into view between them as Yoongi continued pushing forward, tilting his head and catching Hoseok into a kiss that was not what one would call chaste, but was nonetheless just as moving. Everyone clapped, and then started to disperse.They were almost back to the Main Hall and Jungkook glanced over his shoulder, seeing that they were still entangled. Jimin chuckled, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and tugging him along. “It’s interesting,” Jimin was saying to Taehyung as they walked along together. “Yoongi must have asked Namjoon to drop the line where he says ‘Allowing your true Alpha to take you as his.’” “Well, to be honest, I don’t see much need to say that, anyways. It doesn’t really match how things work nowadays, it’s kind of old-fashioned, don’t you think?” Taehyung said with a shrug. “I mean, I guess. I never really thought about it that much,” Jimin murmured thoughtfully. “Does that mean you would want him to cut it out, too?” Taehyung smirked, “Are you already talking about our Mating Day, cute little Jiminie?” “Don’t call  me cute like that!” Jimin laughed, but he flushed as though he was pleased as he jutted his hip playfully against the gangly Beta. “Just answer the question.” “Mm… sure, I don’t see any reason to keep it in. So that works for me, as long as you don’t mind.” “I’ll have to think about it,” Jimin said in a tease. Jungkook was still glancing over his shoulder, where Hoseok and Yoongi had shifted, Scenting deeply into each other’s fur in a way he’d never seen before. He was so enthralled by the sight that he didn’t even notice the brief peck Taehyung tilted his head down to plant on Jimin’s mouth, nor did he hear the ensuing giggle. As he watched,  Hoseok gave a spine-chilling howl and led the way off into the woods, Yoongi following at his side. Powdery snow kicking up behind them like a dust cloud, there was the elegant stretching of grey limbs over the dip of the little hill, and then they vanished into the depths of the silent woods. It would be their first hunt as official Mates, and most likely none of the pack would see them for the next couple of days. Traditionally, he had been told a new Mating involved staying on a two to three day hunt, where they would consummate the Mating alone after their first kills.  “However,” Yoongi had explained, “We’re not barbarians anymore, and while I have my quirks and kinks, getting buck naked in the snow is not among them, so we’ll probably do our hunt proper, and then use the hyung cabin for the next couple of days. That’s why Namjoon and Kiara’s beds are moved to the Main Hall for now.”  “Jungkook, are you coming?” Jimin called from the doorway to the Main Hall, where a celebratory feast was waiting. “Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Jungkook said quietly, waving Jimin on. The Alpha gave him a skeptical look, but followed Taehyung inside nonetheless, where the Beta was already whooping and in the same breath bemoaning that he only had one hand to shove food into his mouth with. On the front porch, Jungkook pulled his cell phone back out, seeing that it had no signal. He lifted it in a vague gesture of hope for a momentary signal, and to his surprise, he got it (well, after almost ten minutes and trying several different positions on the porch, to be fair). He opened his chat with Seokjin, and saw that the message had been read. He sent another one, at least comforted to know he was able to read them.  The ceremony just ended. They’re off on their hunt now, so we’re going to eat. Are you hungry?  He sent the message, one arm craned awkwardly over towards the abandoned bird’s nest tucked under the cabin awning, and a little trace of a smile lit up his face when it was marked as read, too. Where ever he was in that moment, Seokjin was at least still taking the time to check for word from him. It was a silly thing, probably, but it was still comforting to know they had a little connection, a little lifeline, still.  “My whole point is, my brother loves you, Jungkook.”  He smiled at his phone, closing his eyes and sending up a little prayer of thanks, then went inside to join the others. ~~~~~ The cabin was dark, save for the little glow of the space heater that was warm and red and - okay, not quite as romantic as a fireplace, but they were taking what they could get. Hoseok had his arms planted on either side of Yoongi, both of their chests covered in sweat. There were countless marks riddled up their bodies like a music staff dotted with notes, a strange pink and purple melody that twisted as they breathed. “Yoongi,” Hoseok gasped, bending down to press his lips to Yoongi’s cheek, then nibbling at his jaw with his powerful and memorable teeth - they had marked Yoongi up more times that night than he could count. “Are you ready?” “Yes,” Yoongi said quietly. His head was spinning wildly like a top, and he couldn’t really see straight because Hoseok had ensured that Yoongi had come three times already that night. But he knew it was the right time. “May I?” “Yes,” Yoongi breathed, tilting his jaw back and willingly exposing his neck to his mate. They had talked about this night in detail before, but of course some things hadn’t been exactly as planned. But one thing Yoongi had agreed to was to let Hoseok mark him first. It was part of their attempt at power balance, their way of maintaining their identities in some fashion as Alpha and Omega beyond the unconventionality, and Yoongi had been the one to offer the idea first.  ‘There are lots of Alpha things you’ll never quite be able to do because of being with me,’ Yoongi had said, ‘I should at least let you be the one to start Mating us.’   ‘I’m not missing out on anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Hoseok had beamed, all smile and warmth as he nuzzled in close. ‘But I would be honored to Mate you first.’  Hoseok leaned down, pressing his nose to the scent gland on Yoongi’s neck, the little patch of skin rising and falling quickly with his uneven breaths. He inhaled deeply, making Yoongi wriggle beneath him and relinquish a little moan. Hoseok took his time, pressing delicate kisses to his neck, his jaw, his shoulder, until Yoongi reached up and gripped roughly at his forearm in impatient warning. Hoseok smiled into Yoongi’s pale skin, his own Scent now dotted across Yoongi’s body in hazy little clouds. With a little moan of anticipation, Hoseok opened his mouth, biting down directly onto Yoongi’s scent gland, breaking the skin there as Yoongi cried out, his body worked into a frenzy to the very edges of his frayed, happy nerves. He screamed, the sound strangled into a moan of pleasure as Hoseok’s Alpha meshed with Yoongi’s Omega, harsh and opposing, then sweet and addicting. Their Scents changed for a moment, into a sensory experience that went beyond explanation. Once he could breathe again, Yoongi grabbed rough hold of Hoseok’s neck, yanking him downward and catching him in a rough bite that wasted no time in penetrating him deeper, making Hoseok actually weep as he trembled into Yoongi’s arms. Easily, Hoseok jutted his hips down against the Omega, and they came in a slow, quiet rhythm that lasted so long and deep within their bones that Yoongi thought he had actually stopped breathing for a minute. He sighed, his eyes rolled back into his head as his back lifted into a graceful arc, taking in Hoseok on so many different levels that the world, for a moment, was one large, chaotic,beautiful metaphor until their trembling started to still. “I love you,” Yoongi gasped, pressing rough, fumbling, teeth-lined kisses to the apples of Hoseok’s cheeks. Somewhere in between his blissful sobs, Hoseok said the same, curling up against Yoongi’s broad shoulder. As the little trickles of blood dried down their necks, the scent of earth and vanilla remained steady, like a distant drumbeat. It would never fully segregate again. ~~~~~ Seokjin stared at the black wrought iron gate, considering it for a moment. A few years back, there had definitely been more green and less fence in this, his favorite park near his family home, but things were always in flux, weren’t they? Everything liked to change on him, and life was just about keeping up. With a little shrug, Seokjin went over to the neglected and dying plum tree that hung over the fence, using the residual climbing skills from his childhood to make it onto the other side, dropping into the soft grass amidst the darkness. He’d come out all this way for a midnight walk in a nostalgic place, and by god, he was gonna do it. Seokjin took his cellphone out of his pocket, moving to turn the flashlight app on to light his way. About twenty yards in there was a desolate and bug-infested streetlight that buzzed even more than the insects around it and flickered threateningly, but it would do. Seokjin sat in the little painted bench at the edge of the pond and stared down into its murky waters. Green algae floated at the top, and weeds of some sort grew at the edges. He heard a very loud and stubborn frog somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t quite place the sound. Seokjin leaned back against the park bench with a sigh, looking up at the night sky for a few moments. He had been wearing the same thick black jacket for the last week, with the same gray sweater he’d worn the day he left the camp...and Jungkook. Seokjin rubbed at his eyes, able to feel the velvety softness of the skin underneath where bags had been forming. To call it insomnia was to oversimplify it. Some days he could barely walk from the throbbing pain, and nothing was bringing him relief. He had even gone to a specialist to get suppressants, hoping that they would alleviate some of the ache that not having Jungkook near was causing, but they had made him vomit and then lost their effectiveness. He was nearing his wit’s end, and he was no closer to any answers, despite his self-inflicted punishment. Jolting him out of the quiet, Seokjin’s phone suddenly went off with a notification, and he turned on the lockscreen to see another message from Jungkook himself. He opened it with a hungry fervor, eager to see what he was up to, now that it was this late in the evening. Earlier that day he had gone to see a movie with Namjoon, since ‘Kiara is at home preparing for pups and the other couples are out doing couple-y things.’ and he had whined more about the amount of syrup used in the soda fountain than he had detailed anything actually important - like the name of the movie. Seokjin had actually smiled at his eagerness, reading and re-reading the messages a thousand times each, as each character and every gentle emoticon watered the blooming hope buried in his chest. This time, instead of just a text message, Jungkook had sent another selca. It was obviously in his little fort under the table, and he was lying on his pillow staring up at the camera, wearing a gray jersey and with a soft, sleepy pout on his face.  I’m sleepy. My exam is in the morning but I barely studied. Lol Come home soon.  Seokjin felt that usual painful stab into his chest every time he read the oft-repeated phrase. The fact that Jungkook called it home was so simplistic, but he felt sure down to his very bones that it was not said flippantly or without purpose. He was so tempted to message back, to tease him for going to a movie when he hadn’t studied properly. To tell him to sleep well. To promise he’d come as soon as he could. His groin clenched painfully, now so tender as to feel like a punch, and he doubled forward, his breath catching a little. He considered using the sent selca to help relieve himself a little, since that worked better than nothing , but he always felt a little guilty afterwards, even though he now knew that Jungkook had done similar… Seokjin sighed, leaning back as the pain started to throb instead of stab, and then nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a branch breaking somewhere near by. A figure was standing directly underneath the flickering street lamp, and Seokjin squinted, trying to calm the break-neck speed at which his heart was pounding in his chest. The figure remained as it was, just watching. Then, the wind shifted, and the scent of honeysuckle washed over him like a warm, familiar memory. Seokjin’s blood ran cold. “Jae, what are you doing here?” he said quietly. The figure stepped towards him, the man wearing a thick leather jacket as he came to stand in front of Seokjin. “You reek of rut so badly I caught it outside the entrance,” Jae said simply. “You should be more careful. You know as well as I do that Omegas aren’t the only ones that can get attacked in desolate areas in the middle of the night.” “You’ve always been a little paranoid,” Seokjin said, then hissed as he had to shift his position on the bench a little. Jae stared down at him, muscles tensing as if wanting to move forward. Then, he decided to stand facing the pond, a few feet away and upwind. “Where’s your little Omega kid, isn’t he supposed to be helping you out with that?” Jae spat out, the bitterness evident. “I figured he wouldn’t be enough, but it doesn’t even smell like he tried. ” “It’s not your business,” Seokjin snapped back, still clutching his lower abdomen and trying to will away the ache. Jae’s presence was certainly not helping any. “Not anymore, at least.” Jae turned around on the spot, and the deep intensity of his eyes, heightened by the orange glow of the streetlamp, took Seokjin’s breath away for a moment, reminding him of why he had been so caught up before. “It didn’t end being ‘my business’ because of me , Seokjin. You were the one that walked away and left me. Yunho has been trying for the last year and a half to find me a mate, but nothing works. Not after you.” Seokjin pressed his lips together, feeling an all-too familiar tightness in his chest. “It was toxic from the beginning, Jae. We were eating each other alive. It wasn’t real .” “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Jae snapped, the gentleness of the past few minutes melting away at the words Seokjin had thrown at him before. “It was fucking real , Seokjin. They just wanted us to think it was fake, because the idea of an Alpha and an Alpha together was something beyond what they knew and were comfortable with. It was real . I loved you. I still love you. If you would just say yes, we could go back, we could do it over and do it right. After all that’s happened, I could convince Yunho that it’ll be okay. Leave the Omega behind, let me fix it for you…” Jae finally, with the aura of a man underwater fumbling for an oxygen tank, fell in front of Seokjin, on his knees on the cold grass as he took Seokjin’s hands in his own. He ran his own long fingers in between Seokjin’s knobbly, crooked ones, pressing kisses to each knuckle, going slower and more sensual each time he did it until he was holding Seokjin’s hand to his mouth, just breathing in the edges of his rut Scent, eyes shut in bliss. “I would help you through the rut,” Jae breathed, clutching the cold, now kiss-peppered hand to his sharp cheekbone, smiling up hopefully at Seokjin. “That’s why you came here and waited, right? You came to see me again, hoping I’d come find you, right? Please , Seokjin. I miss you. It just hurts so much, and I know you’ve been hurting, too. Please, just come back to me.” Seokjin stared down at Jae, his first lover, once his best friend and packmate. He swallowed heavily, staring through the bangs that Seokjin knew without touching were light and soft to the touch, the jawline that was prominent and drawn as if with a knife, the shadows stretched dramatically across his face as he watched Seokjin so intently. “Jin,” Jae exhaled, slipping his hand around Seokjin’s neck and tugging him closer with a firm touch. He pressed a kiss to Seokjin’s cheek, his lips warm and his breath hot. It was harder than Seokjin had anticipated, facing the temptation of the strong and the familiar. Of the indulgent and sweet, sweet Scent of honeysuckle. As Jae leaned in to Scent him, the heady, dizzying sensation reminded Seokjin of the last time he had let himself be held, of the last time he had allowed himself the greediness of a touch heavy with subtext. Another kiss was laid to his skin that didn’t just touch, but tasted , worshipped . He hissed in a breath as Jae suckled at the skin under his jaw, hand tugging roughly at Jin’s hair and rendering him incapable of speaking for several minutes, just wrapped up in the pleasure. “J-Jae,” Seokjin breathed at last, while the Alpha’s hands groped across his skin, starting to peel away the heavy jacket and leaving Seokjin exposed to the freezing night air. “Jae, we can’t do this again. We can’t.” “We’ve both said that so many times.” Jae exhaled, his mouth brushing up against the edge of Seokjin’s lips. “Does it even mean anything at this point?” Seokjin stared at the Alpha before him, offering relief, offering reassurance, offering the known. He was dark and beautiful, and at one word, Jae would willingly become all his once again, both of them on equal ground with the perversion of their souls. “Well, what do you say, my Alpha?” Jae murmured against his skin. Seokjin trembled. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “ “Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been. ” ― Kurt Vonnegut   The sound of laughter surrounded them, young wolves whooping around the campfire, downing cupfuls of cheap alcohol. Seokjin laughed as two of the younger pups tumbled about in the dirt, yipping as they nibbled into each other’s fur. One of them had just Presented last week as an Omega, so he whined about his back still being sore and being tired, much to the teasing of his best friends. Seokjin shook his head, his face flushing from a mixture of the alcohol and laughter as he lingered on the edges of the main circle.   Suddenly, a cool hand was covering his eyes, and a familiar warm voice puffed gleefully in his ear. “Guess who?”   “Jae!” Seokjin laughed, instinctively raising a hand up to lay over Jae’s, his stomach doing a lovely little flip from the touch. Jae had been his best friend since the moment he had joined the Rising Gods pack, and they were together almost constantly. They shared a room in the pack house, they cooked together, cleaned together, played pranks together. It was as if he had found a soulmate. And since Jae was six years older, he had been the most patient and understanding when Seokjin had gone into his first Alpha rut several months before. Being from a Noble family, Seokjin had known exactly what to expect - but experiencing it first hand had been something entirely different, and late nights lying in their bunks talking had felt much more soothing and calming than any hormone suppressant ever could.   “Look! Try it!” Jae was grinning ear to ear, holding out a steaming bowl of some sort of dark liquid that he couldn’t quite identify in the dim light of the campfire. The elder Alpha ran a hand through his blond locks, brushing his bangs back away from his forehead as he pressed the bowl closer to Seokjin.   “What is it?” He wrinkled his nose, peering into the unidentified liquid. It smelled strongly of kimchi, but  he didn’t know if he could trust that.   “Just try it!” he laughed, the sound breathless and breath-taking as he almost fell forward with amusement at Seokjin’s twisted expression of skepticism. “Oh, come on, Jinnie! I made it especially for you! You don’t trust your best friend?” He pouted prettily at Seokjin, tanned skin glowing in the firelight, his jawline and collar barren in his loose black tank top.   “You expect me to just eat something in the dark when I can’t even see it? You think I’m that gullible?!” Seokjin snapped back playfully, widening his eyes as though appalled at the suggestion.   “It’s kimchi jjigae, I swear! I made it for you in the main cabin! You trust my cooking, right? It’s the recipe from my mother that you like.”   Seokjin paused, wrinkling his nose again, but this time it was a sign of his internal debate. “You’re giving me kimchi jjigae you made while super drunk?”   “Seok jiiiiinnie ~” Jae drew out the word in a pitiful, childish whine, leaning his head against Seokjin’s broad shoulder and tilting his head back to look up at the stars above them, so much clearer and easier to see out here than in Seoul. Seokjin held his hands out, cupped underneath because of the nerve-wracking way the jjigae sloshed around in the bowl as Jae moved haphazardly around, afraid the hot liquid would spill into his lap. Jae always got so touchy and needy while drunk, and it was, in all honesty, very cute. His cool looks and appearance hid a playful and fun-loving nature that had made him easy to get close to, and had helped Seokjin warm up to the pack sooner. “You know I could make kimchi jjigae in my sleep! Remember that time I made it when I had that flu? My nose all clogged up and unable to breathe properly?” “Yeah, and you gave every single person the flu, you idiot.”   Jae pouted up at him, tilting his head to meet Seokjin’s eyes, then hesitated. Seokjin could have sworn his gaze had trailed downward, locking in on Seokjin’s lips and refusing to look away. A little shiver of happiness at the attention rolled up Seokjin’s spine, and he purposefully turned to look at the campfire. Jae, however, craned his head over and against Seokjin until he had wriggled his face back into Seokjin’s view.   “Yeah, but that was my bad for believing that old myth that idiots never get sick,” he teased, making Seokjin nudge him roughly with his shoulder, thereby spilling the kimchi jjigae on them both. With a shout and a laugh, they stood up and tried to brush the worst of it off their pants, to no avail. Oh, well. It was almost time to shower and sleep anyways, especially judging by how drunk Jae was. Seokjin could have sworn the man drank like a fish, going through several bottles of soju on his own. He had warned the older man about ruining his liver, but that only caused him to nag Seokjin to match him shot for shot the next time, so he had opted out of teasing him much about it lately.   “Seokjiiiiiin~” Jae whined, pulling his attention back to the present. He was pouting again. “Why won’t you try my jjigae? I made it especially for you. Take it, you’re always hungry. Why don’t you just let me take care of you without being so reluctant for once? Stop being so stubborn about everything.”   “Fine, fine, I’ll eat what’s left of your kimchi jjigae,” Seokjin finally relented with a roll of his eyes, taking the bowl and slipping the silver spoon into the dark soup. Jae watched with a smile on his face as Seokjin blew carefully on the hot liquid, then took a bite. It made him a little nervous, how closely Jae sat and how eagerly he watched every movement Seokjin made, but that had been their way, especially the last few months. They had gotten closer and closer,  until they had a level of skinship that surpassed most of the other pack  members combined. They couldn’t help it - they were both kind of needy.   “How is it?” Jae asked, starting to smirk in a way that normally would have made Seokjin concerned, but he was still quite buzzed himself.   “Mm, it’s delicious!” Seokjin said, more chipper than he intended, because he knew Jae actually really liked to be praised. Then, the tantalizing, warm sensation of the kimchi soup altered, and Seokjin froze, spoon midway to his mouth. Jae started to laugh as the strong, acidic burn of something spicier than he’d ever eaten before suddenly sprung to life, coating his entire mouth and throat with liquid fire. “OH SHIT. WHAT THE FUCK!?” Seokjin fanned frantically at his mouth, as Jae’s breath was utterly taken away in laughter, watching Seokjin’s face turn colors. After Seokjin starting to loudly whine, Jae took him by the hand, abandoning the jjigae with its ghost pepper snuck into it on the bench for some other poor naive soul, and led him back to their cabin. Once there, Jae laughingly helped Seokjin get several glasses of water, even tenderly dabbing at his sweating forehead with a little washrag as Seokjin sucked on a piece of bread, attempting to soak up the burn.   “Your voice was so funny,” Jae teased, “That’s payback for your mayonnaise-yogurt prank from last month.”   “You’re an asshole,” Seokjin whined childishly, pouting up at the elder from where he sat on his bunk. And there it was again, that little crackle of something in the air that Seokjin could only stubbornly attribute to the alcohol’s effect. Jae was staring at his mouth again, this time clearly visible in the bright overhead light of the cabin that was empty and silent, save for the two of them. Jae was staring at him, the smile on his face loosened with inattentiveness as he seemed captivated by something he saw in the younger’s face. “W-what is it?” Seokjin tried to play it off, taking another sip of his water before setting the empty glass on one of the ladder rungs.   Jae seemed to blink back to life, chuckling a little as he pointed at Seokjin’s face. “Your lips are all swollen and red now.”   “That’s your fault,” Seokjin mumbled, pouting. As he did so, Jae seemed overwhelmed with laughter again, and at some point his hand had cupped beneath Seokjin’s chin, tilting his face up so Jae could see the allegedly swollen lips more easily. Then, their eyes met, and Seokjin inhaled a little sharp breath, and the little crackle he had felt between them before seemed to burst open with whatever it had been containing, the gap widening more the longer they stared at each other. Jae’s eyes were angular, all his features sharp and masculine in places where Seokjin’s were softer, something he could only attribute to his still lingering youthfulness. Sometimes, he felt so small and weak with the rest of the pack, and he would have thought he’d feel the same way with the older, handsome, self-assured Alpha. But for some reason, when their gazes met, he saw only fascination there, a curiosity that had been burning for some time, and had been hidden under any available excuse. A thick, intoxicating Scent rose through the cabin, and with a start Seokjin realized it was the smell of honeysuckle and soap, clashing as though fighting for a foothold in dominating the enclosed space.   “Seokjin…?” Jae breathed. And Seokjin then realized that his hand was still cupping the younger’s face, and suddenly a soft thumb was reaching out and grazing across his bottom lip, the full mouth parting slightly in surprise.   “Jae..? I--”   Before he knew it, Jae was bending low onto the bed, pressing his lips roughly onto Seokjin’s. The tingling still lingered on his lips from the spiciness of the pepper, and something in his gut flipped so hard he became dizzy as he felt Jae’s tongue slip out and hungrily run along the length of his lips, eagerly taking in the burning, spice-filled taste of the younger Alpha. Seokjin felt himself being pushed backwards, until he was being laid down across the bed, their feet dangling off the edge and tangling together as Jae tilted his head, his tongue penetrating more deeply into Seokjin’s mouth. An inescapable heat was growing between them, and Seokjin’s hands trembled with nervousness as he gripped his hands into Jae’s hair, uncertainty flowing through up until suddenly Jae pressed his tongue so far into Seokjin’s mouth that he almost choked. He gagged a little in surprise, finding himself shocked to have enjoyed the sensation, and his hands instinctively tugged at Jae’s hair. Instantly, the blond Alpha reacted, moaning loudly into Seokjin’s mouth so much that Seokjin felt it in his bones, tasted it throughout his body, and it became a lovely scent that made his head spin with need. Seokjin tugged harder at Jae’s hair experimentally, thrilled to find the Alpha not pulling away in surprise but instead biting at Seokjin’s lip in retaliation. Seokjin chuckled, his eyes shut as he soaked in the moment of spine-tingling pleasure. Jae grabbed hold of Seokjin’s jaw on either side, pressing his hands in and forcing his head to tilt to the side as he bent low, pressing his nose to Seokjin’s Scent gland and inhaling heavily, Scenting him in a way they had never done before. This wasn’t a playful Scenting when Seokjin wandered past on his way to brush his teeth. This wasn’t a casual Scenting as they sat on the couch talking. This was innately sexual, deep and thrilling in a way he’d never before experienced. Seokjin gasped, his body naturally awash with arousal, and he bucked his hips up into Jae unexpectedly, almost dislodging the Alpha from where he straddled Seokjin to the mattress. When Jae tilted his hips downward, using his weight to pin Seokjin’s slim waist to the bed, Seokjin felt the hot, hardness of his arousal pinning him down, too, and he opened his eyes to see Jae staring down at him, leaning back to watch the man on bottom, his own swollen lips parted as he panted.   “I...I can’t...we can’t do this…” Jae exhaled heavily. “But I can’t explain it. I want you.”   Seokjin stared up at the broken confusion on his best friend’s face. In that moment, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted. It was something he had never allowed himself the full possibility of exploring, of considering. He liked Jae a lot. He trusted him. He looked up to him. Did he want him? His body seemed to think so, especially when the mere hot exhale of Jae’s breath on his cheek as his hand curled to wrap around the back of Seokjin’s neck had him moaning, bucking his hips upwards again. He pulled on the blond, soft locks between his fingers, forcing Jae’s head back down with a cry from the elder as he pressed their lips back together. He felt himself shuffling his legs until his knees had leverage enough to start shifting himself up and down on the mattress, pressed painfully up against Jae as the bed began to creak. Jae leaned back down to continue Scenting Seokjin, abandoning the action after a moment in favor of biting at the milky skin above Seokjin’s collarbone, making him whimper.   A part of him knew that they would regret it in the morning. A part of him also knew that now that they had crossed that threshold, now that they had broken the seal upon on the unsaid, that things would never be the same.   “Oh god, Jae!” ~~~~~ Seokjin panted, the world a dizzying, spinning top as though he were in one of those psychedelic paintings Taehyung had liked to collect as a teenager. He didn’t know when he had ended up straddling Jae’s hips, the Alpha on his back lying in the cold, damp grass.   Jae’s dark eyes flashed up at him, a little ring of red encircling his irises as he fought for air, Seokjin’s thumbs pressing more and more roughly into the sensitive skin of the man’s beautiful, graceful neck. He wanted to mark it up. He wanted to bite, to make it bleed, to dot it with beautiful colors of purple and green and blue. He wanted to taste everything, to make him whimper and wriggle beneath him in a way Seokjin knew he could, had done countless times.   “You always...play so dirty when...you’re rutting,” Jae panted, smirking as his hands fought half-heartedly at Seokjin’s curved fingers, laughing. The vibration played against the skin of his knuckles, making his aching, sore member scream just a little louder. But he saw the look of drugged-out bliss on Jae’s face. And as he froze in place, he remembered all the fights. How Jae’s personality had changed, the longer they had been together, until the smiles had turned into grimaces, the warm, carefree laughter into cackles of self-hatred. He remembered the way the whole pack had turned on them, overturned by their fear of this unknown phenomenon. It hadn’t stayed a secret for long; no amount of playful tumbling and impish nips could explain the coquettish looks they were sharing, or the bruises and cuts that were harder and harder to hide. The most revealing, the most suspicious factor, was the way Seokjin never seemed to be completely free of the lingering trace of Jae’s Scent on him, no matter what he did. He wanted to wear it with pride, he wanted to hold Jae’s hand and reassure him it would all be okay.   But neither of them were the same Alphas they had once been. And in the end, Seokjin had had to be the one to walk away, his ultimatum left unchallenged, and his heart broken.   Seokjin smelled his tears before he felt them, trailing down his cheeks and falling onto Jae’s bare chest, where at some point Seokjin had roughly removed his shirt and thrown it aside. Jae stared up at Seokjin, puzzled and shivering in the cold night air, whimpering as he reached up for Seokjin’s cheeks, brushing away at the tears.   “Jinnie...Seokjinnie, no…” Jae whispered, a gentle huskiness to his voice that sounded like the Jae he had once been, even if Seokjin knew it wasn’t. This was the poisoned Jae, the one that had been called a monster by his own family, protected only by their leader’s pity, which Jae had misunderstood in the way that Jae misunderstood everything now, only seeing and tasting what his Alpha hunger wished for, craved. “Please, don’t leave me. Stay with me, I need you.” Jae tilted his hips up, forcing his body up heavily against Seokjin’s and making the younger fall forward with a loud cry, his body inflamed with sensitivity. “Jinnie, look at you, you’re so beautiful...I want you, please…I need you…”   Seokjin started to gasp, overwhelmed with his rut, telling him to go, to take, to force himself to sink below this whirlpool again. It always felt so good at the time. It was so easy , and familiar. The one thing that had helped him walk away was the realization that Jae’s laugh was gone. That in the process of taking what he wanted, what Jae thought he wanted, he had stolen away the thing that had initially kept his heart warm and safe. No cliff had been steep enough, no bite deep enough, no edge sharp enough, the further they went with each other. Two Alphas, fighting for dominance and intoxicated by the struggle, the fact that there was never much of a clear winner, had poisoned them both until every moment was an exercise in power play, to see who was needier, who was hungrier.   “I..I can’t…” Seokjin wept, forcing himself to sit up, tilting his head back so he didn’t have to look at the sweating, beautiful, enticing Jae. The stars twinkled dimly above him in the blackness. This wasn’t love , what they had here. It had never been love, not from the first moment. They had loved each other, they had been best friends. But it was never a true love, built on real trust and respect. They had torn down the walls of convention, clawing at everything in a desperate desire to take all, to live the moment, and in the end there had been no time to lay a foundation for anything but addiction and lust. “Jae, I’m sorry… What the fuck...What am I even doing!?” Seokjin continued to sob, pushing himself up off of Jae and throwing himself onto the grass. A brief, whisper of a breeze blew around them, reminding Seokjin that it was below freezing out here, in the darkness of the park. But his rut was so strong, so heavy and burst full now, that he couldn’t even feel the lowered temperature, even as he saw his body shiver. He clutched his stomach, fallen forward sitting on his heels, his fist clenched into the grass as he felt like his very skin was screaming bloody murder at him. Demanding, addicted, poisoned. He didn’t want to take any more, not when it involved stealing pieces of Jae and grinding them up until they were both unrecognizable, both angry and manipulative towards each other.   “Why?!” Jae snapped, sitting up as he wiped at his own tears, biting at his lip as it trembled. Jae was the older Alpha, physically built more sturdy, and yet… sometimes he had felt so small in Seokjin’s arms, so weakened and exposed. “Why is it so easy for you to just abandon me, Jin?! You can just walk away from everything we had?”   “Because someone had to,” Seokjin moaned, hiccupping into the smell of the earth. He wanted the Scent of honeysuckle. He wanted Jae’s hair in his hands, not the cold, grossness of the grass. “Y-You wouldn’t come with me.”   “How could I leave my pack?!” Jae cried out. And Seokjin sighed. They had cycled back into an argument they had had so many times, aloud and in their heads. “You really think just leaving them, after all they’ve done for me, is going to somehow prove my love to you?! I have to give up everything I’ve ever had, while you have the security blanket of your family to turn to when things go foul? That’s not fair , Jin. They are my family. Not all of us are firstborns into Noble families, with an inheritance promised to us.”   Seokjin stared into the ground. He didn’t have the heart to clarify, to tell Jae that that right had been revoked, and by Seokjin himself. He didn’t have the right to lead, to control anyone else, when he had no control over himself. When he had explained things as well as he could, his father hadn’t even argued, hadn’t even hesitated. He had revoked Seokjin’s birthright without an argument, and the whole affair had been swept under the carpet, until his brothers had come to him. Seokjin gripped at the grass, hearing it crunch ever so quietly under the pressure. “Then go back to them, Jae. Go back and get healthy. Go back and be protected and have a family.”   Jae stared at him in silence, not understanding the unexpected response. Seokjin lifted his eyes, puffy and unfocused from weeping, and glared at the elder, a circle of red around Seokjin’s brown irises.   “I said GO ! Get the fuck out of here!”   “I...I can’t !” Jae screamed, a snarl filtered in and a whimper punctuating the end as he seemed to crumple and shrink, hugging his arms around himself because Seokjin refused to do it. “I c-can’t do any of it without you. I tried .”   “You’ve got to keep trying,” Seokjin insisted, his tone more gentle now. “We both have to.”   A chuckle escaped Jae, then, and it was dark, bitter and tasted foul in the air. It wasn’t a laugh from the Jae that Seokjin thought he once could have loved, but a twisted Jae, who could never face the truth evenly. “Is that what you’re doing with the Omega brat? Finding someone who is easy prey to fulfill you, that you can train up to be as you want?”   At the mention of Jungkook, a deep growl resonated in Seokjin’s throat, and he snapped a look of rebuke and warning at the older Alpha, his Scent suddenly weighing heavy in the air in challenge.   “Jin…” Jae said, his brows furrowing deeply into creased lines, his chin tilted so as to leave his face mostly in shadow. “Just tell me. When did I stop being enough for you? Do you really think he will be enough? A soft little Omega that never challenges you? Do you really think that this is your big happy ending, that we can forget everything, and I’m just the mistake you threw away?”   The words stung, because Seokjin himself wasn’t sure he could honestly deny them. He was terrified at the idea of tainting Jungkook, so eager to please and still so starry-eyed when watching his hyung. He looked at Jungkook and saw what he and Jae had once been, before dominating as an Alpha had taken priority over respect, trust, comfort and happiness. He could have tried reassuring Jae, as he always had. Telling him he was enough, that he was worthwhile, that the hissed lies he had been told were untrue, that he could rise above the stigmas placed on him because of birth and choice of partner, because they had both been born as Alphas. But Seokjin had spent so long in that cycle of reassuring Jae, that he knew it was the last, desperate straw Jae used to try and keep Seokjin from leaving, from sticking to his resolve.   “I don’t know,” Seokjin breathed at last, blinking slowly and clearing his eyes of the tears, his jaw set. “But I think he’s my chance - maybe my only chance - so I have to try to be healthy. For myself first, and then for him.”   Jae scoffed, and again, Seokjin could hear that the sound didn’t come from the Jae he had once enjoyed so many hours with, had curled up against, fingers entangled against the bedsheets as they watched the sun rise, whispering secrets into the stillness.   “Well, good luck with that .” Jae’s voice was mocking, disbelieving, broken.   But as Seokjin continued to steadily meet the man’s gaze, he saw his expression crumble. For a moment, a golden, heart-ripping moment, he saw the old Jae in his face. The Alpha leaned his head back, letting out a long cry into the night sky as if begging the heaven’s for a different end, a different conclusion. Then, he twisted over onto his hands and knees, shifting into the dark wolf that Seokjin remembered so well, and he raced off towards the streetlamp, and the entrance.   When he was almost out of sight, he stopped, turning to look back and see that Seokjin was still watching him go. He sat back on his hind legs, lifting his face to the moonlight and letting out a low, deep, breathy howl of mourning. The sound vibrated through to Seokjin’s very skeletal core, his breath catching as he shivered from head to toe, as his first love had to die all over again in front of his eyes. He sobbed, falling face first into the grass as his body mourned the loss of another chance at relief, the possible release having been so close, and being thwarted yet again by Seokjin’s ridiculous, naive wish of just being loved, with no strings attached.   It was ages before he was able to pick himself up off the grass again. He couldn’t afford to stay there much longer, based on the way the sky was starting to go gray, and he really didn’t want to be caught in such a state. The cold had, luckily, frozen and dried most of the traces of his tears, and he huddled into his jacket even as his body continued to throb distractingly with need. He picked up his cell phone from where it had been forgotten on the bench, shoving it into his pocket without a glance as he went to weakly clamber back up over the fence, much more weakly and sluggishly this time.   The sleazy hotel he had been staying in reeked of smoke, always carrying the thin bite of vomit and Omega slick, but they asked no questions as Seokjin stumbled past the front desk, the Scent of his arousal not even earning a curious glance. He flopped down onto the bed where he had been hiding out most of the last week and a half,  and sighed. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling hopeless. Even beyond the emotional draining he had just gone through a few hours earlier, Seokjin was about to go crazy from his rut. He knew he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep again, staring up at the ceiling and willing his body not to grind up uselessly into the blankets, unfulfilled and with no hope of satisfaction as hours and hours ticked by in silence.   He moved to plug his cell phone in, and that was when he noticed the light blinking on it, telling him he had a notification. Though before running into Jae, he had eagerly jumped to his phone for any word with Jungkook, he now hesitated before clicking to open the app, feeling nausea sinking into the pit of his stomach. Was Jae right? Was he just ‘training’ and preparing Jungkook to be the mate - or the sex partner, more like - that he wanted? He had been the younger party once, he knew the appeal of an older, more experienced Alpha. He knew the pull of hormones, the way it confused and tore at the body until all he could do was ache. Jungkook had reassured him that it wasn’t his heat that induced his feelings, but how could he have been so sure? Would his feelings eventually just be revealed as lust, shallow and weakened easily by the absence of a satisfactory Alpha? You can’t keep running, Seokjin. You have to put the hard questions to yourself without hesitating all the time, goddamn it.   Seokjin took in a deep breath, then opened the application, surprised to see a rather long series of messages from the Omega, instead of his brief daily summaries.   11:58 Seokjin, where are you tonight? I went outside to take out the trash and noticed the sky is really clear, you can even see the stars! They don’t show up on my camera, though. Yoongi said that you need a special lens or something to capture the night sky. I’ll ask him about it sometime. Did you see it?   12:22 I have to go to bed soon. Also, I think Namjoon and Taehyung miss you, too. Namjoon smells like stress lately, although he hasn’t said anything to me, I think he’s worried about the pups or something. Taehyung seems sad, too. He said that you had never been away for this long, except when you were in your first pack. He’s eaten all your cereal because he said it served you right for leaving him. I think he just missed you and didn’t know what else to do about it.   12:25 Seokjin...are you okay? I’m trying to be patient, but it’s hard. The house isn’t the same without you, you know?   12: 25 Come home, soon. You’re missing things, and it hurts. Not just for me, but for the pack.   1:03 Seokjin. I went to go to sleep but there’s one more thing I want to say. Don’t make fun of me for it, okay? Haha.   1:07 I want you to know that you’re not just my ALPHA. You’re one of the most amazing wolves I’ve ever met. As a person, I admire you a lot, since you always look out for others, and you always make me laugh. I feel safe with you. Braver. Please don’t doubt me and come home so I can prove it to you. I may not be very good at it but I want to try. Goodnight.   Seokjin stared at the messages for ages, his mouth parted as he mouthed each word, his chest and neck throbbing with the strain of all the jumbled up emotions he was trying to keep captive there. He turned his face into the pillow and sobbed, feeling as though his soul had received the gentlest little gift of reassurance, of hope.   He was still crying uncontrollably as he typed back his first message to any of the pack since he had left.   Thank you. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Patience is not the ability to wait. Patience is to be calm no matter what happens, constantly take action to turn it to positive growth opportunities, and have faith to believe that it will all work out in the end while you are waiting.” ― Roy T. Bennett   “Chiim-Chiiim~” Taehyung moaned from where he stood in the doorway, light spilling in and casting his face in shadow. Jimin let out a little groan as he half-awoke, rolling over and away from the Beta and his stupid lovely citrus smell and his consciousness that was not sleeping, and attempted to go back to dreamland. He was seriously behind on sleep and it was his one day off during the week, and therefore his only chance to sleep in. There was the soft pad of Taehyung’s bare feet on the polished wooden floors, and Jimin could feel his sleep being stolen from him with the man’s mere presence. “Chiminie, I need your help…”   Jimin groaned again, but he heard that tell-tale whine in Taehyung’s voice. He craned his head to look over his shoulder, squinting one eye open to see a very flushed and tired-looking Taehyung standing over him, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm and pouting down at him. Jimin frowned. It wasn’t fair for him to be that cute and smell so good that early in the...was it even morning ?! Jimin reached over to click to his phone lockscreen, and the clock said 4:12.   “Tae-tae, it’s 4 o’clock in the morning, what the hell could you want at this hour?”   In response, Taehyung just pouted, reaching over and tugging on Jimin’s sheets. “ Help meee…”   “Help you what ?!” Jimin hissed, not wanting to wake the others, since he noticed the door to their room was open and the hallway light was on.   “I... need a bath…”   “ What!? ”   “Please?” Taehyung whimpered, tugging harder on the sheets. Jimin felt tense with irritation, and he took in a sharp inhale through his teeth, carding a hand through his bangs and trying to calm himself down. It wasn’t like Taehyung to be this obstinate about something, and he actually couldn’t bathe himself very well with one arm bandaged up. Jimin had been one of the main people he had asked to help him, but he was usually pretty considerate about when.   “Okay, fine . But why now ?!” Jimin grumbled, curling up and rolling off the bed in a half-tumble suddenly, and nearly bumping into Taehyung. And that was when he smelled it. Sure, it was just the smell of citrus mostly, Taehyung’s own unique Scent. But whereas usually it wafted through the air quite neutrally, like a Taehyung-brand air freshener, right now….he smelled like he’d soaked in it for hours. Jimin hissed, then, catching an undertone of something else. Something thick that bit at his senses and put him on high alert.   “Oh my god…” he breathed, caught in a moment of numb surprise. “ Now ?”  Taehyung whimpered. “Will you just come help me?! Your sleepy-angry voice is just…ugh.” Taehyung snarled, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room. Jimin gaped after him. It had been three months since Jungkook’s Presenting, and in all honesty, Namjoon and Yoongi had warned them that it would probably be a long time before Taehyung showed any signs of increased Omega hormones, especially since 1) Namjoon refused to let them Mate until at least the summer and 2) Taehyung had been so exposed to Jungkook’s heat, there was more of a danger of Taehyung’s Beta hormones shifting to an Alpha side, particularly since he’d had to physically defend the very hormone-heavy Omega. So they hadn’t expected this. Well, in all honesty, the two of them had been hoping for it, but without much of a chance. Had sharing a room really had that much of an effect on Taehyung?  Jimin shuffled quickly off the bed after his boyfriend, finding him already in the bathroom and turning the hot water on as best as he could with one hand. He bent over to plug the bottom of the tub, letting out a little cry and almost falling over and clutching at his lower belly. Jimin shot forward, scooping him up into his embrace so that he wouldn’t fall in the tiny bathroom, and Taehyung let out a little yelp that echoed loudly.   “Shhhh… I’ve got you,” Jimin said quietly into his ear, pushing the bathroom door closed with his foot without looking over his shoulder. Hopefully, they hadn’t woken anyone up.   “Jiminie...I feel gross …” Taehyung whined noisily, still holding onto the side of the tub with one hand. In the light of the bathroom, Jimin could see that the crotch of his pants was clinging to his form, wet with slick. He felt goosebumps rush up his spine, and tried to breathe through his mouth as he turned the bathroom fan on. “And I feel so achy.”   “Um… how about we use some of Yoongi’s bath salts? They might be soothing.” Jimin glanced up at Yoongi’s shelf, usually an off-limits area to the younger wolves, but surely he wouldn’t mind, just this once? He had at least six different kinds, after all, surely he wouldn’t miss if they used just a bit.   “Jimin…” Taehyung said quietly, “I...I think you should let go of me, I think I’m gonna be sick?”   “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jimin slipped his arm out from around Taehyung, straightening up and moving to step away towards the bathroom shelf when Taehyung stiffened, still holding onto the tub as the hot steam from the bath started making the air in the room thicker. In all honesty, Jimin was a bit confused. Had he gotten the flu in combination with his heat? Or was this just the backlash of a Beta’s hormones switching?   “Shit...it’s worse when you let go…”   “What?”   “Nothing,” Taehyung waved him off, wriggling out of his pajama pants awkwardly, yanking the waistband with his good arm. Jimin dug through Yoongi’s bath salts, finding a small black box and peering inside, seeing that it was barely used. He moved to the tub and dumped a good amount into the running water, and Taehyung waited for him to help him get his shirt off. The smell of salt and some kind of plant filled the air, and the mirror was already starting to fog up.   “Careful, you can take it slow,” Jimin soothed, gently untangling the shirt off Taehyung, careful that he didn’t get any limbs caught in the large holes he had cut into it - his own habit ‘for the sake of fashion’. Taehyung’s movements were sluggish as he stepped into the bathwater, hissing at the heat while Jimin turned off the tap. His face was flushed, expression strained as he situated himself in the water, cautious about holding his injured arm on the outer edges of the tub. The now foggy-white looking water only came up to about halfway up his torso, and Jimin tried not to stare at the way Taehyung’s thin, tanned chest moved with his rapid breathing as he adjusted to the water, his dark nipples catching the Alpha’s eye as he awkwardly shuffled around for a washrag.   “Is it too hot?” Jimin asked, his voice thicker than he intended it to be.   “No, I’m just feverish,” Taehyung bemoaned, still pretty while pouting. He leaned back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes. He looked so tired already, that it was quickly waking Jimin up to full alert. It would be dangerous if he passed out in the tub or fell, so he was glad Tae had asked for help.   “At least now we know you’ll go into an Omega heat, right?” Jimin offered, not only to offer Taehyung some reassurance but also to distract himself from the way Taehyung’s skin looked in the water, his head tilting back leaving his long, dark neck exposed in a way he was sure Taehyung wasn’t self-aware of. This was the blessing and the curse of being in love with Kim Taehyung - he was beautiful, yes. He was also extremely down-to-earth and sweet. But the downside was that he really wasn’t aware of his own effect, of the way his aura could change a room - or Jimin’s state of mind. As someone who was always hyper-aware of his own physicality and concerned with maintaining an atmosphere, Jimin got thrown by Taehyung’s easygoing nature. It was like he only saw himself in a certain light, and remained oblivious to his own model-looks and erotic appeal. Jimin was sure his death was going to be Kim Taehyung, and he couldn’t really say he minded. He was secretly really happy that Taehyung had asked him to take care of him, though. As an Alpha, he hadn’t exactly been able to do much for the Beta since they had become ‘official,’ and it made him feel useful to have the chance to tend to the younger male.   Slowly, Jimin dipped the washrag into the water, the bath salts now carrying an almost sickly-sweet smell as he wrung out the excess water and placed the rag against Taehyung’s shoulder with a slight splatting noise. He massaged back and forth, swallowing heavily and staring at Taehyung’s face for a reaction. Taehyung’s dark eyebrows peeked out from under his sweat-clumped bangs, allowing Jimin to see the way they furrowed deeply, and Taehyung’s mouth parted slightly as he gave a little moan. Jimin’s hand paused for a moment, until he realized he had stopped with his fingertips hovering over Taehyung’s nipple, and he quickly ducked his head and continued.   “I didn’t know your first heat would be this…? Strong, I guess?” Jimin murmured quietly, wanting to fill the silence.   “It’s probably not even a full heat. The first ones usually aren’t,” Taehyung explained flippantly, shifting in the water a little and creating a sloshing sound. “Jungkook’s was a weird exception.”   “O-Oh…” Jimin breathed, returning to wiping Taehyung down. Then why did Taehyung smell so strongly?   “It means this should only last a couple days, though--Ah!” Taehyung gasped, wrinkles forming on his brow as Jimin moved over the spot just above his belly button.   “I’m s-sorry, was that too much?” Jimin whispered, as Taehyung reached out with his good hand and caught hold of Jimin’s wrist.   “N-no, it just felt really good , is all,” Taehyung muttered, his eyes still shut. Jimin stared at the boy, mouth slightly agape. How could he say things like that aloud so flippantly? Didn’t he know that Jimin could be affected, too? Jimin dipped the rag in the water again, his fingers tingling a little from the heat of the water as he placed the rag up around Taehyung’s  neck, massaging through the rag. The boy instantly keened, tilting his head further back and his chest caving forward. “Shit... that’s too much. I’m more sensitive than I thought I’d be…”   “Oh...should I...leave?” Jimin hesitated, uncertainty blooming in his chest at the way Taehyung’s body suddenly seemed so tense. “Maybe it would be better if Yoongi or Kiara helped you? Or maybe Jungkook can leave his shift a little early…?” Having an Omega around was the norm for Unmated wolves in heat, because having Alphas around usually just spiked up their hormones and arousal - an Omega usually was not affected by another Omega during heat times. But in Taehyung’s case, according to Yoongi, there was a chance of an intruding Omega’s hormones counteractively affecting a Beta’s heat so badly that it would aggravate Taehyung’s dormant Alpha hormones instead, staunching his heat but possibly sending him into a rut, if powerful enough. So in this case, Jimin felt lost and uncertain, stuck on what to do.   “No, please don’t wake them,” Taehyung mumbled sleepily, lolling his head to the side and finally opening his eyes. His eyes didn’t quite seem to focus with the kind of needle-point directness that Taehyung was famous for, more glassy and distant and with a ring of tell-tale Beta gold around his irises as he took Jimin’s hand in his. “I feel bad enough already, but...I want you .”   Jimin felt his chest constrict in a lovely way, working at his lip to try and calm down the smile that was blossoming there. “Well, let’s just hurry and clean you up, then maybe we can try to get some sleep?”   “Sounds good.” Taehyung murmured. Then, to Jimin’s surprise, he took Jimin’s hand and pressed it to his lips in a gentle kiss. Jimin had to remind himself to breathe for the rest of the bath, and was relieved when Taehyung was finally clean and dry in new pajamas with a protective pad for any future slick, still smelling heavily like citrus and the bath salts. He leaned heavily against Jimin as they went back to their bed, looking as though he was about to collapse at any moment. Whether it was from sleepiness or being overwhelmed, Jimin couldn’t quite figure out.   “D-did you get anything on the bed?” Jimin whispered, his arm wrapped around Taehyung’s waist.   “No, it was all on my sheet.” Taehyung seemed to flush, “I already got rid of it.”   “Okay, that’s good,” Jimin reassured him, laying him on the bed. He was going to get a second sheet from the linen closet, but when he moved to stand Taehyung gripped hard at his shirt.   “No, don’t leave,” Taehyung mumbled, pouting like a child told he couldn’t have any dessert after supper. “It feels better when you stay close.”   “Um, okay. But I have to get a fresh sheet for you first, just in case...you know. I’ll only be a minute, okay?”   Taehyung frowned, but let go of Jimin’s shirt, albeit reluctantly. Jimin was a little confused at just how clingy Taehyung had become, but he supposed he shouldn’t be. After all, the two of them had seen how emotional a heat had made Jungkook when Seokjin had left, even after the fever broke. He hurried to clean the bathroom up, replacing the bath salts and shutting the light off before grabbing a couple of sheets from the linen closet and returning to find Taehyung wriggling restlessly on the bed. As soon as he saw Jimin, he seemed to relax a little, reaching out for him. Jimin crawled up next to him, letting Taehyung wrap his body around his torso as best as he could with his injury, one leg hooked around Jimin’s waist and pulling him close. Jimin could smell the dampness already collecting in the dark warmth between Taehyung’s parted legs, the core of the heat pressed up against the skin of his hip. In all honesty, Taehyung smelled and felt wonderfully warm and comfortable, in a way that was different than usual. Jimin’s head spun a little as he snuggled in close, happy to be close to Tae but now quite wide awake.   A few hours later, he woke up to the sensation of Taehyung moving around. He jolted awake as he realized that Taehyung was nibbling at his neck, the skin there feeling raw and rubbed, while Taehyung was slowly squeezing his lower half against Jimin’s hip in his sleep. The Alpha stared up at the ceiling in shock for a few moments, not sure what he was supposed to do. Taehyung was letting out little whimpers in his sleep, his hip rolling against him in smooth, needy motions. After a moment, Jimin reached over and tentatively shook at Taehyung’s shoulder.   “Tae-tae...Um...Tae-tae, wake up.”   “Mm?” Taehyung murmured, his movements slowing but his eyes still shut.   “Tae-tae, you’re...um...Your heat is getting stronger. Is there anything I can…? Um. I mean, I know you--...uh..” He hated feeling so uncertain, but Taehyung’s strange behavior wasn’t making things any easier. They had discussed what they might do if Taehyung’s heats began, and whether from the high of their almost public confession or his inner romanticist, Taehyung had said he wanted their first time to be their Mating night, that everything should start there, and properly. Jimin had warned him at the time that he might regret it, checking again and again in the following weeks to see if he was still sure. Now they were here, and it was Taehyung who was humping his leg in the night, and Jimin wasn’t sure how to handle a situation like this. Taehyung panted into his ear, his arousal unquenched as he continued to rock his hips, whimpering at his lack of release.   “You smell so nice, Jimin,” Taehyung cooed, still half-asleep, his breath blowing hot against Jimin’s cheek. Jimin looked over at his clock. It wasn’t even 7:30 yet. He sighed, trying to coax Taehyung to release his hold on the Alpha’s hip, but to no avail. It was going to be a long couple of days.   ~~~~~   “Jeon, you’re taking the path near the library again. There’s an Omega freshmen who has already called in needing an escort around 1am.” His supervisor, Lee, took down a note on his clipboard, not even glancing up at the boy as he scanned his list of names. There were about eight or nine other students on duty tonight for the campus patrol, all also criminal justice majors in need of some experience hours. Before, he had gotten along with the other patrollers pretty well, considering he barely spoke. But things had changed a bit since the new year began.   “I can’t believe we’re sending an Omega to escort an Omega,” came a poorly hushed whisper behind him, and Jungkook gripped the edge of the table a little more tightly, but managed to look otherwise unaffected. Some days it was awkward, being the only Omega on his team, or even in his department. There was one Beta, but he worked day shift and their paths never crossed. Not that he’d expect the guy to stand up for him on his behalf or anything. Most of the people who presented as Omega dropped their position on the campus police immediately, sometimes in the same day. In just the eight months he’d been working here, he’d seen four new Omegas leave, and really, he didn’t blame them. It was Alphas that had the image of intimidation, of having the ability to be aggressive and to protect, not Omegas. But whether it was from the voice of Yoongi in the back of his head or his determination to break unchallenged ground, or just a genuine enjoyment of the job, Jungkook had decided to stay.   Once assignments were given out, most of the officers stood up to the grinding screams of metal chair legs on the industrial-grade flooring, and everyone filtered out of the building. Jungkook readjusted his radio on his hip, and glanced up to see Lee standing in front of him. He was a super senior student, about to graduate in the spring, and Jungkook liked him well enough. He was one of those people that, if he hadn’t been in a position of authority, would be fairly easy to forget. A broad, squarish forehead and tan skin, with burly arms that seemed out of proportion with the rest of his body, hanging looped at his sides as though he was physically incapable of hanging them down straight.   “Jeon, do you want some back-up with you…?” Lee questioned, his voice low and attempting to sound unassuming. Jungkook felt his jaw clench at the underhanded skepticism.   “Why would I need backup for a normal patrol?” Jungkook asked breezily, trying to smile as though unbothered. It was kind of insulting, really. He could have understood it if Lee was trying to be considerate about a health concern or something, but when he wasn’t in the throes of a heat, how was he different from an Alpha, really? He didn’t see the point in being treated so delicately.   “I’m just offering, you know. To play on the safe side,” Lee said quietly.   “If I need backup, I won’t hesitate to call for it, “ Jungkook reassured him. “Until then, I’ll pull my own weight, I promise.”   Lee pressed his thin lips together, as though considering further comment, but he decided against it. Jungkook shook his head once the supervisor had left, letting out a little sigh as he went out on his patrol.   Jungkook had specifically picked being one of the night patrol officers. He liked the hours, deep into the graveyard shift and in the quieter moments on campus, with less people. He liked the uniform, the way it made him feel self-assured and confident, like he was powerful and unquestioned when people glanced his way. His walk was different, the way he carried himself worlds away from the boy who still felt most comfortable under the table. He liked the duality, the segregation like he had two lives he was living. Things were more complicated after becoming an Omega, yes. But he liked a challenge.   He walked up to the now-darkened biology building, a young woman standing underneath the main archway with her arms crossed, a heavy-looking backpack on and looking sleepy. Jungkook walked up to her slowly, offering a smile when she glanced up.   “Good evening. Are you…?” he pulled out his assignment sheet, scanning for the most recent name. “Kim Jimin?”   “Yes,” she said quietly, pushing off of the wall. Jungkook tried not to think about how her posture reminded him of another Kim who was frustratingly AWOL from his pack right now.   “I’m Jeon Jungkook, I’m part of the campus police. You requested an escort back to your dorm?”   “I...yes…Thank you?” She sounded awkward, and adjusted her backpack before stepping forward, away from the well-lit entrance to the biology building. Jungkook glanced up, spotting the security camera she had been sitting underneath. She was a smart girl.   “One of my roommates’ name is Jimin,” Jungkook said with a smirk, sensing her nervousness in the air and knowing it was part of his job to make her feel more relaxed. “But he’s a boy.”   “Yeah?”   “Yeah, I like to tease him about it sometimes.” He smiled, leading the way and asking which of the dorms she was living in. It turned out she had had some fruit flies she was using for her main report this semester, and they needed to be tended to at very specific times, leaving her the last one in her lab most days.   “I was walking by myself before, but my roommate insisted I use the free escort service on campus,” she explained quietly, as they passed a poorly lit student parking lot. “She says there’ve been more reports of attacks on Omegas late at night.”   “That’s true,” Jungkook agreed, and although he wanted to argue with the point more, he refrained. “And the service is free, and I’m on duty all night either way, so don’t hesitate to call.”   She nodded, giving him a little side glance before saying, “Um, if you don’t mind my asking… You’re an Omega too, aren’t you?”   Jungkook’s work-smile stiffened a little, but he nodded clearly.   “I didn’t know Omegas could be part of the campus police?”   “We can, but most don’t want to.” Jungkook tried to make his voice sound light-hearted and flippant, but in all honesty, he was getting a little tired of this conversation. “I’m the only Omega on my team.” He shrugged, and let Yoongi’s oft-repeated words fall from his lips, “There’s no reason an Omega can’t do anything an Alpha can do, really.”   “I suppose not,” she smiled. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s very cool of you. And I think I understand how you feel. I mean...I’m the only girl in any of my biology classes. You would think we’d be beyond that kind of thing now, but…”   Jungkook nodded, his eyes glancing over at a couple of figures walking together down towards where the stadium was. “If not us, then who, right?”   “Right, that’s how I see it, too.” She flushed a little, smiling down at her feet shyly. “To be honest, that’s kind of why I picked biology? I mean, the things we’re learning about how hormones in the different types work, how suppressants actually affect the body, things like that… I think it’s fascinating. And in all honesty, it makes me feel a bit like I can regain a little control back, as an Omega? People just see us as slaves to our hormones sometimes, you know?”   He almost stopped walking, then. This was the most talkative any of the students he had had to escort had been, and of course it was all about how he was an Omega, that label of status that he was confused and simultaneously wanted to be proud of. It was complicated, but he could see that reflected in Kim Jimin’s eyes.   “Actually…” Jungkook began slowly, “That’s also why I stayed on. I’ve already experienced what it’s like, having to be protected as an Omega. It didn’t seem fair to rely on others so much. I can’t change how my body reacts to things like that, but...I want to do everything I can to protect others , instead of being protected all the time. It only seems fair that I do whatever I can, right?”   Jimin smiled, nodding in agreement. “I feel the exact same way.  And with the recent advancements they’re trying to make with hormone studies, it’s very possible that in the future, no one will care whether someone is an Alpha or an Omega anymore. We may be even able to stop heats from happening altogether, and safely. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”   Jungkook thought for a moment, “And ruts too, maybe?”   She seemed to consider that, looking more than a little surprised, but she still smiled softly. “Maybe.”   “Well,” Jungkook sighed, feeling his chest constrict the way it always did when his mind wandered in this direction, back towards a familiar smiling Alpha and his shining eyes. He gestured up to the doorway of the girl’s dorm.”Here we are, safe and sound. Your roommate can rest assured.”   “Thank you so much,” she said.   “Not at all, it’s my job.”   “But even so…” she readjusted her backpack one more time. “And good luck to you.”   “To you, too.”   The walk back to his patrol area felt suddenly much quieter than before he had escorted the girl, and Jungkook was having a hard time getting back into the headspace of his work. The moon shone brightly in the sky, abnormally large and almost perfectly round, as he crossed the little bridge that led to the library, a mostly dried up creek gurgling below him in the dimness. Jungkook paused on the bridge, watching the moon for a few moments. He knew he was given the patrol near the library because it was one of the smallest and least active, therefore less likely to have unexpected trouble. But he really didn’t mind that so much, because it was one of his favorite parts of campus, anyways. He watched the moon, his sensitive hearing still alert to any rustling or noises around him, and wondered if Seokjin was asleep by now, if he was doing well. He wanted to ask Seokjin what he thought about new studies on controlling or even eradicating ruts and heats. If it wasn’t for their hormones getting in the way, would Seokjin have had fewer doubts about Jungkook’s feelings? If it wasn’t for going into his rut, and wanting to deal with his personal problems on his own, would he have been able to stay? Jungkook still didn’t have any answers.   The rest of his shift went rather quickly, and it was almost 11 in the morning by the time he headed home, feeling tired but accomplished. His shifts had been longer, mostly because he was actively trying to prove himself, as well as to keep himself occupied.   He pulled out his phone and flipped through some of his most recent photos, until he found the one he had taken that morning. Around sunrise, he had managed to be back on the bridge in time to catch a rather vibrant shot of the bright morning sun shining through the bridge and the trees, with just the right balance of blue sky to hold the eye’s attention. He sent it to Seokjin, now that he was off-duty, with the caption:   The sunrise was beautiful this morning. Come home soon.   He smiled, pocketing his cell phone and letting out a sigh. It was already March, and everything was warming up slowly, thawing with a frustrating stillness. He knew that at some point after Seokjin had sent him that ‘Thank you’ message that the Alpha had contacted Namjoon at least, and let him know he was alright. Jungkook hadn’t asked Namjoon directly, but he just knew from the way the lead Alpha had seemed to relax and stop going pale whenever his elder brother was mentioned. He also sensed that Yoongi knew, but neither of them were telling Jungkook anything, probably worried that he would run off to go find Seokjin and insist that he come home right away. But Jungkook had no such intentions. Seokjin was most likely back to attending his classes, since as far as Jungkook understood, life as a med student was hell and without much elbow room for absences, even for ruts or pack issues. If Jungkook had really wanted to seek him out, he could have always hounded the science buildings or found out which courses he had had to take that semester. But Jungkook had said he was going to do his best to be patient and give Seokjin the time he needed, and that was exactly what he was doing. He would have thought that the longer he had to wait, the more nervous he would have gotten, but it was almost as if the contrary were true - with each passing day, he grew more and more sure of the fact that Seokjin was going to come home to him. It was like the feeling of eating a healthy, filling meal after a long time of eating junk food. There was no real reason to feel uplifted and more self-assured - he just did .   Jungkook passed a small throng of backpack toting students, nearly bumping into them as he crossed the bridge home. He was about to pull out his phone again to see if Seokjin had seen his messages, even though it had been less than a minute since he had sent them, when suddenly a Scent hovered in the air, catching his immediate attention despite its fleeting nature. Jungkook halted immediately mid-step on the bridge, eyes wide and nose slightly lifted as he turned to lean over the railing, watched another group of about eight students walking along the path on the other side of the bridge. In the midst of them, although toward the back and moving listlessly, was a figure he knew well. A figure he could pick out of any crowd, even if the comforting smell of soap hadn’t been enough of an indication.   He wore an extremely oversized tan sweater, with a loose hood and wide body to it that seemed to be eating him whole, even though Seokjin was known for his broad build. The sleeves fell down over his hands, making him look quite small. His jeans and shoes looked torn, and as though they had seen better days, and Seokjin himself looked utterly exhausted, a strange pinkness to the apples of his cheeks and to his lips, and his eyes nearly shut as his puffy face was tilted toward his feet. He looked beautiful, soft, ethereal. My Alpha. Jungkook’s face lit up with glee, and he rushed to the edge of the railing, placing his hands on the stone and staring out in disbelief at the man.   “Seokjin!” Jungkook called out, and a couple of the students looked up automatically at his voice. “Seokjin! Seokjin!”   He watched as the Alpha lifted his head a little, still looking forward and therefore away from where Jungkook was waving to him from the bridge. It seemed he hadn’t heard or seen him, due to the distance between. Jungkook rushed forward to run to him, suddenly stopped by a series of half a dozen bikers who were chatting back and forth casually. Frustrated, he tried to sidestep his way around them and nearly made one of them crash into him. By the time he had jogged to the end of the bridge, the hooded figure had vanished. Jungkook searched around hopelessly, his eyes wide and his heart pounding excitedly even as he felt disappointed at having missed him. Perhaps their timing had been a little off, but every fiber of his being was screaming that this was a sign . He practically ran all the way home. ~~~~~   “Jimin! Jimin!” Jungkook called out gleefully, rushing into the house and tossing his bags haphazardly under the kitchen table. The Alpha turned around from where he had been shuffling things around in the freezer, an eyebrow arched in curiosity, and his face looking soft with sleepiness. “I saw him! I saw him by the bridge near the library!”   “Who?”   “ Seokjin !” Jungkook gasped out, still breathless from the run-in. He was beaming from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling as he gripped the counter top. The end-of-shift exhaustion was practically forgotten, and his chest felt like it was expanded enough to fill the entire house. “It’s a sign , Jimin! He’s going to come home soon, I just know it!”   “Are you sure it was him?” Jimin asked, a little skeptical as he removed ice from an ice tray and put them into a plastic bag, refilling the tray with water before returning it.   “Yes, I’m positive! He looked so sleepy…” Jungkook’s excitement bubbled down for a minute as he considered, “I wonder if he’s getting enough rest… He is a med student, after all.”   “Then he’s definitely not sleeping,” Jimin said, yawning long and hard as if to emphasize his point. Jungkook stopped, cocking his head to the side and taking in Jimin’s bedhead and generally disheveled look.   “What happened to you?” Jungkook queried, looking him up and down. Jimin flushed a little.   “Um...Taehyung started his heat. At like 4 this morning.”   Jungkook’s mouth dropped open in surprise and realization. “Oh wow… Does he...does he need anything? Should I run to the store or something?”   Jimin looked around the kitchen, as if double-checking that they were the only ones around, then said quietly to Jungkook, “To be honest, it’s hit him rather hard. He said he wanted to wait and he can’t exactly use suppressants, since it’s his first heat, but… I’m a little worried? I don’t think it’s supposed to be this strong.”   “Well, my first heat was pretty strong, too…” Jungkook mumbled. “Is it because there are so many of us?”   “Mm…” Jimin hummed, contemplating, “I don’t think so. I’m just… I’m worried. He’s a Beta. What if...what if I messed up his hormones somehow, and didn’t realize it? It’s my fault he even has to have heats, really…”   Jungkook frowned, his voice going quieter, more hesitant. “Jimin… I don’t think Taehyung sees it that way at all…”   “I know, I know ,” Jimin sighed. “But I’m his Alpha, after all. I’m partially responsible. I just want to make this as easy as possible for him.”   “In that case…” Jungkook mumbled, staring at the floor, “I suggest you just stay with him.”   Jimin inhaled sharply, his hands clutching tightly at the makeshift ice pack in his hands as he frowned sympathetically at the Omega. “Jungkook…”   Jungkook’s lips quirked up into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he looked up and met Jimin’s gaze. “I mean it. Just having you near means a lot, I’m sure. That’s what he wants the most, heat or not, you can know that for sure. And...let me know if you guys need anything? Like medicine or laundry or whatever… I can’t do much, and I won’t stay too long because I don’t want to accidentally make his hormones shift again, but…”   Jimin smiled, leaning in to nudge his nose fondly against Jungkook’s jaw, lifting his chin up in a jerking, playful movement. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Jungkook nodded, moving to crawl back underneath the table when Jimin called his name again. He paused, looking up at the Alpha said quietly, “And even though I’m still kind of angry at Seokjin for leaving you like that, and I’m not sure what to think of him… I want you to know I’m wishing you all the best. You know that, right?”   Jungkook smiled, broadly and with warmth as he nodded. “Thanks, Jimin.”   The Alpha moved upstairs with his ice pack, and Jungkook shifted his blankets underneath the table around. He had spent the first week or so when they came back from the island sleeping in Seokjin’s room, much to the others’ chagrin, but eventually, Jungkook had found it too depressing. The room smelled like Seokjin but it was very painfully and obviously void of Seokjin himself, and eventually Jungkook had ended up back in his old favorite sleeping spot underneath the table.   He had noticed, though, that since his first heat, many subtle things had changed. His senses were heightened, and pickier. Sometimes he stole the box of detergent from the laundry room and slept with it under his table, hiding it so the others didn’t see, because the powdery clean smell was almost like Seokjin’s. He also noticed that Hoseok and Namjoon were less physically affectionate with him, the former of which hadn’t really gotten as physically close since he had Presented, as though struggling with the adjustment that Jungkook was an Omega. Finally, Jungkook had noticed that although he was under his table as usual, the arrangement of his things underneath had changed. Instead of laying things out neatly and as compactly as possible, he had almost built a little fortress out of blankets, rolling them up high along the perimeters under the table and padding the bottom with all the extra blankets he could find. It was getting easier, the warmer the weather got,to find neglected and unneeded ones. Sometimes when he was curled up in it, reading or playing on his phone, the others would make a teasing comment about “Jungkook’s nest” and chuckle softly before going about their business. He wasn’t sure why this had changed, but it felt significant - enough so that even the light-hearted, well-meaning comments made him feel defensive enough that at times, he wanted to tack up sheets to the bottom of the table and make it into pseudo curtains, blocking out the teasing eyes out of the outside world and leaving him in the peace and quiet therein, while he waited patiently for Seokjin.   He opened his phone, seeing that Seokjin had seen his sunrise photo. With a smile, he added another message:   I saw you this morning from the bridge, Seokjin! I called out to you, but I don’t think you heard me. You looked so tired. Please rest well! I just finished my night-watch, so I’m going to sleep now, too.I was so happy to see you! Come home soon!!   He curled up happily inside his ‘nest,’ preparing to doze off with the contented assurance that his Alpha was finally going to be back where he belonged - with him, so that they could finally begin. Then, there was the shuffle of footsteps and the creak of the stairs again, and Jimin was back in the kitchen.   “Um, Jungkook? Are you asleep?”   “No? What’s up?” He poked his head out from under the table curiously. Jimin was wringing his hands.   “I, uh, went upstairs and...well...would you mind helping me change the sheets? We used a pad but, um...Taehyung leaked.” Jimin spoke quietly, almost as though embarrassed on Taehyung’s behalf. “I tried doing it myself but as soon as I’m in the room he gets really clingy, and it’s hard to change sheets when you’re holding a koala.” Jungkook just nodded, moving to follow Jimin upstairs, grabbing fresh sheets on their way. Jimin put his hand on the doorknob, hesitating a moment.   “Jimin?”   “Sorry, I just…” Jimin flushed, hunching his shoulders. “I just suddenly got this feeling that I didn’t want anyone to go in there? Even though you’re an Omega, and I know you’re not a….a threat or anything. It’s weird.”   “Alpha instincts, I guess?” Jungkook shrugged. With a painful stab to his chest, he realized he wouldn’t know. It wasn’t as if he had seen his own Alpha around others much during his heat,since he had been so out of it. He liked to think that Seokjin would have been possessive or protective of him, though, with the same flush to his cheeks that Jimin displayed as he opened the door to the room he and Taehyung shared.   The overwhelming smell of oranges hit him like a ton of bricks, surprising Jungkook as he stepped into the darkness of the bedroom. The rest of the house had been full of sunlight, but Jimin had pulled over the curtain, casting the room in near blackness. In the light from the hall, Jungkook could see Taehyung curled up on the bed. Usually, Taehyung simply emanated energy as though he was a nuclear reactor at his core, but right now, he whimpered, looking sluggish and almost lifeless. The only sign of life was the almost manic way he was tapping his foot in rapid succession against the edge of the bed, his arms hugging around a pillow that was wearing one of Jimin’s shirts like some sort of creepy doll. Jungkook had decided downstairs that he was going to be respectful of Taehyung’s heat and treat the situation as delicately as possible, but at seeing this, he couldn’t help but send Jimin a questioning quirk of his eyebrow.   “He won’t let me leave him unless he can still smell me,” Jimin whispered his explanation, leaning down to tug the t-shirt clad pillow out of Taehyung’s arms. The Beta let out a high-pitched little cry, like a dog that had been kicked on the underside of its belly by a firm boot, and in a moment he was suddenly leaping up and into Jimin’s arms, nearly bowling the Alpha over. Jungkook caught hold of Jimin’s shoulders, steadying him as he sighed and readjusted Taehyung in his arms.   “God, you’re so heavy,” Jimin complained in a grunt, leaning Taehyung’s bottom against the dresser so it was easier on his arms, as Jungkook quickly peeled the sheets off the bed, laying some towels down directly onto the mattress before putting the clean sheets on.   “Chim-Chim,” Taehyung moaned, nuzzling his whole face needily into Jimin’s Scent gland, making Jimin sharply inhale. “God, you smell amazing . Fuck….”   “Tae,” Jimin hissed into a whisper, trying to be demure, “ Jungkook’s here.”   Taehyung didn’t seem to care, suddenly mouthing around Jimin’s jawline. Jungkook could hear the wet sounds of Taehyung’s lips against skin, and he felt his whole body heat up in embarrassment. His hands on the sheets fumbled awkwardly.   “ Tae , stop it, please,” Jimin begged, and there was a rustle of clothing over his shoulder that Jungkook hoped was just Jimin changing Taehyung into clean pants. “Wo-o-oah there!”   “Okay, there you go,” he said when he finished, standing up and stepping back as Jimin dropped Taehyung heavily onto the mattress, the Beta bouncing with a little squeak and flailing for Jimin, who shoved the pillow back at him. Jimin let out a sigh as the Beta, pouting petulantly through his sweaty bangs over at his Alpha, whimpered as Jimin slipped the bag of ice up against the back of Taehyung’s T-shirt, where it was already becoming soaked with sweat again. As he locked eyes with Jimin, who was carding his hand through his hair, Taehyung wrapped his legs around the pillow and started to squeeze into the fabric with his knees, his hips beginning to wriggle. Jimin suddenly grabbed Jungkook’s shoulder and turned him toward the doorway with a jerking movement.   “Thanks for the help,” Jimin mumbled to Jungkook, “I think tomorrow it should be easier.”   Together they stepped into the clean air of the hallway, and Jimin pulled the door mostly shut behind him, nearly but not quite blocking out the little sounds of Taehyung’s increased panting inside.   “W-was I that bad?” Jungkook whispered fearfully, his eyes wide and his face flushing with embarrassment.   “Um…” Jimin worked his lip, not meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “You were...um.. different .” Jimin coughed as if to clear his throat. “But, uh, after the first hour or so, Kiara and Yoongi didn’t let the rest of us anywhere near you, just in case.”   “Oh…” Jungkook breathed, biting his lips. “You mean...except Seokjin.”   “Except Seokjin.” Jimin fiddled with the edge of his shirt.   “Did...uh...did you and Tae ever talk about how you would...help him?” Jungkook whispered, his voice gentle as though they were discussing something taboo, instead of something that happened so commonly.   “He, uh...he said some things that were off-limits. We hadn’t gotten the details worked out quite yet. We thought it would be a long time before his hormones were shifted enough.”   “Right,” Jungkook breathed, biting his bottom lip harder. “You...may want to try exploring your options that weren’t off-limits, though.”   Jimin stood in awkward silence. “D-did it...help?”   It was Jungkook’s turn to sigh, looking down the hall and noticing the bathroom door at the far edge of the hall was closed, a sign that someone awake. Whenever Jungkook thought back, feeling the warm wave of memory washing over him, just at the thought of the way he had felt underneath Seokjin’s slow, careful but confident hand, he felt a shiver run through him, and he worried that others could smell his own involuntary reaction to it. “I-it helped a lot. Actually, it was enough to break my heat, even after just once.”   “O-oh…” With a start, Jungkook realized that one of the reasons this felt so strange was that he, for once, was the more knowledgeable one, a phenomenon that he couldn’t remember ever happening with Jimin and him.   “I did some reading, and usually it’s not enough to break a heat on its own, so I’m not sure w-why it worked, but it did. But it’ll still help him relax, and maybe he’ll be able to rest?”   “O-okay…”   The bathroom door flew open like a shot, making both of them jump, and suddenly a very wide-eyed Yoongi was rushing towards them, holding a strange, unfamiliar looking black box.   “Who the fuck used my bath salts?!” Yoongi snapped, looking between the two of them and giving the box a purposeful shake. Jungkook blinked, giving a surprised shrug at the older Omega’s anger.   “U-um, I’m sorry, I used a bit of it for Taehyung’s bath,” Jimin said quietly. “H-he’s just started his heat, so I thought it would help him relax...I only used a bit, but I can buy you a new box.”   “Oh my god…” Yoongi rubbed at his face and moaned loudly. “You didn’t .”   “What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, looking down at the box.   “Jimin, you idiot …” Yoongi pushed past the two of them, opening the bedroom door and peering in. Jungkook saw Jimin stiffen, his expression flickering between worry and anger and back again before Yoongi came back out, closing the bedroom door with a quiet little click. “You idiot .”   “W-what did I do wrong?!” Jimin sounded as though he was going to absolutely lose it.   Yoongi held up the box, tilting it so they could see  the instructions and warning label on the bottom. “This is a box of hormone-infused bath salts, you dumbass. It’s an aphrodisiac for Omegas.”   The two younger boys stared at Yoongi, mouths agape. Jungkook spoke first.   “Well, shit.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Happiness doesn't lie in conspicuous consumption and the relentless amassing of useless crap. Happiness lies in the person sitting beside you and your ability to talk to them. Happiness is clear-headed human interaction and empathy. Happiness is home. And home is not a house-home is a mythological conceit. It is a state of mind. A place of communion and unconditional love. It is where, when you cross its threshold, you finally feel at peace.” ― Dennis Lehane   It had been yet another sleepless night. The sky through the crummy, scratchy brown material of the curtain was a soft grayish-blue color, seeming to glow rather than to illuminate. Seokjin had gotten very used to seeing his hotel room gradually get lighter each morning. He sat cross-legged in front of the window, wearing just a white T-shirt and resting his wrists gently against his knees as he watched the morning begin. He smiled softly, letting out a little sigh of contentment. It was the first morning the medicine had worked. He felt like he could breathe again. The sensation of not having the constant ache, the constant pain in his gut, the feverish and Scent-heavy layer of sweat, was remarkable. There was a sort of strange, happy emptiness that came when a long-term pain was finally abated, as though the body could forget what life was like before the pain, and he relished in this sensation.   It was time to go home.   When the sky had finally turned a solid early-morning blue, the sun risen high into the sky, Seokjin clambered up and across the room, flopping onto his stomach on the bed and reaching his arms across to grab the cell phone off the charger, his bare ass feeling the chill of the air conditioner that had finally started to feel like it was working, starting from yesterday afternoon. He unlocked the phone, Jungkook’s photo of the sunrise his lock screen background, and went immediately to the Kakaotalk chat the two of them shared together.   Good morning, Jungkook. I’m finally coming home today. I’ve missed you!   He smiled so broadly, just writing the words, that he felt his jaw begin to ache. He covered his mouth with his hand, wanting to cry from feeling so overwhelmed. It was over three months, but it felt as if it had been a year. Seokjin laid his cheek down against the comforter, smiling at his phone and waiting to see the moment when Jungkook checked the message. He wanted to hear what Jungkook would say, wanted to feel his excitement and commit each character typed to memory. When fifteen minutes passed by, Seokjin felt himself starting to doze off from pure exhaustion, and he shook himself roughly, pushing off the bed and collecting his things for one last shower before leaving the cursed, gross hotel.   He was more than a little surprised when he came out from his shower and Jungkook still hadn’t checked the message. He frowned, wondering if Jungkook had taken the day off patrol and was home asleep instead. No matter, it was still pretty early. He messaged Namjoon, saying that he was going to the pack house in about an hour, and within a few minutes got a hearty reply with so much relief between each exclamation point that Seokjin laughed. Namjoon was still on duty at his bellhop job, where he worked a nightshift similar to Jungkook’s hours, and he wouldn’t be home until after Seokjin arrived.   I’ll be relieved to have you home!! We’ve missed you!!   Seokjin felt his chest constrict with emotion. He put the few things he had accumulated during his stay into his backpack, zipping it up with a cheerful - if tired - finality, and took one last look before shutting the door.   When the cab dropped him off in front of the pack house, he found it looked somehow different. He wasn’t sure how, but the size and angle of it seemed to have somehow shifted, as though through the extended absence his memory had contorted his own vision of the two story building with its endearing, lovely-smelling pine in the front yard. He stepped out of the cab and inhaled deeply, feeling the first deep pangs of real worry striking into his gut. Sure, Namjoon and Taehyung would be glad he was back, and he felt pretty certain Jungkook would be, too. But as for Kiara, Hoseok and Yoongi, it would be hard to say. That was an inevitable risk, one which he had decided was worth taking. Perhaps they wouldn’t forgive him for running off as he had. Perhaps they would understand. That wasn’t his choice or under his control - all he could do was hope for the best. Biting at his lip, he slipped his key into the door and jiggled the handle until it relinquished the lock, clicking heartily before allowing him entrance.   The living room was quiet, empty in the stillness of a Tuesday morning. Seokjin instantly was hit by the plethora of different smells, all mingling together in a lovely cacophony that equaled the pack - his pack. At least he hoped it was, still. He inhaled deeply, shoving his hands into the pockets of his oversized tan hoodie as he picked up the trace of Jungkook’s Scent hovering in the air, strong and distinct, but gentle and familiar like a loving whisper.   He smiled, setting his backpack down in the entrance, about to head into the kitchen to check for Jungkook when the boy himself tumbled down the steps two at a time, a black beanie pulled tight onto his head and his eyes wide as he thudded into the kitchen. Seokjin stood in the doorway, a little dumbfounded at having been missed.   “Jungkookie, I think we’ll need the other ice pack, too!” Yoongi called down the stairs, sounding tired.   “Okay!” Jungkook called back up. Seokjin heard the freezer door open and shut, and the telltale shuffling of Jungkook’s socks on the linoleum. He stood watching from the front entrance, quietly kicking his shoes off when Jungkook started back up the stairs. Suddenly, the boy halted, one foot already on the bottom step, and Seokjin could visibly see the way his whole body tensed up on alert. Seokjin stepped up into the living room, his shoes now discarded, and awkwardly tugged at the sleeves of his sweater. Jungkook turned around, wide eyes locking in on Seokjin, mouth parted in surprise. Seokjin smiled a little, looking nervously down at the floor between them.   “Um...hi,” Seokjin mumbled, his voice a lot softer than he had intended it. He looked up, and Jungkook was swallowing heavily, licking at his lips.   “Y-you’re back…?” Jungkook breathed, as though he was afraid Seokjin was about to vanish into thin air.   Seokjin smiled, his cheeks tight as he nodded. “I’m home.”   In the next moment, the Omega had vaulted himself across the room and up into Seokjin’s arms, nearly bowling both of them back and into the front door. Seokjin grunted, reaching up and scooping his hands around Jungkook’s waist as the Omega wrapped his legs around Seokjin’s torso, his face buried in the Alpha’s neck as he nuzzled in with excitement.   “You’re home! You’re home!” Jungkook squeaked breathily, laying at least a few dozen kisses and nuzzles all along Seokjin’s neck and jawline, then working his way up to Seokjin’s cheek, his arms still encircling the older male’s shoulders. Seokjin laughed loudly, his smile having blossomed into a tear-filled grin as he squeezed Jungkook to him. Words failed, so Seokjin chuckled.   Jungkook continued sprinkling kisses, and when Seokjin moved as if to set him down, he whimpered and just clung on more tightly. With a chuckle, Seokjin carried him over to the couch, flopping them both down into the overstuffed cushions as Jungkook continued to nuzzle into him, now roughly tugging at Seokjin’s soft sweater.   “ Kiss me you asshole,” he snapped, mouthing headily at Seokjin’s adam’s apple, giving a pointed shove of his fist at his shoulder. “I’ve earned it.”   Seokjin laughed again, his shoulders lifting with the action as he brushed Jungkook’s bangs out of his eyes. They had grown longer since he’d last seen him, and his hair looked lighter in color now, and his skin tanner. The legs that wrapped around him were heavier and more filled out than they had been in January. Seokjin touched his hand underneath the angular jaw, still chuckling a little.   “Yeah, you have.” He gave the lightest of tugs with his fingertips, bringing Jungkook down toward him as he caught the boy’s already moistened lips with his own, tilting his head to the side and sighing into the feeling of touching him again, of having him in his arms and surrounding him with his Scent and his soothing presence.   “I missed you,” Jungkook whimpered, pressing a fourth, a fifth, then a sixth kiss to Seokjin’s lips with a desperation that was as innocent as much as it wasn’t . A high-pitched sound like a protest escaped the Omega, and he finally pulled back a little to frown at Seokjin. “Why do you smell so different? What’s that crappy smell covering up your Scent?”   Seokjin nibbled a little at his bottom lip, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand and glancing off to the side. He didn’t want to lie to Jungkook - especially now that there was a little ray of hope that he had slowly, splinter by splinter, pieced back together out of the coffin he’d already placed his heart into. But right now, during a reunion that finally let him feel like he could breathe like normal, Seokjin didn’t want to ruin Jungkook’s happy moment.   “Maybe it’s the hotel I was in?” He shrugged. “It was a pretty nasty place.”   “I hope it goes away soon,” Jungkook complained, leaning back in and unabashedly rubbing his Scent into Seokjin’s neck, making the Alpha gasp a little as the waves of tickling sensation rushed through his body at the contact. “It smells horrible.”   “A-agreed…” Seokjin exhaled, slowly resting his arms around Jungkook’s back, rubbing at his shoulders. He knew Jungkook well enough by now to know that he rarely initiated physical contact with the other wolves, much less how openly, awkwardly clingy he had suddenly become. He had slipped into his arms so naturally, a side effect of all the times they had slowly edged towards each other over the months, all the moments Seokjin had deliberately teased the younger wolves until they would playfully hit him back. The easygoing way they had ended up rough-housing in a pile on the ground into the evenings, the quiet moments with Jungkook pushed up shoulder-to-shoulder between him and Yoongi when they were having movie nights. When had their skinship become so natural that it had progressed to this point, where they were slowly moving in closer to each other, more intimately and naturally than a bee laid its touch on a flower?   “Jungkook?” came a voice, and Seokjin looked up over Jungkook’s head to see Yoongi stepping into the living room, doing a double take at the sight of Jungkook straddling Seokjin’s lap with his head buried in Seokjin’s shoulder as he Scented him almost fiercely. Seokjin quirked his lips to the side a little in lieu of a shrug, not wanting to dislodge the boy, and Yoongi pursed his lips a little together before bending to pick up the ice pack that Jungkook had abandoned at the bottom of the stairs, quietly leaving the two of them alone.   Seokjin breathed a sigh, rubbing Jungkook’s back in little circles again and dropping his nose to Jungkook’s hair, his eyes fluttering shut at the smell of Jungkook’s shampoo mingled with his Scent. “I missed you,” he breathed. He wanted to tell Jungkook just how much he had missed him, how his cute little texts and almost daily photos had kept his spirits up, wanted to tell him that he was ready to move forward with the Omega now. But it was a little hard to do that with the huge, emotional lump sitting in his throat, so he sufficed with just holding him a little longer, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head that had Jungkook pressing in closer, asking silently for more. He supposed a part of him had expected Jungkook to say it back, to be as affectionate as he had been in text-form, but after a moment he realized the fact that he hadn’t said it back was kind of a relief, in itself. He had worried Jungkook would feel obligated or pressured to keep up a certain level of affirmation, or to reciprocate the same way all the time. With Jae, he remembered always feeling like he had to fight to reassure, to explain every need or emotion. But there was something about the way Jungkook remained silent that didn’t leave him questioning whether or not the Omega had missed him at all - he just felt shy, quiet, comfortable. Instead of being a battle of who could miss each other more with more verbal sincerity and reasons, Jungkook just seemed to curl up inside Seokjin’s sentence and enjoy the truth of it, with no other strings attached.   It was almost half an hour before either of them moved again, and Seokjin had started to wonder if Jungkook had fallen asleep against his chest, thighs planted on either side of his hips and knees pressed into the couch cushions as he laid his head against Seokjin’s collarbone. He was tempted to doze off himself, although he was sure he wouldn’t be able to, even as exhausted as he was. Just as he was considering shifting on the couch to a more accommodating position, Jungkook spoke.   “Taehyung started his heat a couple days ago,” he started quietly, his breath tickling slightly against Seokjin’s neck. “Jimin’s been with him constantly.”   “Oh,” Seokjin’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, wow. That was so quick, wasn’t it? He’ll be really happy about that, though. And it should be a pretty easy first heat.”   “Yeah, but..” Jungkook chuckled a little. “Jimin accidentally gave him a bath in some of Yoongi’s hormone bath salts.”   Seokjin froze, letting Jungkook’s words sink in. “Oh, no .”   “Yeah… so Taehyung’s been a total mess, and Jimin feels really bad. Hoseok tried to tell him it was just a mistake, that it happens, but..” Jungkook’s voice lowered, “He won’t listen to Taehyung and help him out a little. He says it’s just his heat talking and won’t touch him. I tried to explain th-that...there’s a difference, you know? But…”   Seokjin sighed, reaching over to give Jungkook’s supple thigh a hearty pat. “Okay, let me up, then. I should go check on things.”   With visible reluctance, Jungkook removed himself from Seokjin’s lap, hovering closely behind as Seokjin made his way upstairs.   “Here,” Jungkook pointed out the room Taehyung and Jimin now shared, and Seokjin gave the door a quiet little knock.   Jimin opened it after a moment, looking tired but also relieved to see Seokjin, with Jungkook standing just behind him with his chin hooked over the Alpha’s shoulder. He even gave a little smile, albeit a very tired one. “Oh, you’re back!”   “Yeah,” Seokjin exhaled. He had expected Jimin to be sort of angry with him, in a way, but perhaps he was just too preoccupied to feel bitter at the time. “Is it okay if I see Taehyung for a bit? I heard he’s in his first heat.”   Jimin nibbled at his lip for a moment, looking over his shoulder into the darkness of the room, then nodded, stepping aside so the two wolves could enter. “Luckily he just got another bath, so… he’s trying to rest right now.”   Seokjin walked over to the bed, where Taehyung was curled up facing the wall, hugging a large pillow with a dirty T-shirt on it and pouting at the chipped plaster on the wall, looking glassy-eyed and petulant. He was a little surprised to note that Yoongi was no longer there, but he didn’t bother to question it too much. The smell of oranges and Omega arousal was so heavy in the air, Seokjin would have normally been choking on it. Luckily enough, the high-end suppressants were doing their job well, and he just felt a thickness to his senses like smelling pollen in the air in the throes of spring. He sat down on the edge of the bed, laying his hand gently on Taehyung’s bare arm. The boy didn’t react for a moment, and then it was as though his ears perked up and he turned, seeing Seokjin there.   “Seokjinnie!” Taehyung gasped, eyes widening. “You’re home!”   The Alpha smiled. “Hey, Tae, I heard you got your heat. Congrats.”   At the mention of the heat, Taehyung gave the endearing little frown Seokjin could remember from their childhood. The Beta’s dark, gold-rimmed eyes flashed accusingly over at Jimin, who waited in the doorway, hugging his chest as he watched the brothers. “Yeah, but Jimin won’t even hug me anymore, he’s being so mean .”   Seokjin reached over and patted Taehyung on the arm, rubbing up and down near the boy’s elbow. Taehyung pouted deeper, sighing at his brother’s touch. “Do you want me to talk to him for you? Is that okay, if I tell him some of the things we talked about?”   Taehyung considered for a moment, craning his neck so he could see Jimin in the doorway again, looking strained and stressed. He looked to Seokjin, nodding and hugging the pillow more tightly to his chest. “Yes...tell him everything if it’ll just make him listen to me, Seokjinnie. I’m so tired and I want this to be over already. It’s horrible to be in heat before we can properly--”   “Okay, okay,” Seokjin laughed, cutting him off just in case the hormones loosened his brother’s tongue. He patted Taehyung again and moved to stand. “I’ll talk to him for you, okay? Now try to relax.”   “All right…” Taehyung whimpered, like a child told to sit quietly and wait for his parents in suffering silence. He turned back to staring at his wall and lowly mumbled a, “Thanks, Seokjin…”   Seokjin smiled, leading Jimin out and into Seokjin’s own room, shutting the door behind them. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Jungkook slipped in after them, instantly tucking his face in to Scent Seokjin again as he stood facing the smaller Alpha, but Seokjin was still a little thrown by his presence.   “So…” Seokjin started. Jimin stared at the floor, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “I heard Taehyung got an Omega hormone-infused bath because of you.”   Jimin flushed. “I didn’t mean to! Honest, I thought it was just regular bath salts, and I thought maybe they’d make him feel better, and I only--”   “ Jimin , calm down!” Seokjin chuckled, waving down the Alpha with a gesture. “I know you were just trying to help. Besides, if you knew some of the things we did to each other when we were little that was on purpose , you’d know this isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to Taehyung. He’ll be fine.” He leaned in, as if to put himself into Jimin’s lowered gaze. “I’m more concerned with the fact that you won’t go near him. Taehyung is clingy and touchy even on a regular day, much less right now.”   The Alpha swallowed heavily, looking redder by the minute. Seokjin smiled at him softly - Jimin sometimes got this very natural blush to the apples of his cheeks that was quite endearing, although he didn’t say so aloud. An Alpha had his pride, after all, and Jimin was certainly a man of pride.   “I…”  Jimin mumbled.   “Jimin,” Seokjin prodded gently. “What are you worried about? You can tell me, Alpha to Alpha.”   After a few moments of shifting, Jimin mumbled, “I keep messing up. I’m the worst Alpha ever, and I’m afraid I’m gonna mess up again.”   Seokjin arched an eyebrow, but kept his face carefully void of any amusement. He knew if he laughed even a little, Jimin would probably become embarrassed and clam up. “Jimin, you’re not ‘messing up.’ You’re a great Alpha for Taehyung.”   “But I can’t even protect him, like an Alpha should! I made my first rut the worst possible scenario and left him for days! He asked me for help with his heat and I made it worse ! He had to change to be an Omega for me, and what if Hoseok is right? What if Taehyung wanted to be an Alpha? He’s so strong and beautiful, he’d be better at it than me!” Jimin’s words tumbled from his mouth in an emotional, choked sound, a little slur to his words and a familiar accent slipping between his lips as Jimin rambled with abandon, looking up into Seokjin’s eyes with a deep sadness in his own.   Seokjin reached out, slowly cupping a hand under Jimin’s chin and tilting his face upwards. With a reassuring smile, he said, “Jimin. Jimin . Taehyung was so happy to become your Omega, you don’t even know. He and I talked a lot after coming here, and he’s known practically since we moved in here that it had to be you, no matter what. He was so excited. Taehyung is the last person to think Omegas, Alphas and Betas are any different. He sees everyone equally, and he’s helped me see things that way, too.” Seokjin paused, feeling a lump forming in his throat at the memory, but swallowing it down. This wasn’t about him, right now. “You think he’d regret becoming your Omega? Jimin, he wants to have your pups someday. He’s rambled to me about it for hours.”   Jimin’s eyes widened, mouth falling slightly agape as a beautiful red blush flared up across his cheeks. “P-p-pups?! We hadn’t even t-talked about that…”   Seokjin chuckled. “Jimin, Taehyung has always wanted pups. He adores them.”  “I...I know that,” Jimin retorted back, a little defensively. Seokjin felt Jungkook slowly, smoothly slide his arms around Seokjin’s waist from behind, burying his nose into Seokjin’s back, but saying nothing. “I know he likes pups but I didn’t know he...he wanted to have them.”  “Since he’s a Beta, he knows it’ll be really difficult. Maybe even impossible. But he doesn’t just want any pups; he wants your pups.” Seokjin tilted his head to the side, “Jimin, he already has names picked out. My brother has never been more sure about anything in his life as much as he’s sure he wants you as his Mate.”   Jimin bit his lip, trying to hold back a happy, shy smile. The knowledge obviously had come as a total surprise, and he looked extremely pleased as he let the words sink in. Then, he looked back up at Seokjin, the slightest trace of red encircling his irises indicative of his inwardly bubbling excitement.   “Jiminie,” Seokjin reassured, his voice quiet. “You should go help him through his heat. He wants you, heat or not. You can be sure of that.”   “B-but what if I mess it up?” Jimin’s question came almost as a breath, a fear-ridden exhale. This was the thing that obviously had been plaguing his mind the most, the unspoken expectations, the standards he had written in his head but never brought to the light for fear of scrutiny. “What if I...what if I don’t know what to do?”   “You will mess it up,” Seokjin said matter-of-factly. Jimin looked up at him, stunned. After a pause, Seokjin finished, “But that’s okay. Taehyung will mess up, too. That’s just part of how it all works. No one - least of all Taehyung - expects you to be perfect, Jimin. You’re both really young wolves still, you’re both figuring things out. I’m sure he just wants to figure it out together with you. If there are things you’re unsure of, you should just ask him plainly, and he’ll tell you. He trusts you to talk to him about things, to believe in him and to tell him what’s on your mind. If he says he wants to be your Omega, believe him. If he says he’s uncomfortable with something, believe him. Just...just trust in him, okay? And you’ll be okay.”   Jimin opened his mouth again as if to protest, but having found nothing to counteract with, he shut it once again, and shuffled his feet. Jungkook’s arms around Seokjin’s waist tightened, and he heard the quivering sound of Jungkook taking in a sharp inhale, letting it out slowly.   “It’s okay to be afraid, Jimin,” Seokjin hummed softly. “But being a ‘great’ Alpha...being a ‘great’ Omega or even a Beta...it’s not about being perfect. It’s about doing your best. Respecting each other’s wishes and communicating what you need. I’m sure you two can do that. So I think Taehyung is very lucky to have found a great Alpha like you, Jimin.”   The younger Alpha flushed again, his lip protruding and his eyes starting to crinkle a little at the corners, as though he was on the verge of starting to cry. He nodded, sighing with a bit of a gentle shakiness. “Th-thanks, Seokjin. Hoseok and Namjoon tried to make me feel better, but… I don’t think they understood it.” It was a vague sentence, really, but Seokjin nodded in understanding. Namjoon wasn’t one to question his worth as an Alpha. And Hoseok...well, as far as Seokjin was concerned, Hoseok was ahead of the game, a beautiful and balanced Alpha, and Seokjin figured that that made his perception a bit different from Jimin’s. “I’ll...I’ll do my best.”   Seokjin nodded, patting Jimin’s shoulder. “That would be perfect. Now go.” He nudged a thumb over his shoulder, sharing a smile with the Alpha before the door shut behind him. He chuckled once it was just him and Jungkook. If only Jimin had any idea of how adoringly Taehyung had rambled to Seokjin about the Alpha since they had joined Bangtan pack. How hard Taehyung’s open-minded perspective of wolves had ostracized him from other noble wolves his age. How much he really, really loved Park Jimin, a gentle and loving Alpha who he knew he could trust.   “Even his smell is so nice,” Taehyung had said, folding the laundry and sighing in contentment. Seokjin shook his head, rolling his eyes and chuckling.   “Figures you would fall for someone who smells like candy,” Seokjin teased.   “I didn’t fall down, I fell up,” Taehyung stated. Before Seokjin could pause to translate the phrase’s meaning, he continued, “And he’s so kind. He’s patient. He listens to everything I say,” Taehyung rambled on, actually folding with a notable increase in elegance and skill the more deeply he got distracted by thoughts of the Alpha. “He’s like a prince. He’s way more prince-like than most of the Nobles I’ve met. Even the way he walks is like a prince.”   “Mm,” Seokjin hummed. “I agree with you, there.”   “He’s my soulmate,” Taehyung beamed, his grin all teeth as he looked over a pair of underwear at his older brother. “So after I Present, I’m going to Claim him.”   Seokjin looked up at the boy in surprise. “Wh-what?”   “Yup. And then maybe after I Claim Jiminie, you’ll admit you like Jungkookie. Then the pack will be all paired off.”   The Alpha set aside the pair of folded jeans on the edge of the couch with a groan. “Taehyung…”   “I know, I know,” Taehyung rolled his eyes and sighed. “I won’t tell. But how is it not obvious to everyone else?”   Seokjin didn’t answer. He carefully folded a pile of plain white T-shirts that smelled of saltwater with a hint of leather mingled into the cotton, despite having just been washed, and stacked them carefully in his lap, laying his hand on top of them for a moment. He didn’t have an answer because he didn’t know.   “Seokjin,” Jungkook said from behind him, his voice muffled as he called the Alpha’s name and pulled him out of his reverie. His hands were still clasped around Seokjin’s waist, and he lifted his chin to hook it back over the Alpha’s shoulder, pressing his nose in to Seokjin’s Scent gland.   The Alpha stiffened, unconsciously reaching up and laying his hand over Jungkook’s where it rested on his stomach. “Jungkook…”   “You just said trust was important, right?” Jungkook’s voice was quiet but his words firm, accusing, even. He paused, and inhaled into Seokjin’s skin, making his spine tingle delightfully even as he felt fear settling into his bones. “Tell me the real reason why your Scent is different. It’s not going away.”   “What?”   In a whisper, lowly murmured against his neck, Jungkook said, “If you went to someone else, I’d rather you just tell me honestly, Seokjin.” “W-went to someone else?!” Seokjin tried to laugh, but the sound was empty, and he frantically tried to pry Jungkook’s hands off of his waist, knowing that if the Omega stayed touching him that much, remained that close, that he would be able to sense everything that was left unsaid.   “Stop playing stupid!” The Omega snapped, gripping Seokjin more tightly. Seokjin was surprised by how strong his grip had become. He seemed more muscular than before, more straightforward and less timid. But there was still injury riddled in his voice as anger started to bubble beneath the surface. “You left me, you said you needed time, and I gave it to you. I’ve done my best to be patient, and I trusted you to come back, Seokjin. But now you’re here and something just...it just feels so wrong ! You don’t smell like you usually do, and your rut is over, and… just… Who is it? Why are you lying to me?” The hands on his waist clenched tighter, and Jungkook’s voice thickened.   “Jungkook…” Seokjin felt the guilt creeping throughout his body, making him feel heavy and strained, like his body was taffy being pulled across the room, vexing and exposed. “Jungkook, listen to me. I-- God, let me go for a second so I can look at you.”   Reluctantly, Jungkook’s hands loosened their vice-like grip, and Seokjin turned around in place to see the Omega glaring up at him. His next words came out soft, broken almost, and thick. It was the sort of voice that was fearful of already knowing the answer.   “Did he kiss you?”   Seokjin’s mouth dropped open, prepared with a protest, but he ended up with nothing, not a single sound escaping his lips. His mind flashed with memories of Jae pressed up against him, tenderly kissing every knuckle before touching his lips to the edges of Seokjin’s mouth, smirking in the orange glow of the streetlamp.   “I...I…” At Seokjin’s fumbling, Jungkook’s face crumpled like paper, and Seokjin could see his eyes already starting to water even as he shoved roughly at Seokjin’s shoulders, storming out of the room. “Jungkook, wait! Jungkook, let me explain!”   He saw the edge of Jungkook’s shoulder vanishing around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, already gone before Seokjin was even fully down the hall. By the time he made it to the kitchen, Jungkook had already tucked himself underneath the biggest comforter beneath the table, now just a shapeless burgundy-colored lump.   “Jungkook, just listen to me!” Seokjin begged, ignoring the figure leaning up against the kitchen counter and opting instead to rush under the table after the Omega, trying to tug the comforter out of Jungkook’s hands and away from his face, to no avail.   “Leave me alone!” Jungkook cried out, “Go away!”   “Jungkook!”   “Go and fuck your stupid mate who smells like ass!” Jungkook snapped.   “Stop that!” Seokjin barked back, his own temper rising at Jungkook’s stubbornness. They wrestled back and forth with the blanket, little grunts the only sounds between them for a few moments. There was an awkward cough somewhere from above them, but neither of them paid it any heed, distracted as soon Seokjin had Jungkook’s wrists pinned with one hand, yanking the comforter off the boy’s face with the other. Jungkook’s face was flushed from having his head under the blanket, his hair sufficiently mussed and a dark glare on his face as he shot daggers up at Seokjin. At the moment their eyes met, Seokjin realized how forcefully he was holding Jungkook down, and he felt his mouth going dry as he froze. He released the boy’s wrists in an instant, but then neither moved for a long moment. Jungkook was the first to speak.   “I’m not a pup,” Jungkook stated firmly.   “I know you’re not,” Seokjin swallowed. “I never...I never really saw you that way, anyways.”   “Then why ?” Jungkook’s fists clenched, and Seokjin could have sworn he wore an expression that reminded him so much of Yoongi and Namjoon all at once, that kind of stubborn Omega air that took no flak, the Alpha-like sagely self-consciousness that belied his years.   The Alpha let out a low, long sigh. He laid a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, gripping him lightly there in a way that he initially thought was to reassure the younger, but once he felt the warmth of the Omega’s skin beneath his touch, he realized it was mostly for himself. “Jungkook, there...there was someone else, before I came to the pack. I told you I would explain it all when I came home, and I meant that. But it’s not easy for me. There was a lot…” Seokjin found himself starting to choke on his words, and he had to take a breath before continuing, letting his eyes flicker away from the Omega’s cool, steady gaze. “And I did see him again. And I’ll even admit that...well, it would have been easy to go down that road again, even after all that’s happened.” Jungkook shifted, and even in the corner of his eye he could see the intense blue circle around the boy’s eyes, could feel the heat of jealousy and fury that was bubbling up in the Omega’s chest. He held up a hand to stop him, “But…. But …it didn’t happen. That’s the truth. I didn’t go to anyone to help me with my rut, I promise you, Jungkook. I swear to god.”   “Then what the fuck is that smell?!” Jungkook counterattacked, wrinkling his nose at the scent in the air. ‘Why won’t it go away?”   Seokjin flushed a little. “I...um. Well, usually a rut would go away after a couple of weeks, unless an Alpha has an Omega to help counteract the hormones. I’m used to dealing with it without an Omega, so I thought it would be fine after a week or two, but…” At his pause, Jungkook arched an eyebrow. Seokjin’s lips curved downward in an expression of exasperated and reluctant acceptance. “It only...got worse .”   “Worse? How?”   “Jungkook, I…” Seokjin tugged at the collar of his sweater because suddenly, it felt much warmer in the room than it had a minute ago. “I couldn’t finish the rut. The longer I was away, the worse it got. For awhile, I couldn’t leave my room because...I didn’t know what I would do to find relief.”   Jungkook blinked, and Seokjin’s suspicions were confirmed. Jungkook had never really seen what a rut could do to an Alpha at its highest point. With Jae, neither of them could find relief in each other during that time, but that certainly hadn’t stopped them from trying. Seokjin flushed to think of some of the measures they had tried to take.   “Jungkook, it...it got worse whenever I thought about you…” he mumbled quietly, unsure. True, he was pretty sure of Jungkook’s feelings for him, but that didn’t necessarily mean he knew how Jungkook would react to being thought of in that sense.   To his surprise, Jungkook just blinked at him. “Oh.”   “Oh?”   The Omega paused, considering, then more confidently confirmed. “Oh.”   Seokjin felt heat rising to his neck. “I couldn’t afford to skip any more classes, so I went to a couple of hormone specialists and got put on suppressants. We tried at least half a dozen different kinds, before they finally put me on this high-grade one that they use for people with severe imbalances. It’s the only thing that’s worked to control the rut, and it has a lot of side effects, but at least it worked enough for me to focus on the things I needed to focus on, so I could come home.”   “Wait, wait a minute. Does that mean you’re still in a rut? Like, right now?” Jungkook shifted back a little against his mound of pillows and blankets, looking Seokjin up and down.   “Technically, yes?” Seokjin scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “And that’s why I smell differently. It’s kind of…crushing those hormones.”   “But isn’t that unhealthy?” Jungkook queried, eyes widening. “Isn’t living on suppressants really bad for you?”   One edge of Seokjin’s lips quirked up. “Well...to be honest, yes.”   “Then get off of them!” Jungkook shouted. “I hate the smell, and you don’t have to deal with your rut alone, you have me ! So let me help!”   “But Jungkook, I…” Seokjin sighed.   “Just explain it,” Jungkook’s voice dropped deep, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously. When several tense moments passed and Seokjin was still staring away in silence, he continued, “Seokjin, what happened to ‘it’s okay to be afraid’ and ‘it’s about respecting wishes and communicating what you need’?”   Seokjin visibly winced. He wanted to applaud and slap Jungkook at the same time, using his own words against him. Jungkook leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Seokjin and touching their foreheads together.   “Well...” Seokjin took in a deep breath and prepared himself. “When I was a freshly Presented Alpha, I was approached by a few different packs. It happens a lot in Noble families, and the Kims in particular are pretty well known. There was a powerful pack at that time called The Rising Gods, and they asked me to join, and I accepted. It was an elite pack, with only Nobles who had particularly powerful abilities in hunting or...creating families. I joined because I never felt much of an inclination to be a leader anyways, and it was pretty prestigious, so my parents were very happy about it. In that pack, there was an older wolf there that I really looked up to. We became friends, and then we became closer than anyone. I...well, we ...we were going to be Mates.”   The Omega blinked up at him, a look of confusion crossing his face as he met Seokjin’s gaze.   “But he and I… despite how we felt about each other, we..were both Alphas.”   Jungkook inhaled sharply. “It was Jae.”   Seokjin’s face crumpled in shock, his body flushed with emotional heat from head to toe  just at hearing Jungkook say his name. “H-how did you know?” In lieu of a response, Jungkook just looked up at Seokjin with wide, surprised eyes and shook his head. Seokjin braced himself to explain the rest.   “Yes, it was Jae. And I thought that, you know... as long as I had him, it would all be okay. I didn’t see it at the time for what it was - it was unhealthy, it was an addiction. I didn’t belong with him, and he didn’t belong with me. We were just... possessing each other, dominating. We got addicted to it because it was thrilling, it made us feel powerful.”   “We went to Yunho, our pack’s lead Alpha. He had known Jae since they were very young, and he could see it wasn’t a good thing. He also had the reputation of his pack to think about. He rejected our Claim and tried to separate us in the pack. I don’t think he meant any harm, but… after that, things got really difficult for the two of us. The other pack members were very cruel, especially to Jae. He still wanted to continue the relationship, but in secret. I didn’t want to live that way, I didn’t want to have to hide, so… I gave him an ultimatum. I asked him if he would leave the Rising Gods and start a new pack with me.”   Jungkook looked more than a little shell shocked, his expression showing that he was piecing everything together. “You were going to use our island for your pack, because it was your inheritance anyways.”   Seokjin nodded. “My father still had it set aside for me, since sometimes lead Alphas in packs shift, especially where Nobles are involved. He was sort of hoping I would lead the Rising Gods, I think. But it didn’t work out that way.” Seokjin gave a weary sigh. “As hard as things were for him, as toxic as it was, Jae didn’t want to leave. Rising Gods were his family. He was technically born a Noble, just like everyone else, but... Jae’s mother had him out of wedlock. He was adopted by another Noble family when he was just a baby, but it was still a point of contention - Nobles care a lot about your roots. He was only accepted into The Rising Gods because of his friendship with Yunho, and they were like family to him.”   Jungkook shook his head in disbelief.   “He wouldn’t leave with me, and he couldn’t be with me, but he wanted it all anyways. The longer I stayed, the more dangerous we became to each other. Things stopped being thrilling and started to get scary, since we were both so afraid all the time. It got to a point where…” Seokjin felt his throat constrict on him, betraying him just when he needed it, and he had to stop and halt himself from crying. Jungkook looked up into Seokjin’s face in question, but the Alpha took a calming breath, determined to continue. “Jungkook, at more than one point we hospitalized each other, it was that bad. That was the sort of…. intimacy that I was used to, and it only got more intense the less open we could be with each other. At some point, I just snapped. I couldn’t take it anymore. We were slowly killing each other, and I didn’t even recognize myself. I left Rising Gods and asked my father to take away my inheritance to the island. I didn’t want to be a lead Alpha, or an Alpha of any kind, if all I could do was hurt my mate.”   “But…” Jungkook’s brow wrinkled. Seokjin knew it was a lot of information to take in. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Jungkook said that it was all a bit too complicated, too heavy, too deep an ocean for him to wade into. But his first question was actually, “Do you still…? Like that sort of thing?”   Seokjin’s eyes widened, and he felt a tickling rush slide up his spine with the knowing, self-aware way Jungkook seemed to be watching him. It wasn’t a question he had been mentally prepared for. “No! I mean, well. To be honest, I don’t know….” He shook himself, trying to throw off the intrinsic desires, the darker thoughts he wasn’t going to allow himself to have about Jeon Jungkook. “Well, its… I’ve decided that’s in the past . I’m not going to bring it to the table when it comes to you . That’s why I wanted to wait. I wanted to be sure.”   He looked over and saw Jungkook with an expression of deep thought on his face, studying Seokjin’s expression as if he was in search of an answer there to some unspoken question.   “But you really didn’t do anything with him?” Jungkook whispered, “For your rut? Or…or anything?”   Seokjin stared down at Jungkook, at the way he looked so small and soft in his jealousy, his sadness. A little melancholic smile slipped its way across Seokjin’s lips, tears stinging at his eyes as he shook his head. “How could I, when you were home waiting for me? I told him no.”   Jungkook’s arms shot up to wrap around Seokjin’s neck, pulling him down until his chest was pressed against the Omega, his chin tucked over Jungkook’s shoulder, and his face uncomfortably buried in one of the pillows there. “Good, because otherwise I was gonna have to kill him. Or you. I hadn’t decided which.”   Seokjin chuckled, his chest simultaneously feeling released from a tremendous pressure he hadn’t known was forming there, and strained and swollen from how little he felt he deserved someone like Jeong Jungkook. He tilted his face against Jungkook’s Scent gland, inhaling deeply at the smell of salt. Jungkook only grabbed him tighter, like a child petulantly throwing a tantrum while gripping the leg of an adult for dear life, like someone afraid to let go of their grounding, their most precious foothold on the earth.   “It’s over now, right?” Jungkook’s hand curved around the back of Seokjin’s neck, and the Alpha shut his eyes, letting out a little hum of happiness at the warmth bubbling underneath the Omega’s hand at the movement. After seeing - or hearing, rather - Seokjin’s reaction, Jungkook’s other hand slipped up to entangle in the hair at the back of Seokjin’s neck, massaging at the tense muscles there with firm fingertips. “You faced those demons. You’ve told me about them. So please ...get off the suppressants and let me help you.”   Seokjin lifted himself up, Jungkook’s hands still entangled in his hair, and tilted his head to the side in puzzlement. “How are you so sure about us? About this? After all I’ve told you, don’t you even want to think about it for a bit?”   “How are you not sure about us?” Jungkook shot back, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a teasing smile. “I already said, I only want you.”   “I…well, I’m sure I want you, but that’s not the only part of this whole Mating thing, dumbass,” Seokjin mumbled, leaning his forehead down to touch against Jungkook’s. “I know how I feel about you, but I’m not sure what it is.”   “I have a theory,” came a familiar voice just above them, and Seokjin’s whole body shot up nearly a foot, his head banging up against the underside of the table in shock. Despite the heaviness of their conversation a moment ago - or maybe because of it - Jungkook found himself laughing openly at the Alpha as he rubbed at his bruised head, sending a glare at Namjoon as the lead Alpha crouched at the edge of the table with a smirk.   “You asshole,” Seokjin pouted.   “I missed you, too,” Namjoon laughed.   “Namjoon, tell him to get off the suppressants,” Jungkook whined, his voice sounded younger, high pitched as he frowned at the Alpha. “He stinks and it makes him more stupid than usual.”   “I will,” Namjoon promised, “But first, I wanna talk to you both; about why I think Seokjin’s rut was - well, is - so bad. I have a feeling that if I’m right, Seokjin will agree with my suggestion.”   “I doubt that ,” Seokjin pouted again, but sat back and made himself comfortable as Namjoon arranged himself just outside of the confines of the tabletop, Jungkook keeping one hand clutching onto Seokjin’s shirt. The Alpha looked down at the sleeve Jungkook held in a deathgrip, arching an eyebrow but saying nothing.   “So, we all agreed that Jungkook’s Presenting was surprisingly early, as well as much heavier and more dangerous than any of us could have anticipated. He shouldn’t have Presented for another year at least, really. It struck me as odd that what triggered it was Seokjin’s Scent. True, an Alpha Scent can be pretty powerful, especially to an Omega about to go into heat anyways, but… I’ve never heard of a case where an Omega got that triggered by just Scenting an article of clothing .”   “I started to suspect something was off about it, especially when Jungkook kept calling for Seokjin, even when he wasn’t one of the Alphas in the room. Considering how bad Jungkook’s heat was, normally an Omega doesn’t care much which Alpha is nearby.”   Seokjin felt his face flush, glancing over at Jungkook, whose face was surprisingly blank and contemplative. He had known that Jungkook had called for him by name, but what else had he requested in his heat-induced delirium? Just the concept alone had his body tensing up.   “Then there was Seokjin’s rut, which has lasted way longer than it should have. To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t ended up in the hospital, Seokjin; I know I wouldn’t have lasted so long. Your rut should only have lasted a couple weeks to a month at the most, and regular suppressants, you said, did nothing. I know you went away so you could talk to Jungkook when you were not in your rut, but...to be honest, it sounds like you just made things a lot worse.”   “The final nail in the coffin was when Jungkook came home a few days ago,” Namjoon continued, his fingertips picking at a tear at the side seam on his pants absentmindedly. “The day that he saw Seokjin while crossing the bridge. He came home and his Scent was super strong, like he was signaling to you or something. And then I realized what he said when he came home.”   “W-what did he say?” Seokjin blinked hard, not sure what to expect.   “He said you were coming home soon. He said ‘It’s a sign , and that he just knew that you were coming back soon.” Namjoon stared directly into Seokjin’s face. “You messaged me that night that your suppressants were starting to finally work, and that you wanted to come home as soon as possible. Now, I have to ask - did you or did you not see Jungkook that day, on the bridge?”   “N-no…” Seokjin began, then shook himself. “I mean, well. Yes , in a way. I heard him call for me but to be honest, I’d kept hearing his voice randomly anyways, with the rut, so… I didn’t think it was really him until after he’d texted me.”   Namjoon nodded, and Seokjin felt Jungkook’s eyes watching him curiously.   “The way he said it, it made me think that perhaps there was more than just some heavy Scenting connecting you two, with the confidence Jungkook had, it was like he could feel it as if you had told him directly.”   “But Namjoon,” Jungkook stepped in, “Wouldn’t all of that be affected by the fact that Seokjin Claimed me?” Seokjin did a double take, his body visibly jolting in surprise as he gaped over at Jungkook. When had he found out? What had been his reaction? Why had Namjoon told him?   “You might think so, but like I’ve said before, a Claim is just a verbal contract. To be honest, I think my theory is part of what caused Seokjin to want to Claim you so quickly in the first place.”   “And what theory is that?” Jungkook asked.   Namjoon looked between the two of them for a moment, his expression somber. “To be quite frank, I suspect that you two are Bonded.”   Seokjin took in a sharp inhale of breath, his head spinning. “ Bonding ?! Your theory is Bonding ? But most people don’t even think Bonding exists!”   “I know that . But there are lots of things in this world we don’t understand yet. Some people still suspect the Soulmate theory is a real thing, that it just died out over the generations. There’s even some scientific evidence that-”   “ Namjoon .”   The lead Alpha sighed, but continued, turning to Jungkook. “Basically, there’s this thing called the Bonding Theory, right? Most wolves, they Mate for life, that’s pretty standard. But usually wolves don’t know who they want to Mate for months, years - it’s different for everybody. Then there’s the Bonding Theory. It’s when two wolves, who are extremely compatible, meet, and not only their bodies but...something in their very souls …” Namjoon gestured with his hands as though he was straining to scoop into some imaginary depth, taking hold of the invisible stuff of stars he referred to as the soul. “ Just connects . They feel goosebumps all over, usually in the first moments they see each other, and they just... Bond . Usually people say they feel it the instant they see their future Mate.”   Jungkook tilted his chin to the side, as though unsure, or dislodging an old memory, then he halfway sat up, staring at Seokjin with wide eyes.   “I...I think I did feel something, when I first saw you!” Jungkook’s mouth hung open. “When I saw you and Taehyung pulling into the driveway! I thought I was just nervous, but…”   “It probably was just nerves,” Seokjin mumbled, turning back to Namjoon. But Jungkook was tugging on his sleeve for his attention, like he was ringing a bell, and when the Alpha looked back down at him, Jungkook frowned.   “Are you saying you didn’t feel anything odd when you first saw me? Why else would you Claim me so early?”   Seokjin pursed his lips together, reluctant to answer. He didn’t want to admit the rush, the way his head had momentarily spun all the way around in a lovely sense of vertigo when he had first seen Jungkook, curled up underneath the table and looking so cute, so shy. Soft and waiting. For a brief moment, every fiber of his body had wanted to crawl underneath the table with him, shove Taehyung out of the way and refuse to come out until he felt he had gotten close to the boy. But the fear of that rush of excitement, that strange, lovely sense of knowing , actually being just a repetition of what he had had with Jae utterly terrified him, and he had deliberately pulled back, burying the sensation as deeply as he could.   Jungkook tugged harder, his brow furrowing, “You did feel something, didn’t you!?”   Looking between the two of them, Namjoon was doing a terrible job at suppressing his smirk. “No one quite knows the rules that go with Bonding, because it’s never been a proven thing. But those that claim to have experienced it say that they can sense their Mate’s feelings, even when they’re not together. Their heats and ruts are more intense, their hormones are more extreme, and so on.” He gave a little shrug. “I could be wrong. But there have been a lot of odd coincidences. Seokjin, to be honest, I think you should get off the suppressants, and just hang tight to Jungkook for awhile. I have a sneaking suspicion that things would end up working out, if you did.”   Jungkook grinned broadly, laying back against his pillows and wriggling in to get more comfortable. Seokjin arched a confused eyebrow at him, then turned to Namjoon, “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”   “No problem,” Namjoon smirked, his expression like he knew a secret. “And I’m glad you’re back. You two have fun.” He pushed up off the kitchen floor and left the room, taking his drink with him upstairs.   Before Seokjin could call after him and ask what he meant by that, Jungkook had snaked his arms and legs around the Alpha’s waist like a koala, pulling him back until he was laying in the little nest-like tangle of bedding next to the smiling Omega. “What?” Seokjin laughed, “Why are you smiling like you just stole something?”   “Be cause ,” Jungkook beamed, his teeth gleaming and his nose scrunching up so tightly his eyes almost disappeared in a deep pattern of wrinkles, sparkling with a trace of blue. “You’re going to get off the suppressants, and once that horrible smell goes away, I’m going to make your rut go away for good.”   “Oh?” Seokjin said, skepticism evidence in his voice as he shuffled into a more comfortable position, Jungkook still clinging to him. “And how do you propose we do that?”   Jungkook rubbed his face up against the pillowcase for a moment, chuckling to himself before shooting Seokjin a look of utter bliss. “By returning the favor you paid me during my heat.”   Seokjin’s face fell, and he felt the blush going across his cheeks. “Jungkook, I don’t know if-”   “Shh…” Jungkook placed a finger against Seokjin’s lips to quiet him, “Shut the fuck up. Now…”  Jungkook moved in to curl up against Seokjin’s broad chest, but quickly wrinkled his sensitive nose in disgust at the suppressant Scent he found there, so he turned around until his back was facing Seokjin, petulantly grabbing the Alpha’s hand and wrapping it around his waist so that they were spooning together. “ There. ” Jungkook sighed in contentment, and as they laid there, Seokjin could feel the muscles in the Omega’s body gradually relax, one by one.   Seokjin stared at the back of Jungkook’s head for a long time, utterly puzzled by the Omega. He was so needy in a way that was completely unlike what Seokjin was used to, like a perverse yet still very transparent child, like someone completely comfortable and self-assured.   At last letting his body relax, Seokjin laid his head against the pillow behind Jungkook. He sighed a little as he sunk into the fabric, his thumb tracing along Jungkook’s hand, into the curve of his palm, between each finger and across every knuckle.   He was exhausted, but he knew that even if he fell asleep, it wouldn’t be for very long - the most troublesome side effect of the suppressants was the insomnia he’d been suffering from. But perhaps, if it was with Jungkook, he could get at least a little rest.   Seokjin was asleep before he had even finished the thought. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "...And when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment... ” ― Plato    Taehyung whimpered, clutching the pillow more tightly. The smell of Jimin’s peppermint had been slowly fading from the pillowcase (mostly because Taehyung had been insistently rubbing himself all over it) and now it was almost entirely gone. The achiness in his body, the throbbing in his crotch, they were all edging back into the forefront of his consciousness, and trying to push it off was futile and maddening. He had removed his shirt, leaving him in just boxers, but even that felt itchy, hot and uncomfortable. He wanted Jimin back, wanted to be surrounded by his lovely sweet Scent and his soft aura.   “Jimin…” Taehyung whined, then more loudly, “ Jim innieeee!”   The door creaked open, and the Scent of peppermint wafted in like a greeting. Taehyung smiled, lifting his flushed face from the mattress, blinking heavily at the sight of Jimin in the doorway. He took one hand away from the pillow he was clutching, reaching towards the Alpha’s form and wriggling his fingers in a grabbing gesture. “Jiminnieee…” he let out the complaint more loudly than before, and watched Jimin close the door before he moved over to the rolling chair at the desk. To Taehyung’s dismay, Jimin crawled into the chair instead of the bed, hugging his knees to his chest and looking rather small and worried. He bit his lip, staring at the floor.   “Taehyungie…” Jimin began. “I just talked to Seokjin. He told me about how, um...how you want to have pups someday.”   “Jiminnie…” Taehyung moaned, “Come closer, your Scent is gone.”   Jimin stared for a moment, before leaning forward and grabbing the edge of the mattress, scooching the rolling chair over until it was pushed up against the bed. Taehyung moved to the edge, taking hold of Jimin’s hand and splaying it across his face, making Jimin bite back a giggle as Taehyung’s hot breath tickled at his palm. The instant Taehyung had the smell of Jimin back, he breathed a sigh of relief, like air was being brought back into his lungs.   “Of course I want pups,” Taehyung said at last, “But right now I just want you to take care of me.”   It was precisely the sort of answer Jimin should have expected from Taehyung, and he smiled, tilting his head a little to the side as he licked at his lips a little. “I will. I’m sorry.”   Taehyung perked up at those words, his lips parting as he looked up at his Alpha. “Really?” So maybe he sounded a little over-eager, but could he really be blamed? It had been less than an hour and he could already feel that the slick in his boxers was leaking through the pad, and the bed felt unnaturally uncomfortable. Each thread of the fabric seemed to be rough and abrasive, like his whole body was on hyper-alert. The sound of Jimin’s voice, as soft and quiet as it was, thundered through his skull with every syllable, surrounding him. He was ready.   “Really,” Jimin said, smiling a little. “But...I’m not quite sure where to start, and I’ll probably mess it up…”   In moments, Taehyung had chucked the T-shirt covered pillow off to the side, and was frantically and clumsily grabbing at the band of his boxers, trying to push them down and off. Jimin leapt up suddenly, holding out a hand and placing it on Taehyung’s to stop him. Just that little bit of contact from an Alpha had Taehyung sighing, relieved at the coolness spreading through his body.   “ Chim-chim ,” he complained. Jimin was biting at his lip, and they now looked so plush and pink that Taehyung wanted to scream.   “Just...just slow down, okay? Let me lead for once. You always rush through things.”   Taehyung pouted, but he didn’t really have the energy to complain. “Whatever, just do something.”   Jimin halted, staring at Taehyung for a long second as though he had said or done something. It took him some time to realize that he was once again leaking slick into his boxers, his hips slowly twisting back and forth on the bed as though Jimin was already there to brace against.   “Don’t worry,” Jimin said lowly, “I’ll do plenty for you.”   Taehyung let out another whimper, holding out both hands to his Alpha. Jimin finally crawled up into the bed, the Scent of peppermint dropping around him and making him drown beneath it, his breath gasping and uneven as Jimin started leaving gentle, chaste kisses all across his skin. He moaned when Jimin started to suck at the skin of his collarbone, and his eyes shot back open as he let out a surprised gasp, feeling the hot wetness of Jimin’s tongue as it trailed along the bone there.   “You taste sweet and salty,” Jimin murmured, the accent from his hometown filtering in and making his words sound rougher, deeper. Taehyung’s eyebrows knitted together. Jimin leaned up, taking hold of Taehyung’s chin in both hands and tilting his head, pressing in for a deep, lingering kiss. Taehyung could feel a fluttering at his very core when Jimin’s inescapable tongue pushed roughly into his mouth, thick and hot and needy, flickering and making it hard for him to breathe. He could feel Jimin shifting up onto the bed, felt the shift of the mattress beneath his knees as he straddled Taehyung’s leg. Instantly, Taehyung tightened, pulling his knees together and squeezing around the thickness of Jimin’s thigh, moaning loudly just at that sensation alone. Without hesitation, spurred on by the headiness of his heat and the thickness of Jimin’s aroused Scent, he started pulling himself up and down against Jimin’s thigh, shuddering whenever he felt Jimin’s muscles contract.   “Jimin,” Taehyung gasped, needy as he gripped at Jimin’s shoulders, insisting on another kiss as the coil deep in him starting to tense and heat up. Jimin coaxed him on, petting his hair and kissing at his tanned skin.   “Take what you need, beautiful,”Jimin whispered, and Taehyung let out a little broken whimper, flushing at the compliment. “You’re so beautiful, Tae-Tae, you don’t even know. You’re like a work of art.”   Taehyung squirmed, his erect and overly sensitive member throbbing against Jimin. The Alpha shifted, leaning down to press his entire weight onto the Beta, and Taehyung yelped when the hot hardness of Jimin’s own erect cock pressed against him.   “Take it off,” Taehyung practically begged, practically demanded. He looked up in time to see Jimin’s eyes flashing red as he glared at the needy younger man.   “Hmmm. No,” Jimin hummed, a dark and playful air to his words. “I think you have to wait. I told you, you rush things too much.”   Taehyung whined, then felt an explosion of sensation as Jimin tugged away his boxers, instantly grabbing his throbbing member in his small but unbelievably firm hand, twisting at it painfully in the way he knew drove Taehyung crazy.   “Oh God,” Taehyung said, wriggling helplessly on the mattress as his cock screamed with the pleasure of white heat and the abrasive sting of Jimin’s nails brushing up against the reddened skin, every nerve raw and on edge. “Hurry, Jimin, more ,” he begged, panting. Jimin increased the pace, Taehyung gasping as he gripped at the sheets. He was nearing that lovely spiral at his center, his panting and whimpering rising in pitch and frequency, when suddenly Jimin released him. Feeling pathetically unsatisfied, Taehyung pouted and slapped at the mattress in impatience. With a childish sound of churlishness, he reached up with both hands and yanked down Jimin’s sweatpants, ignoring the deep, musical sound of JImin’s laughter as the Beta wrapped his long, tanned fingers around both their members. Jimin leaned his hips downward, his hands now planted on either side of Taehyung’s head. Taehyung knew Jimin wouldn’t give him what his body really wanted right now, but he wanted to feel Jimin with him just the same, and he heavily pressed the short but endearingly thick member up against his own. Jimin’s dick was so similar to Jimin, it made Taehyung laugh the first time he had seen it. Short and thick, easily flushed and pretty in a way Jimin would probably hate if Taehyung ever admitted it aloud. Jimin’s own small hands didn’t quite cover the whole length, but Taehyung’s long, elegant fingers did, and with one hand he was able to wrap around both of them, rubbing them together as Jimin let out sharp, uneven exhales against his neck.   “Wow, you’re so amazing,” Jimin gasped, kissing at Taehyung’s cheek and then letting out a groan, his cock twitching against Taehyung’s. “God, Tae, your hands .”   Taehyung tilted his chin so he could lick across Jimin’s jaw, nibbling at the Alpha’s earlobe and letting out little pants to show he wanted more attention - needed - more attention. He curled his fingertips around them, squeezing slightly as precum messily dribbled and squelched noisily, the sound as erotic as the way Jimin’s mouth parted, his thick tongue playing with the edge of his lips as his face crumpled with the tension and the pleasure.   “Jimin,” Taehyung gasped against him, “I’m gonna cum.”   “Shit, me too, stop.” Jimin reached down and pried their members apart, pulling Taehyung’s hand, still wet and sticky with pre-cum, away. Taehyung just let out a loud groan of impatience. Why was Jimin making him wait more ? This was so infuriating, especially when he was so close.   Jimin wriggled himself lower on Taehyung’s body, and automatically Taehyung’s hands came up to rest against Jimin’s shoulders, holding him there and maintaining the direct skin contact that helped him breathe and sent shivers through his body all the same. Jimin took gentle hold of Taehyung’s knees, spreading them apart to the telltale sound of all the slick that had built up around Taehyung’s entrance. The cool air hitting that taboo heat made Taehyung shudder, and he glanced down to see Jimin actually licking at his lips as though he were preparing for a full meal. He caught Taehyung staring when he glanced up, and  sent him a smile.   “Look how wet you’ve become, pup,” Jimin said lowly. The nickname, which Jimin had only used once before, instantly sent goosebumps up and down Taehyung’s spine. “You know your Scent has been killing me these last couple of days, right? I wanted to touch you, and make you feel good.”   Taehyung felt like he should say something back, should try to give Jimin the shivering sensations he was giving Taehyung, but he couldn’t think of anything, so he just whimpered, a high-pitched noise that came not from his throat but from some deeper sense of being.   Jimin looked down at Taehyung’s spread legs again, hooking one of Taehyung’s legs over his shoulder before taking the newly freed hand and pressing one thick, soft finger to the twitching entrance, circling his finger around gently and stimulating the nerves that had been at the center of everything for the last few days. Taehyung yelped, his knees jerking back a little and running the heel of his foot up Jimin’s back as his body tried to curl on itself. He panted, his hands flying to fist into the sheets as he tried to prepare himself for the next part. He could feel himself fluttering against Jimin’s touch, his body naturally softened and hot and wet from neediness, from impatience. A shudder ran through him and more slick spilled out against Jimin’s hands, and he looked down in flushed embarrassment, the moan in his throat choking him, only to find Jimin gaping open-mouthed at his now dripping palm. He lifted his gaze to Taehyung, licking his lips again, and whispered, “I d-don’t know if I can do it right, Tae, but...I wanna try…?”   In response, another bout of slick escaped him, wordlessly begging him to just go already. Jimin shifted again, lowering his head down and out of Taehyung’s sight. He only had a half a second to wonder at it before he felt a sudden wetness at his entrance that was not of his own.   “ Oh fuck! ” Taehyung yipped, his expression crumpling as he realized it was Jimin’s lovely, talented, perverted tongue which had decided to penetrate him first, slipping past the taut and as-yet-unready-to-yield muscles there. Thick and persistent, Jimin lapped greedily amidst the slick, damp sucking sounds, the only noises in the room aside from Taehyung’s cries. He couldn’t help it - he got ridiculously noisy, moaning without restraint and drawing out Jimin’s name like powerful prayer to a God he’d never met. His hands fisted at the sheets as each nerve exploded one by one, his body happily sinking into what would become a familiarity, a fulfillment of what his body was meant to do. It wasn’t the first time he had been exposed to the ministrations and blessings of the long reach of Jimin’s tongue, but it was easy to let time and distance make him forget just how deeply that particularly blessed muscle could reach, feeling the warm flickering sensation deep inside of him in an inescapable wash of pleasure.   He came hard, practically screaming in a deep, broken voice after Jimin had abandoned holding his knees and started using both hands to knead at and part his cheeks, dipping his face in as deeply as possible as he flicked and teased. It hurt - god, it burned - but Taehyung loved it, shuddering roughly and grateful for the way Jimin didn’t stop until he was spiraling back down to earth, swearing under his breath.   It was a long moment with the world spinning like a top before Taehyung looked down to see Jimin lift his face up again, one wrist wiping carelessly at his mouth as he panted. When their eyes met, Jimin’s red-rimmed eyes meeting Taehyung’s golden ones, he smirked victoriously. There was cum splattered somehow in the edges of Jimin’s hair, but Taehyung didn’t have the energy to either tell him or brush it away, his whole body boneless with satisfaction. He couldn’t even speak.   “Wow, my puppy came so beautifully,” Jimin cooed, reaching up to run his thumb across Taehyung’s cheek. He stared down at Taehyung gasping for breath for a long moment, looking content and proud of himself. “I’m so lucky to have you.”   “Jiminnie,” Taehyung finally managed. He wanted to have the energy to make an offer in return, but he couldn’t remember what the words were, quite at that moment. Luckily, Jimin always seemed to know.   “Just lie still, puppy,” Jimin kissed his mouth delicately, the salty taste of his own slick in Jimin’s mouth setting Taehyung’s nerves on edge again. “Lie still and let me do the work, okay?”   Taehyung nodded, grateful that he wouldn’t have to do anything, since he still didn’t have any strength in his body. He wriggled himself a little deeper into the mattress, adjusting a pillow beneath his head as Jimin fully removed his boxers at last, his cock hot and complaining. Jimin pinched Taehyung’s ankles between his fingers, pushing forward until he could press them against Taehyung’s hands, wordlessly telling him to pin his knees up between his shoulders, his ass exposed to the cool air again and his thighs pressed together over his stomach. Jimin crawled up until he was able to position himself against Taehyung, walking over on his knees and guiding his member between the taut, tanned skin of Taehyung’s thighs. Instinctively, Taehyung pinched his knees together, squeezing around Jimin, happy to hear the sharp inhale as Jimin felt it.   “Are you ready, beautiful?” Jimin whispered, his voice thick with need, and for the first time, Taehyung could hear Jimin’s impatience, too. He nodded, swallowing heavily as Jimin started to thrust his hips in, the heat and roughness of his cock rubbing up between the sensitive skin there and making Taehyung shiver, even though he had just came a few minutes ago. He hadn’t realized just how aroused Jimin really was, as he started to let out little whimpering gasps of his own, lips parted and wet, eyes shut and brow furrowed as he lost himself in the feeling of Taehyung’s legs wrapped tightly around his member. Perhaps it was the strength of Jimin’s arousal, tangible in the way they touched and obvious in the heady Scent of peppermint in the air, or maybe it was the overwhelming warmth and sensuality of having Jimin’s cock pinned between his legs, but Taehyung was gasping from overstimulation, his body feeling raw as he sunk beneath the lovely, dizzying sensation.   “Jiminnie,” Taehyung said quietly, after a few minutes. He meant to compliment him, tell him how happy Jimin was making him, with the way he seemed to quietly worship every part of the Beta. But all it took was one word, Taehyung’s hand leaving one bent knee to reach up, about to run a hand through Jimin’s hair, and Jimin was already coming, some of the white creaminess splattering into Taehyung’s opened mouth, to his surprise. He paused, blinking as cum landed on his face and chest, his hand still half-raised to his future Mate. Jimin groaned, falling forward and leaning against Taehyung’s now red-thighs. But Taehyung didn’t have the body strength to hold him up, and Jimin ended up clumsily slipping forward between Taehyung’s legs, landing on his cum-splattered chest with a little slapping sound and a groan. Taehyung blinked sleepily, his arms wrapping around Jimin’s shoulders and his feet blindly entangling around Jimin’s legs, effectively binding the boy to him with his own body.   They lay in silence for what felt like hours, and with a surprise, Taehyung opened his eyes again to the sound of Jimin crawling back into the bed with him, and he realized that he must have fallen asleep, because Jimin’s hair was damp from a shower and he seemed refreshed, nuzzling up against the Beta.   “Jimin…” Taehyung breathed.   Jimin tilted his head up, looking a little taken aback by the fact that Taehyung was awake again. “Tae-Tae. Are you feeling better?”   Taehyung paused, considering for a moment, then gave a little nod. “Much better.”   “Well, good, because Namjoon came by earlier and said the whole house could hear us,” Jimin sighed in exasperation. Taehyung could see the hot, red flush around Jimin’s ears as he pulled a clean sheet over the both of them, snaking an arm underneath Taehyung to cradle him against his chest. “It took me ages and help from Seokjin and Jungkook to reassure him that we didn’t Mate, and that I didn’t almost kill you.” He sighed. “We’re never gonna live this down, you know.”   “Namjoon’s too vanilla,” Taehyung found himself saying, still half-drunk on the delirium and nuzzling into Jimin’s Scent. “And I don’t mind. Now they won’t question that you’re my Alpha.”   Jimin stiffened for a moment in shock, his thumb rubbing at Taehyung’s skin and making the Beta hum. “Your Alpha…” Jimin breathed, as though testing out the words in the air.   “Of course,” Taehyung mumbled in understanding, eyes shutting once again. “My Alpha.”   ~~~~~    When Jungkook woke up the next morning, it was to the familiar, welcoming scent of soap surrounding him. He smiled, tucking his face into the smell, the warmth of skin against his nose making his heart rate speed up. He was home. It was real . He reached out and wrapped his arms around Seokjin, happy to note that after Seokjin ended up not taking his suppressants for the rest of the day before, he was already smelling more like himself. Stronger than usual, even. Jungkook inhaled as much as he could, wriggling his whole body a little closer across Seokjin’s mattress. They had slept most of yesterday once Seokjin had come home, but they were still able to sleep the whole night. Mostly because Seokjin had apparently been exhausted , but also because Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to move away from the Alpha for more than a few minutes at a time. It was like he had to make up for the lost time where they had physically been apart.   There was a little groan from Seokjin, and Jungkook finally opened his eyes to see that the Alpha’s head had slipped off the pillow, tilted back at an angle with his neck outstretched. Jungkook blinked twice, staring at the length of the Alpha’s skin exposed in his sleep, before timidly craning forward and pressing his lips to Seokjin’s neck. Even in his sleep, Seokjin gave a sharp inhale, a half-snoring sound escaping him as he shuffled a little on the bed, his lips pouting. Jungkook smirked, pushing himself up on his hands until he was hovering over Seokjin’s chest, leaning down and turning his light pecks into explorative kisses that lingered. He felt Seokjin moving beneath him, sensing that he was already half awake. Jungkook had noticed he was a light sleeper before, and today was no exception, despite his exhaustion for the last few weeks.   Before Seokjin could fully wake up, though, Jungkook lifted his hips up off the mattress, scooching over until he was able to lay down on top of the Alpha, their chests pressed together and Jungkook’s thighs dangling off at either side of Seokjin’s. The Alpha’s eyes flickered open, and his lips parted in surprise as Jungkook leaned back down to resume his tender appreciation of Seokjin’s neck, mouthing openly at the pale skin and tilting his head to catch each bump and crease around the prominent adam’s apple. When they had kissed during Jungkook’s heat, he had tried to get Seokjin to open his mouth for him, to deepen their kisses, but to no avail. In a way, he was trying to suggest the need now, suckling and touching his tongue to the sensitive neck. He felt a little warm rush of pleasure as he felt Seokjin react, stiffening up.   “If you’re that hungry, we should go make breakfast,” Seokjin teased, chuckling a little as his hands came up to gently take hold of both of Jungkook’s arms.   Jungkook lifted his head, meeting Seokjin’s eyes steadily and wondering if he should make the perverted joke that had just sprung to his mind. Opting against it, he instead breathed. “Is this okay?”   Seokjin’s lips curved up a little, and a hand carded through Jungkook’s hair gently. “Yeah.”   With that as confirmation, Jungkook slowly but steadily lowered his hips down onto Seokjin, pressing his crotch heavily against the undeniable hardness of Seokjin’s arousal, the surest sign that the suppressants were no longer effective, even if the lack of the disgusting smell hadn’t also been clear enough. The Alpha let out a little gasp of concern, fumbling as if to wriggle out and away from Jungkook, but the Omega held him steadily there by the shoulders.   “Don’t run away again,” Jungkook whispered, aware of how sorrowful he sounded, how the lilting pain in his voice inevitably made Seokjin pause. “Just let me help you. Please .”   “Sorry, it’s just…” Seokjin licked his lips, his gaze flickering away from Jungkook as though he had just seen something he shouldn’t have. “I’m not used to it this way, and...I don’t want this to be something you’re obligated to do.”   Jungkook sat up a little, frowning at the mere suggestion. Didn’t Seokjin realize that Jungkook wanted him? Wanted to make him feel good, to make him happy? “It’s not like that,” he mumbled, not sure how to express the complicated elation in his chest.   “Jin,” he started lowly, “When you saw me during my heat...what did you think of?”   Seokjin blinked up at him, his face reddening with an almost comical quickness. “W-well, I--”   “Me, too,” Jungkook stated firmly.   There was a tense moment of silence, and Seokjin licked his lips. “Okay, Jungkook, but… we should clarify a couple things first.”   Jungkook let out a sigh, quirking his lips and jutting his tongue into the soft inside of his cheek, forming an expression of exasperation and impatience. “Okay, what ?”   “First, don’t expect too much, okay? I’m sure the suppressants are still in my system, so… I don’t honestly know if it’ll do any good.”   At that, Jungkook glanced back over and met Seokjin’s eyes. He had no intention of letting his efforts not work, and now he felt he had been challenged. “And?” “And you’re really not required to do this. You say the word and we stop. At any time.”   Jungkook was fairly certain that Seokjin did not quite accept the fact that he’d been dreaming about this moment - quite literally dreaming about this exact scenario - for months. But he agreed with a nod. “Anything else?”   Seokjin worked at his bottom lip with his teeth, the movement distracting Jungkook for a moment, and he was just barely able to direct his attention back to Seokjin’s words in time to catch him say, “I also don’t know what I’ll do, so….if I say or do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me. And at least for today...I’m not going to do anything.”   With a tilt of his head, Jungkook blinked at the Alpha, still lying prone on the bed. “Not do anything? What do you mean?” “I mean, this is my rut, and you want to help me, so...help me.” Seokjin swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down his long throat. “But I’m not...I’m not going to touch you.”   “Why not?”   “Because, it’s my rut , Jungkook,” Seokjin snapped, sounding a little irritated, now. Jungkook could see the slight thread-like trace of red around his eyes, like a subtle warning. His voice dipped low, his jaw clenched and he frowned as he added with a heaviness of purpose, “If I start, I won’t be able to stop, Jungkook. Trust me on this at least, okay?”   Jungkook couldn’t deny that he felt a shiver of anticipation roll up and down his spine at the way Seokjin had said that. Why did that prospect sound so thrilling? The mental image of Seokjin, wild with a lack of control, unable to stop...wasn’t it supposed to be scary? But Jungkook felt that twinge of competitiveness streak through him, a petulance that wanted to push Seokjin. He shoved the feeling down - today he would be good, he would do what Seokjin said, and not make Seokjin’s rut any more difficult to deal with than it had to be.   “Okay, I understand,” he added, although he couldn’t keep all traces of the reluctance out of his voice. Seokjin arched an eyebrow, pouting his lips a little as he wriggled his hips, shifting his body up higher onto the pillows. The Alpha let out a low, long sigh, closing his eyes as though bracing himself.   “Alright,” was all he said. Jungkook finally leaned forward, tugging at the loose sweatpants the Alpha had worn to sleep. The black boxers were a tantalizing sight, and Jungkook felt himself pausing, just taking a moment to stare. Something had gripped into his core that he hadn’t expected, a rush, maybe one could call it, or a hunger. It definitely felt different .   At long last, Seokjin shifted a little, obviously nervous. “What are you staring at?” The self-consciousness in his voice was evident, and Jungkook looked up at him, eyes wide and a little smile still on his lips.   “I don’t know, I just...I think I know what Namjoon was talking about, when he said we were Bonded. But that feels like just part of it, if that makes sense? I’m...I think I’m nervous.”   In response, Seokjin just frowned, his ears, cheeks and neck going redder with each passing second that Jungkook sat on his calves and stared at the still clothed crotch.   “J-just get on with it, goddamn it,” Seokjin mumbled, smacking at his arm. “It’s a dick, not a statue in a museum.”   “I’ve been to museums, they have plenty of dicks on display,” Jungkook chuckled as he reached over and slowly, confidently tugged Seokjin’s black boxers down, his member slipping free. Jungkook hadn’t meant to, he would have slapped himself before consciously doing so, but he gasped .   “What!?” Seokjin questioned, pushing himself up on his elbows, his brow crinkling in concern. “What is it?”   It’s beautiful, fuck my life. Jungkook wanted to shoot himself in the foot at that moment; his confidence of a few minutes ago having just up and leapt out the window. Seokjin himself was already handsome, strong, talented and kind. His dick didn’t have to be a work of art as well. It just wasn’t fair . He felt heat rise to his cheeks when he thought about how Seokjin had already made himself acquainted with Jungkook’s own member, and the comparison made him want to scream. He had been so ready a moment ago, but now, literally face-to-face with one of the main things that had kept Seokjin deliberately away from him, he was suddenly unsure of himself.   “Jungkook?”   “It’s better,” Jungkook snapped, sounding angry even. He frowned at the pink swollenness of the cock next to his hand. “It’s better than the museum ones.”   “Oh my god, will you please shut up,” Seokjin groaned, laying back against the pillows and looking strained. He pressed his long, soft fingers across his face and let out a frustrated noise. “ God , why is this so awkward?”   “Sorry,” Jungkook mumbled, shifting himself into a better position. Seokjin remained with his hands over his face, and in a way, that definitely made things easier. Rather than being distracted by Seokjin’s gaze, he could focus on one body part at a time. With nervousness that was already making his palms sweat, he reached out and tentatively wrapped his hands around the heated cock, his fingers curling gently. Instantly, he heard Seokjin give a heavy gasp, muffled by his hands. The Alpha’s entire body was pulled tight and unforgiving, like a wind-up toy wound up all the way.   Jungkook took a deep breath, slowly and gently pulling his hand down the length. Seokjin’s shoulders seemed to ripple upwards in the center, like the gravity in his body had shifted, and Jungkook started to move his hand up and down steadily. The warmth and stiffness of Seokjin in his hand, finally there with him, not running away or keeping his distance, had him hungry to do his utmost and his best. He wanted to make Seokjin as crazy as he had been, in the cabin. He felt a little wetness against the webbing of his hand, and he looked down to see the glisten of precum slipping from the tip of the pink head. Fascinated, Jungkook swiped his thumb across it, spreading it around and effectively slicking up the palm of his hand after a few repeats. Seokjin’s breathing was suddenly very, very uneven. Jungkook looked up at his face, seeing it still half-covered by one hand draped across. Seokjin’s fingers kept curling and uncurling, each knuckle tense and quivering every so often. Jungkook’s lips parted, and he continued to stare up at Seokjin’s face steadily. It wasn’t exactly confidence or self-assurance that suddenly had his hand moving more confidently, squeezing hard and twisting around the tip, his thumb continually flicking around to find the spot that would get the strongest reaction; it was more like determination. His eyes locked on Seokjin’s with a hard, steady gaze as he quickly became fascinated with every quiver and whimper that escaped the Alpha. The tip of his tongue flickered over his bottom lip, his own crotch warming with arousal as he watched Seokjin’s face grow ever pinker, watched him suck in a breath through his teeth with less and less restraint.   There was a tingling sensation beneath his hand that had been building with each movement, each twist. Seokjin’s hand flopped down at his side, the other one still thrown across his eyes. Jungkook reached out with his free hand and entwined his fingers with Seokjin’s, letting out a contented sigh. His fingers squeezed at the Alpha’s, and suddenly it was like an explosion beneath their skin, and Jungkook shuddered from the overwhelming force of it. Seokjin let out a cry that broke off into pieces, his face turning colors as he started to writhe on the bed messily.   “Oh holy fuck,” Seokjin whimpered, “Fuck-fuck- fuck !” His whole body seemed to be twisting on the bed, his eyes surprised as he breathed,”What the fuck!?”   Jungkook, still tickled through to his bones in a way that had him smiling, only managed one word. “Bonding?”   When Seokjin shifted his foot on the bed, as though an itch were rising through his body, Jungkook was struck with an idea. Seokjin’s rules had only really focused on what Seokjin was not allowed do - he hadn’t really set any limits on what Jungkook wasn’t allowed to do. His eyes widened, and he could practically feel the blue surrounding his eyes, could smell his own rising arousal as he gave Seokjin’s now slick and slippery cock another long look, before he leaned down. His hand slowed its movement, and Seokjin seemed to relax for a moment, forcing himself to breathe more evenly. Jungkook lifted his eyes to watch Seokjin’s face, then parted his lips again, gingerly giving the tip of the cock the gentlest kitten lick. Seokjin let out a gasp of surprise, freezing in place. Not satisfied with the guarded reaction, he got bolder. Jungkook opened his mouth, slackened his jaw and broadened his tongue as he licked heavily all across the head, curling his neck around to taste every angle before slipping Seokjin’s cock into his mouth.   Seokjin positively keened .   “Oh fuck …!” His back arched up off the bed, and then he was scrambling for purchase, half-sitting up and staring wide-eyed as Jungkook continued to suck quite unskillfully at his member. “ Jungkook , what are you doing?”   Jungkook just smirked, raising one hand in a thumbs up gesture. The thick circle of red in Seokjin’s eyes, the way he visibly had a layer of sweat already across his brow, the pinkness of his lips from being aroused, that was enough to spur on Jungkook even more. The precum in his mouth tasted bitter and strange, the texture against his tongue was foreign and unlike anything he could properly compare it to. But he liked the feeling of gripping at Seokjin’s thighs, fingers squeezing at the skin there as he heartily ignored Seokjin calling for him to stop, telling him he didn’t have to do this. Just shut up and let me take care of you.   He wanted to one-up himself, so Jungkook took in a deep breath and lowered his face even more, pressing Seokjin’s cock deeper into his mouth until he was suddenly gagging on it, and despite his attempts, it only lasted a few moments before Jungkook was pulling away, coughing as Seokjin sighed.   “You’re unbelievable,” Seokjin said.   Jungkook pouted, tilting his head to glare up at Seokjin, and the Alpha’s eyes seemed to widen, as though in surprise. “I wanna learn to do it,” Jungkook declared, his voice still strangely rough and affected from his first try at taking Seokjin deeply into his mouth. “I’m gonna learn to do it.”   It was Seokjin’s turn to tilt his head curiously to the side, before he gave a little laugh, reaching out and patting Jungkook’s head. “Why not just take things one step at a time, like a normal human, though? Listen, here…” And Seokjin was shifting his position on the bed, parting his legs a little and coaxing Jungkook in between them. With a surprisingly casual air, he took hold of Jungkook’s hand, pressing it around the base of his cock. For a moment, their fingers were entwined, and Jungkook felt a warmth spreading all across his body at the sensation of being guided by Seokjin, of his Alpha leading him in the way he should go.   “You can’t take anything beyond your hand’s width, okay? That sound fair enough?” Seokjin laughed.   Jungkook nodded, eyes still locked on Seokjin’s face for a long moment before he looked down at his hand again. He frowned, his brow furrowing in determination before he lowered himself back down to Seokjin’s crotch, taking the now much more limited length allowed to him fully into his mouth and suckling happily. Due to the fact that Seokjin was now fully hardened and aroused, every movement was now accompanied by a telltale wet kind of sound, and Seokjin let out a low whimper. Jungkook angled his head so he could look up, and he saw Seokjin staring down at him. Their eyes locked, and Jungkook pumped his hand, twisted it along the base even as he tongued the tip, and his heart fluttered to see Seokjin’s eyes roll, his head lolling back as he moaned much more openly than before. He could have even sworn he almost heard Seokjin say his name.   He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Seokjin inside of him - at least, in one sense, one which would have to do for today - and nearly jolted in surprise when he felt Seokjin’s hand in his hair. He opened one eye to see Seokjin looking down at him, eyes glassy and unfocused, a blissful smile on his face that was continually being tugged into a tense crumpling of oversensitivity.   “Holy fuck ,” Seokjin breathed, so quietly he almost didn’t hear him. “Jungkook, that feels so good, you don’t even know.”   In response, Jungkook sucked with more fervor, tucking the tip of his tongue under the head of Seokjin’s member and tickling at it, his thumb twisting across the veiny middle as suddenly Seokjin was starting to tremble, gasping out a breathless, “Wait, wait, wait!” that wasn’t really directed at Jungkook himself. Seokjin tilted his head back, letting out a long, noisy moan, and Jungkook pulled back in time to watch Seokjin cum, splattering all over his bare stomach like paint. With the same star-struck fascination, he continued to stroke at the beautiful erect member until he had milked it dry, feeling Seokjin’s hand in his hair grip roughly to signal he was being overstimulated. Once finished, Jungkook couldn’t resist his curiosity - he leaned slowly forward, giving Seokjin’s cock one last kitten lick and lapping up a little of the dribbling cum. He was surprised to note that it wasn’t as bitter as he had imagined, and he wondered if that had to do with the fact that it was Seokjin’s rut or that it was Seokjin himself that altered that.   The hand in his hair gave a pat, and Seokjin was blinking dazedly. “Go-good...good job, Jungkookie,” Seokjin managed between gasps. Jungkook sat up a little straighter, and he knew that if he had been in wolf form, his tail would have begun to wag at the praise. He smiled a little in lieu of a proper bashfulness. Seokjin patted his hair, his fingertips lingering a little. “You did so well, and it was your first time, too. I’m sorry, I grabbed your hair...I’m sorry.”   He praised me. Even though I didn’t really know what I was doing, he came and he praised me . Jungkook bit his bottom lip, feeling his stomach flip delightedly.   “S-Seokjin, can I…?” he gave a little gesture toward the mess they had left spilled all over Seokjin’s front, and the Alpha arched a confused eyebrow.   “What?”   Without further ado, Jungkook leaned down, licking up all the remaining cum, lovingly giving Seokjin’s thighs an extra squeeze occasionally as Seokjin whimpered above him.   “Are you fucking serious right now?” Seokjin breathed, as Jungkook lapped up the last of it, swallowing it down and smirking up at Seokjin. “Did you really eat it all?”   In response, Jungkook opened his mouth, displaying his tongue proudly so Seokjin could see that it was clear.   “Oh my god…” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “If I wasn’t super tired right now, I’d slap you.”   “Lucky for me, then,” Jungkook murmured, leaning down to suckle at the now damp skin of Seokjin’s soft white thighs, biting down a little at the flesh and making Seokjin’s muscles quiver.   “God, fuck you…” Seokjin breathed, his head dropping back to the pillow and half-burying his face into it. “I feel like I’ve just run a hundred miles.”   “Then sleep,” Jungkook said candidly, brushing back his bangs and kissing his forehead. “When you wake up, I’ll bring you food.”   The only response he got was a soft hum from Seokjin, his eyes fluttering closed as he sighed. Jungkook lifted up the sheet to cover the Alpha, giving one last glance at Seokjin’s now flaccid member. He raised his thumb to his mouth, biting at the nail there and considering for a moment, before reaching over for his cell phone. Okay, just one photo couldn’t hurt. He held up the phone, angling it so he could get as much of Seokjin in the frame as possible, and the shutter clicked. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, looking at the photo on his reel. He glanced over the top of the phone case, at the still sleeping Seokjin. The Alpha shifted a little in his sleep, letting out a cute little sigh. The Omega groaned, then knelt down until he was at the foot of the bed, lifting his phone up again and clicking through at least four more pictures. I’m such a pervert… He finally draped the bedsheet over the sleeping man, making sure he was totally covered before Jungkook left him, stopping to wash his hands and brush his teeth before going downstairs.   Yoongi was cooking, his back turned to the doorway as he skillfully whipped eggs into a bowl. Jungkook shuffled into the kitchen, offering Yoongi a smile when the elder looked up.   “Morning, Kookie,” Yoongi greeted softly. “You hungry?”   “Yeah,” he pulled out a chair at the dining room table, sitting down and slowly dropping his head down to rest in his arms, letting out a sigh.   “Sleep well?”   “Mm,” Jungkook assented. “Like a baby. But somehow I’m already tired again.”   “Well,” Yoongi seemed about to add something onto that, but in the end a gentle silence enveloped the room. The smell of cooked ham, cheese and eggs wafted through the air, and Jungkook half-dozed on the table until there was the clatter of a plate being slid in front of him. Mumbling his thanks, he took the fork and dug into an omelet that was almost too pretty to eat. He was eating for several minutes in silence, when he happened to glance over at Yoongi. The older Omega was scrolling through his phone, chewing contemplatively and not even glancing at his plate. Jungkook rested his chin in his hand, tilting his head to the side curiously as he watched him. Yoongi had always been the one he was most comfortable going to about ‘adult stuff’ over the years, this was true. But after this morning, and after the things Seokjin had told him last night, Jungkook wasn’t sure how his next questions were going to go down.   “Yoongi, can I ask you something?” Jungkook queried, scraping his fork a little across the top of the omelet, drawing lines there in the slight moistness left from the oil.   “Of course,” Yoongi didn’t even blink.   “I wanna talk to you about...consent.”   “Consent: noun: p ermission for something to happen or agreement to do something,” Yoongi rattled off automatically. “Verb: to give permission for something to happen.” Jungkook blinked, then rolled his eyes.   “You sound like a word-of-the-day generator,” Jungkook teased.   “I’ve been playing a lot of Scrabble with Jimin and Taehyung. Jimin claims I cheat, so I have to be ready to defend myself.” He took another bite of omelet, and from the slight quirk of his lips and based on past experiences, Jungkook thought it safe to assume that both Taehyung and Yoongi were probably cheating at Scrabble.   “What I mean is...consent in the bedroom .” Jungkook finally managed, his voice quiet. He could almost feel Yoongi’s double take, his head whipping up suddenly.   He was already halfway up out of his chair, eyes flashing wildly in a way Jungkook had only seen happen a handful of times in all the years they’d known each other. “Seokjin hasn’t been making  yo--?!” “No, no, no!” Jungkook waved his hands, reaching out and taking hold of Yoongi’s arm, tugging him gently back down to his chair. “I promise . In fact, it’s kind of the opposite problem?”   Yoongi blinked, his voice dropping deep. “The... opposite…”   Jungkook pursed his lips together, his smile halfway between shy and smirking. “Well, I was just thinking, well...about how you and Hoseok have such a great... bond , you know?”   Several moments passed between them, and Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t seem to blink, didn’t seem inclined to respond. Jungkook quirked his mouth to the side.   “You both want to make each other happy, right? So sometimes you have to make compromises, you learn what each other likes and doesn’t like, you trust each other…” Jungkook looked hopefully over at the Omega, hoping Yoongi would start catching on. “You trust him . To know what you like. But h-how did you tell him? How did he start to know?”   Yoongi tilted his head to the side, his bangs falling into his eyes as he stared at Jungkook. “We talked about it. It’s not some big secret, after all.”   “But lots of couples talk, and it doesn’t help,” Jungkook countered, leaning in. He didn’t want to just end up bickering with Seokjin, fighting back and forth and getting nowhere.   “Because they weren’t really listening,” Yoongi shrugged. “Jungkook, what are you actually asking about?”   Jungkook poked at his omelet, which was now getting cold, then he lifted his eyes back to Yoongi’s and solidly said, “I want to ask Seokjin about BDSM.”   A long, silent moment passed. Yoongi was frozen, biting the inside of his cheek, staring at Jungkook as if he had said he wanted to grow a second head next summer. Jungkook could see that he was weighing his next words carefully, and he felt the heat rising up on his neck of shame and embarrassment - sure, they had talked pretty openly about certain things before, but nothing like this , nothing directly involving something so intimate and private, and he had never had the courage to be so direct.   Yoongi chewed the inside of his cheek for another moment, before looking down at his empty plate and scraping at the bits and remnants. “What makes you think to ask me about that?”   At that, Jungkook flushed, looking up at Yoongi’s ugly clock where it hung up on the wall. “Um… I know about you and...um...Hoseok.” The deliberate lack of eye contact was now so pointed, Jungkook could feel the tension in the air. He decided to continue, albeit quietly. “I walked in on you two once.”   He had never told a soul about it. It had been an afternoon when all the others had been out, and he had come home earlier than expected to hear Hoseok’s cries upstairs. When he had glanced into the bedroom, finding Yoongi biting roughly at Hoseok’s skin as he tugged at the ropes that kept the Alpha spread eagled on the bed, it had felt like his heart had risen up in his throat. The mental image had stamped itself onto his memory. It had taken him months to admit to himself that it had looked beautiful...romantic, even, the way the two of them had been weeping together, the Omega silently and the Alpha without restraint.   “T-to be honest, I got curious, so…” Jungkook wriggled in his seat a little, taking a small bite of his omelet and chewing it slowly.   Yoongi leaned across the dining room table, his voice a rough hiss and his ears a bright pink, one hand splayed out heavily on the tabletop. “Jungkook, I want you to tell me honestly, did Seokjin put you up to this?”   Jungkook blinked, confused for a moment. “N-no, he didn’t. I saw you two before Seokjin even moved in.” He scraped at his plate with his fork, the abrasive sound making him cringe a little. “That’s what I mean by ‘it’s the opposite problem’… It’s not something Seokjin asked for, actually, but I...”   A pause, while Yoongi let the words sink in. He sat back in his chair, slowly letting out a breath that seemed to release all the tension from his body. “ Oh .”   It was a single word, but it made Jungkook blush more than anything else that had been said throughout the whole conversation.   “It’s not bad, though, is it?” Jungkook whispered. When Seokjin had first brought up the way he had used to be, Jungkook was ashamed to have started to get excited. It seemed like one more thing for him and Seokjin to have in common, and he had wanted to broach the subject, confidence growing in the fact that the Alpha wouldn’t judge him for his curiosity. But the way Seokjin seemed ashamed of his past, and the way he worried about Jungkook so much as to promise not to touch him while Jungkook helped him during his rut...it wasn’t the kind of rapport he wanted to have with his Mate. And the longer it lingered beneath the surface, the stronger and more pervasive he knew it was going to become.   “No, Jungkook,” Yoongi said at last, reaching out and laying a hand on the younger’s shoulder, finally a little smile coming to his face. “It’s not bad at all, but it can be unhealthy. You have to remember it’s not the way of trusting someone, but a way of expressing trust that you’ve already established. “ Yoongi leaned forward, his chin resting in both palms as a sad expression crossed his face. “Seokjin and I have certainly seen our share of the unhealthy side of it.”   Jungkook shuffled in his seat, finishing off his breakfast before he glanced over at Yoongi and swallowed heavily. “He’s afraid of hurting me. I want him to know that it doesn’t have to be like it was before.”   Yoongi nodded, then stood up, letting out a little groan as he stretched. “Put the dishes in the dishwasher and meet me in your room,” he said simply, walking out of the kitchen. Jungkook’s eyes widened, a burning curiosity flaring in his chest as he rushed to do as instructed, stepping into the doorway to his - mostly unused - bedroom, to find Yoongi sitting in the middle of the carpet, emptying out a cardboard shoe box. He slowly took out a book and a length of rope that was several feet long, placing them out onto the floor and looking up at Jungkook, who remained standing in the doorway.   “I’ll teach you the basics, but it’s still your job to talk to Seokjin. I won’t be getting involved in any of that mess any more than I already am.”   Jungkook smiled, leaping over and embracing Yoongi for a long moment, nuzzling his nose into the Omega’s Scent gland with gratefulness before pulling back. “Thanks, Yoongi, I really appreciate it.”   “Of course,” Yoongi smiled, reaching over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. “Okay, now take these two ends in your hands, like this….”   Jungkook held the ropes in his hands, letting the older Omega patiently move his hands around to form the basic knots. He was almost getting it, when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. No one usually came into his room, so he thought nothing of it, until he heard someone calling for him in the kitchen. “Jungkookie~” Hoseok sang, “Where are you?”   There was half a second of reassuring himself Hoseok would give up the search after a few minutes, before Jungkook remembered, to his horror, that Hoseok seemed to have a very uncanny ability to smell out Jungkook whenever he was hiding around the house. And today he was sure his Scent was a little stronger, due to what he and Seokjin had been up to earlier that morning. “Put it away ,” Yoongi hissed, shoving the remainder of the ropes at the younger. Jungkook shuffled, frantically try to tug the knots and loops off of his wrists where he had been testing out the cat’s paw tie. It had been tied just a little too tightly. Oh shit .   “Why does the house smell?” Hoseok asked, just as he threw open the door to Jungkook’s bedroom. The two Omegas flinched, looking up at the doorway to see the look of horror and shock growing across Hoseok’s face as he took in the way that Jungkook knelt in the middle of the floor, arms half-entangled in ropes.   “W-what the fuck are you two doing?!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “We recognize a soulmate by the supreme level of comfort and security we feel with that person. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t issues that remain to be ironed out. Rather, it means we know intuitively that we can resolve issues with our soulmate without losing his or her love and respect.” ― Linda Brady  “Hoseok,” Yoongi said, sounding surprisingly calm, “I’m showing Jungkook the ropes.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. Of all the times for Yoongi’s latent affinity for playing on words to arise, it had to be now, when Hoseok was staring at the youngest pack member entangled in bondage ropes. Yoongi’s expression remained passive as he said, “Don’t freak out.” “Don’t freak out?! Jungkook is practically still a pup!” Hoseok leaned in, lowering his voice as if Jungkook couldn’t still hear him clear as day, “And you’re showing this kind of thing to him?!” “Yoongi wasn’t doing anything wrong,” Jungkook spoke up, actually feeling a little irritated at the assumption. “I...I asked him about it, because I’m interested.” Hoseok gaped at Jungkook for a moment, lips parted in an expression of mindblown speechlessness. “Jungkook, what are you trying to prove? Seokjin didn’t pressure you to d--?” “Why does everyone assume that?!” Jungkook snapped, ripping the ropes off his wrists at last and tossing them to the floor before standing up, his stance defensive. “When have I ever done anything that I didn’t want to do?” He frowned. It wasn’t as if he was the type of person who just blindly did things people told him to - he had always been an obedient pup because he wanted to make the older wolves happy, had wanted to do things for them. “Why is it no big deal if it’s you and Yoongi, but I’m still treated like a pup that has to be protected?” Hoseok gaped for a moment, like a stunned fish. “Because you are still a pup, Jungkook.” “But he’s not,” Yoongi cut in, “He came to me on his own, asking about how to do things right. I dunno about you, but I think that shows how serious he is.” “He presented just a couple months ago!” Hoseok protested. “Yes, and Jimin, too! And even before that, you always babied Jungkook!” Yoongi retorted, frowning at the Alpha. “You need to just learn to let go. He’s smart and he knows what he wants.” “I know he’s smart, I’m just not sure encouraging this kind of thing is what’s best for him.” “It’s not encouraging, it’s supporting. There’s a difference. Like there’s  a difference between affection and coddling.” “I don’t think it’s considered ‘coddling’ to not teach a freshly presented wolf about bondage,” Hoseok pressed his lips together in a tight line, his eyes stony. But Jungkook could see the slight flush on his cheeks, and he knew Hoseok’s weak spots. “Hoseok,” Jungkook said quietly, stepping forward and into Hoseok’s space. The Alpha’s lips pressed even more tightly and he flinched, as if to step back. “This isn’t about the ropes. You haven’t been able to accept me as a fully grown wolf in the pack. You avoid me like you don’t want to be close to me anymore.” Hoseok visibly reddened, looking down at the ground as though ashamed. ‘It’s just...you’re an Omega now. Things are different.” “But why? Why this way? Jimin’s an Alpha, and we’re still close.” “It’s different..” “But why ?!” “Because you’re like my pup!” Hoseok snapped. “And Namjoon feels the same way. It’s strange to think of you as an Omega, much less apparently already with a Mate.” Jungkook looked over at Yoongi, whose face remained impassive and blank. “But… whether you like it or not, Hoseok, I am grown. I’m an Omega, and yeah, that means some things have changed, but not everything has to.” Hoseok frowned, crossing his arms and glaring at the carpet for a moment. It looked as though he had something else to say, so Jungkook and Yoongi waited, and it took multiple sighs before Hoseok begrudgingly was able to mumble, “You still smell like him.” Jungkook started a little at that. He had figured as much, but he didn’t know Hoseok was going to admit it so forthrightly. “Yeah...and I want to be with him.” Hoseok let out another tight-sounding sigh. “I like him, I really do. But you have to understand..” His voice rounded out, becoming more gentle now, more like the way Hoseok used to speak to him. “We knew you would Present early, but not this early. And...we don’t know him that well. You’ve only known him for a few months.” “Almost a year,” Jungkook corrected. “And all we want is what you two have.” Apparently, that wasn’t the answer Hoseok had been expecting. His arms dropped, lips parted as he looked over at Yoongi in question, who just shrugged and smiled a little. “W-what we have? What do you mean?” Jungkook smirked, looking down at their feet, his bangs trailing into his eyes. “I mean he trusts me, you know? He trusts me and I can trust him. I think the only thing that’s taken us this long is trusting ourselves , mostly. And I want to show him what that trust means for us. And I want to do it this way,” Jungkook didn’t even need to gesture to the box of beginner bondage that Yoongi had brought for him. “And I wanna do it safely, and I wanna do it correctly. It’s not like the internet is going to give me dependably accurate information, you know. So who better to learn from than Yoongi, right? He’ll be straightforward with me about the parts I have to be careful on, he’s got experience, and he knows me. Knows us . He knows what it’s like to want to show the ultimate trust to his partner.” Yoongi leaned in a little towards the Alpha, his voice gentle but self-assured as he added, “You and I know better than anyone that BDSM can get dangerous and misused, Hoseok. You know the experiences I’ve had, and why we even introduced it. He genuinely as an interest but wants to avoid making the sort of mistakes my own partners made before, for his own sake as well as for Jin’s. Shouldn’t we help them do that?” Letting the words sink in, Hoseok shifted his weight from foot to foot, and they all ignored the pile of treated rope coiled on the floor between them, signifying just how Jungkook was going to express that trust to his future Mate. At long last, Hoseok said, “Okay. To be honest, I still don’t like it. I don’t know if I ever will, because to me you still look like the timid pup you were when I first came into the pack. But if this is really what you want, then, I’ll try to support you.” At those words, Jungkook rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Hoseok’s waist and burying his face into the Alpha’s shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief as the elder slowly wrapped his arms around Jungkook, squeezing him tightly and letting out a sigh that seemed to release all the tension in his body. They stayed like that for several long minutes, and Jungkook relaxed as he breathed in the smell of Hoseok’s Scent, and the smell of him finally relaxing a little around the youngest. He could feel how much Hoseok cared for him, how much he worried about him, in every molecule of the Alpha’s body. “Thank you,” Jungkook said, muffled into Hoseok’s shoulder. ~~~~~ Kiara sat on the edge of the bed she shared with Namjoon, gently folding the freshly laundered clothes into neat little piles. A black sock slipped off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor, left unseen until she was almost done. She held up the singular sock left in the basket with a frown, leaning forward and spotting its neighbor poking out from just underneath the comforter. She moved to crouch and retrieve it, but a hand came up to stop her, softly pushing her back onto the bed. “No, I’ll get it,” Namjoon said gently, bending to pick up the sock and holding it out to her. Kiara quietly rubbed a hand across her swollen, pregnant belly and took it with a smile, reaching up to cup Namjoon’s round face, dipping the edge of her fingertip into the deep dimple that formed as he smirked down at her, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Joonie, did you talk to Seokjin yet about the stuff with Yunho?” “Not yet,” Joonie sighed, moving from kissing her forehead to pressing his lips gently against her cheek. The white sheer material serving as their canopy brushed up against their shoulders as he leaned over her, running a hand through her short red hair. “He’s just gotten back and he spent pretty much the whole day with Jungkook.” “Mm…” Kiara giggled. “I don’t blame him.” “You don’t seem worried about it at all,” Namjoon commented, seeing the way her smile didn’t falter. “Jungkook and Seokjin are going to be fine,” Kiara hummed. “Call it an Omega’s intuition. We can smell the happiness in the house now. Jungkook’s never been happier, and he’s a good kid, so I’m sure they’ll figure things out.” She snuggled up against him as best as she could with her plump belly. “And besides, he’s your brother, after all, and he’s come back to do things right, as best as he can. I think we can trust him in that. He’s kind of like the prodigal son in a lot of ways, you know? And I always liked that story.” “Hmm…” Namjoon hummed. “But don’t think I’m not watching him like a hawk,” Kiara said in a cheerful tone, “Jungkook is like the pack’s baby, after all. We were there for his first real birthday party, his high school graduation, we watched him get more outgoing and self-confident. We all kind of raised him, so we all want him to be happy. Seokjin has to be the brave one, here.” Namjoon nodded. “We’re all going to have be a little brave, though. Especially with a rival pack threatening our staked land on the island.” Kiara frowned, pulling Namjoon a little closer.”Has Jungkook said anything about meeting his alleged brother?” “I talked to him about it. He definitely wants to meet him, but…” Namjoon chuckled, “When I told him what we talked about, how if he really wanted to join another pack, we would support him. He cut me off and said, ‘No, I’ll stay with Bangtan.’ Not even a hesitation.” “Sounds like someone else I know,” Kiara smirked, “He takes a lot after his pack leader in that way. He’s here in the pack because of you . Imagine if you’d let your family’s reputation as Nobles become more important that what was best for the pack.” “I’d never forgive myself,” Namjoon sighed. “But in all honesty, it’s getting harder and harder to see what exactly the ‘best’ thing for Bangtan pack is. I’m glad Seokjin is back, to put it simply.  I know I’m the lead Alpha and all, but Seokjin has been one of those people I can always go to for a different perspective on things. Not to mention he knows how the Rising God clan works, and we could use whatever knowledge he has right now…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe they tried to insist that he could only meet with his brother if he agreed to join them, though. Something more complicated must be going on under the surface here. I wasn’t surprised when they tried to demand Seokjin’s location, but them coming after Jungkook seems strange, in the way they’re doing it, like they’re trying to cover up something or tie up a loose end.” “It makes me worry about what sort of situation his brother must be in, how they must be treating him in the clan.” “Well, you know I’d take him in in a heartbeat, but I haven’t even met him and we don’t know what sort of a wolf he is. He may end up being the last thing Jungkook needs influencing him right now.”“Well, let’s talk to Seokjin about what he knows. He may even remember Jungkook’s brother, if he thinks back. It’s been a few years, but still...you never know.” She reached up and ran a hand through Namjoon’s hair, watching the way his eyes glazed over as he fell into contemplation. Her voice soft, she said, “You smell different now, that he’s back.” “I do?” “Yeah, and it’s not just Jungkook either -you can smell it through the house. I can smell the way we’ve all relaxed a little, since Seokjin’s back, especially you. I’m guessing it’s not just because he’s your older brother, but also the fact that now the pack is all home and together again. The threats from Rising Gods, the stuff with Jungkook’s brother, the pressure from your father… We’ll figure it out as a family, okay?” Namjoon leaned in, pressing a kiss to the soft skin just below her eye as she traced her fingertips along his arm. “I wish we had less stressful circumstances for our first pup to come into the world to, though. I’m still hoping it’s all resolved before it’s time.” She reached up and took hold of Namjoon’s wrists, leading them to her belly in time for Namjoon to feel the slightest flutter of a kick. She loved the way she could see Namjoon’s eyes light up whenever it came to their growing pup, and she watched his beaming smile stretch across his face for a few minutes. “They’re a healthy pup,” she said, “I can just tell. All lively and bored and wanting to meet their daddy.” With a little happy sigh, Namjoon dropped to his knees in front of Kiara, his arms wrapping around her waist in a way that made her feel - although just for a moment - that she was slender and trim again, instead of bloated and heavy. He pressed a little kiss to her still-fluttering belly, letting his mouth linger there a little bit as Kiara ran her hands through his bangs, brushing them back away from his face. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe before he looked down at her rotund belly and whispered, "Hello, baby girl. Or boy. To be honest, I don't care. Can you hear me in there?" Kiara giggled at the fascinated tone in Namjoon's voice, and his eyes flickered up at her in amusement. "Your mommy and I can't wait to meet you, baby. We're gonna have so much fun together, I promise. You're going to be spoiled by all your uncles, and be one of the most rotten pups anyone's ever heard of." Kiara laughed, throwing her head back a little. After a long, quiet, contented moment, Kiara whispered, “I think you’re going to spoil the pup enough on your own. You’re such a softie.” “Don’t tell the others that, I have to at least try to maintain a lead Alpha image,” he chuckled. He withdrew one hand from around her waist and trailed his thick thumb along her belly, pausing when the pup felt him there and kicked back petulantly, making Kiara’s heartbeat quicken with happiness. “It’s going to be a girl,” he said at long last. Kiara arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And how do you know that?” Namjoon smirked. “Call it an Alpha’s intuition.” She laughed, “Okay, then. If your Alpha intuition says so, I’m not going to doubt it. But we’d better keep this secret intuition on the down-low, or in the unlikely case that you’re wrong, it’ll be awkward to explain to the others.” Still brimming with confidence, Namjoon smiled up at her so softly it made her chest hurt. He dropped his cheek to her knee, studying her face with a gentle gleam to his eyes. “It’s going to be a girl, and I’ll have my princess and my queen.” “All spoiled in our castle, Bangtan pack house,” she supplied. “Wednesdays will be date night with princess, Fridays for the queen.” “Let’s hope that since the queen has some seniority that her date nights last a little longer.” “Oh, of course.” Silence enveloped them of the most comfortable and contented kind, and she felt, rather than heard, Namjoon sigh in her lap. He stood up at long last, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got to go to meet Jackson and the others about some of the contract forms for the island, he’s got a friend who does legal work. When I get back, you’re going to be resting, right?” “Of course,” Kiara changed her voice for a dramatic quote, “The same thing I do every day, Pinky: try and take over the world!” She laughed, “Or just the usual resting and nesting.” He smiled and kissed her cheek again. She gave a fake, dramatic pout of her painted red lips, shoving at him a little in playfulness. “But don’t take too long, I’ll miss you.” Namjoon tilted his head to the side, looking endearing for someone she had seen at his fiercest, at his most aggressive. “Are you bothered by the fact that I have been meeting with Jackson lately? You haven’t said anything, but I wanted to make sure.” “Well…” Kiara rolled her eyes, “I’m not happy that you’re hanging out with your ex, in all honesty. But I trust you. Besides, have you seen the way he looks at his Beta? Mark is his name, right? They seem suited for each other. Now go, so you can get back sooner.” Namjoon touched his hand briefly to her swollen belly, smiling as he kissed her goodbye, leaving her to finish the laundry with one last little wave. Kiara laughed, rolling up the last pair of black socks and setting them down on the bed, letting her hand linger awhile on top of the folded piles, breathing in the thick, reassuring Scent of Namjoon’s smoky Alpha smell and her own Omega one filling the room, uninterrupted by the other pack members out of respect for her instinctive nesting needs. The room was now a safe haven away from the others, keeping her calm in the midst of the stress of the oncoming birth. Namjoon, however, had little refuge from the oncoming storm. In the time that Seokjin had been gone, the weight on Namjoon’s shoulders had been almost tangibly visible to Kiara. Their father was pressing in harshly with questions Namjoon didn’t have the answer to, shouldn’t have had to answer to, but Kiara was helpless to convince him not to concern himself about it - that was just how Namjoon was, quite self-assured but still so sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of those he valued, always seeking improvement and therefore opening himself up to a plethora of criticism from all directions that he often took too much to heart, in her opinion. The gentlest lion of a man she had ever had the privilege to know. ~~~~~ Jungkook carried the little tray up the stairs like he was carrying glass, the bowl of pasta still steaming when he slipped back into Seokjin’s room. He halted in the doorway, staring in surprise at the bed as he found the Alpha was no longer anywhere to be seen. He couldn’t help the way his heart leapt up in his throat, until he heard the sound of the shower and felt his whole body relax. He set the tray down on the edge of the bed, going over to the bathroom door and silently opening it, peering in to see a heavily steamed up mirror and hear the quiet sounds of Seokjin humming. He paused in the doorway, thinking back to how he had finally gotten to see Seokjin fully exposed that morning. It would be a lie to say he didn’t want to see it again, and he had the feeling that Seokjin wouldn’t ever directly invite him, but wasn’t leaving the door unlocked invitation enough for one’s Omega?   Smirking devilishly, Jungkook slipped into the bathroom, locking the door after himself. At the tiny click of the lock, he heard Seokjin’s humming suddenly stop, could smell his attention perk up. After a moment, Seokjin’s face peered around the corner, water dripping into his eyes and his hair stuck flatly to the sides of his face. He looked confused to see Jungkook there, much less with his shirt halfway off. “Jungkook?” In response, the Omega dropped his sweatpants to the floor, wadding up his clothing and setting it next to the sink, stepping up to the shower. Seokjin stepped back, surprised and looking almost concerned. Yup, it’s just as beautiful as it was this morning, goddamn it. Jungkook deliberately kept his expression blank, as though the fact that they were naked together again for the second time ever wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t want it to be a big deal anymore. “W-what are you doing?” he hissed. “I have to go to class in a couple hours,” Jungkook explained breezily, stepping between Seokjin and the shower head and effectively blocking the flow of water so he could wet himself down. “I wanna go smelling of you.” “I figure you already do, after this morning,” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “So I guess this means you don’t care if the other pack members notice you’re in here?” “Why would I?” Jungkook shrugged, washing his hair. “You’re gonna be my Mate, after all.” At that, Seokjin’s grip on the body wash tightened, and he looked a little tense. Jungkook arched an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side before turning around and rinsing his hair. There was a quiet moment, but when he moved out of the water stream, he was immediately enveloped in an embrace from a warm, slippery body from behind. Jungkook froze, taking in for a moment the fact that suddenly, Seokjin was embracing him, his head tucked against the back of Jungkook’s neck. “Thank you…” Seokjin said quietly, so quietly in fact, that he could barely hear it over the rushing sound of water. “For waiting. For this morning. For...for choosing me.” After a moment, Jungkook let out a little chuckle, grinning broadly and looking over his shoulder at the Alpha. There was, of course, a heavy smell of fresh, clean water and cherry blossom shampoo in the air, but it was nothing compared to the intimate, heady smell of Seokjin’s Alpha Scent. “It’s nice to see you being a little needy and open for once,” Jungkook teased. “If you had kept being stubborn, I might have gone to find someone else, after all.” “Oh?” Seokjin squeezed Jungkook’s waist in response, as if staking a silent little claim, pulling Jungkook’s presence a little closer. Jungkook’s heart rate escalated as he felt Seokjin’s bare chest pressed up against his shoulder. It was strange and wonderful to be near him, intimately but not sexually; at least for the moment, anyways. “Yeah, I get a lot of offers, and I always got the feeling you’d be the jealous type.” “Mm, I dunno, I’m pretty easy-going, actually,” Seokjin mused. To that, Jungkook let out a loud laugh, one that he was sure anyone outside the bathroom door could have heard. “As if. You’re very jealous when it comes to me. You may not be noisy about it like Hoseok is, but it’s still there.” “Oh? How so?” Seokjin tucked his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder, and Jungkook was pretty sure his skin felt hotter than the warm water that cascaded over them. “For starters, you Claimed me , like two days after we met,” Jungkook pointed out, smirking as he craned his neck, delighted to see the way Seokjin stiffened and paled. Seokjin mumbled and fussed, letting go of Jungkook and moving across the small space of the shower in search of his face wash. “Okay, so maybe you have a point there. But that was me thinking a lot about the long term, you know? I didn’t know how you were gonna feel about me - if anything at all - and the Bonding felt really powerful at the time. I at least wanted a little bit of a chance.  Maybe one could claim temporary insanity on my behalf?” “Bonding doesn’t make decisions for us, though,” Jungkook poked Seokjin in the side, “And I bet I could make you jealous over me now. It would be easy: because you’re the jealous type.” “Oh, really?” Seokjin chuckled. “I guess we’ll see, then. But I think you’re the jealous one, here. With your cute little hyung complex and your need to please.” “We’ll address that later,” Jungkook smirked, taking advantage of the moment to stare at Seokjin openly as the Alpha stepped out of the shower and reached for his towel. “When we have time to discuss things at length.” “Well, based on this morning, I feel like I should stay on my toes,” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That was a tutorial round,” Jungkook promised, “I’m gonna get better at it.” Seokjin was half-dried off, but Jungkook came up behind him just as he was pulling his T-shirt on and hugged him as he had just done, leaning his nose in to Scent the Alpha. Seokjin gave a sharp inhale of surprise. “Sorry, I’m...I’m not used to that,” Seokjin chuckled, turning around and looking at the Omega. He seemed caught by something in Jungkook’s face, his expression cautious and uncertain. “You can Scent me back,” Jungkook whispered, “I want you to.” Slowly, Seokjin leaned in, giving a gentle Scenting that almost tickled in its softness. Jungkook giggled, tugging roughly at Seokjin T-shirt until the Alpha Scented him again, this time with more self-assurance, a little more self-indulgence. The way he rubbed his own Scent into Jungkook always made his chest constrict, his stomach fill with butterflies, and he let his eyes roll back with the lovely feeling, eager to make it a commonplace occurrence that would still drive his body wild even years from now. “Much better,” Jungkook hummed, his breath catching when Seokjin leaned in, mouthing at the Scent and suckling at the skin around it, while his knee simultaneously brushed up against Jungkook’s exposed front. “Much better,” Seokjin echoed. They moved there for a moment, enjoying the sensation, before Seokjin pulled away and tossed Jungkook’s clothes at him. Jungkook started pulling on his pants, feeling the distant throb of need starting to thicken in his groin. Tonight, okay? Just wait until tonight.  “I brought you food. Pasta. Starchy foods are supposed to help boost your energy levels.” Seokjin laughed, “Since when did you become a nutritionist?” “Since I decided that I wanted to be your Omega, so you’re gonna have to stay in top physical condition to take care of me properly,” Jungkook said with a casual air, wanting to laugh aloud at the way Seokjin stared at him, dumbfounded. “You going to drive me to class today?” “Uh, yeah, sure…” Seokjin followed Jungkook into the bedroom. “So, if I’m right, can I choose what we try next?” Jungkook challenged, smiling as Seokjin sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the now-cooled pasta. “Right about what?” “That you’ll get jealous of me before I get jealous of you.” Seokjin rolled his eyes, “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” Not if it means I get to lay the BDSM on the table, and soon.  “Nope,” was all he said, reaching in and pinching one of the noodles between his fingers, eating it before Seokjin could protest. “Is it a deal?” Laughingly, Seokjin shook his head, “Sure I guess. I see no reason why not.” He was probably imagining that Jungkook, still innocent in everyone’s eyes, would just request a different position or for Seokjin to let him suck him off again like that morning. Jungkook was banking on that wrongly assumed naivety, because he was looking forward to surprising Seokjin with how similar their own interests were. “Great! I leave for class in an hour and a half.” He curled up against Seokjin’s shoulder, inhaling the smell of soap and cherry blossoms, and sighed in contentment. He couldn’t wait for tonight - history class never looked so boring, bleak and irksome as it did in that very moment. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.” — Roy Croft.   Jungkook sat underneath the dining room table, shoving his homework into his backpack now that there was only a few minutes left to go before they had to leave for class. To Jungkook’s delight, Seokjin didn’t have any classes that day, due to one of his professors attenting a conference about some new disease, sending him out of town. That meant that he didn’t have to feel bad when he suggested the two of them spend the whole day on campus together - especially since it would save on gas, since Seokjin had to drive him there anyways, right? Laughter erupted from upstairs, and Jungkook glanced up just as Seokjin and Jimin entered the kitchen, Jimin caught in a fit of giggles so hard that he was leaning heavily against the elder Alpha, gripping his arm in a familiar way that made Jungkook pause. It wasn’t as if he suspected Seokjin was suddenly going to turn around and start seeing Jimin the way he saw Jungkook, the Omega knew that - and he had overheard Jimin and Taehyung’s confession with his own ears. But something about the way they stood so close, the easy way they stood next to each other, as if Jimin hadn’t had so many misgivings and worries about the new Alpha, caused Jungkook to remember that Seokjin had once had an ‘Almost Mate’ before. Another Alpha, too. And Jimin was an Alpha, while Jungkook was not. What ifs shot through his mind as his body felt heated, wanting to speak up and finding his voice was gone. As if able to sense his thoughts, Seokjin glanced over and met eyes with Jungkook, his expression confused as though he had heard something strange. Jungkook instinctively looked away, focusing on his backpack. “I understand, it’s not as simple as it sounds, right?” Seokjin said, and Jungkook could hear the smile in his voice. “But of course I’ll go with you. Maybe tonight, after dinner?” Jungkook blinked in surprise, suddenly poking his head out from under the table. “Wait, go where tonight?” Seokjin smirked, snaking an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “Jiminie and I are gonna go do some shopping together. Just a little Alpha to Alpha friendship building time, that’s all.” He tilted his head to the side, simply oozing with amusement. “Why?” “I have plans with you tonight already,” Jungkook mumbled, unable to bite back the disappointment laced throughout his words. He knew it was a sign of endearment, of course, but hearing Seokjin call him Jiminie was too cute. It made him kind of irritated. He wanted a cute nickname, too. And he was going to tell Seokjin about the ropes that night after dinner.He couldn’t skip out on it, after Jungkook had gotten so worked up for it! “Aw, Jungkook, are you jealous?” Seokjin teased.  Shit, no. Don’t be jealous. You’ll lose the game. On a normal day, Jungkook didn’t like to lose anything. From the last piece of bread to Super Smash Bros to game on a hunt, it didn’t matter, he wanted to fight to the end. But the added element of what he was going to ‘win’ this time made things much, much more compelling. He had to convince Seokjin he wasn’t jealous, and fast. “No,” Jungkook frowned, as though insulted. “But I still have plans, and I made them first. So...why don’t you bring Jimin with us when we go to class? You have to wait an hour for my history class to finish anyways, you two can go shopping then, and then it won’t disrupt our plans.” He had had to fight not to put special emphasis on the our part of those plans. He was not going to be jealous, not this easily. Not when he knew that once he got to campus, Seokjin was not going to be expecting the volley of threats. He just had to make it until then. Seokjin - and Jimin as well - looked clearly surprised at the suggestion, and Jimin even shot Seokjin a questioning look, as though he was afraid he’d overstepped some boundary. “Um, sure. That sounds like a good idea, actually.” “I’ll go get ready, then…?” Jimin said slowly, seeming skeptical. He went upstairs, and Seokjin continued watching Jungkook as the Omega zipped up his backpack and crawled out from under the table. “What?” Jungkook asked defensively, seeing the way Seokjin looked at him, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, nothing,” Seokjin supplied breezily, moving to grab the keys. “You’re just acting kind of strange, that’s all.” When they got to the car, Jungkook crawled into the back of the truck, knowing that they would both expect him to sit in the front, closer to Seokjin. Jimin halted outside the passenger door, looking like a man caught between a rock and a hard place, his dark baseball cap making him look younger and smaller than he actually was. Jungkook rolled the window down a little, barely looking at Jimin as he explained, “You’re older, you have seniority to sit in the front.” Jimin worked his jaw a little, looking over at Seokjin, who was already in the driver’s seat arching an eyebrow at Jungkook in the rearview mirror. He offered Jimin a shrug, and the Alpha finally clambered in.  I’m not going to be jealous, I’m not going to be jealous. Jungkook repeated the mantra as he stared out the window, his chin resting in his palm, elbow propped up against the door. He watched the neighborhood flicker past, the warm sound of Jimin and Seokjin’s quiet discussion filling the silence. They were talking mostly about Taehyung, but also about menial things like chore duties around the house, how Jimin’s job as a cubicle guy in a call center was going, and how the weather seemed to be changing. Jungkook chanced a quick glance over at Jimin, and found him turned to look at Seokjin, mid-sentence with his eyes sparkling in amusement. Jungkook stared at the angular jawline, Jimin’s soft hair and gentle expression that seemed to never fail at calming those near him. The veins in his neck shifted as he got into the short story he was telling Seokjin, reaching a climax and gesticulating wildly for emphasis. Jimin was just too pretty an Alpha. Hadn’t Jae been a pretty Alpha, too? He was much manlier than Jimin, in build and in aura, but maybe Seokjin’s type had changed.  Stop it. Don’t be jealous, you little shit, he berated himself, looking back out the window. The breakfast from that morning wasn’t settling well in his stomach. Jungkook slipped out of the truck the moment they pulled up in front of the building for general education courses, and had to force himself not to rush off to class right away, without looking back at the other two. Seokjin hadn’t gotten out of the truck, one arm dangling out the window as he smiled at the Omega. “I’ll be back before your class lets out, okay? Then maybe we can go find somewhere to hang out?” “Okay,” Jungkook tried to sound cheery, smiling as he waved at Seokjin, deliberately waving at Jimin a little longer than strictly necessary, before he turned to go to his history class. The truck revved up and pulled away, and Jungkook sighed. It was going to be a long class. Jungkook had never been especially interested in history anyways, but after being in this class, he felt significantly less motivated. For one thing, he had always been a bit of a quiet, odd-man-out, and most of the students in the class seemed to already know each other and had formed their sub-units. They hadn’t treated him rudely , but they had treated him weird at times, and Jungkook had been at a loss to understand it. He sat down at his desk, dropping his backpack to the ground and plugging his earbuds in, since there was still about five or ten minutes before class. Usually, he turned his music on immediately, keeping the volume up as he doodled drawings into his notebook, but today he got a little distracted , since once he unlocked his phone he found his photo album still open, the thumbnails of the pictures he had taken of Seokjin that morning while he was sleeping were glaring up at him like a magnificent crime. “Look, he’s here already, just go talk to him!” came a female voice. There was a hiss as someone tried to shush her, and in an obnoxious sort of voice she retorted, “You know he can’t hear us anyways, he’s probably blasting some melancholic music that you both like.” “Rach… just stop trying to force it. I already told you, Jungkook is probably already dating someone by now…” Suddenly Jungkook perked up to attention, forcing himself to continue doodling the lines on the edges of his paper even as he was tempted to look up and see who was talking. The two moved to sit somewhere just behind him, though, and he couldn’t turn around without them realizing he could hear them. “But Jared this whole damn class is rooting for you two to get together. Ever since you mentioned having a crush on him, even the Alphas are rooting for you.” Jungkook was confused. Jared was the pretty-boy of the class, a Beta with dark, slightly wavy hair and broad lips. He had one of those faces that looked like he was modeling everything he wore - and he always came into class looking like he had had a personal assistant pick out his outfit. He remembered Jared offering to share notes with him once or twice, with a small gaggle in tow, and Jungkook had politely said he was fine. That was about all the interaction he could remember them having. But hearing the whole class knew about a crush he had on Jungkook? That would explain the gaggle. Jungkook had just assumed Jared was that popular. He was confused, not because he had an admirer, really - ever since he’d Presented as Omega, a lot of people suddenly claimed to be an admirer - but because Jared hadn’t said anything, at least not to his knowledge, to even hint at feelings. “He barely notices me,” Jared said quietly. Rachael, however, was already sighing dramatically, “Imagine the pups you two would make,” she let out a squeal. “Two beautiful people together, it seems so perfect .” It seemed like Jared didn’t have anything to add to that, probably uncomfortable with the conversation in general. More people filed into the room, and throughout the entirety of class Jungkook was rethinking his position within it. He was glad when it was over, and he stood up quickly to leave, trying not to notice the pointed looks and the quick whispers from behind him. He walked to the door with speed but without making it look too obvious he was trying to hightail it out of there, and he almost made it, pushing the front doors open even as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Jungkook! Do you have a sec?” He knew before he heard the voice, before he turned around, that Jared would be there, looking extra soft with gold-rimmed round glasses that didn’t even have lenses in them, and he was nibbling at his lip in concern. Jungkook saw five or six students from their class - mostly girls, he noted - hovering in the hallway, not doing a very good job of looking preoccupied. He sighed a little, “Um, sure. What’s up?” ~~~~~ Seokjin was sitting in the parking lot in his truck, flipping through the photos Jungkook had sent him during his time away, reminiscing over them and trying to pick a good spot on campus to go and ‘recreate’ some of the photos. He figured Jungkook would have fun with that, once he got out of class. He happened to glance up as a small crowd of students shuffled their way out of the building, a good sign that class had let out, and he smiled when he saw Jungkook stepping out into the sunshine, his thumbs tucked underneath the straps of his backpack. Then, some guy appeared behind him, grabbing Jungkook’s shoulder and making him stop. Seokjin sat forward in his seat, brow furrowing as he squinted, trying to see if he recognized the kid. He didn’t, but Seokjin did think he was looking at Jungkook like he had just met his idol. After a few minutes of watching them talk, the boy took a step closer to Jungkook, making the Omega take a short step back and shrug. The boy’s face crumpled in a strange expression, looking almost irritated from this distance. Without further ado, Seokjin slipped out of the truck, unable to resist slamming the door a little as he made his way over. “Jungkook!” Seokjin called out, smiling as broadly as he could and waving, deliberately keeping his gaze on Jungkook alone until he was near enough for the other boy to meet his eyes. When their gazes finally did meet, he could see the shy guilt already creeping across the boy’s face, but he still found his own expression hardening with warning. He moved to stand close to Jungkook, until he could catch the faintest whiff of his Omega Scent. “You ready to go? Who is this?” “This is Jared, we have history together,” Jungkook said, looking up at Seokjin’s face for a moment, as though realizing something. A little smile came to his lips suddenly. “Jared, this is Seokjin.”  Just Seokjin, huh? What happened to being so flippant and nonchalant because ‘You’re going to be my Mate anyway’?  Jared offered Seokjin a little smile, nodding in acknowledgement. But without so much as a word, he suddenly seemed to pale and flush at the same time, turning to Jungkook and quietly murmuring, “I guess I’ll see you about it later, then?” “Yeah, of course!’ Jungkook said with a smile, suddenly looking more chipper than he had a moment ago. Jared shot another look at the Alpha, before ducking back into the building. Seokjin arched an eyebrow at Jungkook’s smirk. “Well, let’s go?” Seokjin joined Jungkook as the Omega turned to walk toward the library, unable to keep the trace of confusion off his face. Wait, no. He’s probably hoping I’ll get jealous, the punk. Just ignore it.  And that was exactly what he planned to do. Just forget about jealousy and enjoy a day out with Jungkook, just the two of them. They went to the bridge and took pictures together, they sat and talked in the library with coffees, they stood and watched a busker for almost 20 minutes, sat and studied together in one of the quiet side rooms for a while, even sat out on the grass and just laid out, half-dozing in the warm afternoon sun. It was the kind of afternoon that sounded perfect. But Seokjin hadn’t expected the followers . That was the only thing he could think to call them. They were everywhere. Standing in line at the coffee shop, an Alpha turned around and suddenly noticed Jungkook, eyes widening as he moved in. “Jungkook! I haven’t seen you in a couple of days!” Then he offered to buy his coffee for him, to sit with him. Seokjin stood awkwardly just behind him, knowing there was no way the smaller Alpha could miss the wall that was his notably wide frame, nor the look of judgment Seokjin was sending his way. While sitting out on the grass, a gruff-voiced thick-armed hairy sort of man strode over and leaned against their chosen shade-tree for half the time they were there, obligating Jungkook to make half-hearted attempts at small talk with him. All the while the man was openly ogling the soft-looking Omega as he lay on his side, looking out across to the theatre building and smiling softly as they discussed a term paper the burly Alpha had coming up. Seokjin leaned over while they were studying in the library, intending to feign asking a question and secretly sniff a little at the boy’s Scent, and maybe - just maybe, if he felt a little empowered - steal a quick kiss on the boy’s cheek, feeling warmth in his chest just at the sensation of sitting near him and talking quietly, so easily, as if they’d been doing it forever. But just as Seokjin turned to Jungkook, another Alpha came up - this time a woman, with bleach blond hair and a tight crop top that seemed to be doing its damndest to keep her sizable bust under containment. She greeted Jungkook for all of two seconds, ignoring Seokjin completely before she sat down next to him, conspicuously leaning forward to rest her chin in her palm, resting her breasts up on the table and letting them spill out in a soft-looking mound. She smirked at Jungkook, tilting her head to the side as she obviously flirted with him as best as she could when she no longer shared any classes with him. “You should come out with us sometime,” she told him bluntly, “The parties my roommate throws are kind of wild, and the coverage fee is really cheap.” Seokjin frowned, looking over at Jungkook and noting that he was stealing quick glances down at the voluptuous breasts literally laid out for display in front of him. His jaw dropped a little at Jungkook’s transfixed expression, the Omega’s eyes wide like saucers as the Alpha twisted her fingers in her hair. “Jungkoooook,” she singsonged to him, reaching out and actually running a hand through his hair. The gesture was somehow motherly and yet not at all motherly, an obvious excuse to touch him through the thin guise of fixing his bangs. She lowered her voice, smirking at him, “When are you gonna take me up on that dinner sometime? I’m not even a scout or anything, I just wanna take you out sometime. You’re so cute.” Seokjin sat back in his seat, knowing he shouldn’t be surprised but feeling dumbfounded by the boldness just the same. He turned to Jungkook, hoping for the ‘I’m already taken’ clarification. “Sorry, I’ve been really busy with school and patrol lately,” Jungkook said easily, like it was an excuse he had given a hundred times before.  “I haven’t had time for that sort of thing.” At the transparent evasive tactic, Seokjin’s mouth actually dropped open in shock. He was sitting right there and not only was Jungkook not going to explain that the man he had called ‘His Alpha’ not too long ago was with him, but the two of them continued to ignore his entire existence, too. The girl pouted at his response, tucking her hair behind her ear and leaning forward a bit more, her Alpha Scent of some kind of flower wafting over them like a cloud of perfume. “Come on, just one date. I’m paying for everything. We can go see a movie and eat out some place nice.” Seokjin narrowed his eyes at the girl’s blatancy, his expression hardening. “Sorry, but the answer is no,” Jungkook said, no longer ogling her breasts, at least, but now casually flipping through his history textbook. “And I actually really should study right now.” The girl sighed, the intensity of her Alpha Scent thinning as she saw she wasn’t going to get anywhere with her current tactics. “I guess I’ll see you around then.” With no real excuse for it, she reached out and touched his shoulder, as if trying to call his attention back to her. When it didn’t work, she frowned and strode away. Seokjin sat and watched Jungkook for a long minute, before the Omega happened to glance up. “What?” he asked, as though innocent. “ What ?” Seokjin snapped back, “Could you have been more obvious looking at her chest?” Jungkook tilted his head to the side, a little devilish smirk coming to his lips. “Well, they were pretty amazing. I mean did you see …” He raised his hands in a rounded gesture, moving to demonstrate, when Seokjin reached out and promptly slapped his hands back down. Jungkook chuckled. “I told you I had other offers. Did you not believe me?” Seokjin didn’t answer, just sitting back in his chair and frowning. Jungkook leaned forward, now grinning from ear to ear. “Seokjin? Are you….jealous?” Jungkook asked, and he could already see the full-fledged victorious laughter Jungkook was barely containing. “No,” he deliberately didn’t snap the words, knowing it would just sound like a confirmation of the accusation. “It just seemed rude for you to stare like that.” Jungkook smiled, shaking his head a  little as he returned to his book. “I guess, if you say so.” Seokjin frowned. They spent the rest of the hour in silence. Before heading home, they decided to go to the university cafeteria, taking advantage of their single-priced buffet style freedom, a policy that always made Seokjin wonder how it didn’t always put them in the negatives, given that university students were particularly talented at tucking away four or five plates at a time, if given no limit. He and Jungkook were already on their second round, and Seokjin was debating with him about the merits of different fruits from the dessert bar, holding them out on his fork for Jungkook to try. Jungkook leaned forward in his seat, taking the piece of pineapple into his mouth sans hands, and Seokjin smiled a little at the casual way he’d done it, going back to his soup as Jungkook browsed his phone. “Oh, Jungkookie,” Seokjin said, making the Omega look up, “For tonight, I was wondering if--” “Jeong Jungkook!” interrupted a voice, and Seokjin barely bit back an audible groan as another Alpha came over to their table. This time it was an extremely tall young man with lightly tanned skin, faded sky blue hair and one of those award winning smiles that suggested he always got what he wanted. Seokjin had never felt so much like punching someone as in that moment when the man’s Alpha Scent thickened around them, and Seokjin felt his own Scent rising, heat developing at the back of his neck as he glared down into his soup bowl. The new Alpha didn’t hesitate before slipping his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder possessively, dimples developing at the edges of his smile. “What are you up to tonight?” “The usual,” Jungkook replied placidly, picking chunks off of his jalapeno bread to nibble on and not even glancing in Seokjin’s direction. The soup already in Seokjin’s stomach felt like it had just been overwhelmed and turned to acid, dark and bitter in the pit of his belly. “You?” “I’m taking a cute Omega out and showing him how well a good Alpha can take care of him,” the man said with a breezy sort of air. Seokjin narrowed his eyes, wondering if the implication was what it sounded like. “Oh?” Jungkook looked disinterested as he stirred his pasta. The man seemed to wait a moment, with his arms still around Jungkook, expecting to be prompted for more information. When he wasn’t, he continued, “And that cute Omega is called Jungkook.” “What a coincidence, I don’t come across many people with the same name as me,” Jungkook retorted without blinking an eye. Okay, so that made Seokjin smile a little. “Jungkook,” the Alpha said, leaning his face in dangerously close to Jungkook’s, an oppressiveness to the air as he smiled at the Omega. Seokjin found himself bristling more and more with each inch that the Alpha neared. “Go out with me tonight.” “I already told you no, Louis,” Jungkook sighed. “I’m not that kind of Omega.” “But you see, you might be,” Louis offered with a little shrug, leaning in so far his nose nuzzled up lightly against Jungkook’s cheek. “You’re known for playing hard to get, but I think…you just want a competent Alpha to come along and take care of you. Someone strong enough to handle you.” Louis tilted his head, taking a quick sniff at Jungkook’s neck. Seokjin was clenching his spoon so tightly, his hand ached. “Look at this, you’ve got Alpha Scent on you already, but it’s so weak, it’s barely even there .” “Louis, back off,” Jungkook was starting to sound exasperated, but then he jumped nearly a foot out of his seat when Seokjin stood and slammed both his palms down on the table, jostling their dishes and spilling some of their sodas out onto the surface. Both Jungkook and Louis stared up at Seokjin, who was now so physically heated he couldn’t see straight, his eyes flashing red as he snarled loudly. “What,” Seokjin said slowly, knowing by the way his instincts and senses were on edge that people were looking at them, able to smell his aggressive Alpha Scent suddenly fuming throughout their section of the cafeteria, a bitter edge to his normally gentler Scent of soap. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Louis stared agape for a moment, then shut his mouth, straightening up a little but keeping his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “I’m making him an offer, sub-Alpha . What are you going to do about it? Do you really think you’re gonna deter other Alphas away with that pitiful Scenting?” Seokjin clenched his fists at his side, already feeling in his bones, like a ghost muscular movement, the punch that he could swing at the man’s pretty-boy face. His shoulders were twitching in anticipation of the movement. It was so close . “He shouldn’t have to deter anyone in the first place, asshole. He said to back off so back off .” Louis frowned, dropping his hand from Jungkook’s shoulder. There was a moment between them when Seokjin could almost tangibly feel their aggressive Scents competing, tinged with the bitter aftertaste of a territorial challenge. The room seemed to darken, even though they were sitting right next to a sunny picture window, and he saw Jungkook standing up in concern out of the corner of his eye. The Scent of fear was notably mingled into the challenging Alpha’s Scent, and Seokjin could see the firmness in the man’s eyes flicker into concern. He knew he’d be no match for Seokjin. “If you’re not gonna protect him properly, someone else is gonna come in more willing to do the job. I don’t make the rules, I’m just saying.” Louis turned to Jungkook, “I’ll see you around.” It was more of a demand or a rough statement than a goodbye, and Seokjin audibly growled as the man walked past him to leave. Seokjin turned and watched him go, not blinking or loosening the tension in his shoulders. After a moment, he sensed Jungkook stepping up to him. “Seokjin?” Jungkook said gently. He turned back to see Jungkook watching him with curious eyes. He gave the smallest of smiles, as though uncertain. “I guess, uh, this means you got--” “ YOU,” Seokjin growled again, pointing an accusing finger right in Jungkook’s surprised face. “ Don’t talk . Grab your stuff. We’re going home.” ~~~~~ Jungkook sat in the passenger seat of the truck, staring worriedly over at Seokjin as he drove. Ever since Louis had first walked up to their table, a heavy Alpha Scent had been emanating from the elder man like thick smoke, almost choking Jungkook with his sensitive nose. Seokjin’s face had also gotten this deliberate hardness to it, as though his face down to the very molecules had tensed and pulled taut. He ran one large hand through his hair as Jungkook watched, revealing dark eyebrows crinkled harshly together like an intricate suggestion. The red in his eyes had, in that moment of actual challenge to Louis, gone from a thick ring to changing his eye color completely, until he looked nearly demonic. Looking directly into his face had caused goosebumps to rise on Jungkook’s arms, his gaze caught for a long moment by the deep glistening red with its intricacies, like his eyes contained caverns and ravines, gleaming brightly and swirling in accusation. In a way, he was beautiful like this. In a way, he was terrifying. They didn’t speak for the entire drive home, and when they got to the house, Jungkook hovered behind him like a pup following its owner while Seokjin stormed his way up the stairs without looking back. Namjoon and Yoongi were seated at the kitchen table, talking about something they were reading between them, and looked up in concern, probably sensing Seokjin’s lingering fury. They glanced over at Jungkook in question, who merely ducked his head in apology before rushing up the stairs after Seokjin. He reached the top of the landing just in time to see Seokjin slamming the door to his room shut, and Jungkook tentatively reached out to test the handle, breathing a sigh of relief that it hadn’t been locked. He was a little surprised to find Seokjin standing just inside the room, his broad back turned toward the doorway, and Jungkook could tell that he had his arms crossed as he faced the wall. Quietly, Jungkook closed the door after himself. “Seokjin…?” Jungkook said quietly, stepping closer but not too close. There was a long moment of baited silence, and then Seokjin’s shoulders rose, accompanied by the sound of him taking in what Jungkook prayed was a calming breath before he turned to face the Omega. “You really just let them treat you like that?” Seokjin’s voice was surprisingly calm and quiet, but his tone was low in such a way that Jungkook could almost hear the bubbling anger as it boiled just barely beneath the surface, the red in his eyes still a warning as clear as the protective Alpha Scent. Jungkook blinked. “Seokjin, that’s...that’s how most Alphas are.” He gave a little shrug. “You know that. I used to get angry about it a lot, but...it’s safer for me to deflect most of the time.” Seokjin frowned, apparently not liking the answer. Jungkook knew that Seokjin knew. It wasn’t like anyone hid the fact that Omegas were viewed as the ones to be protected, and Alphas were the protectors. What Louis had said was practically word-for-word from most sex education courses, after all. The world of Bangtan pack, small and strange, was an anomaly - the outside world wasn’t about to suddenly turn over for their sakes. “I don’t like it. I don’t like that you can’t even have a normal day.” Jungkook let out a little exhale that was somewhere in the realms of a sigh and a chuckle, a little puff of air that revealed how endearing he found it that that was Seokjin’s main concern, after all the teasing he’d gone through that day. He made it so hard not to pull him closer and tease him some more, in all honesty. Jungkook stepped forward, smiling softly up at him. “You know me,” Jungkook smiled, “After being with Namjoon and Yoongi so long, there’s no way I’d roll over for just any Alpha that crosses my path and smells halfway good.” Seokjin winced at the last part, as though hearing Jungkook even suggest another Alpha’s Scent could be appealing to him was physically painful. “But even if I do my best to prove that I’m strong and capable as an Omega, they still won’t always take me seriously.” Seokjin sighed. Jungkook wondered if this was something Seokjin had had a blind spot for, being an Alpha. His only other relationship had been with an Alpha as well, so it wasn’t as if it was something he’d had to deal with before. Jungkook smiled, seeing Seokjin’s blind fury starting to wind down. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Seokjin’s broad shoulders, pushing his nose up underneath the soft chin and making a pleased little humming noise. After a moment’s hesitation, he felt Seokjin sigh again, heavily this time as he wrapped his arms around Jungkook. “Okay, but why didn’t you tell any one of them that your Alpha was literally sitting right next to you all day, though?” Seokjin queried after a moment, now no longer sounding furious but instead, agitated. “Well...you know, ” Jungkook mumbled into Seokjin’s neck, “It might make things easier if you would Scent me properly, since everyone seems to think I smell like a Noble, and I’m an Unmated Omega to boot. I told you I wanted to go to class smelling like you, after all. So if you would just--” Jungkook was cut off by the rough way Seokjin suddenly snatched him by the shoulders, twisting them around and pushing Jungkook down onto the mattress. Bouncing a little and staring up at Seokjin in surprise, he watched the Alpha crawl over him, eyes now encircled in red, as he straddled Jungkook’s thighs, leaning into Jungkook’s Scent gland. The usual pause, the normal hesitation, was utterly foregone as he wasted no time in heavily inhaling Jungkook’s Scent, pressing in deeply in that intimate way that made Jungkook’s spine tingle, and he arched his back a bit, twisted his head to give Seokjin more access. Jungkook gasped, his nerves shot on edge as Seokjin proceeded to run his hands up and down Jungkook’s body, pressing his fingers into his hair, brushing his wrists over Jungkook’s shoulders, leaning his hips onto Jungkook’s. He would definitely have more than a weak remembrance of Seokjin’s Scent - this Scenting would stay with him for days. “Oh--” Jungkook managed to wheeze, wrapping his hands around the back of Seokjin’s neck, to trail upwards and run his fingers through his soft, tangled hair. Seokjin continued Scenting him until Jungkook started to moan, lying there on the bed more than a little dizzied. Soft, hot lips pressed wetly to his collarbone, his jaw, his ear. When the sensation of a rough bite against his earlobe shot pain through him, Jungkook’s eyes shot back open and he jolted, still caged in by the Alpha as his crooked fingers yanked Jungkook’s shirt up, bunching it up under his underarms before thrusting his body downward, sending Seokjin’s exploring mouth to Jungkook’s chest. In times before, Seokjin had mostly kept his touches light and gentle, as though afraid to mark Jungkook or leave too many traces of his presence, but that seemed to be the opposite to his current goal, as he licked headily at Jungkook’s nipple, making Jungkook’s back arch up into him needily. “Th-that…” Jungkook said breathily, “D-do that .” Seokjin didn’t even glance up, tilting his head to the side and taking all of one of Jungkook’s nipples into his mouth, suckling at it so powerfully that Jungkook’s toes started to curl. “Oh f-fuck…” The Omega was surprised by the harshness in his own voice, the realness of the phrase that had more of an edge to it than how the sensation had felt in his head, and thereby excited him more. When Seokjin started to bite there, too, he couldn’t help but frantically scrabble at Seokjin’s shoulders for purchase, his fingernails digging in as he tried to grip something solid. Seokjin’s hands, in reply, wrapped around Jungkook’s hips, holding him so firmly he was sure he’d have bruises later. “Jin…” “Mmm?” Seokjin didn’t seem like much of a talker, once he got in the mood, Jungkook decided. “Don’t hold back,” he managed quietly. Seokjin paused, lifting his head, the movement alone making his gut clench, at the question in Seokjin’s eyes, at the Alpha neediness already glowing there in his gaze. “I...the things you want… I want them, too. So...don’t hold back.” Seokjin stared at him for a long moment, as though giving himself time to process Jungkook’s words. His voice was surprisingly even and collected when he finally said, “Do you know all that that implies, Jungkook?” Jungkook smiled, then laughed, placing his hands on Seokjin’s cheeks as he gazed at him fondly. “ Yes . I don’t want to wait for Mating. I want every Alpha or Beta, or Omega even, to smell you on me so they don’t even have to ask. You saw how annoying it was.” At that, Seokjin gave a snarl of realization. “You did all that stuff today on purpose,” he stated. It wasn’t even a question, and Jungkook laughed again, pushing in Seokjin’s cheeks and laughing harder at the look of petulance on his squished face. “Maybe,” was all he said. “What are you going to do about it? You’re not jealous , are you?” “You little shit,” Seokjin growled, gripping harder at his hips. Jungkook smiled, closing his eyes a bit at the sensation, surprised that he really enjoyed feeling the power behind Seokjin’s fingertips. When he opened his eyes again, Seokjin’s face was mere inches from his own, staring down at Jungkook with a distant sort of awe in his expression, lips gently parted. Jungkook could see his gaze flicker from Jungkook’s eyes, to his chin, to his forehead and brows, and then to his lips. He tilted his chin up, silently beckoning the Alpha on, and he slowly lowered his head down to meet Jungkook’s lips in a soft kiss. “Jin,” Jungkook whispered quietly, conspiratorially. “Lock the door.” The door was locked within seconds, and Seokjin was standing at the foot of the bed, dropping his jeans to the floor before leaning over to yank Jungkook’s sweatpants away, then his shirt. For some reason, the ease with which he accomplished this made Jungkook want to laugh - or perhaps that was just the nervousness starting to bubble in his gut as Seokjin came back to encompass him, as if shielding Jungkook with his entire body and his whole being. They held gazes for what felt like ages, and Jungkook felt that Seokjin was waiting for a go-head, a signal that yes, Jungkook was definitely ready. But first he just needed to make sure he could breathe. After a second, Jungkook gave a nod, and Seokjin refreshed his previous ministrations, with all of the fervor of before but with a trace of something like gentleness, but closer to appreciation. He trailed kisses and traced his thumb along Jungkook’s torso, trying to find his most sensitive spots, and when he got to the rough spot in the front of Jungkook’s boxers, he patted it softly in such a comical way, like one would to a pet, that Jungkook did chuckle, and his burning nervousness eased up for a moment. Seokjin smiled, shifting down Jungkook’s body until he could press his thumb roughly into the skin of Jungkook’s thighs, lifting up a leg until Jungkook’s knee was bent. Seokjin morphed a kiss into a suckling that heightened until it stung, and still he kept going, leaning in to Jungkook’s thigh. The Omega could feel the edges of his teeth, and then suddenly he was biting at the skin there, marking it with a bruise as Jungkook’s heart shot up into his throat. All he could do was lie there on his back and pant as he watched Seokjin continue to mark him with bites.  Nine...ten...eleven...twelve…  “O kay ,” Jungkook gasped, intensely irritated. “Are you going to fuck me or are you going to just gnaw at my thighs all day?” Seokjin laughed, slowly pulling Jungkook’s boxers off. “Well, we did have to leave in the middle of lunch…” “What an asshole,” Jungkook sighed to the ceiling in exasperation. Then, he grunted as Seokjin suddenly bent both of Jungkook’s knees, pressing them to his chest. “Look, you’re a turkey now.” “Fucking shut up .” Jungkook groaned, but then he imagined what he must look like and he started to laugh despite himself, half moaning in complaint, “Nooooo…” “I’ve always liked the thigh meat best anyways.” “I’m gonna slap you if you don’t stop.” “Turkookie?” “Oh my god.” Seokjin just laughed, and in a way, Jungkook was grateful that Seokjin wasn’t letting the atmosphere stay so strained and awkward. He could probably smell the nervousness on the Omega. Seokjin leaned forward, his chest pressing up against Jungkook’s calves as he craned his neck, kissing Jungkook again. This time, when Jungkook pressed up, giving a little whimper and silently asking to deepen the kiss, Seokjin complied. Feeling the warmth and tasting Seokjin so intensely make his stomach clench and then tighten in the loveliest way. Jungkook gave a little hum of appreciation, closing his eyes to sink into the tickling sensation as Seokjin kissed him harder, more roughly and with more need. But all too soon, he was pulling away, and Jungkook’s heart stopped momentarily at the little trail of saliva that connected them for the briefest moment before Seokjin was sitting up on the bed again, lips looking swollen and eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Hold your knees, like this,” Seokjin instructed gently, and Jungkook complied obediently, smiling softly and not realizing what Seokjin was planning next until Seokjin’s head ducked out of view and suddenly there was a burning hot wetness at his entrance, and Jungkook actually cried out from sheer surprise. Instinctively, he moved as if to sit up and drop his knees down, but Seokjin had already moved his hands to either of Jungkook’s pale cheeks, pulling them apart and pressing heavily down, effectively pinning him back as he continued to lick and tease the puckered skin there experimentally. Jungkook wasn’t sure how to react, wasn’t sure if he liked the way his body was suddenly flashing with an undeniable feverishness. “W-why are you…?” Jungkook gasped, his very voice seeming to flutter up through his throat as if the butterflies in his stomach were dislodging his words. He tried to crane his head to see Seokjin around the bruised and teeth-marked thickness of his legs, but he could only spy the T-shirt clad shoulders. After a moment, Seokjin lifted his head, panting a little as he stared at Jungkook. “Open your mouth,” he instructed. Jungkook complied. “Wider.” He dropped his jaw, confused. Seokjin took two of his fingers and pressed them inside Jungkook’s mouth,  before his head dived back down again, even though it was probably a difficult angle for Seokjin himself. Left awkwardly with no instructions, Jungkook lay there for a moment, blinking confusedly at the salty bitter taste of Seokjin’s fingers pressed down against his tongue. Then, without warning, the fingers wriggled back and forth, callouses abrasive against the delicate inside of his mouth, and Jungkook’s stomach did another flip. Taking that as his cue, he began to suck at the fingertips, pleased when the hurried, impatient movements of the fingers slowed to a steady movement like breathing. Not wanting to accidentally bite down on the knuckles, Jungkook couldn’t properly swallow, and soon found drool starting to form at the corners of his mouth, dribbling down the edges and coating Seokjin’s fingers, which scooped at the insides of his cheeks even as Seokjin’s tongue pressed more deeply into him, making Jungkook’s breath catch. The fingers pulled away, leaving his mouth feeling strangely parched and definitely empty, and he stopped to reel for a moment, thinking he could figure out what came next. This knowledge still didn’t make it the easiest thing in the world, taking Seokjin’s long, crooked fingers down to the second knuckle, but he did, sharply inhaling and unable to stop himself from wriggling his hips upwards once Seokjin’s finger curled upwards, brushing up against something deep inside him that made something even deeper than his gut quiver in anticipation. “Are you okay?” Seokjin asked. Jungkook opened his eyes and looked down to see Seokjin, hair utterly mussed and pink lips swollen, looking at Jungkook with concern even as his hand was teasing at his insides. Jungkook nodded, closing his eyes again as Seokjin hit the spot again, and he tried to hold in his moan but couldn’t. He gasped at the second finger, writhing around as he started to breath more and more heavily, each intake of air a little more desperate, not sure how to handle the stimulation as his body started to accept that the intrusion was making him feel amazing . “Jungkook,” came Seokjin’s voice, quiet and low. Jungkook just nodded, eyes still clenched shut. Then, there was a hand in his hair, brushing back his bangs, and the palm against his forehead felt amazing, too. A kiss was pressed to his forehead, and Jungkook opened his eyes to look at Seokjin, who after pulling back was slipping off his boxers, preparing himself to enter Jungkook. Curiously, dazed and still wired from how Seokjin had been working him up, Jungkook watched Seokjin slip the condom on, his member now erect as he positioned himself below Jungkook, beyond where he could see. He looked back up at Jungkook, noticing his wide, anxious eyes, and he smiled. In the end, it was such a small, miniscule, quickly-passing moment. Brilliant but awkward, silent but with a thick sort of something to the atmosphere that made it hard to breathe. Seokjin slipped inside of Jungkook’s body the way he had slipped into his life - quietly, smoothly, like it was the most easiest thing in the world for him to do. He had gone from a stranger to a friend to a lover without really even trying, and now Jungkook suddenly couldn’t imagine not having him there, even if just on the edges of his consciousness, the edges of his nerves. He filled Jungkook from the inside out and made him feel heavy with purpose and sensitivity, the explosion of new, unfamiliar sensations making him so shocked he couldn’t really respond, only soak it in. The heat and sting of his first time with Seokjin literally took his breath away. When Jungkook felt a strong wave of Seokjin’s clean Scent waft down to him, he finally took in a deep inhale of air, sighing as he felt his body adjust to how full he felt now. Seokjin paused above him, waiting until Jungkook ran a hand up his arm, squeezing at his bicep and nodding. When Seokjin started to move, that was really when Jungkook began to feel the full aspect of Seokjin’s length, and he leaned back heavily into the pillow, his neck exposed as he clawed at Seokjin, moaning. “Oh, oh shit ,” Jungkook managed, falling into the rhythm after a bit of a strange start. Was this feeling like a wave? Or like a slap to the face? Jungkook wasn’t sure which, but either way, he found himself breathing, “ More. ” And somehow, Seokjin went deeper , as well as faster, and Jungkook’s feet curled up, ankles messily searching to wrap around Seokjin’s waist, clumsily yanking Seokjin closer toward him as though Seokjin was his air, that he needed to take inside so he could breathe again. The bed creaked and Jungkook started to gasp, then whimper, then moan, and he heard Seokjin’s breaths above him, felt the hot exhale on his cheeks. This was nothing like what he’d dreamed of - it was infinitely better to feel the real Seokjin, instead of dream Seokjin. To have his Alpha touch him, instead of just touching himself. He had been waiting a long time, and this felt right . He hoped Seokjin could feel it, too. Maybe they would never be able to segregate the intricate somethings between them, maybe they would never be able to distinguish what was their wolf, what was their Bond, what was themselves. Maybe there wasn’t even a difference, that gray area, that minglement, being their true identities. With one hand, Jungkook grabbed at his own cock, easily using the dampness from the pre-cum that had been accumulating there to rub at it, just a little off time with Seokjin’s thrusts. Jungkook’s mouth gaped open, moaning brazenly. He was reminded of that first time he had dreamt of Seokjin, the guilt and secrecy he had felt, the strangeness of the draw to the Alpha. At that time, he couldn’t have imagined things would turn out like this, or that he would be so changed by the time it happened. He gave a little whimper, using the hand he had wrapped around Seokjin’s neck to tug him closer, pulling him into a heated kiss. The roughness of Seokjin’s movements made their teeth knock together, the wetness still lingering in their mouths adding to the obscene slaps and sticky sounds of their conjoining. Jungkook sighed as he fell back into the pillows, feeling the heat at his core building up like a pressure, and him chasing after it with Seokjin’s Scent all around him, his gaspy breaths in his ear, their clammy skin pressed together. Jungkook’s hand continued to pump at his cock greedily, while his other hand clung desperately to Seokjin’s now sweaty T-shirt, letting out a little cry as he felt himself nearing the edge. Seokjin responded by twisting his slender hips with a wider angle, pressing in deeper and slamming up against that sensitive bundle of nerves right in Jungkook’s inner core, and he was beyond. He trembled like a leaf and came in little bursts, still brokenly moaning out as he finished, quickly becoming oversensitive to Seokjin’s continued abuse of his insides. He cried out from the shock of overstimulation, pained by white-heat. Seokjin immediately paused, and Jungkook grunted in disapproval, shaking his head. “No, go . Please .” Seokjin, looking a bit skeptical but currently not in a position to refuse purely based on politeness, kept going, even when Jungkook’s eyes started to water, biting at his lip in ecstasy as the coil in his belly wound again. “Seokjinnie, I--” he started, quickly cut off when Seokjin orgasmed, his movements almost halting as he paused, silently gasping through his own high, his body tense until suddenly, it wasn’t. He was paused above Jungkook, both of them panting, and Seokjin swallowed heavily. “Jungkook.” It was all he said, and it was enough to cause Jungkook to halt. He reached up and brushed the sweat-clumped locks of hair away from Seokjin’s face, studying him with a curious pursing of his lips. Never before had he been so surrounded by Seokjin’s Scent, and he wondered if this was how it always felt, this feeling of calm serenity that was seeping in after the intensity of the last several minutes. Seokjin’s eyes were filling with tears just at the edges, and Jungkook blinked slowly, feeling content and glad that Seokjin hadn’t pulled out just yet, just lying there with him.  He had his Alpha now, and his Alpha had him. It was a strange sensation. “I love you,” Jungkook said, his tone revealing how surprised he himself was at the revelation. Seokjin’s eyes widened, then he smiled softly, little creases forming at the edges of his lips like a gentle acquiescence. “I’ve loved you for...well, I dunno how long.” “Y’know,” Seokjin smirked, “For such a ‘tough Kookie,’ you can be such a romantic little drama king.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Says the man who screamed in a cafeteria full of people this afternoon. You know, since you technically initiated this, you still owe me for getting jealous. I already know what I want.” “Fine, fine,” Seokjin chuckled, slipping gingerly out of Jungkook and reaching over to run a hand through his hair for a few minutes. When he spoke again, it was quiet and more tentative than Jungkook would have expected, but his words were clear and imprinted themselves in his chest deeper than he was sure any Bonding could even do. “I love you, too.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise on your lips.” ― Kahlil Gibran    Seokjin was, in a word, amazed. He was amazed by Jungkook, he was amazed that he was wanted, he was amazed by the beautiful sincerity with which Jungkook did everything.He was also cumulatively amazed by the sight of Jungkook beneath him, curved pink lips parted delicately as he moaned, shutting his eyes in blissed out overstimulation. His head tilted back, exposing his neck and allowing a thick veil of his Scent to surround Seokjin, sinking him into a black leather sea, a comforting yet biting smell that suddenly made Seokjin wonder what it would be like to make them mingle forever. Jungkook’s bared neck, dotted with sweat and moving like a flesh-colored sea wave, beckoned him in. He had never felt so compelled to Mate anyone as he was in that moment, as he stared down at Jungkook. Jungkook, the Omega with the rare but unapologetic, open laugh. Jungkook, the one ready to break expectations of him at any turn. Jungkook, who had already grown and morphed so much in the relatively short time Seokjin had known him, that a selfish, childish part of him was afraid of how else he would change, worried that he would go too fast for Seokjin to keep up. Tears had already been stinging at his eyes as he felt, rather than consciously thought, that Jungkook loved him, and was awash with the very real self-assurance and belief that it was as pure of a love as one could find in a world so impure. Jungkook hadn’t had to (in the eyes and scrutiny of a harsh society with its cobweb of nuances and unspoken rules) “sacrifice” anything to be Seokjin’s Omega, as Taehyung was viewed to have done for Jimin’s sake. Seokjin hoped he never had to. He was just there , ready and content to be near him.  “I love you,” he’d said. The words could be spoken in so many languages, so many flavors and colors. Did Jungkook even know that? Was he aware of the spite and duplicity that could be threaded throughout the three words he had spoken with such sweetness, such simple directness? Seokjin, in a way, hoped he knew; yet in the same instant hoped he never would. When Jungkook rolled over and curled up against Seokjin’s bare chest, the back of his hand brushing up against the skin, the Alpha’s breath caught. Jungkook’s breathing was shallow and even against Seokjin’s neck, though he knew the Omega was awake. Seokjin reached over and ran his hand through Jungkook’s hair, his fingertips still smelling a bit of the stale dampness from their cleanup earlier. It was nice, like this, to just be close to him. He could be content with this. “Mm…” Jungkook moaned happily under his hand, nuzzling in closer. “I’m already hard again.” Seokjin paused his hand in its movements, arching an eyebrow. “You what?” “When you kept going after I came…” “You told me to!” Seokjin gasped, a panic rising up in his throat and heating the back of his neck suddenly. “Yeah, I know. But what I’m saying is, it made me hard again.” As if he needed to punctuate the point, Jungkook shifted forward, lifting his thigh up and hooking it up over Seokjin’s waist as he lay on his side. Seokjin could certainly tell he wasn’t lying. Seokjin sighed, wanting to laugh. “I guess this is youth?” Jungkook just looked up at him for a moment with the most playful, impish expression imaginable. He was fighting hard to maintain serious eye contact, but the smirk pulling his lips from his teeth was detracting from that effort. “It’s my turn now, right?” Raising his eyebrows and feeling his cheeks tightening with a smile as well, Seokjin asked, “What do you mean ‘your turn’?” “I mean,” Jungkook wriggled into a sitting position, seemingly unashamed of his nakedness as the (now mismatched but clean) bed sheet fell away, “It’s time for my prize for winning the jealousy game. Are you ready?” Seokjin chuckled. He wasn’t sure why Jungkook was so hell bent on this win in particular, but he couldn’t deny it was endearing to see him so excited. “Sure, why not?” Jungkook practically flew off the bed, then almost toppled to the ground, his body already sore and stiff from earlier. Seokjin shot up in the bed with concern, only to find Jungkook on the ground laughing at himself. “I forgot,” Jungkook said by way of explanation. Seokjin sighed. “What an idiot. Imagine if your first time had been during your heat. You’d have gone way overboard.” Jungkook looked over his shoulder, smirking devilishly. “Wait here.” The Omega stood and quickly pulled on his pants, vanishing out of the room. Presumably, he was going to his own room for something, so Seokjin took the moment to lay back against the pillows, breathing in their lingering Scents that hovered above the bed.  The door opened gently, and he heard it click shut again, but he continued to keep his eyes closed, listening. The mattress dipped down as Jungkook crawled over Seokjin to straddle him, his weight making Seokjin grunt a little and smile, his hands coming up to search for Jungkook’s waist. The Alpha wanted to send up a little thankful prayer to the powers above for creating Jungkook’s thighs, the thick muscular legs squeezing in at his waist as he sighed in appreciation. But suddenly, there was a little chuckle, and he found his wrists being held, something slightly abrasive brushing up against the soft skin there.. Seokjin opened one eye, and Jungkook was fiddling with a pair of black fake-fur lined handcuffs, trying to force them down over Jin’s bony wrists. The Alpha jerked in surprise, halfway sitting up. “What are you doing?!” Jungkook’s beaming smile fell instantly, and he almost looked surprised . “Well, I’m not good at ropes yet, so Yoongi said this would be --” “ What !?” The Omega looked genuinely confused, and a cynical part of Seokjin’s brain wondered if he was making that expression on purpose, to throw him off. “But… you said I could pick what we try next…” “Yeah, I thought you’d want to try, I dunno…” he flailed, and he knew he was flailing. He’d really had no set idea of what Jungkook had meant, he had just liked seeing him that happy. Fuck, I’m really far gone, aren’t I? “Something else …” he finished lamely. “But Jin ,” Jungkook wriggled his hips, moving his bottom down a little further until he was able to lean down into Seokjin’s face, smiling sweetly at him. “‘I want what you want,’ remember?” Seokjin paused. He had said that, and Seokjin had even asked to make sure he knew what he was suggesting. But in all honesty, he had thought that was a concept, a sort of theoretical sharing that would take years to come to any sort of actualization, much less this soon. “Don’t you want to, I don’t know...take things slower? Aren’t you worried you’re moving too fast?” “Fuck no,” Jungkook stated firmly. “I’ve suspected for years that I’m not vanilla.” At that, Kim Seokjin nearly choked, falling into a coughing fit as Jungkook sat and grinned at him. “You seem surprised..?” Jungkook teased. “We’re Bonded, you know. It’s like a soulmate thing. I basically grew up in Bangtan pack, you know, and if you’re as quiet as me and live in a pack house with Presented wolves long enough, eventually you’ll have walked in on things and overheard things you weren’t ‘supposed to.’ Yoongi was never shy. He’s quiet, but not shy. Jimin’s got some kinks that go way beyond me. And Namjoon’s as vanilla as they come but he always went out of his way to have awkward conversations about sexual freedom and things. I just never really had any experience, so you came along and...well…” he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I was pretty freaked out at first. It didn’t help you were so good-looking.” With this, Jungkook gave a sigh, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders for having a good-looking partner. “I can’t believe I ever thought of you as innocent,” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “When you were walking around watching everybody else like some kinda puppy voyeur.” “I told you,” Jungkook said, his thumb rubbing gently along the fabric of the handcuffs. He looked down at his hands for a moment, then tilted his head slightly to the side as he stared straight into his Alpha’s eyes. “But don’t get me wrong. I’m scared shitless.” Seokjin actually breathed out a sigh of relief at that. “That’s a fucking relief, because I am, too.” “But I know you won’t hurt me. Not that way, you know? I trust you, and I know you trust me, so… I want to let you be yourself, that self, but only in front of me.” The way he had said it, his voice going gentler and quieter, more demure but somehow more honest and sincere, made Seokjin’s chest clench. “You really love me, don’t you?” Jungkook rolled his eyes, his lips quirking a little in embarrassment. “So why handcuffs?” “Because you’re always holding back,” Jungkook reasoned simply, “If you give me some of that control, then maybe you’ll feel like you don’t have to hold back as much. Like...I can walk away at any time.” “Please don’t walk out on someone you’ve handcuffed,” Seokjin teased, a nervous laugh bubbling up in his throat. Jungkook slapped his hand lightly against Seokjin’s shoulder. “But really, I think...that makes sense. Honestly I’m still worried, but, I’ll try it with you.” “Well, you did promise,” Jungkook said, sitting up straight and taking Seokjin’s hands, clicking the handcuffs around them. Seokjin felt something in his stomach flip when he saw Jungkook holding the handcuffs, and the feeling only got stronger as he watched Jungkook bind his hands together, a fascinated look on his face. The cuffs only let him move his hands an inch or so back and forth, and he tested them out experimentally. In all honesty, he thought they felt kind of fragile, and he suspected he could have broken them if he really wanted,but he decided not to say anything about it. Let Jungkook feel his pride over the handcuffs as he would. “We need a safe word,” Seokjin reminded him, “Something like ‘honeydew’ or ‘seagull,’ something you’re not likely to say every day. Not like ‘do-” “Pikachu,” Jungkook said firmly. “I choose Pikachu.” Seokjin laughed. Perhaps it wasn’t sexy or appealing to, as he wore black fuzzy handcuffs while naked beneath Jungkook and his confident stance and his claim to Pikachu without a moment’s hesitation. “Are you serious? You’re not even gonna think about it a little?” Jungkook then sent Seokjin a reprimanding glare , and Seokjin realized that that was exactly what Jungkook had done - he had had a long time to think about it. The Alpha sighed, “Okay, Pikachu it is. I can’t believe this.” But a smile twitched at the edges of Seokjin’s mouth, despite himself. It was fitting, and hilarious, and definitely not something he wanted to be so commonplace that it could get confusing in the bedroom, heaven forbid. “Okay, ready?” Jungkook half-sang, and Seokjin nodded. He could now hear that underlying trace of awkward nervousness in the Omega’s voice, if his sudden wriggling around and the change in his Scent weren’t signal enough. Seokjin wasn’t sure where to put his hands, so he kept them curled up at his chest for the moment. Jungkook shifted his hips, pressing down onto Seokjin, and even through his sweatpants he could feel that Jungkook really was aroused again already, a slight roughness to his movements as he rubbed dryly up against Seokjin’s crotch. It felt nice, but he could tell even Jungkook was distracted, looking as if he wasn’t able to concentrate. After a moment, with a little sound of frustration, Jungkook peeled off all clothing between them, returning to wrap around Seokjin’s waist with a higher note of desperation as he continued. Seokjin watched Jungkook hump faster and faster, switching to Seokjin’s thigh, grabbing himself with his hand, then Seokjin’s member, then his own, then humping against him again. Seokjin tried to help - he really did - by rolling his hips upwards into Jungkook, trying to match the boy’s rhythms, but something unspoken was hovering in the air, thickening as Jungkook’s irritation bubbled. Physically speaking, things were moving as they should, and even Seokjin was catching up to Jungkook’s level of hardness, even though Jungkook’s dick was now starting to color with the abrasive way he had been abusing it. Physically , it was happening, but something was off, like a sense was off, an angle wrong, or a mood off. In all honesty, it was like having a small animal humping his leg, and Seokjin was feeling mostly bored by the situation, and more than a little disappointed, but what he felt was nothing compared to what Jungkook was going through, his face hardening and his bottom lip caught in his teeth. Seokjin moved his handcuffed hands up from his chest to rest them above his head on the pillow, and the movement caught Jungkook’s eye, and he hissed. “Fuck!” Jungkook snapped in anger, sitting up abruptly. “Why is it so different ?” “Well, we did just have our first time, like, an hour ago,” Seokjin offered, his tone as gentle and placating as he could manage. “Maybe it’s just not the right time.” “No! That’s not it, I’m...I’m really ready, but..” Jungkook exhaled out in exasperation, his shoulders slumping as he sat up, his eyes fixated on Seokjin’s hands above his head. Jungkook’s mouth dropped open to form a little ‘O’ shape that was endearing and, unfortunately - given the situation - made Seokjin imagine less than pure images. Jungkook suddenly slapped down on Seokjin’s chest, “That’s it!” “Ow, hey! What’s it?” “I want to be the one tied up,” Jungkook stated simply. “I don’t like it when it’s you.” Seokjin’s face crumpled in confusion. He drew his hands back down and rested them against his stomach, and Jungkook’s gaze flickered down and locked onto the handcuffs. “But the whole point was--” “I know, I know. But it won’t work if it’s you. You have to do it to me. I want you to have control, I can’t do it.” Seokjin frowned. He was making an offer that was much more appealing, much more tempting, than he believed the Omega knew. “But...But I can’t do it if it’s you, Jungkook. I just...I don’t wanna hurt you or anything, and...I don’t wanna make that image of an Alpha the image you keep for the rest of your life, even if it feels good.” “But I want you to. I want you to be that Alpha for me, at least when we’re having sex.” “I know, but… I can’t.” Seokjin frowned sadly, seeing the crestfallen look on Jungkook’s face. He really had been looking forward to this, and Seokjin knew that Jungkook rarely failed to get what he wanted. He was a bit spoiled in that way. Seokjin lifted his hands up so he could touch the edges of Jungkook’s cheeks with his fingertips. “Maybe we can try it later, when I--” “Wait!” Jungkook’s face lifted up, eyes sparkling, “What if it wasn’t me ?” Seokjin blinked. Then waited for an explanation. Then blinked again. “W-what? Why would I wanna--” “Just wait here, okay?” Jungkook started to slip off the mattress, when Seokjin vaulted himself up into a sitting position, holding out his handcuffed hands in a plea. “ Jungkook !” The Omega already had his hand on the door handle when he turned around at the rough-sounding reprimand, then laughed. “Oh, sorry.” He walked over and unlocked the handcuffs, dropping them to the corner of the mattress as Seokjin rolled his wrists around experimentally. Jungkook tilted his head to the side as he watched Seokjin, piecing together another one of his ‘brilliant’ ideas. “Can you..lie down and... keep your eyes closed? Like before? I’ll tell you when to open them.” “What? Okay, I guess. But don’t blame me if I fall asleep.” For the second time, Jungkook hurriedly pulled his pants on and escaped from the room again. Seokjin sighed as he fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes. This time, when Jungkook slipped back in, there was a strange sort of trace of fear to his Scent, and more excitement than before. It crackled in the air like untapped energy, and Seokjin was strangely tempted to open his eyes, particularly when Jungkook didn’t immediately return to the bed. The lock had clicked, but there was no sign of him moving closer. “Jungkook?” he called out, uncertain. “Don’t open them yet,” Jungkook ordered, and there was a rustling sound. Seokjin furrowed his brow in confusion, not expecting the sound of fabric. After a moment of silence, Jungkook’s light footsteps moved across to the far end of the room, and his voice was higher-pitched in poorly hidden concern as he suddenly asked, “You haven’t peeked, have you?” “No, I haven’t.” The Alpha couldn’t help but laugh, laying a hand over his eyes to help reassure the worried aura emanating from Jungkook. “How much longer?” “N-not much…” More rustling sounds, and the sounds of containers being opened, and a quietly whispered, “F-fuck…my stupid hands are shaking..” that Seokjin was half-certain Jungkook didn’t think he’d heard. Seokjin licked at his lips a little, wanting to ask if Jungkook was alright, but not wanting to interrupt this whatever-it-was for his sake. After a while, the noises stopped, and Seokjin turned his head, hand still over his face. “Now?” “Okay, promise you won’t laugh at me.” “I won’t,” Seokjin said, but he was already chuckling, wondering what could be more laughable - and simultaneously heartbreaking - than having had to watch Jungkook uselessly dry hump his leg a little while ago. “If you laugh I’m going to punch you.” Seokjin, master of his own face when he wished, suddenly sobered up. Seriously, he said, “I won’t laugh. Just let me see.” “O-okay. Open your eyes.” And so he did, dropping his hand down to his side and lifting his face up a bit to find Jungkook standing at the edge of the room, staring sheepishly with his head tilted downwards at the floor. He was wearing a white long-sleeved sweater, the sleeves rolled up to three-quarter length and the top of his black and white striped turtleneck peering out over the top. That was all pretty normal, although a bit warm for the recent spring weather. But what struck Seokjin’s attention was the short black skirt, its slightly ruffled edges tugged on by Jungkook’s nervous hands, a belt tucked cutely crooked at the waist. A sizeable expanse of Jungkook’s warm-colored thighs peered out in the short space between skirt edge and the black thigh-high stockings that he wore. It took Seokjin a moment to realize that the blush on Jungkook’s cheeks wasn’t entirely his own, and that Jungkook’s curved lips, with their perfect, tight little Cupid’s bow, had been painted a bright, light red. Jungkook himself looked terrified and kept glancing nervously up to gauge Seokjin’s face, but finding it unreadable, glanced back down. Silence hung between them heavily. “Jungkook...I mean...wow…” Seokjin said, unsure how to word his feelings. “You’re really...you’re really cute.” He supposed that was the right word. It certainly wasn’t a lie. The instant the praise had left his mouth, Jungkook’s painted lips had parted into a wide beaming smile, and he bolted happily over from the edge of the room to make a running leap onto the bed, landing in front of Seokjin and sitting with his knees bent, feet tucked out at either side and his thighs suddenly unbelievably close as he leaned forward to embrace Seokjin. “I knew you’d like it! I’ve had it for so long, I thought I’d never get to wear it.” Jungkook’s hands slipped up to entwine together at the nape of Seokjin’s neck, and Jungkook leaned forward and planted a kiss on Seokjin’s cheek. He wasn’t sure if Jungkook noticed the deep swallow he’d forced down, or the way his heartrate was suddenly so fast that every beat just seemed to run together. Jungkook giggled, staring at Seokjin’s cheek, and he was sure there was a lipstick stain there. The Omega nuzzled in, practically purring with happiness as Seokjin slowly wrapped his arms around the younger boy. “I’m so relieved...my Alpha…”  Well, fuck.  “Alpha?” Seokjin gulped. He pulled Jungkook back a little, taking in once again the slightly crooked makeup on his face, the flush to his cheeks, the cute skin of his thigh peeking out from the skirt. The skirt. Could he do this? Jungkook suddenly looked so young and innocent, even as his pupils were now encircled in a deep blue of arousal, and the way he smiled up at Seokjin was anything but innocent. He worked his lip for a moment. This felt very suspiciously like a gray area, that was true. But if there was one thing Jungkook had been beating to death into Seokjin’s mind, it was that he was willing and consenting to everything (begging for it, more like, and in more ways than one) to the point where to not cut them some slack was practically a disservice to all Jungkook’s efforts. Slowly, but with a firmness to his tone, Seokjin asked, “What should I call you?” Jungkook’s eyes seemed to sparkle with anticipation, with glee. “Call me your Omega. Just that. You never call me that, so.” Seokjin hadn’t even thought Jungkook would have liked being called ‘my Omega,’ so he was a little surprised, but it made sense. He nodded. “Okay. And tell me what the safe word is.” “Pikachu!” Jungkook squeaked out, getting more excited as it was sinking in that Seokjin’s reservations were slowly slipping away with the addition of this new element. “Okay…” Seokjin smirked. “Let’s get started, then. If I call you Omega--” “I’m your Omega.” Jungkook corrected, a childish pout on his lips. Seokjin chuckled, reaching up and cupping one of Jungkook’s slightly powdered cheeks in one wide hand, trailing his thumb back and forth a couple of times before trailing it lightly against Jungkook’s red lips. “Yes. My Omega.” If he had been surprised by the skirt, he was just as equally surprised when the nickname made Jungkook physically, visibly tremble. Wow, okay, so he’s not all talk, at least. A part of him was a little worried that they would have a repeat of the previous handcuff incident, so he decided to take this slow, not in a refrained sort of way, but in a build-up, an atmosphere or scene building sort of way. This was a game, a play, and he wanted to do it right. “You’re my Omega, so you can only call me your Alpha. Got it?” “Yes, I got it.” “Now…” Seokjin smirked, pushing Jungkook’s shoulders back a little so he could survey the Omega a little more thoroughly. Without the slow, gentle hesitation but instead with a firm sort of confidence, Seokjin laid both his hands on Jungkook’s bare thighs, gripping hard at the skin there and smirking at the way Jungkook’s mouth fell open. “You look so cute for me today, my little Omega.” It was kind of silly, really. Especially since he wasn’t even much bigger than Jungkook. But he looked smaller, kneeling on the bed and with wide, curious eyes. Seokjin moved his hands up, still with a solid grip, and pressed his hands up until they came to the edge of the skirt, and Jungkook’s body tensed, his breathing a little erratic. His eyes were locked on Seokjin’s face, but he made no move to either slow or speed things up. Seokjin smiled, continuing until his hands were mostly-buried under the soft folds of the skirt, his thumbs now pinching in roughly at the velvety soft skin of Jungkook’s inner thigh. Jungkook gasped. “Aren’t you worried about me touching you like this, my little Omega?” Seokjin queried, with a tone that suggested that he knew Jungkook was not. “Are you scared of where my hands will go?” “N-no, Alpha,” Jungkook breathed. Seokjin responded by twisting his wrists, sending his thumbs forward and up against the hot flesh he found there. He was surprised to find a light material blocking his access, and he pushed the skirt material up and looked down to see a pair of cotton panties, pure white with baby blue cross stitching at the hems and little bunnies printed across it, most of them hopping away from little cartoon-style patches of grass. Seokjin looked up at Jungkook in question, but he wasn’t offering any explanation, just starting at Seokjin as though he was about to consume him alive, even going so far as to lick his lips. The younger man placed his hands in Seokjin’s hair, only slightly pushing him down towards his panty-protected crotch. “Touch me, Alpha.” Seokjin could do nothing but comply, pressing forward and inhaling Jungkook’s sexual smell deeply, mouthing at the warm bulge beneath the cute printed bunnies and feeling Jungkook grip roughly at his hair, moaning out Seokjin’s name already. At that, he sat up, and could see the disappointment on Jungkook’s face. “Why the hell did you stop?!” Jungkook snapped. “What did you call me?” Seokjin teased, and he loved the way Jungkook’s eyes widened in horror at the realization. “Guess you’re already in for one point of punishment,” Seokjin said flippantly, reaching off to the side to pick up the handcuffs. “Put your hands behind your back.” “B-behind?” Seokjin did his best to glare at Jungkook, trying not to laugh at the dumbfounded look on the Omega’s face. “ WHAT did you say? ” “I--y-yes, my Alpha.” And Jungkook, surprisingly, complied, holding his hands behind his back as Seokjin tugged back the sweater sleeves from where they had fallen, slipping the handcuffs onto Jungkook easily. When he came back to sit in front of Jungkook, he was surprised with how much more sexual his posture was, just from adding the handcuffs. Was it the way his shoulders lay? Was it Jungkook’s own awareness that altered his body language? Seokjin wasn’t sure, but he didn’t waste much time before bending back down to continue. This time, when he licked at the front of Jungkook’s hardened member, he didn’t hear his own name but a gasped and needy, “ A-Alpha .” Seokjin placed his hands on the outside of Jungkook’s thighs, kneading at the flesh and muscle there while he mouthed and nibbled at Jungkook, each increasingly powerful bite making Jungkook’s cries rise higher and higher in pitch until he was basically wheezing out the ‘Alpha ’s, making Seokjin moan into his work. “P-please…” Jungkook suddenly managed. “I want more . Alpha please .” “Please what?” He lifted his head up, genuinely curious about what Jungkook was looking for next in this little game. The Omega had his eyes shut, biting his bottom lip as he held back more cries. When Seokjin’s ministrations paused, he opened them and looked down, gasping as though air had taken a moment to reach him. “You know what,” Jungkook said, in a voice Seokjin assumed was him trying to sound seductive. He even went so far as to tilt one shoulder towards him, as if to make himself more appealing, arching one suggestive eyebrow. Seokjin sat up and away, making Jungkook actually whimper, his arms tugging sadly at the binds at if he was trying to reach out for Seokjin. “That’s not how we’re doing this,” Seokjin said slowly. “You can’t just assume I’ll understand if you don’t say what it is you want. Now tell me. Please what ?” Jungkook seemed a little thrown by that, eyes so wide and worried as if he had offended somehow, and he bit at his lip before looking down at his lap. “I...it’s just…” The Alpha leaned down, trying to slide into his gaze. “Well?” Fiddling with his handcuffs, the skirt still rolled up to his hips, Jungkook flushed and glared down at the mattress. “I want your cum, Alpha.” A beat. “Um...how?” Seokjin pressed, needing a little more detail. He couldn’t deny though that his own crotch had quite suddenly jumped to attention at the sentence alone, spoken demurely and shyly. “It’s not as fun if I have to tell you everything !” Jungkook bemoaned, wriggling a little more with his handcuffs and lifting his bottom up to reposition himself on the bed. His whiny tone made Seokjin want to reconsider, but...he had to be strict on this point of communication; it was something he didn’t want to do wrong. Okay, and maybe a little bit of his sadistic side wanted to hear Jungkook say it. But just a little bit, as an afterthought. “You have to tell me, or I won’t know. How do you want my cum, little Omega?” Jungkook pouted, huffing a little before flushing wildly as he said, “I w-want your cum on my face.” Well, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but it was still an intriguing thing to request. At this point he was about 0.5 seconds away from desperately needing to palm himself. And who could blame him, when his Omega was sitting in front him, handcuffed and wearing a skirt, blushing prettily and ask him to do things he would normally find unspeakable? “...You do?” “Yes,” Jungkook stated, more boldly now that he hadn’t gotten the reaction he feared - jest. “Like... all over. Major cum. Facial level cum. I want you all over me.” Seokjin actually had to lean a bit forward and prop himself up on the mattress with both hands at that, he was so overwhelmed by the sudden dizzying heat of arousal. “Oh god .” “P-please, I’ll do whatever you say, so…” Jungkook sounded almost fearful, afraid as he leaned in and begged. There was some higher power up that was determined to kill Kim Seokjin before his time, he was sure. Because the universe had sent him, of all people, Jungkook. There was a long, baited breath of silence, then Seokjin let out the deepest sigh he had ever remembered giving. “Of course, baby,” he said. He hadn’t really planned on the pet name, it had just slipped out, but Jungkook whimpered in glee, wriggling where he sat on the edge of the bed in excitement. “My Omega baby…” Unable to move much due to his cuffed hands, Jungkook suddenly, precariously leaned himself forward and tucked his head into the crook of Seokjin’s neck, nuzzling in at his Scent gland and inhaling at him heavily. Seokjin’s breath caught, the nerves in his body all flipping over starting from his center outwards in a blissful silent wave, and Jungkook kept going, leaning in more heavily until Seokjin had to hold him up, letting out deep gasps as the Scenting twisted brazenly at his senses, making him dizzy. Jungkook had never quite Scented him that deeply before, that sexually, and that long. Seokjin felt the impact of it to his very core, and he moaned, surprising himself. In response, Jungkook gave a kitten lick to the sensitive, puffed up and tender skin around his Scent gland, making him hiss with sensitivity. “My Alpha..” Jungkook hummed into his ear, kissing gently at the curve of his jawline. Seokjin felt goosebumps trail along his body in a lightning-flash sort of quickness. “Turn around,” Seokjin ordered in a dark tone. Jungkook blinked at him in surprise, but then complied, struggling to lay flat against the mattress. “Ass up,” Seokjin added, reaching down and giving Jungkook’s very lightly clothed bottom a hard smack that seemed to echo in the room, along with the gasp Jungkook released. His curved bottom slowly, with a struggle because of his binds, rose up from the mattress. With the shortness of the skirt it was impossible for Jungkook to have remained decent, and at the end of the trail that was his beautiful smooth thigh was the bottom edge of the bunny panties, peeking out from the black fabric that was slowly, agonizingly slipping its way closer to Jungkook’s waist, which was held at a lower position than his lifted bottom. Because of the angle, Jungkook’s face was forced heavily into the bedsheets, and he grunted as he tried to get comfortable. He was already panting slightly, and Seokjin hadn’t even touched him yet. “Does it feel cool on your little ass?” Seokjin said quietly, reaching out and running his hands smoothly from the top of the thigh highs to the hem of the panties, earning a groan from Jungkook. “Is your Omega ass already calling for me?” “Yes…” Jungkook replied quickly, which Seokjin hadn’t anticipated. Seokjin pushed the skirt further down Jungkook’s waist, leaving his panties and thighs fully exposed. Egged on by Jungkook’s breathless answer, Seokjin twisted two fingers around the fabric of the panties, slipping in between the hot skin to find that it was dripping wet. He was so aroused it was calling on his pre-heat self-lubrication. It wasn’t really a sign of a heat so much as a rise in hormones, and varied from person to person. Seokjin wondered if he would always be able to self-lubricate by this kind of play. If he was self-lubricating, that meant his entrance would be significantly more pliant right then, as opposed to a normal day. He figured he might as well make the most of that fact. Seokjin pressed one of his fingers in deeper, beyond just testing for Jungkook’s wetness, and wriggled it inside of Jungkook with such a lively and playful air that the Omega cried out a solid, “Fuck!” to Seokjin’s delight. The second finger went in even easier. “N-n-no wait, that’s so fast!” Jungkook whimpered, crying lightly into the pillow with a choking sound. In response, Seokjin pressed in harder than he had before, and when it caused Jungkook to moan, Seokjin reminded himself that right now, this wasn’t ‘Jungkook,’ this was his Omega. But one little check shouldn’t hurt. “What’s your safeword, Omega?” Seokjin demanded. Jungkook’s hands balled into fists where they were bound, held tightly against the small of his back. “P-Pikachu…” Jungkook gasped. Seokjin was satisfied with that, pulling off the panties with one hand and discarding them to the floor, taking a moment to appreciate the soft roundness of Jungkook ass. He proceeded to then fuck Jungkook with his fingers as roughly as he could. Instantly, Jungkook was keening, his back arching on the bed every which way so wildly that the Alpha had to pin him with one hand on his waist, only using the leverage to bury his fingers deeper, until he was up to the last knuckle with each thrust. His fingers were covered in slick, wet and warm and making the most obscene squelching noises as he continued making Jungkook cry out. “Fuck, fuck, fuuck!” Jungkook drew out each repeat a little longer than the last, until he was morphing it into another long moan. “Jin, I’m gonna cum…” Jin reached forward with his free hand, grabbing a handful of Jungkook’s hair and pulling him up off the mattress. It was almost like a drinking game, keeping an ear out for the times he could call Jungkook out on his slip-ups. “What did you call me?” Jungkook gasped, then, “N-no, wait, I--” Seokjin removed his fingers in one smooth movement, and Jungkook practically wept, shoving his bottom backwards in an attempt to regain the pressure. Seokjin could even see the puckered skin around his entrance clenching, seeking to grip down greedily and finding nothing. “A glutton for punishment, my cute little Omega baby,” Seokjin hummed. He could feel the loss of control, the greediness setting in as he sank into the boiling, maddening heat -  the high of controlling Jungkook was like settling into a hot bath, letting it soak in around him and reveling in it. Maybe he was more sensitive to the effects of being directly exposed to Jungkook’s slick than he thought. Seokjin leaned forward, unclasping Jungkook’s handcuffs, lifting him halfway off the bed. He positioned Jungkook on his hands and knees on an old chest Seokjin mostly used for his winter jackets, and he firmly situated Jungkook’s fingertips around the ledge, telling him, “Don’t move.” When he stood up, his crotch was almost exactly at the level of Jungkook’s raised face, and instantly Jungkook realized what was going to happen. His eyes widened, but whether in excitement or nervousness - or a delightful mix of both - Seokjin wasn’t quite sure. “Open your mouth,” Seokjin ordered. He was already plenty hard after all the things Jungkook had been doing to him, but it felt amazingly good to indulge, letting Jungkook’s burning hot, wet mouth encompass his member, tongue scraping lightly against the bottom as Seokjin let out rough little pants, thrusting into Jungkook’s mouth. Whether from the deepness into arousal that he had already sank, or from secret preparation, Jungkook was able to take in much more of Seokjin’s length this time, greedily sucking at the tip each time Seokjin pulled back, and making the Alpha grunt with growing need. Though his hands were firmly planted on the edge of the chest, Jungkook was leaning as far forward as he could, as if needing even an inch more of closeness to the Alpha. When he started to gag, Seokjin finally pulled back. Jungkook coughed a little, tears stinging his eyes, and Seokjin placed a hand in his hair. Then before he could even move, Jungkook was leaning down and forward again, seeking after Seokjin’s dick with his mouth like it was a life force. “You’re that hungry?” Seokjin teased, one hand tickling under Jungkook’s chin as he had Seokjin’s member particularly far down his throat, the little brush of fingertips making Jungkook choke and gag once again, and this time, it tightened so closely around Seokjin’s member that he actually cried out, one hand flying to the bedpost next to them, clutching it for balance. Unfortunately, Jungkook, being the little rat that he was, discovered this reaction and immediately resolved to chase after it, timing Seokjin’s deep thrusts down into his delicate throat and adding a hearty swallow, the tightness making Seokjin’s core twist and coil rapidly. They repeated the cycle several times, Seokjin always pulling back a little each time the coil wound a little too tightly, until he decided it was time. “Fuck, I’m close,” Seokjin breathed, and pressed his hips in a little closer. Jungkook coughed again, leaning forward so far his bottom was sticking out as if deliberately, the little skirt shaking back and forth around his thighs with each powerful thrust. Seokjin was almost sorry to bend backward, his member slipping out from between Jungkook’s swollen red lips. “Stay,” he ordered, taking one hand and placing it around his member and moving his fingers up and down a few careful times, feeling the coil finally twist so tightly that it burned, and suddenly Seokjin was crying out, his cum escaping in thick, heavy bursts that splattered against Jungkook’s face. The Omega looked shocked, mouth still hanging open even as Seokjin continued to milk out the rest of his orgasm. He had edged himself to give Jungkook as much as he could, and now he was going to make use of every drop. With one hand, Seokjin reached out and roughly rubbed the dripping cum all over Jungkook’s face, the Omega stiffening up as his Alpha smudged his makeup (or rather, what makeup was left after being washed down his face through his tears) in dark, dramatic streaks. “Look at you,” Seokjin spat, trying to sound as malicious as he could, deepening his voice to that tone that he knew from instinct, rather than from conscious knowledge, made Jungkook tremble the most. “You’re such a filthy little Omega. With your ass exposed and your face covered in cum.” Jungkook lifted his gaze to him, wide eyes blinking heavily as Seokjin’s cum coated his face and cheeks, sticky and disgusting. The lipstick was stained across his mouth in faded red dustings, the eyeliner dripping and his mouth parted, skirt now having slipping up his hips and exposing him to the air again. Seokjin groaned as the sight caused another burst of cum, this time landing on Jungkook’s cheek. He promptly rubbed that in, too, as Jungkook shuddered in shock and wonder. “Now it’s your turn, my Omega,” Seokjin promised, walking around to the back and placing one preparing hand against Jungkook’s waist. Jungkook was already leaning a bit back on his knees, back into Seokjin’s approaching hand as he slipped his fingers inside again, roughly using his calluses against Jungkook’s inner walls in a way that made Jungkook’s back arch, pressing his bare cheeks up against Seokjin. The plan was to use the time Seokjin needed to recover for another cumming to tease Jungkook’s ass, until he was begging for an end. Seokjin could already see Jungkook was painfully hard, his erect member calling attention as Jungkook bounced his hips backwards onto Seokjin’s fingers, looking blissed out as he wriggled his body as best as he could while obediently keeping his hands in place. “A-Alpha...I want you to--” That was when a knock came at the bedroom door, and the two of them froze. A pause, and then the knock came again. The knock came a third time, and then Seokjin, as casually as he could, called out, “Yes?” Taehyung’s voice came muffled and distant through the doorway, and he yelled out, “Is Jungkook in there? Namjoon says we’re having a pack dinner tonight, so you need to come down! Everyone else is already downstairs. You have five minutes.” Seokjin looked over at Jungkook in a panic, three of his fingers buried palm-deep into Jungkook’s asshole, his skirt hiked up to his back, and Seokjin’s fresh cum and messy makeup rubbed firmly into Jungkook’s horrified face.  Fuck. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Of all modern notions, the worst is this: that domesticity is dull. Inside the home, they say, is dead decorum and routine; outside is adventure and variety. But the truth is that the home is the only place of liberty, the only spot on earth where a man can alter arrangements suddenly, make an experiment or indulge in a whim. The home is not the one tame place in a world of adventure; it is the one wild place in a world of rules and set tasks.” ― G.K. Chesterton    “What the fuck do we do?” Jungkook hissed, his voice breathless as he tried to remain very, very still under (or he supposed it was around ) Seokjin’s hand. He could still feel his asshole clenching and unclenching around Seokjin’s long, bent fingers and god if it didn’t feel really good just sitting there like that, sweat dripping into his eyes as he waited on his hands and knees. Seokjin’s heavily Scented cum was all over his face, already getting crusty and disgusting with the coolness in the air. How on earth were they going to get out of this? He glanced over his shoulder at the way Seokjin had frozen in place. “Jin?”   Once the word left his mouth, a trace of that submissive character snuck back into his mind, screaming that he had slipped and not called Seokjin ‘my Alpha,’ and was going to be (happily) further punished. But Seokjin was definitely preoccupied with other thoughts.   “Okay, I don’t...um… I don’t know if I can make you finish and clean you up, Jungkook. So you’ll...Um. Okay, let’s do this, then.” And Seokjin pulled his hand out of Jungkook, a deep-throated moan escaping the Omega as Seokjin murmured an apology, digging through the drawers and pulling out a small bag of replacement wet wipes. “Here,” he said, handing them to a confused Jungkook. “You take care of one end, I’ll take care of the other.”   “You’re fucking kidding me,” Jungkook mumbled, but with one hand he wrestled out a wet wipe and started to scrub at his face. Inwardly, he was more than a little crestfallen. It had felt so good to have Seokjin smearing himself all over Jungkook’s face, like he was being marked as Seokjin’s and his alone, a tantalizing possessiveness he had allowed the Alpha willingly, and happily accepting the claim. After all the avoidance, the misunderstandings, it was nice to feel Seokjin being greedy with him, and Jungkook hadn’t realized how much he relished being pampered and spoiled by that greediness.   He rubbed and scoured at every crease of his face as carefully as possible, feeling his heart rate rise with the counting seconds as Seokjin worked his fingers back into Jungkook, his other hand slipping around the curve of Jungkook’s hip to grab his member, started frantic tugs. Jungkook hated to waste Seokjin’s work, hated that he would have to slip out of the skirt before they were really able to give things their proper time, but he knew now wasn’t the time. If Hoseok had been that worried about the idea of Jungkook being into ropes, what would his reaction be to hearing they were already having sex upstairs right before dinner? He would know .   His momentary focus on washing the now crusty combination of smeared makeup and cum from his face was suddenly interrupted by Seokjin starting to pump his entire hand in and out of Jungkook, and the Omega gasped, dropping his hands to grip white-knuckled at the end of the chest on which he was perched. Seokjin wasn’t going to waste any time. “Oh, fuck!”   Instead of answering, Seokjin just worked his hands harder, until Jungkook was arching his back, his face tilted toward the ceiling as his mouth fell open in a long, low moan. God, he wished Seokjin could drag this out, could let him hover along this line for hours. He could almost sense the Alpha wanting to lean forward, to whisper hotly into his ear and tease him for reacting so strongly. He wanted that, and he had finally gotten Seokjin here, to the point where he reached in and brazenly pressed against his prostate, making his whole body curl and twitch, slipping closer to his edge with tantalizing reluctance. After all that waiting, he had Seokjin not only holding him close, but openly letting his own inner Alpha control the situation, and he’d wanted that for so long now, it ached to think they’d have to finish the job like this.   Perhaps that was the reason why Jungkook’s body didn’t seem to want him to get there, over that edge that would make it end.   “Come on…” Seokjin hissed to Jungkook’s asshole, as if it was solely to blame. “You’re so close, I can smell it.”   Jungkook’s eyes popped open. What could he smell, exactly? He felt his ears burning, and he crumpled the dirty wet wipe in his fist as everything under Jin’s hand got wetter and more slick.   The knock at the door made Jungkook whimper quietly, and Seokjin’s hand stiffened around his member as they both stared at the door.   “Seokjin? Jungkook?”   “Yes?” Seokjin called, surprisingly calm sounding for the position they were in, looking like he was fighting to pull something out of Jungkook’s ass, his hips pressed against the bare buttocks as they were arranged on the wooden chest.   “What’s going on?” The skepticism and curiosity burning in Taehyung’s voice was certainly a dangerous one. The door handle jiggled.   “We’ll be down in a minute, Taehyung, okay?” Seokjin added a hollow-sounding giggle, and Jungkook guessed he was trying to make it sound like they were, well, cuddling or something. Which was pretty far from the truth, especially as Jungkook let out a little grunt as Seokjin continued his ministrations. Jungkook pressed his hand to his mouth and bit down on a bit of the skin at his thumb, trying to muffle his sounds.   “Are you coming?” Taehyung queried, even as Jungkook felt the edge slipping away again.   No, I’m NOT, Tae, and that’s the problem!   “In a minute,” Seokjin sing-songed, slotting his knee up between Jungkook’s thigh and rubbing up against his balls, making Jungkook choke on his hand with a jolt. They heard Taehyung’s footsteps on the stairs and continued. But when the edge slipped even farther away, Jungkook let out a noise of frustration, slamming his palm down against the edge of the chest, making his hand sting.   “It’s not--” Jungkook managed, finding his voice crackling. “It’s not working .”   Seokjin let out a sigh, finally pausing and resting against Jungkook’s back for a second. “We just don’t have time . You’ll have to finish after dinner.”   “What?!” Jungkook cried, absolutely devastated at the thought. He had hoped Seokjin would just make some excuse for them to not go downstairs, not skip the important part of this whole thing. “No! They’re gonna smell me!”   “Hopefully not. Here.” Seokjin wasted no time or romance in putting the condom on Jungkook. “Better be careful choosing your pants this time. And grab one of the scented pads you use for your heats, it might cover some of it up.” He tugged at Jungkook’s skirt, making it flutter down to his knees. He heard the Alpha give a regretful sigh, and he knew Seokjin didn’t want to stop here, either. He pulled out another wet wipe and gave Jungkook’s face another check.   “You’re really gonna let me sit through a whole dinner like this?” Jungkook complained around the smell of antiseptic. “I’m hard as a rock .”   Seokjin smirked, “Well, if you manage to get through dinner, I’ll make sure to take care of it properly later, okay?”   Jungkook pouted. How had he known exactly what to offer to get Jungkook to comply? “Fine. But they’re totally going to know. Taehyung probably already does.”   “Yeah, and you reek right now,” Seokjin sighed, wiping a little harder at the edges of Jungkook’s forehead, hurriedly trying to cover the places the Omega may have missed. “God, I just wanna…” the Alpha trailed off, his brow furrowing, and Jungkook stared up at him in wonder, curious as to what the end of that sentence was going to be. “Okay, get some pants on and take off that sweater, quick. Tae will be back any moment. So suck it up. Or rather, tuck it up”   “I hate your guts.”   “But you love my handiwork.”   Once Seokjin wasn’t wrist-deep inside of him, cleaning Jungkook up took record time, and once they were (haphazardly but appropriately) dressed, they went downstairs to find a full table of the pack sitting, waiting for them quietly. Yoongi was fiddling with something mechanical he had completely disassembled on the table, and judging by the half-broken mobile next to him, with its cute pastel-colored baby toys dangling from it, he was fixing it up for when Namjoon and Kiara’s pup arrived. At his side was Hoseok, half out of his seat as he dished out bowls of rice for everyone, and on his other side was Namjoon and Kiara, their hands clasped on the table and Kiara’s other hand resting on her swollen belly as they talked quietly and watched Yoongi work.   Closest to them was Taehyung, who was uncomfortably curled up in a ball in his seat next to Kiara, and Jimin sitting with his hands in his lap, not saying anything, curiously not sitting next to Taehyung, but Yoongi instead. Jungkook took the seat next to Jimin and Seokjin sat between him and Taehyung. The instant they sat down, Jungkook felt a tension rising in the air. Taehyung must have said something about how strange they’d been acting, locked in Seokjin’s room for hours, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Hoseok only glanced over, his lips pinching into a tight little triangle of disapproving pink. Namjoon wouldn’t meet his eyes, and his shoulders seemed stiff somehow.   Kiara seemed to be the only one acting normal, smiling up at them as they sat down. Jungkook felt a surge of guilt, lowering himself down into the chair awkwardly and trying not to draw attention to his crotch area in general.   “ There you boys are! It’s about time, the food’s going to get cold.” She tilted her head to the side, soft red curls falling into her face. Her hair had gotten curlier recently since she didn’t have as much energy to style it, and Jungkook thought it made her look cute and softened. He offered her a little smile, taking the food Seokjin offered to him, barely glancing his way, all casual air as if this was normal.   Easy for him ; he wasn’t sporting a raging boner at the dinner table like some middle schooler.   “Yoongi,” Hoseok said suddenly, patting the Omega’s arm without looking directly at him, that pink triangle still firmly in place, showing that he was really, truly irritated. His voice was clipped despite the attempts to sound casual. “Don’t fiddle with that right now, we’re eating.”   Perhaps because he heard the tone of Hoseok’s voice, perhaps because he was ready to eat anyways, Jungkook wasn’t sure, but Yoongi removed the arrangement of baby mobile clutter as quick as lightning, sitting back down without a word of complaint. Dinner was strangely quiet this week, with only softly murmured phrases, mostly from Kiara and Namjoon.   Jungkook looked over mid-bite to see Jimin looking at him rather strangely. After a moment, Jimin’s nose wrinkled a bit, and Jungkook felt his heart start thudding in his chest. “What?”   “It smells funny in here,” Jimin commented candidly, “Like...I dunno? It’s a weird smell.”   “I don’t smell it,” Jungkook said quickly, shoveling another biteful into his mouth. Jimin jutted his lip out a bit, seeming confused, but then leaned in toward Jungkook’s ear to whisper into it. Jungkook felt his throat constrict, worried Jimin would discover the source of that smell. He didn’t know if Jimin would be fooled by him claiming it was a special new face mask.   “I think Taehyung is mad at me? Has he said anything to you?”   “Huh?”   “Taehyung,” Jimin repeated quietly, his brows pressing inward in concern, his expression more than a little wounded. “Ever since his heat broke he says he doesn’t want me to touch him. But he says he’s fine? I don’t know what to do.”   “Hm. Maybe ask Jin?”   “Jin?” Jimin paused, considering Jungkook’s words, then his nose wrinkled slightly again and he nodded. “Uh yeah, I’ll try that.”   He moved to pull back, halting halfway back into his seat when Jungkook added, “He might just be in a bit of a mood, is all?”   “Yeah, maybe.” Jimin smiled, but the edges of it stopped at the corners of his lips, and didn’t travel up to his eyes, the effort a little too much of a stretch. “Thanks.”   “So, boys,” Kiara interrupted, poking at her salad with a soft smile. “Namjoon and I talked about it, and we think we’ve decided on some name ideas for the baby.”   “Oh?” Jimin asked, leaning forward with a smile. “Like what?”   “If it’s a girl,” she said gently, “Naiara. Benjamin after my father if it’s a boy.”   “Oh, those are pretty names,” Jin offered with a smile, clapping his hands a little to show his approval. At the clapping sound, Taehyung jumped as though spooked, and finally raised his hung head to glance at his older brother. He froze, his expression confused as he stared at Seokjin’s cheek.   “Yeah, I think so, too! Namjoon picked Naiara, since as you know, he’s so sure the baby is going to be a girl,” here she rolled her eyes, nudging against Namjoon’s shoulder as the Alpha beamed down into his plate, dimples deepening on both cheeks like a punctuation mark to the unsaid pride. “I picked Benjamin. Loser gets 10 get out of jail free cards to be used at any time to get out diaper duty.”   “That’s sickening and cute,” Yoongi commented, his expression deadpan, but there was a gleam in his eyes that Jungkook noted always seemed to appear when the subject of pups came up. “Speaking of which, I wanted to--”   There was a rough clatter of Hoseok’s cutlery hitting his plate, his expression pale as he stood up abruptly, earning surprised looks from all around the table. Jungkook withered a little as he could smell the irritation and anger that was sparking off of Hoseok like the time Namjoon had tried to microwave a fork, flashes of blue and white with a dangerous unnatural heat to it that hovered in the air.   “I’m trying to be patient and understanding,” Hoseok said stiffly. “I really, really am. But is everyone really going to ignore the fact that Jungkook reeks of sex right now? Really?”   No one answered him. Not even Namjoon had any words to respond with, as they all awkwardly stared at their plates and said nothing. Yoongi reached up, entangling his fingers with Hoseok’s limp, un-reciprocating ones.   “Babe,” Yoongi said quietly, “Just sit back down, please?”   “No!” Hoseok snapped, moving to pull his hand out of Yoongi’s unsuccessfully. “Seokjin only came back yesterday and they’re just...they’re already going to this ?! Aren’t you the least bit concerned?” “But to be fair,” Jungkook found himself saying aloud, before he could filter his words, “I’ve been trying to get into his pants for months.”   He heard Seokjin choking on part of his dinner, and in all honesty, it was a satisfying sound to have one-upped him this time. Especially considering he was still hiding the worst boner of his life under the table at that moment.   “Jungkook!” Kiara snapped, her eyebrows knitted together as if spelling out the word disappointment in his behavior. “That’s no way to talk at the dinner table.”   “But everyone acts as if this wasn’t what I’d been planning on happening since my Presenting,” Jungkook argued back, leaning forward a little toward the table. He looked around the table at the faces around him, seeing none of them offering any support. “Seriously!? There are lots of Omegas younger than me who are already Mated, so why should it be--”   “What do you mean Mated ?!” Hoseok gasped, and Seokjin sent Jungkook a warning look.   “It’s not like that, Hoseok,” Seokjin said, and Jungkook could almost feel the way Seokjin was trying to soften his voice into more diplomatic tones to use with the wound-up Alpha. “I wouldn’t Mate with Jungkook this soon, but even if I--”   “Why not?” Jungkook jumped in, frowning as he looked to Seokjin for an answer. “What would be wrong with Mating me tonight , if you wanted to?”   Seokjin seemed to lose his bearings for a moment, sputtering and flailing about for a response. “J-Jungkook, I just got back, it would be better if we took things--” “ Slowly ?” the Omega spat out the word - it tasted bitter on his tongue. Five minutes ago, Seokjin had seemed fine with taking things at a pace that was finally - finally - faster than a crawl. And now he was basically promising the entire pack that he wouldn’t Mate Jungkook until way down the road? It wasn’t fair. “I don’t understand why it would be better. I know what I want, don’t you?”   “W-well, yes, but--”   “Then where’s the problem?”   Seokjin paused, and the Omega turned to glare at Namjoon, Kiara, Hoseok and then finally Yoongi, the last of whom was watching Jungkook with a calmly calculated air.   “I’m not a child. I’ll respect Namjoon’s decision as lead Alpha but I don’t see why everyone else gets to dictate where and when I get Mated like they have some sort of authority over my--”   “That’s enough , Jungkook,” Seokjin hissed quietly, setting a hand on his forearm to calm him. Much to his chagrin, it had a much more profound effect than expected, as if the Alpha energy in Seokjin’s body was seeping through the points where his fingertips dug gently into the taut muscles of his arm, washing him with the acute awareness that he was probably feeling extra antsy because they had been interrupted in the middle of a rather intimate moment. Leaving things unfinished, especially when it came to being with his Alpha so soon after being reunited, would naturally make his mood sensitive.   And of course, then there was the fact that his groin was still throbbing wildly from not being satisfied before coming downstairs - that would make anyone a little moody.   Jungkook frowned, sitting back in his seat for a moment and considering. When Seokjin’s hand remained on his arm, sapping out the stressful way he had felt the need to defend them, Jungkook found himself paying careful attention to the soothing effects of Seokjin’s touch. Slowly, and with the heavy, weighted eyes of everyone on them, Jungkook gave a little whimper and leaned over to nuzzle into Seokjin’s neck. He just wanted to go back upstairs, back where he was ‘my Omega baby’ and had felt cared for and sheltered in their own little bubble of just being . He wanted Seokjin to relieve the ache, not only the literal one between his legs but also the metaphorical one in his chest that was depressingly tangible, the emptiness he’d experienced the entire time Seokjin had been gone, the emptiness he’d unconsciously been carrying around every day before they’d met.   He knew the others felt uncomfortable with the show of affection, unused to seeing it this boldly, but Jungkook didn’t care. He slotted his hands around Seokjin’s waist, feeling the heaviness of his arms as he didn’t return the gesture, didn’t embrace Jungkook back, and Jungkook buried his face in Seokjin’s chest. He could feel the uncertainty like a signal through Seokjin’s skin, could taste the surprised confusion.   “I’m just worried this is going too fast ,” Hoseok’s voice wafted through the room, now quiet but still strained and pulled taut like taffy. “Especially after this morning…”   “This morning?” Namjoon queried.   “Um, well, it’s just that…” Hoseok fumbled for words. Jungkook could feel his ears starting to burn, could smell the panic in the Alpha’s voice. Seokjin, unaware of what Hoseok and Yoongi had caught him doing, finally lifted a hand around Jungkook’s shoulders, rubbing a soothing circle into his shoulder blade that felt like it was shooting comfort right through Jungkook’s entire body.   “It’s just that this is the first real morning Seokjin’s been back,” Yoongi finished, “And they forgot to close the door to their room, so we heard some...things.”   Seokjin smelled of rising panic and shame, and Jungkook hated that smell on him - it lessened the effects of the comfort he was giving to the Omega, currently curled up awkwardly against him while they both sat at the table. Pressed in as close as he was, he didn’t see the way Taehyung was quietly leaning in towards his older brother, but he certainly heard Taehyung’s voice over his head.   “Seokjin...? Is that lipstick on your cheek?”   Both Jungkook and Seokjin froze in place, and there was a heavy clatter. Jungkook craned his head around at last to see Hoseok already halfway to the front door, Yoongi jumping up after him.   “Hoseok! Hoseok !” And then muffled from the doorway came a, “We’ll be back, just hold on a bit!”   The front door slammed, and Jungkook looked over, wide eyes and nervousness tearing at his chest as he first met eyes with Jimin, who was gaping up at Seokjin. The elder Alpha was frantically rubbing at the spot on his cheek that Jungkook should have spotted during their rushed cleanup, should have warned him about.   “You’re not…” That was all Jimin said at first.His voice dropped, solemn and testy. “You’re not cheating on Jungkookie, are you?”   Oh, god. Jungkook wanted to scream. He didn’t want to have to explain to everyone about the lipstick, or the skirt currently shoved underneath Seokjin’s comforter, or how soon or far in the future they Mated, or any of it.   “Of course he isn’t!” Jungkook snarled, the growl humming deeply in his chest as he unconsciously bared his teeth a little. “Why is everyone acting like they’re entitled to know every little thing that we do?!”   Jimin’s initial reaction was to be startled, blinking at the aggressive undertones, the defensive posture and tone Jungkook had taken on in a moment. Then his eyes flickered into traces of red. “Jungkook,” Jimin said, the single word a warning, and whether he meant to do it or not, Jungkook could hear and feel the Alpha’s commanding tone slipping into his voice, making him hard to ignore. Jungkook gave a petulant little “hmph” sound, leaning back in to bury his face in Seokjin’s shirt, still smelling a bit of Seokjin’s sweat and sex smell lingering there, intoxicatingly sweet.   There was a brief pause, and then Jimin let out a sigh. A small, familiar hand carded through his hair, careful not to push too hard and dislodge his face from the Alpha’s collar. The hand was admittedly soothing, and so was Seokjin’s cautiously continued circles rubbing into his back.   “Jungkook,” Jimin said, the gentleness of his usual tone slipping back in reassuringly. “We’re just worried about you. Both of you.”   The Omega’s head shot up, and he frowned. “Then stop acting like Seokjin is some perverted criminal, come to sweep innocent me off my feet!”   “Trust me, that’s no one’s intention here,” Namjoon cut in, voice calm and in control as he watched Jungkook over his clasped hands with a frown. “Hoseok is doing his best to come to terms with all of you pups growing up and Presenting so quickly. You’re like his own pups in a way, you know.”   Jungkook frowned, and Jimin’s hand in his hair slowed a little, shifting angles and brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he pouted, knowing Namjoon was right.   “Being an Alpha is not about aggression and offense, it’s about protecting the Mate, protecting the pack, sometimes at the expense of our own safety. Alphas, after Presenting, have to learn to channel their energy and time, to know what their Mate needs, and to learn how to fulfill that.”   Jungkook saw Jimin slowly nodding in agreement out of the corner of his eye, catching the mournful side glance that Jimin was sending Taehyung.   “And as an Omega,” Namjoon continued, “You have to learn to control your energy and hormones as well. Being an Omega is not about giving in to what Alphas want--”   Kiara suddenly piped in, finishing for him with, “It’s about being able to keep the peace within the pack, instead of protecting the pack from outside threats. You need to be the first one to control your temper, not wait for Seokjin to reign you in.”   Jungkook bristled at that, not liking the sound of it at all.   “Don’t give me that look,” Kiara reprimanded, her voice firm and as motherly as any Jungkook had ever had directed at himself. That was the tone that always had even Namjoon treading lightly, walking on eggshells around her. “You’ve got a temper on you as bad as any of the Kims, and you don’t have half the experience at controlling it amidst almost a dozen different wolves. Don’t you think, instead of getting defensive about Hoseok overstepping and getting too overprotective, it would have been more useful to reassure him that you were taking this seriously, and that he could let go because he didn’t need to worry in the first place?”   At that, Jungkook knew that Kiara had won this battle. He nuzzled his cheek against Seokjin’s chest, petulant and wanting more than anything to continue being uncooperative. “Maybe,” he admitted reluctantly, having no other out.   “And don’t you think,” Kiara said, more calmly now, with less of that trace of strain that made his hair stand a little on end, “Instead of getting angry and telling everyone you aren’t moving too fast, you could show it - both of you ,” she sent Seokjin a warning flash of her eyes, and Jungkook felt Seokjin jolt a little in his seat, “Could have shown a little more restraint before --”   “UGH!” Jimin suddenly screeched, pulling back from Jungkook and holding his hand out in front of his face, his eyes wide as saucers as he stared at the lump of sticky white liquid now trailed between his fingers. “What the hell is in your hair, Jungkook?”   Everyone at the table froze. Taehyung was the first to speak.   “Holy fuck,” he breathed in awe, “Jimin found jizz in Jungkook’s hair.”   “Oh my god! That’s so disgusting!” Jimin leapt up from the table, his face convulsing with a nauseated look as he raced out of the room yelling curses. Taehyung, in the meanwhile, was falling out of his seat with laughter, as the upstairs bathroom door slammed violently enough to echo through the house. Still hiccupping with laughter, Taehyung made his way up the stairs, heavily gripping the handrail so he didn’t topple back down.   Seokjin and Jungkook were practically on fire from the embarrassment, but despite himself Jungkook felt the edges of his lips quivering up into the slightest traces of a smile. Well, the whole goal was to make sure people knew Jin was my Alpha.   Across the table, Jungkook saw that Namjoon had turned a particularly nasty reddish purple color, and he briefly wondered if the leader was breathing properly. Kiara let out a sigh next to him, rubbing her temples with her forefingers as though to ward off a migraine.   “As I was saying ,”she exasperated, “You could have shown a little more restraint, both of you , before coming down to dinner with whatever bodily fluid Jungkook is reeking of right now. I don’t want to know, I just never want to smell it like this again, do you two hear me?”   Jungkook nodded, feeling Seokjin do the same.   Kiara sat back, resting her hands on her belly. “In all honesty, I don’t really care if you guys Mate tomorrow or five years from now, Jungkook.” “Kiara!” Namjoon interjected.   “No, I’m serious. I know that you guys might as well already be Mated and with pups, for all you’ll waver. I don’t know if it’s Bonding or whatever, but I know when something is going to last, and I see that with you two. So I don’t care about that .” She rubbed her belly in little circles, as if it was soothing to her. “I just want you two to be appropriate about it. Don’t bicker with the other wolves, and try to be a little more conscientious as to where and when you’re having your one-on-one time, you know? After all,” she smiled sweetly, “If you come to dinner with Jin’s cum rubbed all over your face when my pups are waiting at the table, I won’t hesitate to beat both of you 10 ways from Tuesday. Got it?”   Jungkook blushed a deep scarlet, but he nodded. He had no doubts that she would make good on that promise, should the occasion arise.   “Now,” Namjoon entered in solemnly, his voice low, “Since our little meal was interrupted anyways, go get yourselves properly cleaned up. But come back down when you’re finished. We still have very important pack things to talk about.”   Seokjin nudged Jungkook off of his chest, and the two of them awkwardly shuffled back upstairs, leaving just Namjoon and Kiara sitting at the table. Jungkook’s climb up the stairs was notably more awkward, given that his crotch was still tightly wrapped in a condom and half-erect as he made his way back to Seokjin’s room, the Alpha gently shutting the door.   “I’m sorry, Jungkook,” Seokjn sighed, “I should have shown more restraint about this. I didn’t meant for us to just ignore the rest of the pack and get you in trou-”   “Shut up,” Jungkook said, with no malice to his words. Seokjin blinked at him in surprise, and Jungkook smiled, reaching up and winding his arms around Seokjin’s neck, bumping up against the Alpha’s jawline with his nose. “We’re not moving backwards, idiot. Kiara didn’t say anything about having less sex, just being more discreet about it, right?”   Seokjin worked his lip, mentally rewinding through the conversation. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”   “And I shouldn’t have jumped in with that whole Mating thing on you so fast,” Jungkook said solemnly. “It was out of nowhere and honestly it was just because I was angry.”   “You know, it’s fine. I’ve been the one that was so wishy washy and I was the newcomer, so if they don’t trust me yet, I don’t blame them. I can’t rush them into believing in me when I haven’t had the best track record.” He looked up and smiled, trailing the back of his knuckles over the soft spots of Jungkook’s cheeks. “But I have every intention of proving to them that I can be a proper Alpha for you. That I’ll make you happy.”   “You already do make me happy, you sap,” Jungkook leaned up a little to press a kiss to Seokjin’s cheek, smirking. “Especially when you wiped your cum all over my face. That made me really happy.”   In response, Seokjin just threw his head back and moaned in exasperation up at the ceiling. “I’m so sad we had to end that so early.”   “Well, let’s get ‘finished up’ for now and get through this family meeting or whatever, and then tonight before we go to bed, you can finish things properly.” And without another word, Jungkook flopped down onto the bed, “Now get over here and take care of my dick, dick.”   “You know,” Seokjin laughed, crawling onto the bed to hover over Jungkook. “You’re much sweeter when you’ve got my hands up against your balls, hiking your cute little skirt up.”   “Shut the fuck up.”   ~~~~~   The smell of oil and rubber stung at his nostrils as Hoseok stormed his way into the garage, picking up the stained rag he always hung next to the door and tossing it over his shoulder with an exasperated sigh. He knew this was him being ridiculous; he was the rational one, the calm one, the one that didn’t get worked up. But he’d known what that smell was the instant Jungkook had sat down at the table, had recognized the haphazard way the Omega’s hair lay. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Jungkook to grow up - that was a painful inevitability, the con that came with the pros of having a hand in raising him.   No, Hoseok wanted him to grow up. He just wanted him to do it slower .   He decided to take his frustration out in one of the few ways he knew how, stepping forward and kneeling in front of the halfway built motorcycle he’d been compiling in his spare time. When Hoseok had first started working at his uncle’s repair shop, he had hated it (what free-running teenager wouldn’t?), but his parents had been far too clever; with his energy diverted to a part time job that left him utterly worn out at the end of the day, he was successfully kept out of trouble for the latter part of his high school years. Then, over time, it had become convenient to keep the part-time position - flexible hours and consistent pay left freedom in the form of pocket money and, eventually, a little savings - and then he had found himself actually enjoying the work. There was something about the simplicity of knowing where each part went, of taking it off, greasing it and putting it back, replacing bits of the inside of things so the outside had a certain sound or effect or speed. There was something about the utter exhaustion of working on a vehicle for hours and feeling accomplished, feeling under control.   He was still carefully inspecting the teeth on a gear, considering whether it needed to be replaced or just repaired, when he felt Yoongi’s presence in the garage.   “Hoseok.”   The Alpha’s chest ached at the single word, at all the weight and understanding that lay concealed behind it. His knee-jerk reaction was to retort back, to give an excuse or at least offer a reason, but he knew that once he started, Yoongi would inevitably crush his emotional tirade with cool reasoning and logic, and he would feel stupid for it.   Perhaps Jungkook took after more than just Namjoon and Yoongi. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the realization, his lips pulled across his teeth tightly in indignation and a stubbornness that he wanted to outlast his moment of emotion, as if that would stabilize it as more valid. He didn’t answer Yoongi, bending down to replace the gear with a skilled hand that was already smeared and sticky with oil, grease and crud.   Meanwhile, he could sense Yoongi behind him, probably leaning with his arms crossed over his chest as he balanced against the hood of Seokjin’s pickup truck. He could see in his mind the way Yoongi’s shoulders would relax, his body becoming looser and appearing calmer, belying the fact that his mind was picking up speed, flying through the arguments he could choose until he came across the right one. It irritated Hoseok. He just couldn’t think like that - he couldn’t objectively choose his arguments based on the facts, only on what he believed was right. And quietly sitting aside while an 18 year old Omega jumped that quickly into a relationship with a much older Alpha? Even if it wasn’t Jungkook, he would have been concerned.   “He’s old enough to know,” Yoongi said, as if he could hear Hoseok’s thoughts. “And maybe he’s making a terrible mistake, but you’ve got to let him make them on his own.”   “This isn’t like letting a pup fall down when he’s learning to walk. This could be his Mate , Yoongi. And he would rush in head down without even thinking about it? He still sleeps under the fucking table, Yoongi!”   “Because he likes to, not because he has to. He’s grown up a lot,” Yoongi pointed out. Hoseok just growled in response. “And besides, Jimin Presented just a couple months before Jungkook. But you don’t even question him and Taehyung. What’s the difference?”   Hoseok sat back on his heels, frowning up at Yoongi. “You know why. I don’t want him to go what you went through.”   He could see the flash of emotion shiver in Yoongi’s eyes but he didn’t have the wherewithal to identify it with any clarity. “Seokjin’s not like that.”   “How do we know? I’m doing my best here, Yoongi. I’m trying to get to know him, to trust him, but...after this whole Jae thing came out, I’m even more worried. What’s to say Seokjin isn’t just looking - even subconsciously - for someone to replace what he had with Jae? What if Jungkook is just a replacement , a naive young Omega, who admires him so much...it would be tempting to anyone.”   “I knew him, back when he was dating Jae, Hoseok,” Yoongi said quietly, “We weren’t very close, but I knew him. And I didn't see the face of any of those Alpha assholes that came before you when I looked at him.”   Hoseok paused, meeting Yoongi’s eyes in question, and balled his hand into a fist around the filthy greaserag in his lap.   “I saw myself, Hoseok. He was miserable. You wouldn’t recognize him. He was a pair of shoulders and a gangly body built out of spite and self-loathing. That day he moved into the pack house, he looked like an entirely different person. He’s stronger now, he gave himself time to heal, and he’s trying to do right by Jungkook - as well as himself.” Yoongi pushed off the pickup truck and made his way over to Hoseok, folding himself down to crouch in front of him. “I wasn’t just automatically on board with this either, you know. I’ve had Jungkook since long before you, and I saw him back when he cried if someone looked at him too hard. But the great thing is: people can change. They usually don’t, trust me. But they can.” He reached out, running a hand to cup Hoseok’s cheek as he tilted his head to the side, looking so soft and comforting, and Hoseok could feel that distinct Omega aura calming him, saying your Mate is here.   Hoseok sighed. He was losing this fight. It felt like he always lost, even though he knew that was his heart remembering things in hyperbole. Yoongi made him weak like putty, hard like cement, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He laid his dirty, tanned hand over the pale, masculine one against his cheek. “You’re right. They can.”   “You raised him well, you know,” Yoongi said gently, smirking, “Namjoon and I are pretty good with understanding and such, but we’re shit when it comes to pulling him out of his shell. If it weren’t for you he’d probably still be living under the table and eating plain rice for breakfast.”   With a little roll of his eyes and a weak chuckle, Hoseok let his body finally relax. It was true. He knew when he’d first started dating Yoongi that one of the biggest obstacles they’d had to face was Jungkook. Yoongi had even joked about it on their second date, saying, ‘Sorry, I forgot to tell you I have a kid.’   Jungkook had hated him. He had flittered around the house like a ghost, glaring at Hoseok from behind every possible piece of furniture like he had a personal vendetta. He had been about to start high school, then, and he was copper-voiced and sleepy, unkempt and bitter. It was almost three weeks before he even heard the boy speak a word. He knew he talked - Yoongi told him the kid wouldn’t shut up, if he was talking about something he liked - but in front of Hoseok he was as silent as the dead, and Hoseok could just feel that child-like trained aura of don’t trust him . Jungkook had seen Yoongi go through bad relationships, had seen him controlled by Alphas who wore one hat until they could get close enough and then switched into monsters to get what they wanted. Of course Jungkook couldn’t trust Hoseok.   He wasn’t sure how it had happened or when, but he supposed patience and longevity had won the day, and eventually, Jungkook had started to reluctantly warm up to him. The first day Jungkook had curled up next to him on the couch, Hoseok’s heart had leapt up into his throat. The first time Jungkook had whined, padding on soft paws and nuzzling against the back of Hoseok’s knees, asking for comfort during his flu, Hoseok’s chest had imploded with happiness. Perhaps Jungkook had known that Hoseok needed to be needed, to care for someone. Perhaps Hoseok had just known that Jungkook needed someone soft and to be taken care of.   Once, Yoongi had started full-belly laughing at the table because Hoseok was berating Jungkook for not changing into a clean T-shirt before dinner, and then the pup had slammed himself into his seat, complaining back at him in a low voice.   Hoseok had blinked at Yoongi in question, and the only answer he had gotten was, “It’s like watching a parent and a pup. It’s cute.”   In the coolness of the garage, the Alpha leaned forward until his forehead rested against Yoongi’s shoulder, the raw smell of earth mixing in with the smell of oil in a lovely little mix of artificial and natural that he adored and loved to sink into.   “He’s going to be fine. He’s going to make lots of mistakes, of course, I’m sure he’s already getting a lecture on their little stunt at dinner, but...he’s gonna be okay.” Yoongi paused for a long moment, then leaned towards Hoseok’s face, brushing his bangs out of his face. “Okay?”   “Okay,” Hoseok nodded slowly, still feeling a dark weight on his chest. “But I’m not going to like it.”   Yoongi smiled, “No, you’re not.” He took Hoseok’s hand, “But we can rip off this Band-aid together.”   Hoseok finally smiled a little, his lips curling just slightly at the corners. He was grateful for Yoongi’s seemingly unending supply of patience in times like these. Without him even needing to ask, Yoongi gently reached forward, delicately running three fingers through Hoseok’s hair, pressing in against the scalp in a way that had him melting like butter, his eyes flickering shut. He hadn’t even realized himself that he was feeling so tense and had a headache - how had Yoongi known?   “You know,” Yoongi teased, “You always get testy right before your rut.”   His eyes shooting open, Hoseok’s mouth fell agape. “Oh, god, really?”   Yoongi nodded, “I can definitely smell it on you, and you act differently right before. But I’ve also been keeping an eye out for it.”   The Alpha paused, leaning his head back a little as he met Yoongi’s eyes in question. “What? Why?”   Instead of answering right away, Yoongi quietly shifted until Hoseok was seated comfortably on the floor, and then Yoongi proceeded to gently crawl into his lap, curling up against Hoseok’s chest in a way he rarely did, and which always told Hoseok he was feeling particularly needy. Without even having to think about it, Hoseok’s hands wrapped around Yoongi, one hand running up and down along his forearm in a comforting, intimate gesture.   “Yoongi?” Hoseok said, and when a full minute passed and there was no response from the Omega folded contentedly in his lap, he added, “We should really get back, the others are going to be wondering where we are.”   Shifting suddenly, Yoongi arranged himself until he was straddling Hoseok’s lap, and if the previous cuddling had been fond and familiar, this gesture was positively underlined with a sexual undertone, a sensuality in the way he snaked his arms around Hoseok’s chest, pressing his face into the Alpha’s neck and Scenting him deeply, tilting his hips forward to press into Hoseok in a possessive gesture.   “Hoseokkie,” Yoongi murmured, breathing hotly against the tanned skin of Hoseok’s neck, running his teeth and tongue over the swollen point of his Scent gland. “I also don’t intend for you to have a whole lot of time to worry about Jungkook and the others.”   At that, Hoseok arched an eyebrow that Yoongi couldn’t see, as buried as he was in Scenting him in that deep, nerve-curling way that whispered Mates . “Oh?” “Yes,” Yoongi pressed a gentle, noisy kiss to Hoseok’s jawline, and he lifted his chin up to whisper in Hoseoks’ ear. “Hoseokkie. It’s time.”   Goosebumps actually raised up on his arms, excitement so thick in the air he could have sliced through it. “T-time?”   He felt a slight sting of pain against his earlobe as Yoongi nibbled down on it, tugging it back before the heat of his breath tickled at Hoseok’s ear. “I want to have your pups. When your rut comes, I want you to fill me with your cum until I get swollen with pregnancy. It’s time. For us.”   Perhaps it was the closeness of the rut, perhaps it was his learned sensitivity to the little waves and nuances of Yoongi’s body and breath against him, or the way Yoongi said it, but Hoseok leaned back and let out a long, low moan. “Oh my god. I couldn’t agree more.” He curled in to tuck his head in, placing heavy, rough kisses against Yoongi’s jawline. The Omega tilted his head to give Hoseok more access, as he greedily trailed a path, ending with a rough and sudden Scenting against Yoongi that made the Omega gasp.   “I’m going to breed you so hard you’ll remember it in your bones forever,” Hoseok exhaled, chuckling as he clamped his teeth down against Yoongi’s skin. Ever since their official Mating, he found himself wanting to mark Yoongi up, now that he no longer any fear of accidentally hitting his Scent mark, leaving himself free to nibble and bite and mark as liberally as he liked. When he dove back up from the depths of the Scenting, he found Yoongi with his face tilted back so far he faced up to the ceiling, his eyes shut and the softest Cheshire Cat grin, looking blissed out from just the Scenting alone. Without another moment’s hesitation, he jolted forward and caught Yoongi’s smiling lips with his own, their teeth knocking together like clumsy teenagers as Yoongi cupped his cheeks again, holding him steady there until they could almost feel the heat from their exhales, sweat starting to form on their brows.   “W-we oughta get back,” Yoongi managed to gasp, and Hoseok was unsure when exactly he had slipped his hands up Yoongi’s shirt to rub the edge of his fingernails against the nipples he found there, but from the look on his face Yoongi was enjoying it.   “Yeah, I guess we should.” It was with reluctance that they stood up, and Hoseok, still needing a little reassurance before going back in to face everyone, reached out and curled his wrist around Yoongi’s elbow. The Omega stopped halfway to the door, turning in place to face Hoseok squarely. Hoseok stopped, feeling the change in the atmosphere as it heated and warmed like an electric blanket. Yoongi reached up, cupping his wide, squarish hands on both of Hoseok’s cheeks, and smiled unabashedly up at the Alpha. He would make such lovely pups, would be such a good parent to them, and Hoseok’s chest actually stung and felt twisted in the most lovely, painful way at the thought.   “I love you,” Yoongi said.   Hoseok melted like ice cream under the hottest summer day, sticky and an absolute mess. “I love you, too.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Sometimes in life, you do things you don’t want to. Sometimes you sacrifice, sometimes you compromise. Sometimes you let go and sometimes you fight. It’s all about deciding what’s worth losing and what’s worth keeping.” - Lindy Zart  Taehyung followed the sound of running water and muffled curses to the main bathroom, finding Jimin already there scrubbing furiously at his hands with soap and water. Taehyung let his feet scuffle against the floor slightly, the noise soft; but it still startled Jimin as he turned with a little jump. “Oh, Tae…” Jimin murmured, biting his lip for a moment before going back to his task. Taehyung leaned against the door, letting himself feel the headache-like pain that shot through his skull with just the sound of the running water in the bathroom. “I don’t know how to react to this,” Taehyung said after a moment, fighting the amused smile that wanted to slip out in favor of a practiced wounded pup sort of look, “I just had to watch my boyfriend rubbing a handful of jizz out of another Omega’s hair.” Jimin’s head whirled around so fast Taehyung wondered if he’d hurt himself, and shot the Beta an intense rebuking sort of glare that made Taehyung’s smile break out. “I didn’t know it was there! I--” “I know, I know…” Taehyung’s arm twitched forward and he leaned off the door, his instinct to move forward and hug around Jimin from behind in comfort, to tuck his chin over the soft, small shoulder and let the Scent of peppermint coat the air around him. But he halted after a slight jerk in Jimin’s direction, opting to lean back against the bathroom wall. Jimin seemed to watch Taehyung, as if waiting for something, then he continued to wash his hands, although now with a marked stiffness to his movements. Taehyung chewed at the inside of his lip, crossing his arms and reveling in the weight against his sore stomach. “You’re gonna smell like my brother’s Scent for like a week, soap or not.” Jimin crinkled his nose, but he knew Taehyung was right. He exhaled, turning off the water and grabbing the edges of the sink to lean heavily forward onto the cool white tile, his hands still dotted with droplets of water as a frothy little volcano of bubbles rested in the bottom of the sink. “Tae,” he started slowly, quietly and in that breathy sort of voice that filtered through sometimes. “Did I...hurt you?” “Hurt me?” He kept his voice neutral. He saw Jimin’s forehead crinkle in impatience and confusion, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was the one at fault or Tae was. “Yes, during your heat. You seem like you’re angry about something and now...” Jimin’s voice got unbelievably small, as he looked up and met Taehyung’s eyes in their reflection. “You won’t let me touch you.” Taehyung shifted, pushing off the wall. His back was already aching from the position. “I don’t want to worry you.” Jimin frowned. “If I’m not the one to worry about you, then who is?” “Me, I guess? I’m trying to figure it out, and you were already so stressed out because of my heat and worrying about Jungkook…” “Tae, I…” Jimin sighed deeply. “I like taking care of you. I want to worry about you forever.” “And then?” Tae said with a smile. Jimin cocked his head to the side. “And then?” “And after forever, are you still going to worry about me?” Jimin smiled softly, and Taehyung felt like the pain eased up, even if just by a hair. “I’ll worry about you for forever and then some.” “For forever and then some,” Tae sighed. They stood in silence for awhile, and then he added quietly, “You didn’t hurt me. I’m just working through some things right now.” “That you can’t talk to me about?” Jimin turned around to face Taehyung, half-sitting on the edge of the sink and crossing his arms. “That I can’t talk to anyone about, because I just don’t know how to word it yet,” Taehyung said. He hated this part, when he couldn’t explain the distance, the discrepancy between what his brain said and what verbal tools it offered him. It was like trying to speak in a language without knowing enough grammar to convey what he already felt he wanted to express, only able to offer a shallow outline of what he intended. But with Jimin watching him like that, the gentle sadness that swept over his face, he knew he had to try. Jimin was always trying. He hadn’t been exactly coherent through all the parts of his heat, but he remembered Jimin trying his hardest to care for him, and how safe he’d felt wrapped up in the Alpha’s presence. He had to try. “It’s like...you didn’t do anything wrong but I’m so irritated . I just want to yell but there’s nothing really to yell about. I can tell it’s irrational but I can’t stop myself from feeling it. Then suddenly I’m not angry anymore. It’s just that everything hurts.” “Wait, hurts? Like what kind of hurt?” “Like...everything aches. The forks at dinner were too loud, and I’ve had a headache since my heat broke, and...I just feel awful.” Jimin’s face crumpled as he considered this, and Taehyung could tell that his instinct was telling him to move forward and embrace the Beta, to comfort him in the best way he knew how - physical contact. But even just the thought made him feel overheated and miserable, like cuddling on the hottest, most humid day of the year. “Are you sick, maybe? Or is it because of the heat?” Taehyung could only shrug. He felt so tired just doing that.”I don’t know. I was going to talk to Seokjin about it after dinner.” “Isn’t Seokjin a little preoccupied?” Jimin said with a little snort. The Beta tilted his head to the side a little, smiling even though the movement felt like he had just pulled a muscle taut. The trace of humor in Jimin’s voice told him that things were going to be all right - Jimin was one of those people that was good at understanding others, of moving with every muscle emanating a soft, pink sort of empathy like bubble gum. He reached out and took hold of the edge of Jimin’s sweater, pinching it between two long, tanned fingers as he met Jimin’s eyes. “Yeah, but I wanna hear what he thinks first. I think he’ll know what to do.” Taehyung licked his lips, feeling the dry sort of pull there as though he was parched. “Will you...go with me?” Jimin’s expression softened, the tension dripping away from it like rain dripping down a windowpane. “Of course , Tae-tae,” Jimin slipped his hand into Taehyung’s, the delicate plushness of his Alpha’s hands feeling lovely with his own fingers intertwined. “I just wish you’d told me earlier, you know?” “Sorry,” Taehyung mumbled. “And I’m sorry for earlier, when I shoved you off the bed when you were kissing my--” “It’s fine,” Jimin said mildly, squeezing Taehyung’s hand. He reached up to cup Taehyung’s cheek with the other, and suddenly Taehyung caught a strong whiff of the lingering Jin Scent now coating Jimin’s left hand, and he actually gagged and started coughing. “Oh god, that smells awful ,” Taehyung managed between coughs. “Holy shit.” Jimin frowned, having dropped his hand immediately with a wide-eyed look of apology. “God…” They looked at each other for a minute, the atmosphere a little coated in uncertainty, then started to laugh. Jimin’s laughter echoing through the bathroom, mingling with his own, made Taehyung suddenly grab him and pull him close, squeezing Jimin to his fluttering, strained chest and pulling the Alpha’s head into his shoulder, where Jimin froze in surprise. It hurt, when everything felt clammy and gross and on edge, an unsettling sensation like the annoying hum of a lightbulb in an otherwise quiet room, but Taehyung held him tighter, until Jimin finally relaxed against his chest. “I was worried,” Jimin’s muffled voice came in a hot breath against his shoulder, “That you were regretting becoming my Omega, because of what your classmates are saying now.” Taehyung halted a moment, caught in the realization that this was still a thing with Jimin, and he wondered if Jimin was ever going to really know what he meant to him. It was uncommon for a Beta to willingly become someone’s Omega, he had known that already. But hearing the snide comments and amusement, or even the innocently intended but still as stressful questions, the shocked commentary, had surprised him. ‘ You became an Omega for him? What’s so great about him that you’d do that?’   ‘Oh...so you’re an Omega now? I dunno, I just assumed you’d be an Alpha for someone.’  He had not known, however, that Jimin had gotten word. Once the rumors and questions had started, he stopped telling people that it was for Jimin - even though he knew that all of his friends and acquaintances already were well aware of his adoration for Jimin from the start. He’d made friends quickly, introduced Jimin to all of them, even reprimanded them when they shared any misgivings about the Alpha, defending him over petty things as well as bigger things. Jimin is amazing, he’s not stuck up, he’s just kind of shy about some things! Eventually, most of them had come around, and Taehyung had somehow blended together his social circles a little more with alacrity as the glue. But he didn’t want Jimin to become hated again because of this, because he was an Alpha and because Taehyung had made the decision to become his Mate. There was no reason for him to be ashamed or feel sorry for that, and Taehyung wasn’t sure of how to teach Jimin that. Taehyung was used to being hated, but it wasn’t as if he was wishing that likelihood onto his Alpha. “If those people talk shit about it, they don’t know us at all,” he said slowly, “And if that’s the case I don’t wanna hang out with them anyways. You’re my Alpha, I was hoping you’d be an Alpha.” Jimin pulled back a little, blinking a bit in obvious confusion. “Really? But...why?” Taehyung shrugged, then regretted the movement in the little throb of pain that shot up and down his back like a lightning bolt. “I dunno. I guess I just feel like if you’re my Alpha, I don’t have to worry. We’ll take care of each other and I know you’ll protect me without even questioning it. I also wanted to have your pups one day, of course.” Jimin chuckled, his smirk tilting to the side. “Taehyung, sometimes I’m just amazed by you.” At that, Taehyung leaned in so that his mouth was next to Jimin’s ear and he whispered, “It also helps that I can’t wait to have your cute chubby dick up my ass.” Jimin let out a long cry of, “Ahhh!” as he smacked Taehyung on the shoulder, making the Beta wince before he gently nudged him toward the door. “You’re adorable and insufferable.” “That’s a good combo.” “Let’s just go and finish dinner,” Jimin reprimanded, his adorable mothering voice slipping back in to cover up the visible embarrassment that reddened the Alpha’s cheeks. “You should eat properly, and then we can go talk to Jin together and find out what’s going on.” He wasn’t sure when it happened, but their hands entwined again as they stepped out into the hallway, and Taehyung gave Jimin’s small hand a squeeze to comfort himself, even though he already felt sweaty and gross from the contact. “Okay,” he murmured. “Thanks.” “Of course,” Jimin perked up, smiling at the Beta. “I’m your Alpha, after all.” “Even if you reek like Seokjin and Jungkook right now,” Taehyung wrinkled his nose, and Jimin almost smacked him again, barely remembering and choosing to just let out a cute whining sound. Slowly, Jimin’s laughter faded, and he tilted his head to the side as they walked downstairs. “So it smells like both of them to you? I can only smell Seokjin’s Alpha Scent…” “Yeah, maybe it’s because I’m over-sensitive right now,” Taehyung hummed, “But it smells like both of them for sure.” “Huh,” he said as they both entered the dining room, and Namjoon and Kiara glanced up at the two. “That’s weird…” Namjoon glanced casually at their clasped hands before arching an eyebrow. “What’s weird?” “Oh, it’s just it’s like Seokjin and Jungkook’s Scents are kinda...blended?” Taehyung said slowly. “I can smell both of them on Jimin now.” This observation made Namjoon shoot Kiara a strange look, and his brow crinkled. “Blended? Like they just Scented?” “No, more like… I dunno. It’s just blended . Like I can easily pick both of them out but they’re definitely together.” Taehyung wanted to give another shrug but instead opted to just collapse into one of the chairs, carefully pulling his legs up onto the seat and curling up. The pressure on his own stomach made it feel a little less sore and like his entire abdomen was freshly churned jjajangmyeon. “Joonie,” Kiara said with a trace of warning in her voice, a dash of concern, “Don’t.” He leaned forward to add something to her in an undertone, but she held up a hand. “No, you can’t expect to solve every mystery and deal with everything that happens between those two. I already told you, they deserve their own privacy on some things. So let it go and just trust in them.” Namjoon gave a sigh, as though he already knew. By the time the other four made it back to the table, Jimin was practically spoon-feeding Taehyung, leaning in close and whispering little encouragements and begging him to just eat a little more. Taehyung did try, but the mere thought of food was making him gag and feel nauseated. The others were sending them questioning glances, but Jimin continued. He wanted Taehyung to feel better, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it, able to sense the underlying tension in Taehyung’s Scent. It made him want to bury the nagging feeling of powerlessness. All he could do was be patient and try to stay positive for the Beta. “Now that we’re all here,” Namjoon started, looking around. “I’d like to discuss a few things with you all as a pack.” Jimin looked around the table. He noticed that Seokjin and Jungkook looked noticeably more relaxed (and cleaner) than they had earlier, with their hair still wet and clumped against their foreheads post-shower, but Jungkook still continued to shift occasionally until he was sitting closer to the Alpha, as though he was in need of a little reassurance. Seokjin, however, didn’t seem to be noticing the wolf’s silent call for attention, focusing on his food and the fact that Namjoon was talking. Seokjin bore an unreadably, passive expression on his face that Jimin could see was making Jungkook pout in petulance, unused to being ignored. Jimin smiled a little. Now you know how it feels, he wanted to tease. Hoseok and Yoongi, Jimin noted, were holding hands and saying little, and Hoseok kept looking over at Yoongi when the Omega wasn’t looking, a soft, emotional sort of look that Jimin could feel the warmth of even from his own seat. It was a look of pride, he supposed, of gentleness at a level he couldn’t understand. Things were happening but they were hovering beneath the surface of the conversation, like an ondol, the heat emanating from the floorboards to offer its comfort without the directness of a declaration. Jimin was pretty sure he liked it, the way Hoseok stole glances at Yoongi, the way Kiara’s presence and very aura seemed to blend in with Namjoon’s, the way Jungkook sat leaned in towards Seokjin awkwardly, subconsciously, while they ate. “First of all, I’m happy to say that we’ve cleared the schedule and checked in with the doctors about going out to the island for Taehyung and Jimin’s Mating in a couple of months, as well as for another hunt. And everything has been given a stamp of approval” Taehyung’s Scent lifted, then, as though excited, and it was the brightest his eyes had been all evening. Jimin smiled, glancing over at Seokjin just as Namjoon explained, “Since Kiara will still have another month or so left before the birth, it’s less risky to go then rather than if we were to wait any longer. But I promised them they could Mate in the spring, and they chose the end of May.” “We’ll be Mated,” Jimin breathed, “On a spring day.” “That works out for me,” Seokjin said, sending the two of them a gentle smile as he scooped another half-bowl of rice. Jungkook bumped up against Seokjin’s shoulder, and was ignored again. Jimin wanted to chuckle when he saw the way Jungkook’s wide eyes searched Seokjin’s face for any trace of give, coming up fruitless. “We’ll be leaving on the 26th, and we’ll come back at the start of June, maybe the 1st or 2nd, so everyone check your schedules, talk to your bosses - whatever you need to do.” Kiara rubbed her hand up and down Namjoon’s arm, in a gesture that looked a lot like reminding, a little like giving strength, and a lot like warm domestic familiarity. “Also,” Namjoon took in a deep breath, raising his eyes across the table to catch his older brother’s gaze, “I ran into Yunho this morning.” Seokjin stiffened, his hand on his spoon tightening a little, his words chosen with careful particularity. “Oh? You did?” “Yes. And it wasn’t a pleasant interaction, let me tell you.” Namjoon worked his bottom lip, biting it and sucking it into his mouth as he shook his head. “I respect Yunho in a lot of ways as a lead Alpha for such a big pack, but..his methods and mine are very different.” “Well,” Seokjin said slowly, pausing to take a drink of his water before answering. Jimin saw Jungkook watching Seokjin drink mere inches away from his face, and he wondered who was thirstier in that moment. “He’s been through a lot of pressure, and the elitism the pack was started with was kinda… amplified by his background. In addition, because of the huge shift in pack loyalties at the time, many strong Alphas had to scramble for lead positions and organize a decent pack, and many of them weren’t really given the right information on how to care for an actual pack. I think Yunho fought fiercely for that position among all the competition, but he is missing a lot of perspective because of it. I always felt Yunho was very hard on himself because of that. Looking back, that’s probably why he handled things with me the way he did.” “That’s probably true,” Namjoon nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.” “But anyways,” Seokjin set his glass down, and Jungkook’s eyes followed his hand. “What did Yunho have to say?” “Who is Yunho?” Jungkook asked, staring up at Seokjin with curiosity. The Alpha finally turned to the younger, then, but his face was still that calm, cool image of self-control. “Yunho,” Seokjin began slowly, “Is the lead Alpha of the Rising Gods, my old pack, and Jae’s current one.” “Oh… What does he have to do with us now, though? Seokjin’s in our pack now.” “Well,” Namjoon rubbed a hand across his face, his expression getting grim, “That’s why I called this meeting. I don’t do things the way Yunho does. I can’t just make decisions alone based on what I think we, as a pack, want, especially when it comes to your own happinesses. I may be the lead Alpha but we’re a team, here, so I want you to know that whatever answer you two come up with,” here he looked at Seokjin and Jungkook, “That as long as you are safe and happy, I’ll do my best to support you.” He paused for a moment, tapping his fingertips against the table in a quiet display of nerves. “Yunho offered me...well, a deal is what I guess you’d call it. He first wanted to know where Seokjin was. Jae was with him but he didn’t say much. I told him he was where he belonged - with his pack, and that was all I had to tell him. He said he’d heard about one of our new Omegas, and how he was one of the Jeons.” “That’s what Jae said to me,” Jungkook added, “After he’d caught my Scent. He said my brother was in his pack.” “I’m not sure whether that’s true,” Namjoon said slowly, his lips pursing together, “Or if Jae lied to you, or was unaware himself. But either way, they definitely made mention of that. And he said we should trade, for the benefit of both packs.” “Trade?” Jimin queried, as Hoseok audibly gasped. “Yes,” Namjoon said quietly, “As in, they would give us Jae to adopt into the pack, for Seokjin’s sake, as he suggested…” The lead Alpha gave a short pause before finishing with, “If we gave them Jungkook, to join the Rising Gods.” “What?!” Taehyung cried out, pulled from his inner achy-shell into the forefront of the conversation. “No, we can’t!” At the same time, Yoongi darkly growled, “No chance in fucking hell.” And Jimin let out a long whimper, looking worriedly over at Jungkook and Seokjin, who were sitting quietly and staring straight ahead at Namjoon. Perplexed by their quietness, Jimin looked over at Hoseok in a panic, only finding the Alpha’s face pale and his lips pinched tightly together, as though he wasn’t surprised, just drenched in silent fury. But Namjoon just held up a hand, to quiet them all. “Listen, I know you all have strong feelings on this. Hell, I don’t even want to bring this up, if I’m being honest. Jungkook has been here for years, we’ve helped raise him. I’ve helped raise him. But this pack wasn’t formulated so I could make decisions automated without proper discussion. So, in all seriousness, I ask you two,” Namjoon frowned at the two wolves across from him, “What do you think about all this?” Namjoon had barely gotten the words out when Jungkook jumped in with, “I’m staying with Bangtan pack. I don’t wanna go to another pack.” “I understand that,” the Alpha nodded, looking visibly relieved, “But you should know, they promised that you would meet this brother of yours, whoever he is. But not until you join their pack.” This made Jungkook pause, and he stared at the tabletop for a long moment. The tension in the air seemed to thicken, and Jungkook continued to glare down without blinking, his expression hardening with an inner debate they couldn’t hear. Kiara reached up and rubbed her hand up and down Namjoon’s arm, as though petting him, and looked genuinely worried for the first time that evening. At long last, Jungkook raised his head, and he looked around the table at each of them in turn. When his eyes came to Jimin, the Alpha could see tears in Jungkook’s eyes, reflected in the lights, and he felt his chest clench. “I’ve already met my brothers,” he said firmly. “I’m with them already.” Jimin already felt the stinging at the edges of his eyes, and he heard Hoseok sniffling wetly. He wanted to jump up and embrace Jungkook, nuzzle lovingly into his Scent and let him smell what words couldn’t properly describe or express, but although Namjoon audibly sighed in relief, he was still sending Seokjin a heavy look. Seokjin, who had been looking down at Jungkook, lifted his gaze to Namjoon. “I think you already know my answer, Namjoon.” “That’s unnecessarily cruel of them, though,” Jimin said quietly, “Trading away Jae like he’s a baseball card.” “It happens a lot in Noble packs,” Hoseok explained, still wiping at his tears, eyelashes fluttering wildly as he tried to regain control, “Particularly in the Elite Three packs, the criteria for members is really strict.” “Most of the members had to go through, like, background checks and tests for months,” Taehyung added, his voice small next to Jimin and laced with sadness. “Yeah, we were all surprised when they came to Seokjin and asked him to join,” Namjoon mused, lost for a moment in memory. Jimin turned to Seokjin, finding the Alpha blushing down at the table. “We shouldn’t have been, though, Seokjin was one of the best hunters, and his Scent is strong but very calming. “ “And Jae is a Noble, but an illegitimate one,” Seokjin added quietly, “The other pack members never let him forget that, once it came out.” “Also, Rising Gods only picks beautiful members,” Taehyung offered, “And Jae is really handsome.” “What?” Jimin shook his head in dismay, “What kind of pack picks its members based on looks?!” Hoseok met Jimin’s eyes, and sent him the sad smile that reminded Jimin of a parent realizing how naive their child was, “Some packs are like that, Jimin. It’s just how things are with Nobles. The more elite you get, the more rules and expectations that come.” “But that’s ridiculous,” Jimin sat back in his seat, utterly heartbroken at the prospect that some people wanting to join Rising Gods must have, at some point, been rejected based on their looks. “That sounds like...that’s just...that’s cruel . I’m actually glad I wasn’t born a Noble now.” “And that’s just getting into the pack,” Seokjin said grimly, his chuckle hollow like a tree that had been burned out into a cavity, still alive but coated with char and emptiness. “But now that we’ve established things a bit,” Namjoon continued. “We have the matter of Jungkook to discuss.” “What about me?” Jungkook queried, tilting his head to the side, looking like a pup again for a moment. “I deflected Yunho’s offer so I could talk to you two about it, but one of his pack members in no uncertain terms suggested that if we didn’t take the trade, they would come after you anyways.” Namjoon sat back, crossing his arms, “The way he said it made me wonder whether they know your brother or not, in all honesty. But it brought up an excellent point: you are an Unmated Omega, you’re known already for having a really powerful Scent, and you may be a Noble as well. This makes you not just a hot topic but a target , Jungkook.” Jimin’s heart dropped to the floor. “But I want to stay in Bangtan,” Jungkook reiterated, sounding impatient, “I already said that.” “Even so,” Namjoon’s voice was gentle, patient, as he tried to explain. “If you were Mated by one of their pack members, that would be the end of it. I would have no authority when it comes to you anymore.” “But...But Seokjin already Claimed me! I literally reek of him right now!” “While that’s true,” the Alpha smiled wryly, “They may not care about that, Jungkook.” That was when what Namjoon was suggesting seemed to sink in for Jungkook, and he sat back in shock for a moment. As long as there was only a Claim between Seokjin and Jungkook, even their Bonding, their relationship, was seen as impermanent, and verbal only.  A suggestion but not a promise, and something that could be overturned. All it would take would be finding Jungkook once in a vulnerable position, and Mating him forcibly, and he would belong to that Alpha. “Th-that’s horrible,” Jungkook hiccuped, “This is so unfair.” The older wolves didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and they all stared at their plates in sober silence. Yoongi was the first to speak. “It’s not fair,” he began, “And to be honest, Bangtan pack treats each other more equally than any pack I’ve ever seen, but in a way, that’s probably made it harder on you. As an Omega, I have rights in Bangtan pack. I have choice and power, and Mating isn’t possession, it’s a link between two wolves. It’s liberation instead of confinement. You belong to each other but you don’t own each other. But that’s not going to be the case in most places.” “That’s because of Namjoon’s leadership,” Hoseok added, his voice low but brimming with warmth. “He’s given us a safe space.” All eyes turned to Namjoon, and Kiara smiled up at him with pride. The lead Alpha, a little taken aback, fumbled and his spoon fell off the table with a clumsy clatter. “Anyways,” he managed after some low, incoherent mumbling, “Our focus right now needs to be on protecting Jungkook, until things cool down a bit with Rising Gods, or until some other solution comes.” “Protecting Jungkook?” Jimin breathed, mostly to himself. The table was silent in that strangely uncomfortable way, as they all tried to think of possible answers. “He shouldn’t be on patrol right now,” Yoongi said at last, “It gives him so many opportunities to get caught alone.” “But that’s exactly what I’m training for,” Jungkook said quietly, “Being able to protect myself and others. I know how to stay aware of my surroundings if I need to, and we have our radios, I don’t want to just back out of my responsibilities.” “I know.” Yoongi let out a sigh, sitting back in his seat to splay his box-shaped hands out on the table, “Okay, what if you arranged it so you had another officer with you? They’ve done that before, right?” “Yes, but...what’s the point in me going if they have to make all those accommodations for me?” At Jungkook’s response, gently and calmly stated, Jimin tilted his head to the side. Whether it was from the blowout from earlier that evening or not, Jungkook seemed different. More self-assured, less anxious. It seemed strange to Jimin, since it came with the presented danger to Jungkook’s safety, and he could only attribute it to the way Seokjin had quietly laid his hand on the table over Jungkook’s, rubbing circles into the back of Jungkook’s hand with his thumb as they sat close together. The atmosphere altered, like a cloud that wafted through the room and back out again, and Namjoon leaned forward, the corner of his mouth quirking to the side. “He’s got a point, Yoongi. If he’s not able to perform duties like the rest, it’s probably better if he just isn’t there. At the same time, I don’t think you should feel like you have to shut yourself off like you’re under house arrest. But I want you to be extra careful, and I’d feel safer if you were with another pack member as much as possible.” “At the very least please let one of us know where you are at all times you’re not in the pack house,” Kiara said gently. “This is so unfair,” Taehyung said suddenly, still curled up tightly in his chair, his voice a deep mourning sound, “Why is it just Jungkook? It’s not like I have to be as careful.” “In all honesty,” Namjoon said, “I’d prefer if you did the same. And Jimin as well.” “What!?” Taehyung gasped, and Jimin’s mouth fell agape. “This isn’t just some special treatment because Jungkook is an Omega, it’s also because he’s Unmated, and those are both things he can’t help, but the fact remains that it gives us a weak point where Rising Gods can gain some leverage.” Namjoon looked at the three youngest in turn. “And what about Seokjin?” Jungkook asked, “He’s Unmated, too.” “If they wanted me,” Seokjin said quietly, “They wouldn’t have offered Jae.” Jungkook’s expression fell into a dark, unclear emotion. Jimin couldn’t imagine that that was particularly true, but he wasn’t sure why it didn’t seem to suit. Maybe it was his own bias, seeing Seokjin as such a strong Alpha, but he felt like he should tell Seokjin to be careful as well. But he didn’t have the words or the reasoning, so he could only sit quietly, resting his hands beneath his thighs. “But…” Jungkook finally said, “How long do I - do we - have to do this?” Namjoon looked sadly at the Omega, “I’m not sure. At least until this tension seems to die down a little between the packs. I think this came up now because they’d heard Seokjin came out of his pseudo-pilgrimage.” “Namjoon,” Yoongi poked at the remaining food on his plate with some pensiveness. “Are we going to be alright on the hunt in May? The Rising Gods have the other half of the island now.” “The other half?!” Seokjin leaned forward, “But what about the other two packs?” “I ran into Yunho this morning, and Jackson was already going to meet with me this afternoon. He told me that the Locklears sold their land. To the Rising Gods.” The table was suddenly thick with the Scent of panic and concern, and Jimin felt the edges of his skin prickle with anticipation and unknown fear. “But the Locklears have had that portion of the island for like eight generations!” Seokjin exclaimed, “They have an entire burial ground on those lands! Even if they weren’t going to use it, there’s no way in hell they sold that piece willingly!” Yoongi took in a sharp inhale, slowly letting it out, “So that means it’s just us, Jackson’s clan, and Rising Gods on that island now.” Jimin bit his lip. He had never even met or been near one of their pack members as far as he had known, but just based on what the others were saying, nothing good could come of this. If they couldn’t go out to hunt on the island, they would have to go back to the public parks to do the bare minimum hunting, and they were already stressed with Kiara’s pregnancy, oncoming exams, and Mating plans. “Namjoon,” Jimin’s voice was low and at first, he wasn’t sure if the Alpha heard him, but the little sound of acknowledgement encouraged him onward. “What are we going to do?” The Alpha frowned. “I don’t know, Jimin. That’s why I called this meeting. It’s very important to keep our pack safe when hunting even in normal circumstances, but I want us to take this very seriously.” Silence encompassed the table, and Jimin strained to think of some possible solution, some easier way out than constantly worrying about Jae and these imposing images in his head that could hunt them down at any moment like the most timid of game. He hated this. But of course, true to form, he hadn’t a single clue where to start, or even how to encourage. It was their Mating that everyone was going to the island for, primarily. He knew that moving the date would solve nothing, of course, but he still felt the traces of guilt tickling up his spine in a horrible fashion. “We’ll have another pack meeting in a week,” Namjoon said after a sizable stretch of silence. “Until then, I want everyone to continue as normally as possible. Jungkook, we’ll talk later this evening about what to do about your patrol work, I’m sure we can figure something out.” “Yes, sir,” Jungkook replied, with no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “Remember, guys, this is not about any one in particular. This is about all of us.” Namjoon took hold of Kiara’s hand, squeezing it more tightly than Jimin thought he normally would, a somber look on the leader’s face. With none of the amusement or awkwardness of the first time he had said it, Namjoon murmured, “Teamwork makes the dream work.” “-Teamwork makes the dream work,” they chorused soberly. And if it were possible, Jimin’s heart clenched a little tighter. He looked around the table and saw Seokjin looking uncomfortable, with Jungkook at his side biting his lip as though he wanted to say something, but was deciding against it. Hoseok was staring darkly at his plate, deep in thought on something , with Yoongi at his side looking at him in concern. Taehyung leaned in slowly, until the edge of his temple rested against Jimin’s shoulder, and he let out the smallest whimper of complaint. The lead Alpha sat at the head of the table, his Omega with her arm threaded around his, and he looked stony-faced and withdrawn. “Okay,” Namjoon started to push his chair back. “We can have the next meeting at--” “Namjoon,” Hoseok interrupted suddenly, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. “I, um.. I know that I should be the last person to suggest something like this, especially given what happened earlier, but… I do have a suggestion to make. I know it’s the obvious answer here, but no one wants to say it, and that’s probably because of me, at least in part.” “Hoseokkie…” Yoongi breathed. “I think the best way to protect Jungkook,” Hoseok said firmly, meeting Namjoon’s eyes with a straightforwardness and self-emanating power that was rare coming from the gentle Alpha. “Is to let him and Seokjin Mate as early as possible.” “W-what?!” Namjoon gasped, and Jungkook let out a strange strangling sound, his hands suddenly gripping at Seokjin’s shirt desperately. “I love my pups,” Hoseok said quietly, looking over at Jimin and Jungkook in turn, “And I’ve always wanted to do what’s best for them. I’ve seen firsthand what trading and messy Mating threats like this can turn into, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, much less them . And maybe I don’t like the speed at which things are going for these two, but...simply put, the best way to protect Jungkook from being taken away by some other Alpha we don’t know and losing him forever, would be to let him Mate Seokjin.” It was at this time that Hoseok turned, and he locked eyes with Seokjin for the first time that evening. Seokjin met his gaze back question, but a strange sort of calmness to his aura. It was as though they were wordlessly communicating by eyes alone, and it was a long moment before anyone spoke. “I’d rather Jungkook be with someone he cares about and trusts than him get taken away from us and forced into a pack he doesn’t want to be a part of.” At long last, he broke gaze with Seokjin, turning to Namjoon and standing up slowly. “That’s all I have to say. Excuse me.” And for the second time that evening, Hoseok left the table first, with Yoongi following close behind. But the atmosphere was entirely altered, like fire to water, storm to calm. Hoseok’s footsteps were gentle as he went upstairs, and the door shut with a gentle click Namjoon looked over at the rest of the table, looking utterly taken aback. “Um… So I think that was kind of a lot for everyone to grapple with tonight. Let’s consider Hoseok’s suggestion but, ah...everyone take some time to think about it and we’ll sit down again tomorrow to talk about it some more, okay?” There were some half-hearted nods, and Jimin watched as everyone else got up from the table, until it was just Taehyung and himself left. “I’m gonna be sick,” Taehyung said quietly, sounding like he was about to start weeping instead. Jimin reached over and gently traced his finger down Taehyung’s arm in soft comfort. “If they let Jungkook Mate early, they’ll let us Mate early too, right? It’s not fair if he gets to go first.” Jimin allowed himself a little smile at that, tracing his finger down once again. “Maybe, I’m not sure.” “They gotta let us go first,” Taehyung complained, his eyes shut as though he was going to fall asleep right there at the table. “If Jungkook Mates first I’ll never hear the end of it.” Jimin looked up at the empty table, and let out a little sigh. He couldn’t believe that Hoseok , of all people, had been the one to suggest the Mating, even though now that he thought of it, it was the most obvious, simple answer. Now, whether or not that was what was going to happen, he wasn’t sure. He had Taehyung to worry about first, as much as his mind was pulled multiple directions, wanting to reach out and tend to everyone, he could only do a little bit as he was now. “Tae-Tae, what are we going to do?” The words were exhaled in one long puff, as if he could breathe out everything that was cumulating in his chest. Taehyung made no answer. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Because one believes in oneself, one doesn't try to convince others. Because one is content with oneself, one doesn't need others' approval. Because one accepts oneself, the whole world accepts him or her.” ― Lao Tzu     The gentle sounds of Jungkook’s breathing was a soft lullaby in the lull of the cool spring evening. Seokjin shifted a little on the couch, careful not to dislodge the Omega who had curled up into his lap after dinner for a cuddle, excitedly rambling on about how they could probably Mate as early as the following weekend if Namjoon gave it his stamp of approval. The Omega hadn’t been there twenty minutes before he had gone from jittery energy to suddenly dropping off to sleep with Seokjin’s hand running through his hair, obviously worn out from the events since Seokjin had gotten home - not the least of which had been quite physically demanding. Seokjin was glad Namjoon had given them time to go clean up before rejoining the dinner - it had let him get a little proper aftercare in after letting Jungkook finish, but it was still quite a bit to wind down from.   Technically speaking, Seokjin was studying a medical journal he’d been assigned for homework, but in all honesty, he had been staring at the same page for almost twenty minutes, his mind more on the Omega in his lap. Jungkook’s nose wriggled a little in his sleep, and his leg jerked a bit as though he had been startled; he was dreaming of a hunt, probably. Seokjin lowered the journal, watching Jungkook sleep. In books he always read that people looked more child-like in their sleep, but to him Jungkook looked older in a way - strong angled jaw, his wide, emotive eyes shut to the world and merely framed with a line of dark eyelashes, mouth open as he snored lightly. While still soft and sweetened, the ways that made Jungkook appear the youngest - the wide eyes, the goofy smile, the gleam of playfulness that sometimes wriggled and writhed in barely contained excitement beneath every muscle - was hidden under a layer of sleepy neutral-aged warmth. His head lolled off to the side, nearly draped off the opposite side of Seokjin’s legs, his neck lying exposed. That realization made Seokjin pause, his hand moving to delicately brush long fingertips against the vulnerable skin there, stopping for a moment against Jungkook’s unmarred Scent gland at the base of the neck.   Omegas didn’t just sleep so vulnerably like that.   The fact that Jungkook had was another little sign of his affection and trust in Seokjin. The Alpha traced his thumb along the swollen patch of skin, the hint of leather and ocean wafting up as he did so. Seokjin wondered if he should be having doubts, if he should be worried about the prospect of Mating Jungkook so quickly, so soon, so rushed. He wondered if he should be as nervous as he had been the day Jae had gone to ask Yunho if he could Mate with Seokjin. But looking down into Jungkook’s face,  he didn’t feel any inclination whatsoever. He just felt like he was home.   Jungkook snorted a little in his sleep, sniffing suddenly quite frantically. He nuzzled in toward Seokjin’s waist, burying his face in what Seokjin knew was the residual smell of their shared sex Scent that hung around both of them. The Alpha smiled, then was jolted in surprise when Jungkook pushed his face roughly against Seokjin’s crotch, still fast asleep. “Aw, fuck no,” Seokjin mumbled, nudging Jungkook’s face away, silently mourning as he did so because it had actually felt really good. In the meanwhile, Jungkook seemed to quiet again, so Seokjin picked up his medical journal and continued to read. He was only another paragraph or two ahead of where he had been before when Jungkook started kicking a little, one hand flapping uselessly up in the general direction of Seokjin’s waist as the Omega sniffled and whined. Seokjin chuckled, rolling his eyes. He was definitely dreaming of a hunt. It was extremely cute, and the Alpha sat for a few minutes watching Jungkook, amused by every sudden jerk and then laughing when he tried to bark in his sleep, his human mouth framing the sound with not nearly as much intimidation as his wolf one would have. Seokjin watched the pale pink little mouth, parted and slightly panting with excitement. Jungkook’s cupid’s bow curled up into a tight little angle, as though it had been drawn at the edge of a sharp penknife.   You can just touch it, you know, Seokjin thought at himself, Instead of always just staring at him, hoping and wondering. It was something he had to remind himself of, that he had been given this right by Jungkook himself. That the waiting and the pining had finally ended.   Seokjin reached out one tentative finger, brushing the tip against the top V-shaped curve at the top of that upper lip and pressing in slightly. It was, of course, as soft and pliant as he remembered, and he ran his fingertips back and forth over the skin there.   To his surprise, the still unconscious and apparently sensitive Jungkook started working his lips fretfully in his sleep, letting out a little sound that vaguely resembled a sigh, mouthing at the fingertip as if it was offering him a delicious alternative to his rest. Seokjin stared, then, fascinated, pressed his finger in a little more firmly to Jungkook’s mouth. The next moment, the skin all across Seokjin’s body prickled to life as Jungkook’s mouth suddenly encompassed his finger with a slight wet sound.   “Fuck,” Seokjin breathed, as Jungkook started suckling in his sleep. “You sexual little deviant.”   He stared at Jungkook’s sleep-softened face, pink lips wrapped around the tip of his finger, and he could almost feel that the Omega was on the edge of waking, when suddenly there were footsteps and Seokjin hurriedly pulled his finger away with a little popping sound, wiping his finger off on Jungkook’s shirt.   “Seokjin?” Jimin said quietly, slipping into the living room as if he knew what he was walking in on. When he saw Jungkook was asleep, he seemed a little more relieved, and waved Taehyung in after him. “Can we...talk to you about something?”   “Mm? Of course, sure.” Seokjin immediately set aside the medical journal that he had specifically not been reading. He was starting to honestly question whether Jungkook was really asleep or was just pretending, and he could tell from the way Jimin and Taehyung shared a silent look that this was something private. “Do you want to go to my room to talk, or--?”   “No, here should be fine,” Jimin said, then immediately touched Taehyung’s arm, leaning in close and whispering, “As long as you’re fine with it, I mean? It’s Jungkook, so…”   “I mean, I’m fine as long as you don’t care,” Taehyung shrugged. Their inconclusive banter continued back and forth for almost a full minute before they both concluded that it wasn’t that big of a deal if Jungkook overheard, and the two sat down near Seokjin with an awkward sobriety.   “So what’s up?”   “Well,” Jimin started, looking over at Taehyung with that concerned, surveying expression. “Ever since Taehyung’s heat broke, we’ve noticed some things are...off? Like I noticed he hasn’t wanted me to touch him, and he’s been kind of moody.” Taehyung shot Jimin the first direct look since they had entered the living room, bristling at being called moody. Now that he thought about it, Seokjin realized they weren’t even sitting up against each other, shoulder to shoulder, like they normally would have. And Taehyung had a little pallor to his cheeks that was as uncharacteristic as could be.   “Are you not feeling well, Tae?” Seokjin asked, his hand going back to pet through Jungkook’s hair without realizing it.   “I feel horrible,” Taehyung finally mumbled in a deep-throated whine. “I’m all hot, and everything feels on edge and even sounds hurt.”   “Like a migraine?” Seokjin worked his lip, biting lightly at the inside of his cheek in thought. “Have you been drinking plenty of water? Did the heat actually break for sure?”   “Yeah, I have. It doesn’t feel like the heat did.” Taehyung let out a sigh, as though he had been plagued with a thousand asinine questions out of the blue. “This is a weird, different kind of heat. And I’ve had a headache since it broke, and I just wanna punch things.”   “Hmm…” Seokjin sat back a little, rubbing one finger along the underside of his chin. He felt the slightly rough catch there of a spot he must have missed shaving that morning. “Do you have any other symptoms? Warped vision? Dizziness? Fatigue? Irregular bowel movements? Bleeding? Stomachaches?” “My, my stomach kind of hurts,” Taehyung murmured quietly, laying a hand on his lower abdomen. “But other than that, not really. It’s hard to focus my eyes sometimes but I think that’s because of the headache.”   “Well,” Seokjin leaned over a little, patting Taehyung’s knee lightly, “The good news is I think I know exactly what is wrong with you. The bad news is, you’re probably not going to like the answer.”   “Oh god,” Jimin gasped, “Did I hurt him?” “No,” Seokjin smiled, a little wryly, “Well, in all honesty, you did do something . Taehyung is experiencing symptoms from his hormone shifts, is all. I was a little worried because he had his heat so fast after his Presenting, since it usually takes longer for a Beta to switch. This means that in all likelihood, Taehyung is just naturally very sensitive to Omega hormones.”   “I always knew when my friends were going to be Omegas,” Taehyung added quietly, his brain whizzing through this new information. “And I knew Jungkook was Presenting before anyone else did.”   Seokjin glanced down at the sleeping Jungkook, nodding. “That’s true. It also doesn’t help that you got an Omega hormone bath recently.”   Jimin flushed, staring down at his lap. “I’m sorry, Tae-Tae… I really made it worse, didn’t I?”   “No,” Taehyung said, nuzzling gently against Jimin’s cheek with his forehead, wincing as he did so. “You made it better. It hurts, but this means I have lots of Omega hormones. Right, Seokjin?”   “Yeah, it does,” Seokjin smiled, albeit a little sadly. “But it’s a lot for your body to handle. You’re probably going to be miserable for quite some time, to be honest. Continuing mood swings, severe cramps, headaches, sensitivity. Your Scent will probably act strangely, too.”   Taehyung moaned. “I just wanna hug him.”   “You can hug me,” Jimin said quietly, “Just do it at your own pace, I won’t move unless you tell me to.”   Taehyung let out a high-pitched whimper, and slowly, gingerly laid his head in Jimin’s lap. Jimin smiled, watching the boy sigh against his knee. They were now almost a mirror image of Seokjin and Jungkook.   “Seokjin, is there anything we should do? There has to be something that can help him feel a bit better?”   “Well,” Seokjin hummed in thought. “Most people in this situation go to a specialist and get a prescription for a suppressant.”   Taehyung reached over and grabbed hold of Jimin’s hand, laying it softly into his hair and nudging it around until Jimin figured out that Taehyung wanted him to rub at his hair in little spider-like motions, massaging gently at the scalp. Taehyung’s brow furrowed, tense and stressed by the sensitivity, but he didn’t ask him to stop so Jimin kept going until Taehyung seemed to become a little more adjusted to it.   “A suppressant?” Jimin worked his lips in worry. “I dunno, I don’t like that idea at all… But if it makes him feel better, than maybe--”   “No suppressants,” Taehyung mumbled, half-muffled by Jimin’s thigh. He tilted his head until his mouth was clear, then met Seokjin’s eyes. “I want to have pups as soon as possible. If I’m on suppressants there’s no way I can get pregnant.”   Seokjin’s expression fell, even as his heart clenched happily at the thought of Taehyung finally getting the pups he had dreamed and gushed about since he was a tiny pup himself. “I understand that, Taehyung. But I don’t think you know how miserable you’re going to be. You should keep your mind open to the possibility of at least having the suppressants available as backup. There are also low-end intensity ones which you could start on, and they would be easy to wean off of, if you decide you’re ready.”   “ When we decide we’re ready,” Jimin said firmly, obviously having discussed this at length with the Beta and been assured of their decision.   “We already are ready,” Taehyung protested. “I don’t want chemical suppressants fucking up my insides more than they already are.”   Seokjin nodded. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard someone say that about suppressants, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. The stigma surrounding the hormone controllers was certainly a negative one, if anything. “Well, in that case, there are some other options, although they’re not as good.”   “Like what?” Jimin ran his hand through Taehyung’s hair, making the Beta suck in a sharp breath through his teeth as though it pained him.   “Well, as difficult as it is, the best way to level out a severe hormone imbalance like this is to get pregnant,” Seokjin started, a grim smile on his lips. “Of course, that’s not an option right now. The second best way is Mating, which should be sooner than expected, but exactly when is still uncertain for the time being.”   “Ohhh…” Jimin breathed, “Mating would help? Because of the hormones involved?” “Yeah, it’s kind of like a huge slap of the reset button,” Seokjin said, petting Jungkook’s hair. “But that’s not an option right now , so in the meantime, I can get some natural supplements and some herbal teas that should help alleviate the symptoms. Ironically, it’s probably best if he can stay as close to you as possible, even though he’s probably really sensitive to your... everything Alpha right now. Once he gets over the hump of it, it’ll go back to being a comfort.”   Seokjin was distracted momentarily by the idea of Jungkook, coming to ask him cutely about pups and their future together, imagining him whining at Seokjin about his stomach aching, seeking comfort in the Alpha’s lap. His hand brushing through Jungkook’s bangs, he didn’t see the look Taehyung sent Jimin, or the way Jimin bit at his lip, nodding slowly.   When the older Alpha looked up, he sent them both a fond smile. “I’m happy you two are progressing. I know it’s hard to have patience sometimes, but it’s all for the best for your future Mate, right? So take care of each other well.”   “R-right,” Jimin said, now practically gnawing at his bottom lip.   “It’s difficult, to get to that point where you feel comfortable with each other completely, right?” Seokjin was now halfway focused on himself and Jungkook, rather than the younger two, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to feel anything but amused at that. “It takes time to build trust and to find out what your Mate is going to need from you, and just as importantly, what your Mate can offer you in return, right?” He brushed his thumb across the apple of Jungkook’s cheek, earning a quiet little snore from the Omega in response. “And I hope you two aren’t angry at the possibility of us Mating before you. I know you two have been together longer than us and all, but…you understand, right? It’s for Jungkook’s safety.”   “Yeah, I get it,” Jimin said quietly. Taehyung frowned, his bottom lip protruding in a pout. “I know you’ve given up a lot to be with him, and with us.”   At that, Seokjin smiled. “Not at a--” There was a little clattering sound, and the three of them looked up to see Hoseok coming downstairs, wearing just a pair of striped pajama pants and scratching at his bare chest. He glanced their way somberly before stepping into the kitchen.   Pausing a moment in awkward hesitation, Seokjin looked back over at Jimin and his questioning eyes, and he tried his best to smile. “Not at all, Jimin. I don’t feel like I ‘gave up’ anything to be with you guys, or with Jungkook. I walked away from a lot of things, yes. But that was for myself. I came to Bangtan pack because of all the things all of you could give me, and I stayed because I want to find a way to give back. If anything, being with Jungkook feels like a lovely selfishness. So I want to grow stronger as an Alpha, and be smarter, and healthier.”   Jimin met Seokjin’s eyes for a long moment, and he nodded. “I wanna be a stronger Alpha, too.”   Seokjin smiled, his eyes wrinkling at the corners in a matured sense of noble pride. Jimin leaned down into Taehyung’s face, kissing the boy’s temple and whispering for them to go back upstairs and nap a little more. Taehyung complained but eventually managed to get himself off the couch and start to trudge towards the stairs, moaning his troubles to Jimin, who patiently hovered around him with a gentle fretfulness.   Seokjin sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head back against the headrest of the couch, so his face was tilted toward the ceiling. He really was worried about how well Taehyung was going to be able to handle the symptoms until Namjoon would let them Mate. Perhaps if Namjoon knew all the details about what Taehyung - and his body - was going through, he would agree to--   There was the sound of the refrigerator opening and shutting, the clatter of glass from the cupboard, and Seokjin opened one eye to see Hoseok stepping out of the kitchen, carrying a glass of some translucent golden-brown liquid and heading toward the stairs.   “Hoseok, can we talk?” Seokjin said slowly. At the sound of his name, the Alpha paused, one foot on the bottom step as he turned to Seokjin, his expression unreadable but far from what Seokjin would call ‘pleased’ or ‘happy.’   “Mm? Sure,” he said breezily, stepping into the living room and sitting down on the couch that Jimin and Taehyung had recently vacated. “What about?”   Seokjin paused for a moment. He knew what he wanted to talk about, but summarizing it into succinct terms had him at a temporary loss. “Um.. about Jungkook, and you and I, I guess. To be honest, I was more than a little surprised by your suggestion at dinner, and I guess, well...I wanted to talk about it.”   Their eyes were locked together, but Hoseok’s expression was utterly unreadable. After a beat, he suddenly seemed to relax, breaking the eye contact and sighing. “I meant what I said. It makes the most sense to keep Jungkook safe, and if it’s for that, I’d be willing to do almost anything.”   “I know,” Seokjin said, although he felt a little disappointed somehow, with that answer. “I’d tell you I promise to take care of him well, but when I first moved here I also promised you I wouldn’t challenge Namjoon’s authority, and I ended up doing that.”   “Circumstances change things,” Hoseok said gently. “And I know you’ll take care of Jungkook as well as you can.”   That was a bit of an unexpected turn, and Seokjin couldn’t hide the suggestion of surprise from his face. “You do?”   “Of course,” Hoseok sat back into the couch cushion, smiling a little sadly. “Seokjin, we haven’t had much of a chance to get very close, with everything that’s going on, but I like you. A lot. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m glad you decided on Bangtan pack and joined us.”   Letting those words mull in his mind for a moment, Seokjin slowly said, “You just don’t trust me with your pup, right…?”   “I’ll admit I was surprised you picked Jungkook, back when I had a very different image of you. But that’s not why I was so hesitant.”   “Then it was because of my history with Jae?” Seokjin felt like he had this rare opportunity to get  a straight answer as to what he had done wrong , and that tempting possibility felt so fleeting, he could hear the desperate eagerness in his own voice. “Because of the Alpha thing?” Hoseok worked his lip for a moment beneath the bright whiteness of his teeth, one hand teasing at the hem of his jeans. “No, it wasn’t because it was your past, Seokjin. It was because of Jungkook’s.”   “W-what?”   Sighing heavily, Hoseok seemed to take a moment to recollect himself before answering, his eyes falling on the sleeping Jungkook who was still curled up in Seokjin’s lap, one hand curled against Seokjin’s stomach and his socked feet stretched out. It looked like a giant child had cuddled into Seokjin’s lap, and there was a quiet little sound from Jungkook like an infant complaining.   “Seokjin, you’ve fucked up in some ways. We all have. I’ve been in other packs, and I know the kind of things that go down behind closed doors and blur the lines of the rules. After hearing from Namjoon what you went through, I wasn’t shocked, although I was heartbroken about what you - and Jae - have been through. Once I met you, I realized you were really trying hard to break from that. I saw you taking your place in the pack, getting your life together. You did alone what Yoongi and I did as a team.”   The light traces of pink started to fade into the apples of Seokjin’s cheeks, and he lowered his head, feeling his ears start to warm with embarrassment at the flattery.   “You’ve made mistakes, and I can’t say I’m happy about those. But I think you honestly want what’s best for you and Jungkook, and I think that if ‘what’s best’ was you leaving, you would already be gone.” Hoseok shifted on the couch, drawing one knee up to hug his chest as if he needed the tangible something to hold onto, and he looked sadly at Jungkook. “But you weren’t here when Jungkook was younger. He’s been through a lot that I don’t think even he himself knows the depth of.”   Seokjin looked down at the Omega, reaching out and running his hand through the boy’s hair again. “He doesn’t talk about his life before the pack much… I always kind of wondered about it, though.”   “He never had a whole lot to say about it,” Hoseok said quietly. “Because he honestly doesn’t remember a lot of it, and I think he feels bad that he can’t answer many questions. The best we can figure is that he was abandoned, and he wandered into some dangerous areas of the city without realizing it. A loose pack found him, probably looking for drugs or something to do, and he got the shit beaten out of him. It caused some memory loss, and he ended up picked up by the pound and hospitalized. He was about ten years old at the time, as far as we can figure.”   Seokjin’s heart seemed to shoot down like he had just dropped it down an elevator shaft, rushing down through the basement of empathy and sinking into a chilly revelation.   Hoseok continued, his voice a distant calmness that nonetheless offered a weighted purposefulness. “Whatever happened before that point, it was probably better than his experience in the pound. He knew his birthday but not his parents’ names, he was already scared out of his wits and they grilled him for ages. Naturally, they kept him, and he was in the pound for over a year.”   He wanted to weep. He had seen photos of the pound, he knew how overcrowded and filthy they usually were. Seokjin held onto Jungkook a little tighter.   “I think only Jungkook can tell you what that part of his life was like. He’s told me but… I think you should hear it from Jungkook himself. Suffice to say he was sick a lot, and the mix of aggression from other Wolves is never a pretty sight in the best situations, much less packed in like sardines. Some of the Wolves have to be sedated half the time. It didn’t help that Jungkook has always had kind of a strong Scent, and it draws trouble to him. I don’t know how or why he got out, but he spent the next three years doing everything he could to avoid going back.”   “Where did he live for the next three years?” “On the streets. I honestly can’t believe he survived. He had all these tips about how to best fish out food from dumpsters and how to read people or avoid being seen. When he first came to the pack house, Namjoon said he didn’t sleep for the first three days, because he was so anxious. The bed seemed almost to scare him, then. When they found out he felt better under the table, they just let him stay there. Namjoon made sure he had his own bed if he wanted it, but he’s barely used it.”   Seokjin had always had an appreciation for Namjoon’s ability to read a situation. He remembered getting a couple texts from Namjoon years ago, mentioning a new wolf pup that had joined his budding pack, and how strange and adorable Namjoon thought he was. Not thinking he would ever be near enough to meet Namjoon’s fellow pack members, Seokjin hadn’t paid it much mind at the time. Now looking back, he felt his chest swell with gratefulness at Namjoon, and all the little details he paid attention to so passionately. Namjoon had just been minding his own business, working a late-night shift at the front desk of the hotel where he still worked, even now.   ‘A pup came into the hotel lobby tonight,’ Namjoon had texted him, ‘The scrawniest thing I’ve ever seen.’   Hoseok continued to speak, and Seokjin let him, merely listening and letting the information sink in slowly.“He came in to ask if he could wait inside for a bit out of the rain, but from the way he was acting, Namjoon could tell that he was trying to hide from an Alpha that he had almost had a scuffle with. They got to talking a bit, and Namjoon ended up bringing him home.”   ‘Yoongi is gonna love him! He’s the cutest thing, all big eyes and his hair is kinda curly, like a cocker spaniel.‘   “It was really rough at first, trying to figure out what they could do to make him comfortable. He didn’t talk much and was really skittish. There were some fights, but between the two of them they convinced him to stay a little longer.”   ‘I think he really needs someone to have his back right now. I don’t know him well, but I just have this feeling , you know? Like when I met Yoongi. It felt like “it’ll all work out, now,” just like you always say.’   Hoseok leaned forward, still hugging his knees. “Seokjin, I was really worried about Jungkook because all he has are bad memories from before. And I only want him to make good memories from here on out. I don’t want him to worry about being left behind, or being unwanted, or alone. Before you came, I was really worried he wouldn’t be able to find a Mate at all, or that he would find someone too quickly and feel like once he started something with them, that he wouldn’t be allowed to change his mind. He once told me he was so scared when Yoongi brought me home, because he thought he would lose Yoongi, I guess?”   “Like…” Seokjin said quietly, unsure, “He would lose Yoongi’s love or something, now that he had you?” “Something like that. It changed over time, of course, and we got really close. He was much more worried when Namjoon met Kiara. For almost a month he wanted to be glued to Namjoon’s side, and I found him crying under his table once. He was afraid that now that we had Mates, he would be left behind. That he would be in the way. I tried to tell him it wasn’t like that.” Hoseok took in a deep breath, then exhaled it. Seokjin could see Hoseok’s eyes reddening and puffing up, the tears welling up quickly, despite the Alpha’s efforts. “I told him it didn’t matter if we had Mates or not, or if he had one. That he would always be my pup.”   “He’s mentioned something about that recently,” Seokjin said quietly, feeling a little concern bubbling up in his chest because Jungkook hadn’t made any sleeping noises for awhile, and he wasn’t 100% sure Jungkook would want to hear him telling Hoseok this. “He said he’s felt really lonely the last few months, but he didn’t want to bother you or Yoongi.”   Hoseok nodded. “He worries about that a lot. Jimin comes from a pretty low-level pack. He chose to leave because he wanted a place to feel safe, like a family. His own pack life was pretty normal but not very friendly, so he knows quite a bit about trying to get along with others and adjusting, but he has a lot of self-esteem issues because of things he was told. But with Jungkook...with Jungkook , he doesn’t have a baseline, he just has us.”   “That’s a lot, though, Hoseok,” Seokjin said with a smile. “I’m sure Jungkook appreciates all of you. I know he does.”   Smiling softly, Hoseok looked down at the floor, reminiscing. When he looked up again, he had tears falling down his cheeks. “I just want him to have a normal life. But the universe doesn’t seem to want that, does it?” He laughed a little. “He’s got this powerful Scent, he’s been through so much, and he’s always doing the best he can. He deserves to have people who look out for him and care for him, but sometimes I just don’t know how to do that. To me he’s always going to be this sickly-skinny boy hiding under the table and crying because he’s afraid of not being allowed to stay with us. I know he’s an adult Wolf now, with things he wants and needs and things I can’t possibly give him, but I’m terrified of it.”   A silence fell between them for a few minutes, with Seokjin staring down at Jungkook’s mouth, with the soft sleep-breathing the only sound other than Hoseok’s quiet weeping. Hoseok had, in Seokjin’s observations, been the closest Jungkook had to a mothering figure in his life. The physical closeness between them, the way Hoseok smiled at him with such pride, even the way Jungkook said Hoseok’s name all suggested a simplistic tenderness and trust that had been built brick by silent brick. Hoseok had been fretting and worrying over Jungkook’s emotional wellbeing and development for a long time, and in the last year Jungkook was almost an entirely new person.   “Can I confess something?” Seokjin said slowly, his uncertainty peppering his words so that Hoseok looked up in curiosity. “I’ve always kind of… been jealous of you and Yoongi, since I first met you two. Anyone who sees you two together can tell you’re partners , not just Mates. Like you have this really beautiful understanding between you. I know that as an Alpha, it must be really hard on you, sometimes, to keep your instincts in check, and to let Yoongi do some of the things he does…” He felt like his face was on fire from the way Hoseok was staring at him. “I just...I guess what I’m saying is, I really look up to you, as a fellow Alpha. I wish I knew how to take care of Jungkook the way you take of Yoongi. You let him be himself, and yet you’re still undoubtedly his Alpha , you know?”   Hoseok seemed to blush at that, touching a hand to his mouth as if to cover up the shy smile there.   “After what happened with Jae, I’ve realized that Alpha, Omega, Beta...it doesn’t really matter. I used to say that a lot, but now I know it. If he’s happy, if he’s cared for and whole and growing, I’m happy. But… I’m not very good at a balance.” Seokjin thought back to their awkward experiment with the handcuffs, with letting Jungkook have control. “I think Jungkook wants to be strong for me, and that’s probably because of Yoongi? But I don’t know if I can match the kind of self-control you have, as an Alpha…” Seokjin worked his lip. In all honesty, he had wanted to take possession of Jungkook the moment they had Scented in the cabin, had wanted to truly claim him as his own, to mark him down possessively. The first time they were together, he had wanted to take him roughly, to break him down piece by piece until Seokjin was the only one who could put him back together again. He wanted to take everything Jungkook could give him, hold it in his hand, and then carefully place it back into him, body and soul. But he would never get some of the images from the time with Jae out of his mind. He knew himself, and he knew his tendency to get caught up too far into the moment, to push things too far. He wanted to piece Jungkook back together like a puzzle, not like broken glass.   “I don’t know,” Seokjin whispered, “If I can hold myself back.”   Hoseok watched the Alpha intently, considering his words and the tone with which they had been delivered. “As Jungkook’s pack member, I wanna tell you to shut the fuck up,” he said, smiling. “But as a fellow Alpha, and your pack member, I wanna tell you that it’s okay to not hold back, if you do it in the right way. Yoongi and I didn’t figure it out in one day, or a hundred days. Sometimes things get out of hand. But we have the foundation of trust, and everything else comes from that, I guess? Usually after we talk, we figure out that we want the same things. But what you do isn’t as important as how you do it. So you find a way to do it right.” He gave a shrug, “It’s hard to explain without a specific situation, but that’s as close as you’re going to get, probably. Just listen to him, check in. And do your best to build trust at all times. To me, that’s what the ‘true’ part of ‘true love’ really is, after all.”   “That’s a really sappy way of putting it,” Seokjin smirked. “I like it.” He looked down at Jungkook, for perhaps the millionth time that day. From the very beginning, he had always been looking at Jungkook. That first moment he had seen him, wide-eyed and curled up under the table with Taehyung smiling down at him, Seokjin’s entire chest had felt a surge of heat, a sense of belonging.   You’re home, his soul had said.   Home wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t easy, but it was always there, fluttering beneath the surface of everything. He had trusted Jungkook before he trusted himself, and he knew that even just in the last couple of months that a lot of that had altered, and often it felt like a weed stubbornly coming up through the pavement, slowly but steadily making a widening crack to allow itself freedom to grow. Jungkook not only knew Seokjin’s tendencies and tastes, from lifestyle to the bedroom, but he wanted to try it all together. He trusted Seokjin with so much.   “I still don’t have much confidence,” Seokjin whispered. “But I really want to try.”   Hoseok gave a slow nod. “I’m doing the same.”   “I know it wasn’t because of me that you decided to suggest that we Mate,” Seokjin continued, “But I’m grateful, all the same.”   The younger Alpha tilted his head to the side, smiling gently. “Seokjin…? Honestly speaking... I think you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself as an Alpha. I’ve seen how you two are together, and I think you suit him well.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “I don’t wanna have to smell it with my dinner, and I wish it wasn’t so fast, because I’m worried about Jungkook getting ahead of himself, but… I think you’ll stay with him until the end. And I wouldn’t just say that about any Alpha.”   Seokjin felt like someone had just reached into his chest cavity and squeezed roughly at his heart. “Th-thank you.”   “You’ve been through a lot yourself. But when it came to everything with Jae, you’ve done what you had to do, and I think that’s really admirable. To be honest, after the relationships Yoongi has gone through, I really wish there were more Alphas like you, who could learn from their own mistakes.”   To that, Seokjin wasn’t sure what to say. He certainly didn’t know how to react when Hoseok almost timidly got up from his seat and leaned over him on the couch, one hand placed on the headrest just behind Seokjin. His face was mere inches from Seokjin’s as their gazes locked. Seokjin could still see the residual puffiness from when he’d been crying, could see the smooth almost half-moon shaped downward curve of his lips, and the angular, uptilted nose. His eyes were dark and intense, unblinking and calm as he studied Seokjin’s face for an answer to an unspoken question. Hoseok was the sort of Alpha that didn’t stand out on first meeting, but grew in one’s opinion gradually, blossoming out his assets slowly over time, in the moments in-between everything. Seokjin’s breath caught a little as the smell of vanilla washed over him, sweet and dark, overwhelming in its steadfastness. Hoseok leaned in, pressing his face to Seokjin’s neck, a calm and quiet Scenting that made Seokjin’s entire body relax, and he sighed as he turned his face in to breathe in from the source of that sugary fragrance.   They had only Scented once before, right after Seokjin had come to the pack, but then it had been unfamiliar and awkward, almost obligatory as pack members who needed to know each other’s Scent enough in case of emergencies. This was worlds away from that. It was weighted, it was meaningful, it was the gesture Seokjin didn’t know that he had been wishing for. That was what made tears sting a little at the edges of Seokjin’s eyes, and he tried his hardest to blink them away as Hoseok’s arms reached around him, embracing him, holding him as his fists clung to Jungkook’s shirt. He knew the boy hadn’t been asleep for a long time, and he was grateful when Jungkook pressed in further to him, silently comforting.   You’re home. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “If I could have just one wish, I would wish to wake up everyday to the sound of your breath on my neck, the warmth of your lips on my cheek, the touch of your fingers on my skin, and the feel of your heart beating with mine knowing that I could never find that feeling with anyone other than you.“ - Courtney Kuchta. ”   Jungkook was, in a sense, under a voluntary house arrest.   But he didn’t mind it so much. To the Omega’s utter delight, Namjoon had agreed, in a small quiet conference between himself and the Bonded pair, that they could Mate the upcoming weekend. Until then, Jungkook was taking a break from his classes and his patrol work, and generally staying within the four walls of their home. The pack would be leaving Seokjin and him alone for a couple of days, to give them time to do things at their own pace, and with full run of the house. Jungkook was ecstatic.   In all honesty, he didn’t think the Rising God clan was so set on him that he needed to stay home as much, but the worry in the pack house was even seeping into Seokjin’s bones, deeply ingraining into his Scent, until Jungkook could smell the protective Alpha hormones oozing out of him with a certain kind of hot-irritation. Seokjin was worried, and nervous, and that made him strangely pliant and open to whatever Jungkook wanted - and Jungkook kind of liked it.   For instance, right now Seokjin was curled up underneath the kitchen table, his body relaxed and his eyes shut as if he were sleeping, but Jungkook knew he was just lying there, probably worrying. After his conversation with Hoseok, the two of them had silently migrated to sleeping in the kitchen most nights, and spent part of their days quietly together there, too. But Jungkook had tired of their quiet cuddling - he wanted something a little more, he was just in a mood of nerves and bubbly need. He first threw one muscular thigh over Seokjin’s trim waist, his socked foot poking one toe into Seokjin’s elbow. No reaction from the Alpha. Then, Jungkook wriggled his way around until he was halfway lying on top of him, still getting nothing. Being on top of Seokjin felt really nice, and he paused there for a moment, head curiously tilted to the side as he tried to memorize each sensation. The warmth of his body heat, the soft but slightly boney feel of his hips poking into Jungkook’s thighs, the broad, solid mounded expanse of his chest. Seokjin’s face was mere inches from his own, and Jungkook reached up and traced his fingers up and down the softened features, humming back the tune that Seokjin was always singing under his breath. He saw the slightest quirk of Seokjin’s lips, as the Alpha was trying not to smile.   “I know you’re awake,” Jungkook teased, craning his head down to kiss the little crease at the corner of the Alpha’s mouth. He received no verbal answer, but he felt a hand come up to rest along the small of his back. The gesture was so simple, but it made Jungkook feel so small and delicate, and he arched his back a little dramatically into the hand, letting out a happy little sound of contentment. That made Seokjin open one eye, smiling a little at the Omega, who was touching little kisses to his jawline.   “Just two days more…” Jungkook whispered.   “Two days more,” Seokjin hummed back, pressing the hand against Jungkook’s back a little tighter, a little more protectively. The weekend couldn’t come fast enough, and Jungkook wondered if Seokjin wasn’t just as nervous about the threat to Jungkook’s safety, as he was about the Mating itself.   Jungkook kissed down Seokjin’s long neck, flicking his tongue out a little to give gentle kitten licks to every crease and dip, and felt Seokjin going limp beneath him, a little sigh making the great chest rise and fall, lifting Jungkook along with it.   “Just two days more,” the younger man hummed, tucking his head in against Seokjin and giving a little nip of his teeth at the skin of Seokjin’s collar bone, simultaneously tilting his hips downward to press up against the man below. “And you can fuck me wild and Mate me for good… Alpha .”   That, at last, made Seokjin’s eyes shoot open, and he stared ahead blankly for a second before his covered half his face with one hand and whispered a gentle, yet emotional, “Fuck you, you little shit.” “What?” Jungkook giggled, nuzzling in in a puppy-like way, sniffing at the space below Seokjin’s ear and shifting his hips back and forth a little experimentally, trying to get an angle where he could feel whether or not Seokjin’s crotch was smooth sailing or rocky seas, but Seokjin had slightly lifted one knee, obscuring the truth. “Did that make you come a little?”   Seokjin lowered his hand, tongue stuck into his cheek in a look of highly amused petulance. “No,” he said, but judging by the sound of his voice, Jungkook didn’t think he could be believed.   “Put your leg down, then.” Jungkook laughed, pushing at Seokjin’s pink knee, his eyes glancing down to search the crotch of his black shorts.   “No, I don’t wanna.”   Jungkook pushed harder at Seokjin’s leg, and they started to scuffle and laugh, which promptly turned into an ill-advised sort of wrestling match. Seokjin bumped his head against the bottom end of the table again, making Jungkook laugh unabashedly in deep guffaws at the look of pain, then suddenly Seokjin shifted into his wolf form, a great thundering, heavy mass of white cloudiness that yipped and bowled Jungkook over. Standing up as he was, Seokjin’s broad shoulders now pushed up at the underside of the table, lifting the legs up a bit as he shoved his wet nose into Jungkook’s side, tickling him as he snuffled and sniffed.   “No-o-o!” Jungkook half-laughed, half-moaned, crying out and feebly trying to unbury the wolf’s nose from his shirt, two hands full of the soft white fur. “Ji-i-in!”   There was a light rapping like knuckles against the surface of the table, and Seokjin and Jungkook froze in place, surprised as they turned to see Namjoon and Yoongi standing in the kitchen. Based on where they were standing, it seemed Yoongi had been the one to ‘knock.’   “Hello, lovebirds,” he teased, craning down to peer under the table once he heard the scuffling cease. “Sorry to interrupt, but Joon and I are going to the store for groceries. Seokjin, did you wanna come with? Get anything for this weekend?”   Jungkook looked up at Seokjin, who shifted into human form, his hands against Jungkook’s forearms and pinning him to the floor. Seokjin glanced at Jungkook and worked his lip for a moment in consideration. “Um… I think I’ll stay here,” the Alpha said. It felt to Jungkook as if the grip on his forearms tightened just slightly.   Seokjin, you can go if you want to. I’m not going anywhere, after all.   “Okay, as long as you’re sure. We’ll be back.” Yoongi rapped the table lightly again, walking to the door.   Namjoon leaned down, offering them a smile despite the bags that had been increasing beneath his eyes. “And would you guys mind making something for Kiara to eat? She hasn’t been feeling well. I think just something simple and starchy. She can’t stand anything with butter right now, she says it’s disgusting.”   “No, we wouldn’t mind at all,” Seokjin said with a smile, sitting back a little and gingerly tilting his head so it didn’t smack the table again. “I’d love to help.”   Namjoon smiled, one of his rarer broad grins that stretched across his face, seemingly endless. His left dimple dipped into prominence, and Jungkook was as enthralled by staring at it as usual. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” When Namjoon left, Seokjin patted Jungkook’s stomach, spidering his fingers in just before lifting his hand because he knew it would tickle Jungkook, causing the Omega to writhe uncontrollably, even as Seokjin was already halfway out from under the table and safely out of reach of Jungkook’s involuntary attack.   Kiara hadn’t been feeling very well the last few days, and while everyone verbalized that it was because of the quickly approaching birth of her pup, Jungkook knew that the unspoken understanding was that the recently compiling stress wasn’t helping very much. Seokjin pulled out some bread and went hunting in the refrigerator for something easy on the stomach, and Jungkook watched him work for a few minutes before crawling out and reaching around his waist from behind, backhugging him and making him laugh, one hand on Jungkook’s encircling arms.   “What?” Seokjin asked. He received no answer, and continued walking around the kitchen with a half-bent over Omega trailing behind him. He was slicing tomatoes, Jungkook carefully peering around his muscular upper arm to watch him, when Jimin came into the kitchen.   “Seokjinnie,” Jimin said quietly, “Would it be alright if we borrowed your truck?”   “Mm?” Seokjin didn’t even turn from his task. Jungkook looked over at Jimin. Taehyung was hovering behind the Alpha with a dark look in his eyes, contrasting with the slight flecks of blue that flickered at the edges of his usual brown.. “You guys going somewhere?”   “It’s for a project,” Jimin said quickly. “Please? We haven’t been out of the house except for class since last weekend, but… we have things we need to do.”   Jungkook stared at Jimin for a long moment. He wasn’t sure what it was about Jimin’s countenance, or voice, or the way he stared at Seokjin’s long hands curled around the knife as he expertly sliced through the tomatoes, but Jungkook could tell Jimin was on edge. Taehyung was pressed up fairly close behind him, having slowly accustomed himself to Jimin’s touch again as his hormones started to wax and wane at a moment’s notice. Jungkook gave a furtive sniff at the air, noting the nervousness that hovered around both of them. He figured Seokjin couldn’t smell it over the food he was frying up.   “Sure, that should be fine,” Seokjin said distractedly. Jungkook wondered why Seokjin wasn’t paying his usual full attentiveness to the two younger Wolves, when suddenly he felt the muscles in Seokjin’s hips and waist constrict strangely, and he pressed his bottom back into Jungkook as if adjusting himself. Jungkook arched one eyebrow curiously, letting his hands on Seokjin’s waist demurely dip down a little. Seokjin let out a little sound of surprise, his arm dipping down to throw Jungkook’s hands away. Jungkook smirked. That answered a few questions.   “Thanks, Seokjinnie!” Jimin called out, slipping the truck keys off the wooden holder on the wall and the two of them started toward the door. Jungkook stared after them, his mouth tilting to the side in uncertainty before letting out a little sigh and turning back to Seokjin, burrowing his face into the curve of Seokjin’s spine and into the fabric of his shirt.   “You’re so snuggly,” Seokjin laughed, his voice quiet. “Do you want me to make you something to eat, too? You didn’t eat much breakfast.”   “I’m fine,” Jungkook murmured, tucking his head through the gap under Seokjin’s arms, sizzling greeting his ears. “By the way, you got a package. A big one.”   Seokjin let out a confused little humming sound in wordless question, his ears a bright pink. Jungkook squeezed Seokjin’s waist in his arms, hugging himself to the Alpha, able to smell his embarrassment. “From the post office. Namjoon picked it up this morning so it’s by the front door. From some internet company.”   “Oh... “ Seokjin thought for a moment, and then the nervous Scent kicked up again as Seokjin visibly jolted in realization. “ Oh ! I need to go get that!”   Seokjin set everything down, pushing his way out of Jungkook’s arms like he was coming out of a shell and quickly going toward the front door. Pouting only the smallest bit, Jungkook straightened and took Seokjin’s place at the stove, stirring the onions around and reaching over for the garlic salt that they always had enormous stockpiles of in the cupboard.   “Okay,” Seokjin let out a sigh as he slipped back into the kitchen, doing his own version of the backhug Jungkook had been doing toward him a few moments ago, although the feeling of it was worlds away to Jungkook. The Alpha’s shoulders were firm and broader than his, and he instinctively leaned back into it as soon as he felt Seokjin’s chest against his shoulder blades. Instead of simply hugging his waist, Seokjin’s hands rested first on Jungkook’s hips, thumbs pressing in firmly - maybe a little too firmly compared to what he was used to, but it felt solid and soothing after he gave it a moment, paused in surprise. Seokjin tucked his head easily over Jungkook’s shoulder, pressing his mouth to Jungkook’s neck and mouthing at it softly, all plush lips and tongue and no traces of teeth.   Jungkook wondered if all the Kim brothers had strange oral fixations. Not that he was complaining.   “I added g-garlic salt, “Jungkook said, his voice stumbling when Seokjin made it up to his earlobe, sucking on it a little roughly and gripping in on his hips with all fingers. “Kiara likes garlic salt on everything. To be honest you should take the container up with the rest of the food.”   “Good to know,” Seokjin hummed. Jungkook wasn’t sure he was fully listening.   “Are you gonna go to class tomorrow? You have a 10am class, right?” He couldn’t remember what the class was called, but it was something -ology and sounded very doctor-like.   “Mm. I might stay home,” the Alpha breathed into Jungkook’s skin. And damn , there were the teeth.   “But you already took Monday off this week,” Jungkook sighed. “And you took off so many days because of your rut.”   “Don’t worry about it, mom,” Seokjin chuckled into his skin. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, “I promise I won’t miss any more days after this week, alright? I just don’t wanna leave you right now.”   Jungkook felt Seokjin’s eyes on him as he dumped the sauteed meat onto a plate, steam and the smell of garlic rising boldly through the air, the combination of attention and aesthetic attacking him for a moment with a strange sort of sensation that Jungkook couldn’t describe as anything but domestic .   “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, turning the stove off and curling around in Seokjin’s arms until he was facing him, tucking his arms underneath Seokjin’s as he held him close and looked up into his worried, puppy-like face. “Hey, I have something I wanna ask you.”   “Anything,” Seokjin said, and as punishment for the corny twitterpated look he was sending the Omega, Jungkook pinched at the skin of his sides where he knew the Alpha was sensitive, earning a squeak. “Hey!”   “It’s about our Mating,” Jungkook’s voice lowered to almost a whisper, his mind getting quickly organized even as his eyes were fixedly locked on Seokjin’s lips, not far from his own. “It’s a bit of a weird request, but… I want it to happen in here, not the bedroom.”   Seokjin tilted his head a bit to the side at that, considering. “You mean like, under the table?”   “Yeah. Is that okay?” “Of course it is.” Seokjin’s eyes curled up into that wrinkle-deep smile, and he kissed Jungkook’s forehead. “And that’s not a weird request at all. You feel safest there, so naturally that’s where you would want to do it.”   A tightness that had been forming in his chest as he had been building up to the actual verbalization of the question suddenly dissipated entirely, and Jungkook grinned at his future mate, the wolf he and his whole being had chosen wholeheartedly.   “You spoil me so much,” Jungkook chuckled, laying his head against Seokjin’s chest. “I kind of like it.”   “I’ve always been a little weak to cute things,” Seokjin rubbed one hand in circles into Jungkook’s shoulders. “You should know that doing it under the table isn’t going to be very comfortable, especially for you.”   “That’s fine, I’m used to it under there.”   Seokjin just laughed at that, and they were quiet for a moment, considering. “Besides, I have a few ‘weird’ requests of my own for this weekend, as long as you’re willing to indulge me.”   “Oh? You ? Having some requests?” Jungkook hummed, sensing that telltale nervousness rising again in Seokjin’s Scent, hearing it in the heartbeat that was thudding a little wildly against his cheek. “I’m more than willing to indulge if my Alpha has some ideas to share.” Seokjin’s breath caught, and Jungkook laughed. “You’re so easy to read sometimes, it’s cute…” Jungkook squeezed him tighter, the gesture instantly reciprocated. “But seriously, I was so happy after the other day, with...you know… So I’m glad you have things to ask of me.”   The Alpha made no answer, just running his hands through Jungkook’s hair in a slow, deliberate way. Sometimes the way Seokjin looked at him was as if he couldn’t believe Jungkook actually existed in reality, and this was one of those times. His full lips were slightly parted, as though in surprise, and his brown eyes seemed to be trying to soak in every detail of Jungkook’s face, treasuring every feature.   “I’ll take this up to Kiara,” Seokjin jolted him out of his thoughts, the Alpha leaning over to pick up the plate of food with one hand. “Meet me in the living room? I swear I’ll kick your ass this time.” “You wish,” Jungkook said, finally releasing Seokjin. He watched him carefully carry the plate up the stairs, then turned to go set up the Wii.   Jungkook wondered if he should tell Seokjin about the dreams he’d been having, a consistent image he’d been seeing every night since their first time together. How all of them had occurred in one very familiar place - under that same table. There was the air of something else changing underneath the surface of Jungkook’s skin, and he wasn’t sure if all of it could be attributed to hormones or outside influence, or if it was also something very intrinsically within himself.   But it had been less than a week. Now was too early.   ~~~~~   Hoseok wiped the sweat from his brow, his back screaming and aching as he bent low over the engine, his hand twisting the cap to the brake fluid in short, choppy motions. The heavy weightiness of the grayish-blue jumpsuit had been a comfort in the winter months, but now that it was getting warmer with each passing day, Hoseok was suffering. There was the constant whirring and cries of engines and electronic machinery, cars revving up and horns being tested, the clanging of metal on pavement and the acrid scent of grease and rubber in the air. Hoseok had been molded in this atmosphere, this closed off sector of the world that was gray and clear and controllable. It was rough but it was comforting and familiar.   He was only halfway through his shift at the car garage when the first sensation began. Or perhaps it had been happening all morning, in weird subtle moments of oversensitivity he had just blamed on sleepiness. But the first moment he truly started to suspect was when he was pumping up a car jack, lifting the back tires up in weird wobbly shifts. It was just a tickle at first, deep in his gut, and then it was a flutter. Without so much as second of warning, Hoseok’s entire groin was consumed in a red-hot blaze of sensitivity, and his whole body tensed as he fought not to react. Soon following was nausea, a dizzying sensation that he couldn’t even attribute to the chemicals around him. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped, as if nothing had ever happened. The sounds of the garage around him, the calling voices and shrill cry of a drill all seemed a little foggy and far away, a slight ringing in his ears, but other than that, he seemed unaffected.   The rut warning. But he was only halfway through his shift, and there were so many vehicles in the queue for the day. He looked up at the clock, debating for several long moments. Yoongi would be there when he got home, so he would try to wait it out. They really needed the money right now. Hoseok continued to work.   By the end of the first hour, the warnings kept coming back, like little contractions that got increasingly stronger, more sexual, with each time. He was sweating and it wasn’t just from the heat of the garage. He gasped for breath as he laid against the harsh concrete floor, half buried under a Coupe, his legs sticking out but with knees curled up against the side of the car as his body went through another attack. He tried to think, to focus on anything except the images that were flashing through his head of Yoongi, of the Omega waiting for him at home with an endearing tranquility, waiting to be taken for breeding. The overwhelming smell of the engine sitting above his head, the sticky heat of the grease in his hands was still not enough to occupy his mind. He felt sweat dripping down his chin, trailing a crooked path down his neck that reminded him of the way Yoongi sometimes trailed one squarish, pale finger down his skin. Hoseok swallowed, fumbling with adjusting the monkey wrench when a heavy hand grabbed his knee without warning, making him scream from the burst of sensations.   Hoseok slid out from under the car, finding one of his coworkers there with a bemused expression, all wide eyes and awkward distance. “Hoseok? Are you alright?” “Yeah,” he lied, wiping at his sweat-covered forehead with his sleeve. “You just startled me.”   The man stared at him for a long moment, looking doubtful. “Are you sure? You look terrible. Maybe you should go home a little early.”   “No, I should be…” Hoseok started, forced to halt and focus on his breathing when another wave hit him, and he slowly sank to the ground, curled up into one small, aroused little ball on the floor of the garage. He felt a tentative hand on his shoulder, knew the voice was speaking to him, but he was too focused on trying to keep everything inside his head. This was stupid. Of course he should go home early. He could almost hear Yoongi berating him now. He wasn’t some fresh spring pup, unaware of his own body - he’d known the rut was coming, and he’d seen the signs. Yet here he was, and he realized he had waited far too long already. The garage was a familiar place on a normal day, but right now all the sensations around him, the sounds and smells that weren’t his own Mate, were only aggravating everything. A headache was thrumming steadily in his skull somewhere behind his eyes. He gave a blind nod, the world spinning a bit as he did so. “Y-yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna go home. Will you tell the manager on duty for me?”   Without waiting for an answer, Hoseok took the hand proffered to him, hating the way his head swam at the contact, realizing that this coworker was an Omega, and the irrational rush through his body was hard to bury. He rushed off and peeled off the disgusting jumpsuit before grabbing his helmet and swinging his leg tentatively over onto the motorcycle, straddling it. He swallowed heavily, starting up the engine, and instantly let out a strangled sob. The heavy, relentless vibrations of the motorcycle were sending him over the edge, and he wasn’t sure if this was such a good idea. He could call someone at the house to see if they were available, but the garage was on the other side of town, and waiting here sweating was not exactly the most pleasant option. His groin was white hot from overdrive, and he leaned forward a little in his seat, trying to catch his breath even as waves of pleasure wracked his body almost violently, taunting him. He needed to get home. He needed Yoongi. But this stupid fucking bike was fucking him over so badly, and it felt so goddamn good . He steeled himself, taking in a sharp breath and putting the helmet on, and carefully pulled out of the parking lot.   Every stoplight was an exercise in self restraint, his back now its own little trickling waterfall of sweat as he silently begged the lights to change in his favor, blinking his eyes heavily as he let out his moans with every turn, the engine roaring as if in excitement. Thank god no one could hear him over the noise.   Forty five minutes later, he pulled into the front of the house, and his whole body was shaking with overstimulation. To his great horror, he had come on that last stretch turning into their neighborhood, and he could feel the wet stickiness trailing down his thighs, most of it still pooled against his still very erect member. His legs were wobbly and uncooperative, but he still  managed to park his motorcycle properly in the garage, wiping off the seat with some of the spare rags and hurrying into the house.   He was instantly met with the coolness of the air conditioner and the sounds of Mario Kart, and found Seokjin and Jungkook in the living room alone, surrounded by some empty chip bags and sodas. The Alpha was seated up on the couch, his shirt missing for some reason and his legs spread to nestle the Omega in between, caged in with his bent knees. Jungkook lay slumped against Seokjin’s chest, both their eyes locked on the television without blinking, controller cords coiled and entangled around their bare feet. Seokjin had his hands resting around Jungkook’s waist, the Omega holding his controller just over Seokjin’s. As Hoseok closed the door, Jungkook suddenly shouted around the lollipop he had jutting out of his mouth, punching the air and whooping as Seokjin let out a sound of good-natured frustration.   “Blue shell!” Jungkook screeched. “Oh, hi, Hoseok.”   “Hey,” Seokjin called out cheerily, eyes darting over to the Alpha, before a look of concern washed over his features. “Are you okay? You’re home early.”   Hoseok couldn’t manage to even look their direction, fury burrowing under his skin wildly as he rushed past the couple. It wasn’t an anger at any person so much as it was at his own body, his own frustration, and he stomped up the stairs as quickly as his quivering legs could manage. He heard the game pause, knew the reeking smell of his arousal would be easy to pick up soon, and he fumbled into the room he and Yoongi shared.   And found it empty.   The Alpha felt his breath catch. No. Yoongi had said he didn’t have class today, he was supposed to be home. He was supposed to be waiting .   But the bed was cleanly made, the way Yoongi did it whenever he was in a particularly good mood, and empty. The Omega’s computer desk lay void of his quiet presence, the laptop closed and his empty coffee cup still sitting there. Hoseok wanted to weep.   “Yoongi? Yoongi !?” Hoseok called out, his voice cracking as he rushed around upstairs, opening the bedroom doors and checking the bathrooms. He felt increasingly panicked, and whirled around only to almost slam into Seokjin, who had come up the stairs with Jungkook hovering close behind, worry painted on their faces.   “Hoseok, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Seokjin asked, trying to get Hoseok to meet his eyes. Hoseok wanted to punch him. It was irrational, it was ridiculous, but it was still there. Telling himself to calm down was like telling a fire not to burn.   “Where’s Yoongi!?” Hoseok practically wailed, clenching his fists at his side, knowing his eyes were wide and wild, burning red. Seokjin took a step back - not out of fear, but out of respect - and let out a quiet breath of realization.   “He’s at the store with Namjoon,” Seokjin said quietly, his voice obviously trying to soothe, but it wouldn’t work. No one’s voice would work but Yoongi’s.   “I need him!” Hoseok snarled, pulling out his phone and trying his best to let out his frustration on the device, but slamming his thumbs onto a touchscreen was sadly incomparable to the way he wanted to throw a chair across the room.   “He’ll be back soon, Hoseok,” Jungkook said, his voice thin and demure, like the way it was when he used to tell Hoseok about his nightmares. The sound-memory made Hoseok freeze, his body still hyper-alert. This time, the delicacy in Jungkook’s voice was deliberate, but he couldn’t deny it made it easier for him to remember that he needed to stay calm. Taking deep breaths, Hoseok pushed CALL on the contact ‘SyubSyub,’ holding it to his ear as he nibbled nervously at his thumb. Jungkook moved forward, touching his arm gently and offering him an encouraging look. The hand on his arm made every hair on the back of Hoseok’s neck stand up, and he just nodded at Jungkook, even though he hadn’t actually asked him anything.   To his relief, Yoongi picked up on the first ring. Hoseok felt his entire body react to the muffled sound of Yoongi’s voice going, “Hello?”   “Yoongi,” Hoseok meant to say the name casually, like normal, but it came out more like a guttural cry, coming from somewhere deep in his gut. “Yoongi, it’s time.”   There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Hoseok held his breath. Then, he heard Yoongi say to Namjoon, “We gotta go home. Right now .”   “What?” Namjoon’s voice came as though far away, utterly confused. “But we need to get onions.”   “ Namjoon .”   Yoongi must have sent some signal to the lead Alpha, some look or expression which his best friend understood, because the next sound was Namjoon going, “Ah, okay. Let’s head to check-out.”   Hoseok breathed a sigh of relief, which Yoongi must have heard. He heard the Omega’s voice get a little breathless, and he could tell they were rushing through the store. Jungkook looked at Hoseok, arching an eyebrow, and the Alpha did his best to give them a little smile, mouthing a thank you. Seokjin touched Jungkook’s shoulders, leading them back downstairs to give Hoseok his space. “Are you still at work? Do we need to come pick you up?”   “No, I’m home,” Hoseok managed, his voice strained as he went back to the bedroom, closing the door. The worry in Yoongi’s voice was so cute it was making him hard again already. He felt selfish and needy . “I came home and you weren’t here.”   “I’m sorry, babe,” Yoongi said, and there was the sound of beeps from checkout, and Namjoon was mumbling something in the background. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Just wait there for me, okay?”   Hoseok pouted. “Yoongi…” his voice dipped low and sensual, curved around a tone like rebuke.   “What?”   “Wrackspurt.”   Another silence stretched across the line, and Yoongi knew what that word meant. It was phrased like a statement, declaring a need to be fulfilled, but it was, in all actuality, a question.   “Okay,” Yoongi said, “Of course, baby.” “I’ll load up,” Namjoon was saying in the background, and the car door slammed shut, and sudden silence enveloped the other end of the line as Yoongi’s voice became very muffled and close to the microphone, huskier as he whispered, and it made goosebumps rise up on Hoseok’s arms. He pictured him curled up alone in the passenger seat of the truck, cupping the phone to his ear.   “We’ll be home soon, baby. Then you can let it all out. I want you to fuck me into next Tuesday with that cute little cock of yours.”   Hoseok’s stomach churned. Somehow his free hand had gotten into his pants already, the hot and sticky member fitting easily into his palm. For all his sweet, doll-like face might suggest, Yoongi’s mouth could be a well of filth.   “I’d love to have you breed me during wrackspurt,” Yoongi let his voice half-moan the word ‘breed’ in such a way that had Hoseok grunting, arching his back as he shuffled onto the bed and out of his filthy shirt, his hand fumbling stupidly for his dick as soon as he could. “I like it when you fuck me roughly, make me really feel it all the way down to my bones, baby. Fill me up with pups and make me scream your name.” “You’re gonna scream, alright,” Hoseok found the words flying from his lips, slowly and deliberately, like honey dripping from a jar. He grabbed roughly at his cock, lying on the bed facing the ceiling. A particularly well-angled tug made him body jerk in reaction, and he grunted. “Shit. I wanna fuck you so hard.”   “My ass has taken in lots of Alphas,” Yoongi murmured, humming a little in satisfaction because he knew that always made Hoseok jealous, an ace card he pulled out of his sleeves only during play like this. “But it likes yours the best.”   “Yeah?” Hoseok wanted to come up with a sexier response, but it was difficult to do when his dick was actually crying. “Hurry that ass home and I’ll feed it well.”   The car door opened, and Namjoon’s voice filtered back in. His voice still that even, low calm, Yoongi said, “I’m on my way now, baby.”   When the line went dead, Hoseok felt tears stinging at his eyes. He was so fucking horny. But he wanted to wait until Yoongi was home. A strange, slightly paranoid part of him didn’t want to waste any of his seed when it could be inside of Yoongi, possibly creating pups. In the meanwhile, he moaned and rolled off the bed, trying to put off the inevitable with preparations. He went to the closet and pulled out the container of toys from the hidden spot in their closet. He went to go get water and found a pile of half a dozen water bottles lined up neatly next to the door. Hoseok smiled. Then he brought them inside and shut the door again.   ~~~~~   When Yoongi got to the house, he didn’t even bother helping the boys unload the back of the truck (they had only been about halfway through their grocery list anyways, so there wasn’t much) and instead he bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He burst through the bedroom door, instinctively turning to where the bed was, but Hoseok wasn’t there. To Yoongi’s surprise, he was just behind the door, standing there waiting. He still smelled strongly of oil from work, a smear of black grease on his jaw that he had probably missed, his hair mussed and his Scent so strong it nearly bowled Yoongi over, the sweetness a dark, biting sort of acuity. He wore no shirt, and he was panting heavily, his slim, bony chest heaving as he stepped forward, eyes locked on Yoongi alone. It was a hard, heavy-handed stare that would have been unsettling enough on its own, but what made Yoongi gasp slightly was how deeply red Hoseok’s eyes flashed, a powerful blaze that remained unblinking as the Alpha reached over and locked the door.   “Welcome home, Sugar,” Hoseok growled, the nickname dripping off his tongue like syrup, sending chills up and down Yoongi’s spine. This was the only time Hoseok used his Alpha voice on Yoongi, the only time Hoseok was allowed to be everything . He practically pounced forward, slamming Yoongi against the door using his mouth and hips, both delicate, slender hands slipping up Yoongi’s T-shirt and scratching at his nipples. Hoseok dove into Yoongi with a rhythm all his own, a rough but fluid dance of wet and heat that exploded into Yoongi’s mouth, and he wanted to swallow it all down. Hoseok’s entire lower half rammed against Yoongi, rough edges and heat that lifted him up and against the door, his feet not carrying any weight for a moment as his heart leapt into his throat. Yoongi’s eyes squeezed shut at the slight ache that came with how hard Hoseok’s hips were pushing up against him, cherishing it for what it was.   When the only sound, the only signal from Yoongi came in the form of a weak and guttural moan, Hoseok paused. His eyes were still glassy but Yoongi knew from his posture, from the subtle muscles of his face, that his gentle, sweet Hoseok was still in there, dizzy but aware. Yoongi could see him trying his hardest to focus, the red-laced pupils of brown doing their best to meet the Omega’s.   “Wrackspurt, right?”   Even now, drugged by his rut and driven crazy by hours of waiting and accidental torture, he was still checking. Yoongi smiled softly, reaching up and trailing the back of his fingernails in a lazy gesture across Hoseok’s barren, browned clavicle.   “Yes, wrackspurt. It’s your time, now. Don’t hold back, baby.”   As if set off like a firecracker, Hoseok growled, an animalistic cry from deep within his chest as he lifted Yoongi up, carrying him princess style and dropping him to the bed.   “I hope you know that riding that motorcycle was like having three dildos shoved up my ass,” he snarled. “You will know.”   Yoongi let out a laugh, watching Hoseok fumble through peeling the Omega’s clothes off so frantically he made it harder on himself than necessary. Calmly, Yoongi threaded his arm between them, reaching out to grab experimentally at Hoseok’s hardened dick. Hoseok actually cried out, right up against Yoongi’s ear, and his head rang from the sound as Hoseok broke off into a string of curses. “Fuck, it’s so sensitive , “ Hoseok panted, moving to pull Yoongi’s pants away. He actually gave a sharp intake of air when he realized that that was the last layer, Yoongi’s pink cock on ready display. “You weren’t wearing any underwear?” “I haven’t for the last week,” Yoongi said with a coy smile, one arm curled above his head on the mattress, the fingertips bending down to lightly caress his own cheek. “Some say it helps with fertility.”   “God, hearing you say that makes it even sexier,” Hoseok laughed. “Now roll over.”   Well, that was a little strange for Hoseok. Usually he was a sucker for fucking while facing each other. “You don’t wanna see me come for you?” Yoongi queried, even as he rolled over onto his stomach, assumptively lifting his ass up into the air.   “Not the first time,” Hoseok said, his voice crackling as Yoongi heard him taking off his pants. He took a rough, painful hold of Yoongi’s pale hips, making the Omega stiffen a little in surprise. Then, Hoseok’s breath was in his ear, the warm, thrumming chest against his back as he whispered, “Some say fucking your Omega doggy-style, just like the little bitch he is, helps with fertility.”   Yoongi’s whole body went awash with a chill of excitement, one that continued into waves of pleasure as Hoseok worked his fingers into Yoongi in preparation, even as he kissed the back of Yoongi’s neck, his free hand gripping at Yoongi’s nipple, alternating between rough scratches in tight little circles, and almost apologetic rubs of his soft fingertips.   “Mm, I can smell you about to go into your heat,” Hoseok hummed, the third finger slipping in and circling around inside of Yoongi, and he leaned back into it a little, eager to start. “You must be ovulating.”   “Can’t you feel for yourself? Fuck, you barely used any lube and I’m already like this,” Yoongi snapped. That was when the first sting across his ass cheeks resounded, and the Omega gasped, his breath catching with a sharp cutting sensation in his throat.   “Shut up, bitch,” Hoseok snarled, leaning back a little to inspect the vague redness his hand had left on Yoongi’s ass. “ Hands and knees. It’s time to breed.”   Yoongi whimpered, nodding as he lifted himself up. Hoseok’s hands waited inside of him until the last moment, before he grabbed Yoongi by the waist, sliding into the Omega like he had always belonged there. Yoongi closed his eyes, letting out a soft little hum as his body accepted the intrusion, consumed it with all he had.   Hoseok tugged on Yoongi’s hair, tilting his head back. “Do you want it, huh? Do you want me to fuck you?”   “Yes,” Yoongi smiled, wickedly, his lips parting as he closed his eyes. “Fuck me good, Alpha.”   Hoseok bit lightly at Yoongi’s jaw, then his shoulder, then his Scent mark. “You want me to fuck you full?” Yoongi gasped, feeling the way that Hoseok’s own words were making his cock inside of Yoongi swell even bigger. What an asshole . “ Yes, fill me up, please.”   He had been home less than twenty minutes, he was positive. But it still felt like it had taken forever for Hoseok to start pounding into him. It was a relentless sort of insanity, an abrasiveness that no amount of preparation in the world could prepare him for, as his body burned with the heat of an Alpha in the high of his rut. He barely had room to breathe, being slammed forward so hard it was almost futile to even attempt holding himself up with his hands, constantly crumpling forward and pressing his face into the mattress. He stopped lifting himself up, laying there and deciding to just take the beating, when Hoseok’s hand was in his hair again, and he cried out from the shocking pain as his heated, flushed face was pulled back up.   “I said on your hands and knees, bitch,” Hoseok snarled. “Didn’t you hear me?!” “Yes, sir,” Yoongi wheezed. But no sooner had Hoseok returned, curling his hips forward at angles that had Yoongi crying out, one hand grappling for purchase on the headboard, before Yoongi fell forward again. His body was smaller than Hoseok’s, lighter but not feebler, to be sure. But at this moment, he was starting to feel like a rag doll, thrown back and pulled forth by the Alpha relentlessly.   “Oh my god .” Gasping for air, Yoongi tried to hold himself up, feeling dizzied by Hoseok’s efforts. Hoseok removed one of the hands that had been yanking at Yoongi’s hips (which were now thoroughly bruised) so he could press his fingers along Yoongi’s spine, forcing him to arch his back downward.   “Angle down, Sugar,” Hoseok’s voice was smooth like polished stone, with the irregular remnant suggestions of grittiness that once was, as he dug the side of his thumb into the cool, clammy skin at the small of Yoongi’s back. “Don’t want to hurt yourself.”   “You fucking kidding me?!” Yoongi managed. As if he was gonna be able to walk at all for the next couple of days. Most of his arguments were empty, however - he liked the rough treatment. But he knew Hoseok got off on the sound of his voice, especially when it was ragged and edged, and that hearing more of his fake protests would make him tumble deeper into his headspace.   He heard Hoseok tut, then there was another resounding slap, and Yoongi shouted out a curse. “You’re a snarky little bitch, Sugar.” Another slap. And then another. Yoongi’s let his voice out loudly, his tone and volume escalating like a stairway to a certain kind of heaven that only the most sinful of souls could ever actualize. “You like that, don’t you?” Hoseok hissed down at him, yanking his head back up off the mattress from where it had fallen.   “Yes! I li- I like it! Do it again!” When he didn’t immediately get what he wanted, Yoongi slapped his palm against the mattress. “Again, you asshole!”   In response, Hoseok chuckled and gave him another heavy spank, this time kneading at the sore and still stinging skin. Tears prickled at the edges of Yoongi’s eyes, and he blinked heavily to clear his vision, more out of instinct than necessity. Hoseok picked up the pace again, this time reaching forward and holding Yoongi up by grabbing one shoulder, using it as leverage to slam into him harder. The angle rang true, and Yoongi let out a scream when Hoseok roughly found his prostrate. Yoongi writhed, now being lifted up from the mattress and held up solely by Hoseok’s grip, his elbows trembling and his body on fire.   “Yes, fuck, it’s there!” Yoongi cried out, as if Hoseok hadn’t known exactly where it was before. His hands laid against the mattress but held up nothing. Hoseok had control of him now, and he was using him like a 130lb sex toy. Yoongi’s repeated cries lifted up into breathlessness, crackling off painfully and then stopping altogether as he felt the warm rush of Hoseok coming inside of him, felt Hoseok trembling violently above him, and finally letting Yoongi rest a moment against the mattress, gasping.   “Ohh…” Hoseok sighed, not even enough air left in him for a curse, and laid against Yoongi’s back. His hands curled around Yoongi’s stomach, squeezing there lightly. Yoongi’s ass clenched out of instinct, feeling the slight, distant pressure.   “You feel that?” Hoseok rubbed his fingers in a circle in the spot below Yoongi’s belly button, the gesture slightly tickling and making Yoongi’s chest flutter. “You take in my seed like such an obedient little bitch. So pretty.”   “I haven’t come yet,” Yoongi retorted over his shoulder.   Hoseok chuckled. He chuckled .   “I just needed a minute to catch my breath, Sugar. Plus I wanted to give you a moment to soak everything in.” He patted Yoongi’s lower abdomen pointedly. Then, he shifted, forcing Yoongi up into a sitting position, Hoseok lying on the bed. He hadn’t even had to pull out yet. The smooth motherfucker. Yoongi was straddling Hoseok, facing away from him, the Alpha’s hands planted on his waist. Hoseok moved a bit beneath him. Yoongi glanced over his shoulder and saw that he was arranging the pillows beneath himself so he was halfway propped up. Yoongi shifted his hips a little experimentally, wanting to feel that wet, filling warmth inside of him again, and was surprised that Hoseok’s erection hadn’t gone down even a little .   Yoongi, out of habit, expected Hoseok to ask if he was ready, so when the Alpha quite suddenly lifted Yoongi up off his dick, pulling him back down with a painful burn, Yoongi actually screamed.   “That’s right, bitch, cry out,” Hoseok, who now had a comfortable and closer angle, reached up and wrapped one slender hand around Yoongi’s neck, squeezing at it until Yoongi’s breathing altered into short, abrupt gasps. He used the additional leverage to pull him down harder, making the Omega grunt out a useless breath of air. The burn didn’t ease up, and his eyes flickered closed, mouth dropping open in an attempt to breathe more clearly, even as he loved the restricting sensation. His tongue lolled a little out of his mouth as he tilted his head back toward the ceiling, allowing Hoseok to grab his slippery, sweat covered skin a little more easily. The high of his building orgasm, spurred on by the headiness of his lack of air and the way Hoseok tilted his waist up into him in such a wide, circular motion warned Yoongi that it wasn’t going to be long. At some point, he had started leaking so much slick that everything from his waist down was practically swimming, and he clenched his eyes shut at the distinct, grotesque squelching sounds.   “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he managed, and as he did so, Hoseok released the hand that had been gripping Yoongi’s waist, giving him another firm slap on his ass that caught him off guard.   “Then come for me, my cute little bitch. Show me how you crumble.”   Yoongi hiccupped, trembling as he came utterly untouched. His body shook in uneven convulsions, Hoseok’s hand letting go of his neck but still jerking his hips up to meet Yoongi’s ass. The orgasm felt like it lasted forever , something that only happened when he was at his most wrecked. Maybe Hoseok hadn’t been the only one getting worked up lately. He let out a long, low moan, his hair stuck to his forehead and his face toward the ceiling, every bone in his body melting away into the most lovely, cushioned weightiness. He slumped over and slowly fell onto his side on the mattress, caught by Hoseok, who stayed with him but as still as possible, waiting.   “God, I love wrackspurt,” Yoongi gasped. Hoseok laughed, kissing his arm, the closest bit of skin the Alpha could reach.   “Will you wear the plug today?” Hoseok asked, reaching up to run a hand through Yoongi’s hair, soothing his still shaky nerves. “For me? And the pups?” Yoongi nodded, staying on his side as Hoseok carefully pulled out of him, coming back with a simple dark purple plug that he slid inside of Yoongi, who stiffened a little at the lingering sensitivity. It felt cold and rough, and grated up against his walls in a way he decided was unpleasant. Especially when Hoseok patted the plug, although lovingly intended. He hissed, and Hoseok murmured an awkward apology, crawling up onto the bed to wrap his arms around Yoongi. He could still feel Hoseok’s erection up against his back, but the Alpha seemed to have been calmed, compared to how wound up he’d been earlier.   “I wanna fill you up with so much semen you can’t shit for a week,” Hoseok half-sang, nuzzling into Yoongi’s hair.   Okay, so maybe he was still kinda wound up, but he was bearing it better, laying quiet kisses against Yoongi’s skin and praising him.   “You look so beautiful when you’re being wrecked, did you know that? I like when you can just sit there and I can do all the work.”   Having no coherent response formed in his mind, Yoongi just snarled, burying his face into the pillows, letting Hoseok pamper him and coo softly in his ear. Yoongi wasn’t sure how long they lay there resting, but at some point Hoseok went to leach-like curl himself all the way around Yoongi, and the Omega growled lowly.   “You still smell like that shitty-ass garage,” Yoongi mumbled. “Let’s take a bath before the next round.” “But we’re already in bed, and we’re just going to get messy again,” Hoseok whined drowsily, still drugged off the post-orgasm high as he rubbed his nose up against the nape of Yoongi’s neck.   “Nope,” Yoongi chirruped, wriggling out of the Alpha’s hold, still feeling the clench of the plug following his every movement. “You get the grease smell off so I can smell you , or we’re doing nothing and you can just cry while jacking yourself off, for all I care.”   “That would be a real…tear jerker,” Hoseok wheezed. Yoongi turned around and smacked Hoseok across the head with one of the pillows, before gingerly making his way to the bathroom. He didn’t even look behind him to see if Hoseok followed, just went to turn the bath water on. He moved carefully, the plug a self-aware sensation with every movement, making him treat his whole abdomen rather tenderly. He stood naked in the bathroom, watching the water fill up the tub, with one hand resting against his stomach quite naturally. Yoongi stared blankly, imagining what it might feel like to have the pups growing inside him, kicking lightly, coming to life slowly in little movements and silence. He wondered how it would feel for his stomach to swell, his body to ache as it fed and grew their first child. He liked that imagined feeling, as much as he liked the very real, experienced feeling of what Hoseok and he already had.   Slowly, Yoongi went to the cupboard, pulling out the black box of pheromone-infused bath salts, dumping a healthy amount into the water with an expert hand. He put it back into the cupboard moments before Hoseok stumbled in, mumbling that he’d changed the sheets.   “Shit,” Hoseok cursed, for all the world looking and sounding like a drunk. “Smells so strongly in here. What bath salts did you use?” “The fun ones,” Yoongi said vaguely, “Now get in the tub.” “Is that gonna be okay?” Hoseok queried, gesturing toward Yoongi’s ass.   “We’ll see.”   Yoongi nudged Hoseok into the water, seating him with his legs outstretched. Once Hoseok was submerged up to his waist, Yoongi placed one hand against the plug, ensuring it wouldn’t fall out, and carefully stepped into the tub, seating himself propped up on Hoseok’s legs, facing him. When Hoseok reached around his hips, slipping through the frothy, cream-colored water to touch the plug carefully, Yoongi wound his arms around Hoseok’s neck. The water felt hot - extremely hot, so that their skin was already almost burning, red and stinging. They sighed into the rising steam, all skin and sensitivity.   “Shoulda added a little bit more cold water, huh?” Hoseok commented, one slender finger slipping between the sore, angry redness of Yoongi’s cheeks, pushing the plug in a little further and making Yoongi hum in appreciation. The Omega trailed his hands down Hoseok’s chest, lingering over the pinkened line of where the water ended. He leaned forward, sitting his bottom back into Hoseok’s hand as he caught Hoseok’s left nipple in his mouth, biting delicately at it. The high temperature of the water had been deliberate, but he wasn’t telling Hoseok that - at least not yet. Currently, Hoseok was still using the powers of wrackspurt, demanding and degrading just as he praised and gave recklessly. One hand was pushing and tapping at the plug in uneven, unexpected bursts, while the other kneaded away at the pliant skin of his ass, working it in wide circles that tugged at his entrance. Yoongi lathered up a mint green loofah, wordlessly starting to wipe it across Hoseok’s skin, wiping away grime and sweat alike. At the same time, Yoongi slowly shifted his hips in tilted angles, starting to moan closer and closer to Hoseok’s ear, letting the slight dizziness of the extreme steam in the bathroom overwhelm him just a bit.   “You still have my seed in there,” Hoseok hummed, smirking at Yoongi’s blissed out face, “Do you like how it feels?” As much as Yoongi enjoyed the verbal attack on his senses, especially in the heat of the moment, there was something about the way he was sitting against Hoseok that made him click over. They had had their fun with wrackspurt, but now he just wanted to demand back that control that Hoseok willingly allowed him, the petulant part of Yoongi that had kept him holding back for so long. The maddening rush of Omega hormones that attacked him from all sides, soaking into his skin until it was like a toxic secretion in his very pores. He was quickly molding and shaping into a potentially dangerous animal.   “I do,” Yoongi said sensually, his voice controlled as he sent Hoseok a dark look through his eyelashes. “But I’m not nearly full enough yet, Angel.”   Hoseok arched an eyebrow, laughing a little at the change in Yoongi’s demeanor, but not offering protest. Having mostly finished cleaning and rinsing off the top half of his Alpha, Yoongi leaned in and licked a stripe up Hoseok’s neck, trailing along his sharp, angular jawline with purpose. He felt a slight weightiness against his inner thigh that he was pretty sure was not Hoseok’s hand.   “Alpha,” Yoongi hummed, leaving short pecking kisses on Hoseok’s chin, cheek, and beneath his eye, “Is your cock ready for another go?” “Do you even have to ask?” Hoseok sighed in exasperation, tilting his head back and providing Yoongi access to his neck again, which Yoongi didn’t take advantage of, enjoying the slightly questioning look in Hoseok’s eyes.   Curling his hands behind Hoseok’s head, arms outstretched, Yoongi smiled at the younger man. “Now wash me, too.”   Hoseok took the loofah, rubbing suds and fingertips against Yoongi’s chest, brushing a thumbnail across Yoongi’s nipple, making him arch his chest forward a little and hum, his voice dripping seduction. Omega’s had various powers, most of which they never tapped into. But with the years of experience, combined with Hoseok’s rut and the heated steaminess of the hormone-clouded bathroom, Yoongi was going to hit the Alpha with all the coercion he had. He giggled a little, moving forward so that Hoseok would expect another kiss, then smirking up at him and wriggling his body.   “My neck, get my neck,” he demanded. Hoseok slowly complied, and Yoongi tilted back and forth so Hoseok could get the spot behind his ears, could spread the soap into every crevice and could silently worship every curve and bone. “And my back.”   Hoseok’s hands preoccupied, one with continuing to tap at the plug buried inside the Omega, continuing to occasionally stimulate him, and his other hand reaching fully around Yoongi to reach his back and wash it, Hoseok had no leeway when Yoongi coyly reached into the water with one hand to grab at Hoseok’s hardened cock, pumping at it ruthlessly.   “Oh f-f-fuck!” Hoseok keened, his whole body stiffening and curving into the little explosions. Just the tip could reach up and out of the water, and Yoongi held it up, rubbing his thumb over Hoseok’s slit with an expert air until he was leaking precum, crying out under Yoongi’s hand. He came in a few minutes, his pink member still throbbing and twitching through the aftershocks as Yoongi swung his hips in another circular motion, pushing into the weakened Alpha’s hands. Even when Hoseok whimpered from oversensitivity, Yoongi continued, letting the Alpha cry and stiffen. He knew Hoseok liked it, even though he had never directly admitted it. There were some things that years of intimacy allowed you, some things that were left unsaid, but understood through other means, other intricacies.   “Baby, you tremble so beautifully. You’re such a little slut for me, aren’t you?” Yoongi leaned forward, catching Hoseok’s earlobe in his teeth. “I’m gonna ride you while you’re crying for me. How would you like that?”   “Yes,” Hoseok exhaled, a little incoherently.   “I wanna suck you off,” Yoongi whispered huskily, “Wanna make you writhe like a needy little slut.”   Hoseok groaned, coming again as Yoongi pressed into his Scent mark and nibbled down at the edges, finally pleased to only smell sex and hormones and lovely, sickeningly sweet, intoxicating vanilla.   “Let’s get out,” Yoongi commanded. “I’m clean now.”   “No,” Hoseok hummed, giving Yoongi one of his stupid sentimental smiles that made his heart stop. He pressed a pointed kiss to Yoongi’s lips. “You’re really not.”   They wriggled and untangled themselves, the sloshing of the water like a punctuation mark. Their fingertips were wrinkled and pink from the hot water. Hoseok’s chest was so warm and lovely to touch, practically gleaming in the light as he gracefully stepped out of the bathroom, his nakedness on full display. Cock out, hands easily at his sides, each movement graceful and relaxed, a body pliant with contentedness. He was not an Adonis or a god, but a slender immortal descended nonetheless, all quick angles and sun-kissed elegance. Yoongi only took a moment to gape at him - only a moment, a silent one to himself. Then a gleam came to his eyes, the blue-rimmed edges so bright they seemed to glow.   “Wait there,” he told Hoseok, who had curled back up on the bed, grabbing one of the water bottles he’d placed next to the side table.  “And use the blindfold.”   Hoseok arched an eyebrow, but he leaned over to the toybox for the blindfold as Yoongi made his way downstairs.   ~~~~~   Jungkook and Seokjin were seated at the table for dinner. Namjoon had taken two bowls up to his room for himself and Kiara, due to her still feeling pretty worn out and sick, and Jimin and Taehyung were still out. That left the two of them to goof off at the table, teasing each other and quietly enjoying the simple meal of macaroni and cheese.   “Okay, okay, your turn,” Seokjin teased, wiping the bit of cheese off his nose. “Ask away.”   “Hmm…” Jungkook took a large bite, chewing on it as he contemplated. “If you had a million dollars, what would you buy first?”   Seokjin hummed, thinking loudly before he added more pepper to his bowl. “I’d buy a building.” Jungkook laughed. “A building!? Why?”   “It’s an investment. Real estate is what buying gold once was, really. And I could make money renting it out to companies and such.” He took a sip of his soda, “And I’d leave the top floor for myself, maybe. Let my parents live there in a nice little flat, maybe raise my own family there.”   “Oh?” Jungkook tried not to sound too interested, but he knew he was failing. “In the future do you want to--?” “Not fair, it’s my turn for a question,” Seokjin diverted, pointing his spoon at Jungkook and narrowing his eyes in accusation, “I let the other one slide because it was a ‘why’ question.” “Fine, fine,” Jungkook mumbled, resting his cheek in one palm, elbow on the table. He made a mental note to remember that question for his next turn.   “Okay,” Seokjin added another heaping of salt to his macaroni, stirring it around and smiling. “How about a more serious one? What’s one of your most precious memories?”   Jungkook looked across the table at Seokjin, his bare feet propped up onto the Alpha’s lap, just staring at him for a long moment. Seokjin was preoccupied, finishing off his second bowl before moving in to get a third, and when he finally looked back up to meet Jungkook’s eyes several minutes of silence had ensued. Seokjin let out a little noise of inquiry.   “C’mon, just any memory is fine! Just something that’s meant a lot to you in your life.”   But it wasn’t that Jungkook had been unsure of his answer, it was just that he wasn’t sure what kind of a reaction he was going to get.   “The day you first Scented me.”   Seokjin paused, blinking roughly before one of his hands rubbed against his neck and his bare collarbone, traces of awkwardness from that time many months ago still lingering in the edges of his smile. “Yeah… I felt so bad after that, like I’d violated you against your will.”   “It felt so good,” Jungkook hummed happily, wriggling his feet on Seokjin’s lap. “But I was confused, because I never really felt like I needed to be Scented by someone before. I was waiting for you to do it again.”   “I was waiting for you to ask,” Seokjin breathed. The quiet settled in again, and Seokjin’s hand was massaging up and down Jungkook’s ankle, squeezing lightly at the bony point with the pad of his thumb. Gently, he added, “Your turn.”   He had had his question planned, but seeing the way Seokjin was looking at him, almost forlornly, he asked, “What would you have done, if I had rejected your Claim?”   Seokjin sucked in a breath. It had only taken him a few days before he had known, decided on what he wanted. It had taken months for Jungkook to come to terms with what Seokjin had so quickly identified as something his heart cried out for, a painful but silent plea that one could only hear in their own chest.   “I would have tried again, maybe, if I was feeling particularly weak. But I’d decided if you really wouldn’t accept me, I’d leave the pack. I’d go lone wolf and just suss it out on my own.”   Jungkook frowned, feeling his chest constrict. He knew what it was like, living alone, surviving alone. The certain tortures that came from the knowledge that you had no hand to reach out for, no one to lean on or break things open with. There were reasons the death rate among lone wolves was the highest of any subgroup.   “I’m glad you stayed.”   “I’m glad you said yes,” Seokjin smiled, his face doing that same contortionism that  Jungkook had noticed the first time he’d seen it. The way Seokjin’s countenance utterly reformed upon smiling. What was handsome and attractive before became warm and encouraging as a better priority, his eyes crinkling and his teeth gleaming, thick lines at the edges of his impossibly pink lips like parentheses surrounding the most important footnote of Jungkook’s life.   “Okay, okay,” Seokjin still smiled, chuckling softly. “Let’s lighten it back up now.” He tilted his head to the side, smirking through a slightly dramatized cockiness. “What’s the most handsome part of me?”   Jungkook rolled his eyes.   “Oh, come on, JK!” Seokjin, crowed, leaning forward and tugging on the Omega’s shirt sleeve. “It’s an easy one. Just generically say my eyes and be done with it. That’s what everyone says.”   “The lines around your mouth,” Jungkook said slowly, deliberately, “When you’re really smiling.I think those are the prettiest.”   That made Seokjin pause, and Jungkook could have sworn a blush was creeping across Seokjin’s face, but the Alpha tried to laugh it off, smacking Jungkook’s shoulder and goofily berating with an exaggerated, “The lines around my mouth!? What is that supposed to be?”   “When you smile, there are these lines, “Jungkook gestured, trailing two fingertips down the edges around his mouth in little curved motions. “They’re really pretty. I feel like I could watch forever.”   “You’re so weird, nobody likes my stupid smile lines.” Seokjin laughed, turning back to stir his macaroni around. Jungkook smiled, hearing the slightly embarrassed way Seokjin’s voice had shaken at the praise. The tips of Seokjin’s ears were bright red, and Jungkook wriggled his feet a little on Seokjin’s lap.   They fell into a contented silence, considering whether or not to make another batch of macaroni when suddenly, who should proudly strut downstairs but Yoongi.   A completely naked Min Yoongi, as barren of clothes as the day he was born.   “Evening, lovebirds,” Yoongi chirruped. His skin was flushed hot pink and his hair was wet, so he must have been fresh from a shower, Jungkook assumed, and looking as happy as a clam (albeit a freshly cooked one). Jungkook chewed at his food, murmuring back a greeting without thinking much of it. Then, he glanced over at Seokjin, whose jaw had dropped open, gaping at Yoongi with eyes wide.Jungkook wanted to laugh.   The Omega was seemingly unaffected by their gazes, humming as he turned to open the freezer. When he bent slightly forward, Jungkook caught the briefest glimpse of purple between his ass cheeks, a little jewel on the end that resembled a diamond, and Jungkook smirked to himself. Seokjin started to choke on his macaroni, and Jungkook thumped the heel of his hand against Seokjin’s back to help him dislodge the offensive pasta.   “Is this all the ice we have?” Yoongi pouted, turning around with the singular tray. “There’s another tray behind the ice cream,” Jungkook said. “And there’s also a little ice pack in the door, for like ice chests? Take that, too. It’ll last a bit longer.”   “Sweet, thanks,” Yoongi dumped the contents of both trays into a metal bowl, along with the icepack, and started for the upstairs, actually singing some upbeat number off-key under his breath.   “Asshole didn’t even fill the trays back up,” Jungkook chuckled looking over at Seokjin. “You still breathing?” “Holy shit, I wasn’t expecting that.”   “Obviously,” Jungkook guffawed. Then, he rested his chin in his hands, sighing with a dreamy look on his face. “Isn’t his body so beautiful? I love how pretty his butt is, it’s so squishy. It looks like one of those Renaissance paintings Taehyung has, of all the naked people. And his soft little stomach.” Jungkook sighed. “He’s like the perfect Omega.”   Seokjin seemed to sputter at that, “I don’t know about perfect !” he snapped, “Is that--? Is that something that happens a lot with them?”   “Well, I’ve actually never seen him use the ice, so that’s kind of a new thing, I’m guessing.” “Jungkook, I’m not talking about the ice. ” Seokjin seethed in impatience.   “Usually he wears boxers,” Jungkook shot Seokjin a playful side eye, tipping his bowl back to try and scrape the last of the cheese into his mouth, the sound of his spoon against the glass abrasive. “But Hoseok gets super horny during his ruts, and they both kind of stop giving a fuck. Hoseok doesn’t rut very often, though. Maybe just a couple times a year?”   “Holy shit…”   “Yeah,” Jungkook stood up, going to rinse his bowl in the sink and patting Seokjin’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort. “Just you wait until you see the shit Jimin’s into. And by the way, I’m expecting you to help me out-kink them. I’m tired of being stuck with the baby image.”   “You are a baby,” Seokjin grinned at Jungkook, winking with purpose. “But only my baby.”   “Yeah, yeah…” Jungkook rolled his eyes. He didn’t like admitting to it so easily, it wasn’t as fun as pretending he wasn’t self-aware. “Whatever.”   ~~~~~   Yoongi slipped back into the bedroom, closing the door behind himself with a gentle little click. Hoseok was still waiting, laying flat on the bed with the blindfold pulled securely down over his eyes. He lifted his cheek from the pillow when he heard the door, a little smile coming across his cheek.   “Yoongi?” Hoseok called out softly, tenderly. Yoongi paused in the doorway, his breath a little shortened. He wished he could hit a rewind button and replay that sound throughout the rest of his life. Fuck, I’m so far gone for him.   It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know that.   “It’s me, angel,” Yoongi purred, crawling up onto the bed on his knees, feeling the plug tearing slightly at his insides, clinging desperately to what he still had locked up safe inside his body. He leaned forward, his bottom stuck up into the air slightly as he bent over Hoseok to set the bowl on the side table. Smelling him there before he felt him, Hoseok reached out and coiled his arms and legs up around the Omega like a monkey, nuzzling in towards where he knew he’d find the strongest aroma of freshly tilled earth.   “Mm..” Hoseok hummed against him, exploring Yoongi’s body with his mouth and fingertips, traveling long stretches of skin, pinching Yoongi’s waist between his calves. “You smell amazing. You smell happy .”   “I’m very fucking happy,” Yoongi kissed Hoseok’s cheek, letting him have his tender moment. Then, he reached out one hand and slammed Hoseok’s head back against the bed, thudding against the headboard slightly on his way down. Hoseok cursed.   “But right now,” Yoongi hissed, “It’s my time. Your wrackspurt is officially over.”   Hoseok just gave a little whimper, working his mouth as though contemplating a protest. Yoongi wasted no time in hunting through their toy box, pulling out the handcuffs and slipping then down over Hoseok’s cute, petite wrists. Then he reached up to slide aside the small tapestry Yoongi had nailed on the wall a few months ago. Hidden below the tapestry, its Native American inspired colors bright and eye-catching, was a small ring that had been imbedded into the wall just above the headboard. Yoongi attached Hoseok’s wrists to it at the end of a short length of silvery chain, which clinked as Hoseok tested out its strength with a few tugs. At the same time, his hips wriggled a little underneath Yoongi.   The Omega slid himself down to rest between Hoseok’s legs, clutching his knees together to hold the plug in as he lowered himself down to wrap his mouth around Hoseok’s tip. Hoseok let out a sigh as Yoongi quickly moved down, dropping his mouth and mentally measuring out how far he had to go before he was satisfied with how deeply he was taking the Alpha in his mouth. Any moment he wasn’t praising the gods above for not giving him much of a gag reflex, he was flicking his tongue into all the most erogenous places, until Hoseok was letting out a low growl of contentment, a rumbling that shook through his whole body in the form of a wordless Yes . He was writhing in the chains so prettily, and he chuckled when Hoseok came quickly and roughly, a shuddering moan accompanying as Yoongi swallowed, running his hand along the base to help him maintain the high until the end. Hoseok lay panting for a few minutes, a light sweat already formed on his skin as his body fought to continue, to fulfill a need that only his Omega could satisfy.   “God,” Hoseok bemoaned. “I’m already hard again, fuck! It hurts , Yoongi.”   “Today is touch play,” Yoongi said, his voice clear and instructive. He positioned himself to where he was straddling Hoseok’s hips, gently setting his bottom down against Hoseok’s crotch, hoping the Alpha would remember the intrusive plug waiting just above him. “Did you enjoy the bath?”   “Way too much,” Hoseok managed. “Are you feeling warm and comfortable?” “Like I wanna be snuggled and laid down for a nap,” Hoseok chuckled, “And yet not at all.”   Yoongi hummed, reaching over into the bowl for the first piece of ice, clenching his hand around it. It stung, to hold it, but he drew out the moment as long as he could, until he could feel the melted ice water start to drip down his palm. He held his hand over the lower part of Hoseok’s stomach, and watched the couple of droplets land there, seeing the slight quivering of the muscles in Hoseok’s slender waist rise and fall in sudden, uneven succession. The surprise was evident, even before Hoseok let out the quiet, “O-oh..”   He dropped his hand, pressing the ice directly to that sensitive place just below Hoseok’s belly button, pleased to hear the bright little gasp the Alpha released. Yoongi’s fingertips, now cooled by holding the ice, reached out to trail along the tanned skinned that was still so warm it felt like it was burning from the inside out. Hoseok’s breath came in little shudders as he cried out that it was too cold.   “You’ll deal with it,” Yoongi said with a smirk. He leaned down until he was laying across Hoseok’s chest, grinding his erection against Hoseok’s bare skin, and also sandwiching the ice between them, making it melt faster. Hoseok sucked in a breath, his hand tugging at the handcuffs as Yoongi leaned in and caught Hoseok’s mouth with his own. He shifted his hips enough to move the ice as he wished, and deepened his kiss with Hoseok at the same time. Eventually, one hand lifted, trailing up Hoseok’s torso, dipping and relishing every curve of Hoseok’s chest, until he was inching his fingertips up to wrap around Hoseok’s throat, his thumb knowing by instinct now where to press in, happy to hear the change in Hoseok’s breath and heart rate.   He ground harder down onto him, until Hoseok was whimpering, gasping around the hand on his neck, “Please, please, Yoongi. Please.”   “Please?”   “Please, let me fuck you.”   “Hmm…” Yoongi sat up, his hand still pressed down on Hoseok’s neck. “Maybe not yet. I thought you wanted me to carry your pups with this little thing?” Yoongi tilted back enough that Hoseok’s painfully hard erection slipped in between Yoongi’s cheeks, brushing up against the fake little diamond on the end, rough against the sensitive tip and making Hoseok cry out, from both physical and emotional distress.   “ So close!” he managed to gasp. “So close-so close so-close!” “And the plug?” “I’ve got more for you,” Hoseok promised, his voice crackling in a way that it rarely did, rough and frenzied. “I’ve got lots more. We can go until daylight tomorrow without stopping. I’ll give you all of it, until you can’t take anymore.”   “Mm…” Yoongi purred against Hoseok’s chest, reaching down with one hand to draw a new piece of ice between them, making Hoseok start to pant. The chains rattled violently, and Hoseok’s breathing was erratic, even after Yoongi released him so he could sit upright, lifting his bottom off of Hosok, reaching behind and easing the plug out with a little grunt. Hoseok heard him, but being unable to see, unable to touch made the Alpha continue to whimper with need.   “Yoongi..”   “There,” Yoongi said as he removed it, letting it drop to Hoseok’s stomach, sticky and wet. He felt the slick wetness dripping onto his Mate, and he held himself crouched above him, keeping himself inaccessible even as Hoseok sat in wonder, feeling the warm remnants of his own come as Yoongi eased it out from around his entrance with two fingers, reaching out and smearing it in with the melted water. “Are you going to fill me properly this time?”   Hoseok sucked in a breath. “Yes, I pro-”   “It’s still coming out, Hoseok,” Yoongi whispered huskily, “You can’t see it but I know you can smell it. You can smell us .”   The Alpha was unable to form a response, just jutted his hips upward, making Yoongi jolt, thrown up a bit into the air by the violent thrust, the plug clattering to the floor, leaving a collection of messy white smears on the sheets and the floor as it spun lightly. Yoongi took hold of Hoseok’s member, tugging on it and letting his fingertips trail down to the balls beneath, tickling at it just enough to work Hoseok into an even deeper frenzy before he knelt up, positioning himself around Hoseok before sinking down with a guttural sigh.   “Oh my god,” Hoseok moaned, wriggling his body wildly as though he had just been set on fire. “Go, go, go!” His hands in the handcuffs clenched and unclenched in frustration. “I’m going, I’m going,” Yoongi snapped, the feeling of fullness making him ache. He’d just sucked him off and he was already this hard? It was unfair. He lifted himself up, simultaneously grabbing two more pieces of ice, reaching up and pressing one against Hoseok’s lips. The Alpha protested at first, trying to speak around the ice cube, but Yoongi quickly demanded, “Just fucking take it, bitch. You’re burning my asshole.”   He felt Hoseok physically react inside of him at that, letting out a muffled cry as he parted his lips and let Yoongi shove the ice cube in, and Yoongi imagined the freezing coolness stinging slightly in Hoseok’s sensitive, sensitive mouth, the melted liquid dripping down his throat and tickling. When Hoseok coughed, fighting to keep it balanced on his tongue, Yoongi smirked, pressing himself back down into Hoseok.   Yoongi knew he’d have to set a brutal pace if he was going to really bring Hoseok any relief, and as much fun as he was having, he knew he was going to be raw and swollen by the end of it, so he didn’t want to make the rut last any longer than necessary. With one hand running the ice up and down Hoseok’s chest, making him shiver at the increasing puddle of cold water that drizzled and ran up and down his body, Yoongi leaned forward and added a shift to his hips that allowed him to fuck himself on Hoseok’s already swollen member as quickly as possible. Yoongi gasped, his voice edging towards spent as he started to cry out. Hoseok, still unable to speak with the melting ice cube balanced on the tip of his tongue obediently, merely spluttered a little and tried to lift his hips higher, to angle them deeper.   Hoseok came into him in a rush, a sigh escaping him that was more of a gasp as he trembled violently beneath the Omega, who was far from satisfied. He slapped his hand down firmly against Hoseok’s painfully erect nipple, knowing the ice had made it ache and throb, and the contact of his hand made Hoseok shudder. “I’m not full yet, you bastard!” Yoongi said as he continued to chase the end. He slapped Hoseok again, on the cheek this time, and heard the groan as the small bit of the ice cube left tumbled from his lips, sliding down his cheek and dropping to the mattress. “Come for me!”   “I c-can’t!”   But Yoongi kept going, and it wasn’t long before the savage jolts like electric shocks ran through the Alpha again, and he grunted as another wave of semen rushed into Yoongi, making the Omega tremble. He wanted to stop, but he knew Hoseok wasn’t there yet. He gave them only a short amount of time to catch their breath, not pulling himself off before slamming himself down against the Alpha again, feeling the quiverings start almost immediately.   “Y-Yoongi, I’m..” Hoseok was a trembling, sweaty, dripping mess on the sheets, and the chains clattered against the wall as his voice lowered into a fiery crackle. “L-let me…”   “One more time,” Yoongi gasped, “One more time.”   “Yoongi!” Hoseok shouted, his voice spent and crackling as he pulled on the chains pointedly, “I’ll fucking pull this out of the wall if y-you don’t--” He groaned, throwing his head back as he gasped noisily, and Yoongi knew he was close. Frantically, legitimately worried he would tear the ring out of the wall (it wouldn’t be the first time) Yoongi unlatched Hoseok’s handcuffs, fumbling through releasing his hands even as the Alpha continued to ram up into him, making Yoongi gasp and whimper, letting go of Hoseok once the Alpha’s hands were free so he could desperately try to hold on, thrown back and forth as he was. In seconds Hoseok had thrown away the blindfold, biting his lip between his teeth as he grabbed hold of Yoongi’s hips.   I guess wrackspurt wasn’t over quite yet , Yoongi thought, as suddenly he felt himself choking on his own spit, tongue lolling out as Hoseok thrust into him over, and over, and over. He could only cling onto dear life, a ragdoll as his full body, already feeling like it was bursting from the inside out, was further abused in the most beautiful moment of helpless pleasure. This time, when the quiet rush of Hoseok’s come filled him again, Yoongi trembled as well, sweat dripping into his eyes as he let out a low howling type of sound, crying out as he came across Hoseok’s chest, some of it ending up on the Alpha’s blissed out cheeks.   Yoongi trembled in violent aftershocks, suddenly lowered to the bed face-first, a sheet brought up around his clammy shoulders. It was several minutes before he was able to speak, even the gentle hand against his back that rubbed in circles feeling uncharacteristically heavy in his sleepy sensitivity. After a while, he felt Hoseok cleaning them both up, nudging him to roll onto a fresh sheet and then wrapping him up in it like a fragile human burrito.   “Holy fuck,” Yoongi finally managed, several minutes after the fact, earning a chuckle from Hoseok. The Alpha let out a sigh, taking the sentence as leave to curl back up against Yoongi, tucking his head beneath the Omega’s chin.   “Sorry, I should have asked instead of telling you.”   “Shut the fuck up,” Yoongi sighed. “That was fucking amazing. I feel like I’m gonna die.”   “Please don’t,” Hoseok chuckled, giving sweet, gentle kisses that trailed up and down Yoongi’s neck and carried an oddly chaste sort of air to them. He wrapped an arm and a leg over Yoongi, carefully pulling the Omega to his body in a koala-like hug. “I like you and wanna keep you forever.”   “Well, you’d better,” Yoongi grumbled. He was embarrassed at how brusque he was being, after Hoseok had almost made him weep during sex. His own aftercare was very different from the Alpha’s, and he accepted the giggle-filled kisses with a frown that belied the comforting warmth that filled his chest. “There’s no fucking way I’m not pregnant after all that.”   Hoseok just laughed, obviously giddy as he kissed Yoongi’s forehead, intertwining their fingers together as he held Yoongi in his arms. Yoongi was utterly wrecked, and Hoseok’s voice had a lovely crackle to it as he curled up and nuzzled into Yoongi the way one might curl up with a favorite book on a rainy day. When Hoseok drifted off to sleep, Yoongi couldn’t help it - he touched a hand lightly to his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if it was still aftershocks or if it was really just the brimming warmth of hope that was stirring in his gut.   Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, hidden inside Hoseok’s discarded work pants, his phone blared with a blinking light, indicating he had one missed message. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “We were a galaxy exploding into a million pieces, creating a whole new world, as we crashed against each other on the soft surface of his mattress, a cloud in the darkness, our bodies finally falling together like rain.” ― Emme Rollins, Dear Rockstar   “Do you think they noticed?” Jimin breathed, as Taehyung tossed their backpack into the backseat of the cab in Jin’s truck and climbed in.   “Jungkook did, but I don’t think he’s gonna tell.” Taehyung’s voice still had that slight edge to it that Jimin alone seemed able to detect. It made him worried, like watching a full glass sit precariously on the edge of a table. Taehyung looked over and saw the look on Jimin’s face, and he offered him a smile, reaching over and touching a hand to the back of Jimin’s neck.   “Hey,” he said gently, “You still with me?”   “To the end of the world,” Jimin uttered the phrase so easily, dripping it off his tongue without hesitation as he had the other hundreds of times he’d said it. He wasn’t wanting to back down, per se , it was just…   “Namjoon, Hoseok, the others… They’re gonna be so angry.”   “Yeah,” Taehyung sighed. “But this feels right. I’m tired of waiting, I’m miserable, and I just wanna be with you. And if this is the fastest way… I won’t regret it.”   Jimin looked into Taehyung’s eyes and saw the line of gold around the edges of his eyes, observing the tenseness in his shoulders that suggested pain. Taehyung was right. He wouldn’t regret this. The others just couldn’t see the signs, couldn’t understand. Jimin let out a breath.   “Okay, then. Let’s go get Mated.”   He started up Seokjin’s truck and pulled out of the garage, leaving behind an as-yet-unawares pack. The drive to the island felt much longer than before, especially with the way Taehyung’s Scent was tinged with nervousness and pain. Jimin drove with a tight grip on the wheel.   They had decided it together. The island was where they’d had their first hunt together, their first real kiss, and it was a special place in Taehyung’s bloodline, as well as to their pack. It had to be the island.   “Do you remember when we were fighting about those tuna sandwiches?” Taehyung interrupted Jimin’s thoughts. He looked over and blinked at the Beta.   “What?”   “It wasn’t long after I moved in. You still didn’t like me, then.” Taehyung laughed, adjusting the seat belt across his shoulder as though it bothered him. “I think I liked you already, though, but I wasn’t ready to try and get to know you.”   “Well, what was I supposed to think? The first day you were already snuggled up next to Jungkook. It took me ages to get him to even let me touch him.” “Different Jungkook,” Taehyung said simply, shrugging. “But one week in you didn’t like me, and we argued over tuna sandwiches.”   “Tuna sandwiches,” Jimin hummed. He remembered it well, of course. He had a knack for remembering the minute, especially when it had to do with people. Especially when it came to Taehyung. But it seemed to be calming Taehyung to talk about it, which in turned calmed Jimin, so he let him continue.   “I left a bowl of tuna in the fridge.”   “Uncovered, as if you were raised in a barn,” Jimin retorted.   “I was raised next to a barn,” Taehyung shot back cheekily, “Does that count?”   “You brat,” Jimin chuckled. “What am I gonna do with you?”   Taehyung leaned over until he could rest his head against Jimin's shoulder as he drove, quiet blanketing the truck for a moment, comfortable in the way things always were when they were together.   “You ate my tuna,” he said. “And we fought. You were really mean to me, when it was you that took my tuna.”   “You didn’t even put your name on-- Ugh , we’re not going down this road again,” Jimin sighed in exasperation. Taehyung chuckled. “I didn’t understand why you were so worked up over tuna, when we always have so much going on, like people Presenting early, couples fighting, school…”   “I want what I want,” Taehyung purred, nibbling at the taut, muscular Alpha arm. “And I wanted that tuna. And I wanted to get to know you.”   “So we screamed about tuna sandwiches,” Jimin mused.   “And ended up crying and unloading everything,” Taehyung reminded him. “You were really good at being honest with me, and I liked that. I felt that after that, I could tell you anything.”   “Mmm.”   “Jimin,” Taehyung said quietly, “Did I ever tell you that my granny was a Beta?”   “Mm, yes,” Jimin said. He remembered Taehyung had told him over ice cream on a cool autumn day, following the younger’s whimsical demands for a spontaneous ice cream run. He had been wearing the red sweater that always made Jimin want to cry from how soft and sweet he looked in it. It had been a Thursday, and he’d told him matter-of-factly, but part of Jimin had wanted to believe, had started to suspect even then, that Taehyung knew he’d be a Beta, and Jimin’s Beta alone. “I am pretty sure you told me,” he added, with false uncertainty.   “I take after her in a lot of ways,” Taehyung said. “We looked and thought a lot alike, especially when it came to people. We liked to argue. We liked honesty. Often it made it hard to get along with others. She told me, ‘Mate someone who loves you beyond the mask, beyond your faults, into the beyond.’ I think it was from a poem she’d read. You would have loved her, Jimin. I would have taken you home with me, and we’d have played with the ducks or the horses. Pick strawberries right off the vine together. She would make tea and complain in the most beautiful way. Her and grandpa always bickered, were always honest. It would have made you laugh to see it.”   Jimin reached over, and in the stretching silence, he took Taehyung’s beautiful hand in his smaller, thicker one and brought it up to press lightly against his lips, squeezing it.   “I never told you,” Taehyung said, “But my granny was an Omega-type Beta. My grandpa was an Alpha.”   Jimin halted a little at that, feeling like Taehyung had just given him a very strange and colorful puzzle piece. “She was?” “Yeah, back in her time there was more of a stigma against it. She didn’t talk about it much.” Taehyung sighed. “She and grandpa went through horrible things to be together. Things that would be illegal now.”   Jimin drove for a very long moment of silence, considering. “That’s why you hoped to be my Omega?”   “Not just that, but yeah,” Taehyung hummed. “She made me see how beautiful a strong Mating can be, what it can go through. I never doubt us. Because I know better.”   Jimin squeezed again at Taehyung’s hand. “I still doubt, sometimes. Not because it’s you, but because of myself.”   “Don’t think about it anymore. Those old pack mates didn’t know you anyways. I know you and I want you. All of you.”   It was easier said than done, of course. But Jimin couldn’t imagine anyone else he’d rather try for.   “Granny was the one who told me I should look for a soulmate, like she did. She made me believe soulmates exist. Someone I can fight with and love inside out.”   “I can’t imagine not having you, now,” Jimin breathed, that addictive warm sensation creeping into his bones, as it always did when Taehyung brought out the more delicate edges in him. “I was so lonely before.”   “Because you hadn’t met me yet,” Taehyung chirruped, full of confidence. Jimin smiled.   When they finally pulled into the campground on the island, Taehyung was curled up against the window, napping. Jimin had enjoyed a long stretch of soft silence, his hand still curled into Taehyung’s as it rested between them. He put the truck into park, slowly releasing Taehyung’s hand and sliding it down to his leg.   “Babe,” Jimin squeezed his knee once. “Babe, we’re here.”   “Hmm?” Taehyung slowly blinked, his face swollen and lips parting as he squinted out at the clearing. “Oh.”   The cabins were eery and solemn, with their dark windows and lack of life. They stepped delicately past the two bunk cabins, as if afraid of disturbing something that lingered behind the wooden walls, and went to the Main Hall, their backpacks balanced on their shoulders.   “How do we get inside?” Jimin frowned, looking up at Taehyung with skepticism. “Namjoon is the only one with a key.”   “Not exactly,” the Beta sent his Alpha a wink. “There’re two keys.”   Jimin blinked, then watched as Taehyung reached out to feel around inside the small abandoned bird’s nest that was tucked neatly under the cabin awning. His jaw dropped open as Taehyung pulled out a small key, along with some feathery down and crumples of too-long-since-dried branches.   Taehyung smirked, “He gave a copy to Kiara, but she doesn’t keep it with her. She knows that sometimes there’ll be emergencies when we need the Main Hall without Namjoon, so she hid it.”   “Is that really safe?” Jimin mumbled, as Taehyung fiddled with putting the key into the door.   “Probably not as safe as Namjoon would like. But it’s not a place most people would think of to look.”   Jimin reached out, touching Taehyung’s shoulder so that the Beta turned around. “Hold on a minute, then how did you know she’d put it there?” The Beta grinned, placing a hand at the back of Jimin’s head and running his fingers through Jimin’s soft locks. “Because, Chim-chim, I’m cute and Kiara has a soft spot for me.”   At that, Jimin gave a pout that had Taehyung laughing, his teeth glowing and his lips wide, eyes crinkled up as he nuzzled in to give Jimin a comforting Eskimo kiss. They took their time in getting set up, setting their backpacks next to the couch and laying out the pull-out bed. Taehyung was in charge of the fire, and Jimin put their food provisions away. It was going to be a long afternoon and a long evening, if he had anything to do with it.   Once their favorite blanket was laid out across the bed, Jimin started to unpack his backpack, laying out various objects that started out relatively innocent, but quickly altered in their implications. Toothbrush, socks, hairbrush, spare underthings…. two kinds of lubricant, a human-sized collar, a whip…   Taehyung, who was warming his hands while crouched in front of the fire, glanced over, then quickly turned back to stare into the flames.   “It’ll be strange, not doing it at the pack house this time…” The Beta’s lips were pressed together, his head slightly lowered so that his bangs covered his eyes.   “Yeah…” Jimin mumbled, his voice faltering as he stopped in his work to look over at Taehyung. He licked his lips, feeling how dry they were.   “And this time we don’t have to stop partway through,” Taehyung continued.   Jimin stared at the Beta for a long moment, worry bubbling up in his chest at the deadpan way Taehyung spoke. “Are you...are you okay with this? If any of it isn’t okay, you can tell me, I promise.”   Taehyung didn’t respond, didn’t even look his way, for almost a full ten seconds. The crackling of the fire as it caught on the piece of oak was the only background noise. Then he blinked, seeming to be shaken from a reverie, and then when he looked at Jimin, his expression was somehow very altered. “What? No, I’m fine with it. Great with it, I think, actually? I’m just…” Taehyung looked at the fire, his eyebrows knitting together a bit. “I guess I’m just getting into my headspace.”   “Oh, okay.” Jimin’s eyes widened, watching as Taehyung, his Beta, continued to stare into the fire. Even as he stood there, Taehyung seemed to curl in on himself, becoming somehow smaller and less intimidating by the moment. “T-take all the time you need.”   Jimin continued to unpack, flushing as he glanced down at the array of toys which, apparently, had taken up the majority of his backpack. He usually avoided thinking about this sort of thing, if he could help it. Jimin knew that he had a strong sex drive - he’d suspected it since he was a pup, barely into his first pack at 13. The other pack members, looking at his stature and soft mannerisms, had taunted him, nicknaming him somewhat vulgar references to needy Omegas. He’d known better, then. He wasn’t submissive. He wasn’t an Omega. As to how he’d known, he couldn’t say. It was just a feeling. Around the end of his time with his old pack, he’d started his collection. Just one or two things, at first, like a strap or an old belt, and then gradually getting bolder and buying full on collars. He would spend his time during late hours watching increasingly graphic videos on his phone, curled up in his bunk and constantly afraid of being discovered. They never did, to his surprise, but there had been a lot of close calls, and continued verbal beratement as his Presenting came nearer only caused Jimin to finally realize that they would never have his back, that he could never open up for them. He had joined Namjoon’s pack after having heard him talk about how they were like a family. That was what Jimin wanted. To feel like he belonged , and would be cared for, even if everything in his chest was drawn out and brought into the light. Namjoon was never shy about candidly praising Jimin, and counting him as one of the family. Jungkook had trusted in him, in his quiet way. Yoongi was always piling his extra food onto Jimin’s plate, calling him skinny during the times Jimin felt the exact opposite. Hoseok had taken him under his wing, and in the end he felt like there was this unspoken promise in the air of ‘You’re accepted, exactly as you are.’   Namjoon had never asked him about his kinks, even after he found the box of various sized dildos underneath Jimin’s bed when they were in the midst of the move to the new pack house. He had just quickly shut the box and held it out to Jimin, who had already started to flush bright red in a nauseating mix of embarrassment and fear.   Jungkook had been the first person he told. Jimin was still ashamed of how he’d handled that, but Jungkook had forgiven him so easily, told him it was fine. It had taken a long time for Jimin to believe him, but they had clicked back into their same, easy routine, and Jimin realized that you shouldn’t chase after something just because it didn’t attack you back. There were some hard lessons he still had to learn.   Perhaps it was because of all those fears that he hadn’t wanted to tell Taehyung. But Jimin had never been good at hiding things from Taehyung - he was right when he had said Jimin was honest with him, but he just didn’t seem to realize that it wasn’t for just anybody that he bared his soul, it was for Taehyung more than anyone, a special star that made words fall from his mouth as easily as water.   “I don’t want you to hate me,” he had said quietly, his arms curled around the box protectively, feeling very small. “It’s not pretty.”   Taehyung had wordlessly reached out and lowered the box from Jimin’s hands to the bed. “I could never hate you. I don’t know if I’ll like it or not, but even if I don’t, that doesn’t mean I could hate you.”   Jimin’s chest constricted, torn in two ways. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to share all of himself with Taehyung, to indulge freely in this guilty pleasure of his that had grown the more he fed it, like a starving wolf inside of him that would never really be satiated, only becoming further addicted to this little bit of sensory heaven he had created.   “Are you sure? I’m just...I know I’m...I can be pretty...well, intense, so… you might be weirded out.”   “Show me,” Taehyung curled in underneath Jimin’s chin, kissing his jaw. “My Alpha.”   “Okay, I’m ready,” Taehyung sighed, facing the fire. Jimin had been standing at the edge of the bed, watching him for the last several minutes. He clenched his fists, moving to the door and locking it, pulling the curtain extra-carefully over all the windows, then moving back to the bed and picking up the most precious object he had ever bought for Taehyung: his collar. It was a simplistic piece, one that Seokjin had helped him pick out, surprising him with the straightforward supportiveness and only asking questions in that same easygoing tone with which he had asked what kind of burger Jimin wanted for lunch. It had been the most awkward afternoon of his life, but having Jin’s advice (and unspoken moral support) had been a big help.   It was black leather, with understated dark purple lace along the edge of it. The leather was soft in his hands and plush on the inner side, so it wouldn’t chafe his Beta’s delicate skin. Instead of a regular buckle, the collar was held together by a heavy sterling silver lock, in the shape of a heart. He had loved the weight of it in his hands, and he knew Taehyung would enjoy it, too. Taehyung was so sensitive to some things, and the heaviness of the lock, he was sure, would be appreciated.   But now Jimin had to focus. It was time to get into his headspace.   “Tae-Tae,” Jimin said lowly, not surprised when Taehyung continued to stare into the fire, his back to Jimin. “Come here. To the bed now, boy.” When Jimin patted the mattress with his palm, the slight sound made Taehyung sit up a little straighter, whipping his head around in curiosity. His shoulders rose up, as if to make himself smaller, and Jimin replied by patting the mattress again. “I said to come here, boy. Get up on the bed.”   Taehyung’s attention seemed to prick up at that,and Jimin imagined it in the way it usually did when he was in wolf form, ears standing to attention and his eyes flashing. Instead of rising to his feet, Taehyung slowly, gingerly crawled over on his hands and knees, clambering up onto the bed as though he was afraid it would collapse on him.   “Do I get to wear my collar today?” Taehyung’s voice was quiet, timid even.   Jimin nodded. “I bought it especially for you. Come.” Taehyung obediently went up on his knees, walking that way across the mattress until he was in front of Jimin, then plopping his bottom down to sit on his heels. He looked up into Jimin’s face with an intense, unblinking curiosity as Jimin wrapped the collar around Taehyung’s neck. There were two silver hoops through which the heart lock looped through, and Jimin used the tiny silver key to lock it, resting the heavy heart against the little dip at Taehyung’s throat. The Beta swallowed, and Jimin watched the adam’s apple bob up and down, his eyes transfixed. He was sure Taehyung could see the red starting to creep into his eyes, giving him away.   “It’s heavy,” Taehyung whispered, amazed.   Jimin smiled, reaching out and trailing his fingers in a butterfly-wing delicate way over the heart lock, and then Taehyung’s prominent collarbone. “I know. Do you like it?” Eagerly, like an overexcited pup, Taehyung nodded, making the locket click a little against the rings. He beamed, and Jimin could imagine the way his tail would have wagged, his tongue lolling out between sharp wolf-teeth in a strange sort of smile. Taehyung lifted his hands up, resting his fists gently against Jimin’s chest and beaming up at him. “I like it a lot… sir.”   A deep rumble seemed to tear through Jimin’s abdomen, a lovely sort of strain and a powerful heat striking throughout his body at the words. The heat forming at his belly only quadrupled when he saw the look in Taehyung’s eyes, saw the lovely gold rim there, promising him everything. Everything.   “What are the safety words?” Jimin said, already breathless with anticipation.   “Green means go,” Taehyung smiled, “Yellow means slow down and red means stop.”   “Okay.” Jimin sighed a breath of relief. It wasn’t like it was rocket science, of course, but not only was it good for them to make sure every time, it was also reassuring to Jimin. It was the foundation, the lifeline Jimin could hold onto and remind himself that Taehyung was on the same page as him. “Remember, you can use the colors anytime you want, I promise.”   “Of course,” Taehyung said, his fingers splaying out over Jimin’s chest, fingertips pressing down into the fabric of his sweater. He lifted his eyes to Jimin, a hunger in his eyes that made Jimin just feel so overwhelmed. Something deep inside of him was starting to crackle, a wall threatening to crumble down at just a look.   “But first…” Jimin almost gasped, as if he was a drowning man resurfacing above the water for a moment. He took Taehyung’s hand in his, entangling their fingers. He cleared his throat, and into the cool dimness of the cabin, he spoke. “Kim Taehyung. May our blood always run together, our battles be side-by-side, our paths continue as parallels and our dreams align with our realities. With all the blessing from the earth, I, Park Jimin, now pronounce us Mates.”   Taehyung’s face was solemn and blissful at the same time, his eyes sparkling in the firelight as he leaned up towards Jimin, pressing his lips to the Alpha’s. It was a gentle kiss, still budding and unsure. Jimin leaned his chin forward to catch Taehyung’s mouth more confidently. The room still carried the slight chill of a spring day afternoon, the shadows of the cabin melting ever-so-slowly with the warmth of the fire, but against Taehyung’s skin was only heat, lovely, lovely heat.   “I love you,” Taehyung whispered against the skin of his cheek, a hot breath that mingled with the rising Scent of citrus and peppermint, of Alpha and Beta. “I love you so much my chest hurts sometimes.”   “I love you, too,” Jimin breathed, his hands entangling in Taehyung’s hair, one deep exhale escaping him as the wall inside crackled and crumbled. His fists clenched down hard in Taehyung’s hair, gripping it roughly and tugging Taehyung’s head back. The Beta let out the tiniest of gasps, half-expecting it as Jimin forced Taehyung to bare his neck, long and elegant, glowing with a reddish-orange light from the fire. With his free hand, Jimin grabbed the lock heart and gave it a rough tug, making Taehyung grunt a little as the air was forced out of him.   “I love you so much, I want to make you weep. I want you to close your eyes and see only me, to love only me,” Jimin’s voice trembled slightly, not quite as prepared for the role he was slipping into as he wished. The words felt selfish and ugly on his tongue, and Taehyung gazed up at him, looking solemn but not quite convinced. Try me, he seemed to be saying. Jimin’s shoulders shifted, the muscles in his back tensing. Jimin’s jaw set, and he leaned in to wrap his mouth around a sensitive part of Taehyung’s neck, biting down and making the Beta stiffen in surprise and pain.   “Ah!” Taehyung gasped, jolting as Jimin bit down even harder instead of letting go, his fingers squeezing at Taehyung’s shoulder. The pretty collar brushed up against Jimin’s cheek, cold and rough.   Into his ear, he growled, “Give me a color, baby.”   “Green,” Taehyung said quickly, hands grappling at Jimin’s chest again, rubbing him all over as if warming Jimin’s inner fire up with his hands, desperate to touch, to feel. “Definitely green.”   Jimin suckled at the skin of Taehyung’s neck, suddenly gentle as his tongue licked at the mark, hoping to lessen the redness for later. Okay, so maybe Taehyung would be wearing a turtleneck home, no big deal. He stood up, making Taehyung straighten before Jimin started to tug the Beta’s shirt off. Taehyung moved to help, and got a little slap on the wrist.   “Don’t move until I tell you to,” Jimin snapped, his eyes flashing. Taehyung bit at his bottom lip, instantly complying. Jimin slowly removed Taehyung’s shirt, tugging him to his feet before yanking his pants and boxers to his ankles. Taehyung shivered a little, but obediently didn’t move unless directed to. He was now completely barren before Jimin, only wearing the collar, and Jimin could see the shy way Taehyung lowered his head, the little twitches at the corners of his mouth that said he was embarrassed, that he secretly liked the attention but didn’t know what to do with it. One thing Kim Taehyung was used to was casual affection. Touches as one walked past, meaningless nibbles at shoulders, laying his head in someone’s lap. Most of the time, he was overlooked or this was treated normally. But there were times when the attention shifted completely to himself, in a sharp, knife-like way, and Taehyung would crumble into coy smiles and timidity.   It made Jimin want to crash into him, like the sea against the rocky shore, and consume him whole.   “Look at your naked body,” Jimin purred, running his hand down Taehyung’s chest and to his stomach. When his fingers brushed against the lower belly, he could feel the muscles there quiver back in shock and sensitivity. “You’re so beautiful, Tae-Tae.” He leaned over and picked up the leash on the bed, reaching up to click it onto Taehyung’s collar, gently caressing his jawline. “Turn around, and put your ass in the air for me.”   Taehyung did as he was told, working his lip to try and bite back his eager smile, turning his bottom towards the Alpha.   “What are you going to do, sir?” Taehyung breathed the question out so lightly, Jimin could barely hear it.   “Master is going to complete you,” Jimin said sweetly, moving the leash so that just the lightest bit of pressure was on it, so Taehyung would feel it against his throat. Jimin placed one hand on Taehyung’s cheek, kneading roughly at the skin there. “You’ve gained weight, Tae-Tae. And every bit of it went to your ass.”   He saw Taehyung look over his shoulder, frowning at him. Jimin lifted his hand, and Taehyung’s mouth opened to form a protest that he swallowed down just before Jimin’s palm slapped against him. Taehyung gasped, a high-pitched sound escaping him because he had seen the first one coming, but hadn’t expected the third and fourth ones.   “Your pretty pink cheeks,” Jimin kissed the left one tenderly. He lifted his eyes to see that Taehyung was still looking at him from over his shoulder, both hands bunched roughly into the sheets, his bare body starting to quiver a little despite the heat from the fire that edged its way to them but never quite reached the bed. “Tae-Tae, baby…” Jimin hummed darkly, “Did I tell you to turn around?”   Instantly, Taehyung’s petulant look melted away, and he whirled around to face ahead, but Jimin just laughed.   “Too late,” Jimin cooed, moving around to the other side of the bed, taking one of the logs from beside the fireplace and using it to anchor the end of the leash to the floor a couple of feet from the edge of the bed. Taehyung’s eyes widened, still dutifully remaining on his hands and knees, but forced to lean forward to match the tension of the leash.   “S-sir?” Taehyung whispered, his voice wavering a little as he stared at the log that was weighing him down. Jimin watched Taehyung for a moment, then added another log, further along the leash, pulling Taehyung down a few more inches, his chin almost brushing up against the ledge of the mattress.   “Keep your ass up, baby, and spread your legs,” Jimin ordered, going around to the other side behind Taehyung and giving his bottom another slap. “It’s time to get to work.”   Taehyung was still shocked into his strange quietness, but he stuck his bottom up a little higher, clutching the mattress on either side of his face. Jimin looked and saw a slight tremble in the man’s thighs, showing his nervous anticipation.   Reaching down to his side, Jimin moved some more of the toys closer before crawling up onto the bed on his knees, leaning down to spread Taehyung’s cooled cheeks, leaning in and just exhaling heavily against his skin. He saw goosebumps rise along Taehyung’s skin, his back arching a little as he let out a little whimper. Jimin sent a dark look over at Taehyung’s ducked head, even though he knew the Beta couldn’t see him, and ran his hand along the curved spine, as if petting an animal.   “My beautiful Tae-Tae,” he hummed, drawing his fingernails in as he drew his hand back, leaving little red streaks that faded into prominence. “Tell your master that you want to be eaten out.”   Taehyung didn’t respond at that, just burying his face into the sheets, shaking his head and wriggling his hips against the coolness in the room.   “Come on, Tae-Tae, you can do it,” Jimin purred, scratching up and down Taehyung’s back again, his free hand reaching between Taehyung’s legs and taking hold of his member, already half-hard from being so exposed. “You’re my pretty little pet now, aren’t you? You want to take me in, to swallow me completely.”   “I...I do…” Taehyung managed, his voice muffled, utterly embarrassed. His naked body contrasted with Jimin, who was still fully dressed down to his very boots, and Jimin liked watching him be all shy and unsure. Taehyung rocked a little on his knees, shifting back and forth as much as the pinned-down leash would allow.   Jimin’s slow, smooth scratching turned into soothing pets, trying to calm Taehyung. “Come on, baby,” he breathed cool air against Taehyung’s entrance, making Taehyung stiffen and then shiver. “Tell me you want me. You can do it.” Taehyung’s weight shifted a bit on the bed, and he wriggled as if to give himself a stronger position on the bed. “I...I do. I want you to eat me out. Please, s-sir.”   He was still half-muffled by the bed, but Jimin figured he was even more nervous than Jimin himself, so he didn’t reprimand him. Not this time. Instead, he leaned forward, kissing up against Taehyung’s entrance, licking at him with a long, well-versed tongue. Instantly, Taehyung was letting out muffled moans against the mattress, gasping and panting in short bursts, as if he was already on edge. Jimin pumped at Taehyung’s long, smooth cock, the obscene sounds mingling with the pops and crackles from the fire and Taehyung’s little noises. After a few minutes, licking around every available corner in his entrance, filling his face with Taehyung on all sides, he pulled a little ways away and inspected his work.   “Hmm…” he hummed contemplatively, leaning back. He wasn’t sure if that was enough, but he didn’t want to hurt Taehyung. They had played with toys a few times, but tonight was a little different. Tonight he wanted it to be absolutely special.   He reached over for the cherry lubricant, spreading it on one of his hands, warming it up before pressing one finger into Taehyung, making Taehyung’s pants start up again. Jimin rested his free hand against Taehyung’s buttocks, petting him with his thumb.   “You’re such a good little pet,” Jimin cooed, using his Alpha voice to calm Taehyung. Instantly, Taehyung’s ass relaxed, letting Jimin slip a second finger inside. “Look at you, all obedient and loosening up for me. You’re so good, such a good boy.”   “Yes, sir…” Taehyung whispered, still shaking from nerves. “I wanna b-be a good boy.”   Jimin arched one eyebrow, smirking. Moments of silence passed by, and finally Taehyung was ready for the ending touches.   “I’m putting it in now, baby,” Jimin said, picking up the next in their list of toys - a cute little buttplug with a fluffy wolf tail at the end. He dragged the end of it along Taehyung’s spine, tickling him and making him shiver as the fur brushed up in the little dip between his shoulder blades. Then, Jimin slipped it into his entrance, the egg-shaped metallic end sliding in smoothly, leaving only gentle, soft fur hanging between his trembling, naked legs. Taehyung let out a little choked sound.   “M-master, it’s so cold,” he whined, his elbows starting to quiver. “It’s so cold inside of me.”   “Then you better eat it well, pet, and warm it up with your insides,” Jimin hummed, running his hands through the furry tail, pleased at the little whimpers that escaped Taehyung whenever his fingers caught, adjusting the butt plug just slightly inside of Taehyung. He scooped his palm along the inside of Taehyung’s thigh, his knuckles touching lightly against the back of his balls and making Taehyung shift, trying to get the Alpha to touch him again. The logs pinning down his leash gave him little room to move or shift about.   “But master…” Taehyung whimpered, his Omega voice trailing in, “You still have all your clothes on. I don’t have anything. It’s chilly, s-sir.” “Does a pet wear clothes?” Jimin snapped, making Taehyung jolt a little in surprise, especially when Jimin gripped roughly at his thigh, digging his fingers in there until the skin paled. “If you’re cold, I guess you need more exercise.”   Taehyung watched as Jimin released his leash from the heavy logs, instead yanking on it and making Taehyung jolt forward.   “Get down on the floor, baby,” Jimin growled, “It’s time for your walk.”   They had done this once before, and Jimin had walked Taehyung around the pack house rooms on a rare day that it had been void of any other pack members. That day, Jimin had just had him walk around like a human, but with a collar and leash. So it was understandable that Taehyung started to stand upright, and that he was confused when Jimin yanked his leash down, forcing his head down to Jimin’s eye level.   “No,” Jimin said, his throat thickening with his Busan accent, a deep rumbling sort of growl forming in his chest. “On your knees, like the dog that you are.”   Taehyung blinked wide-eyed at Jimin, but dropped to the floor. Instantly, Taehyung’s head dropped in that shy embarrassment, and Jimin smirked, reaching down and grabbing a handful of Taehyung’s hair, forcing him to lift his face. The collar was stressed tight with the angle of Taehyung’s neck against it, and the heart lock clanked against the metal of the collar.   “You like being shamed that much, do you? You love being my pet? Your knees getting dirty on the floor and your tail perked up all excited like that?”   Taehyung didn’t answer. But he looked worried that he had no formulated reply, almost panicked, his mouth working back and forth before he struggled to lower his head, to not meet Jimin’s red eyes. Jimin forced him to continue looking up at him. The further he seemed to sink into his headspace, the less he seemed capable of speaking. Jimin hoped that that was alright.   They walked around the room, Jimin leading him around like a show-dog. Around the couch, towards the doorway (where Taehyung started to panic a little), against the curtain, up onto a chair and back down again. His awkward movements only served to make the butt-plug shift even more deliciously, and Jimin could see Taehyung was starting to pant a little more, worked up and his member hardening against his stomach.   “Your throat all dry, baby? Let’s get the pet some water.” Jimin walked them over to the kitchen, pulling out a bowl and filling it halfway with water. Taehyung’s hands and knees shuffled softly on the wooden floor, and he kept his head low, only watching Jimin through his bangs. Jimin set the bowl down in front of Taehyung, naked and shivering mostly from nerves, and patted his head like he was a dog instead of a human. “Drink up, baby,” he reassured. Taehyung leaned forward, arching his back so he could put his face into the blue little plastic bowl. His bottom stuck up into the air, the soft tail bouncing a little with the movement. Staring at the tail for a moment, Jimin’s eyes glowed a deeper red. He looked down at Taehyung, struggling to lap up water with his tongue alone. Jimin reached out and, overcome with another sudden surge of heat that washed over his mind and body, slapped the bowl up into Taehyung’s face, giving him a face-full of water and tipping the bowl over.   “Shit, Tae-Tae,” Jimin said gently, reaching out and touching Taehyung’s hair as the boy coughed out water, confused. “You’re an awful clumsy pet, aren’t you? Poor baby. Let’s get you another one.”   He filled up another bowl of water, setting it down in front of Taehyung. “Drink up, baby.”   This time, Taehyung looked up at Jimin with some skepticism, but Jimin pulled a little on the leash, insistent. Taehyung bent low, his elbows crooked as he lowered himself gently downward, dipping into the bowl again to lap up what he could. With the way the bowl was set up, Taehyung couldn’t even see out of the corner of his eye for warning, so he didn’t know to prepare when once again, Jimin tossed the bowl up, knocking it up into Taehyung’s face and over. Water spilled everywhere, and Taehyung spluttered, shaking his head a little and frowning at Jimin. The Alpha shook his head, clucking his tongue.   “Poor baby, you’re really fighting, aren’t you?” Jimin sighed. “I guess you’ll have to be punished.”   The pet looked up at him, lips parted as Jimin yanked him behind, until he was able to grab the whip off the end of the bed. “Turn around for me, baby. Put your front paws up onto the bed.”   Taehyung clambered up, laying his torso against the bed as his bottom and legs draped down, hands clutching the sheets, half-tugging them away. His body stretched out and naked, vulnerable and unable to see where Jimin stood, made the Alpha’s stomach flip pleasantly.   “You spilled water all over the floor, baby, and you didn’t drink properly,” Jimin explained slowly, as if to a child. “So I’ll have to give you a little bit of a spanking, okay?” The Beta nodded, his shoulders tense. Jimin lifted the whip, with its dangling soft leather cords, and slapped it across Taehyung’s already pink cheeks. Taehyung gasped, sitting halfway up as though an electric shock had been sent through his entire body. Jimin spanked him again while Taehyung whimpered, the butt-plug becoming slightly dislodged with the inevitable movement. Jimin was sure it was heated up by now, could see the traces of sweat starting to form around Taehyung’s rosy cheeks.   “Tae-Tae,” Jimin said darkly, looking down at the Beta. “What are you doing?” He froze, looking over his shoulder at the Alpha. Jimin had caught him jutting his hips into the edge of the bed slightly, his barren member finding friction in the dip of the sheets he had tugged downward.   “M-Mas--”   The whip flashed again, and Taehyung let out a little squeak, breathing with effort as his ass burned, inside and outside. The last two spankings were in quick succession, a forehand and a backhand movement across first one cheek and then the next, and Taehyung cried out a guttural cry at the pain, one arm reaching out across the mattress in front of him. Jimin could see the slight scar from when Taehyung had fought Jae, a strange coloring in the elbow of his beautiful skin. Jimin cooed, reaching down to massage a cool hand into the red skin there.   “You were so good, baby,” Jimin purred, “You’re all warmed up and obedient now, right? Let’s get back up onto the bed.” Taehyung continued to whine in short, breathy gasps, but complied easily, soft and pliant and now very, very needy, his hips jutted at an angle to help lessen the strain against the sensations his body was undergoing.   “Master knows what will make you feel better,” Jimin said gently, petting a hand down Taehyung’s spine, making the Beta whimper and nuzzle his head in against Jimin’s chest in silent plea. “You aren’t satisfied until you have my body, are you?” Taehyung whimpered, and Jimin reached out and ran his hand through Taehyung’s hair, gripping it again and forcing him to look up. It was irrational, the surge of power and anger and irritation that bubbled up every time Taehyung shied away now, bending his head. It made Jimin want to correct him, to force him into a new posture. Not because he wanted a certain end result, but because Taehyung kept faltering back into that dipped head, chin tucked against his chest and ashamed. He was embarrassed, and Jimin wanted to render of him incapable of remembering what shame was. “Baby,” Jimin growled lowly, “Look into my face. You need to pay attention when your master is speaking, you know.” Taehyung blinked up at him, and Jimin was surprised to see tears forming. Had he gone too far? Panic surged through Jimin’s chest. He didn’t think he’d done anything too intense, other than the things he’d said to urge Taehyung along, but now he was worried that he had touched on something he shouldn’t have. “Tell me, baby,” he whispered gently, his hand that held the leash coming to rest under Taehyung’s chin, “Tell me a color.”   “G-green…” Taehyung hiccuped, tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes. It was the first thing he had said for a long time now, but the little twitching smile that accompanied it helped Jimin breathe again. “Very green.”   “ Very green?” Jimin questioned, an eyebrow arching. Was Taehyung really enjoying this? Jimin’s mind was utterly blown at the prospect.   “Please, master,” the pet named Taehyung whispered, one hand (paw?) coming up to drop into Jimin’s lap, its suggested purpose very clear, “Let me touch you. You know what I want, sir.”   Jimin watched Taehyung’s eyes, as if expecting the Beta’s mind to suddenly flip, then he smiled. “Yeah, I know. You aren’t satisfied until you’ve eaten me, too, right?”   Taehyung nodded, a tear trailing down his cheek. He moved to lower down onto his elbows in front of Jimin’s crotch, his bottom wriggling in the air as he smiled playfully up through his tears. “I want to eat master’s chubby little cock.”   Jimin nearly choked on his air, breaking character for a moment to blush deep crimson. “Y-you don’t have to call it that . Fuck.”   The pet giggled, wriggling his butt a little more. Jimin was half-convinced he had found a pleasurable angle for friction, and he was momentarily distracted by the cute little swing of Taehyung’s tail. Then, he nodded. “Go ahead, baby.”   Taehyung almost pounced forward, spreading Jimin’s legs until he was comfortably seated on the bed, then unzipping his jeans. Taehyung wasted not a moment, quickly (and clumsily) wrapping his mouth around the end of Jimin’s cock, bobbing his head up and down it in an eager way.   In all honesty, Jimin got harder watching Taehyung enjoying himself, especially with their little roleplay, than he actually enjoyed the physicalities of having his dick pleasured. But Taehyung was almost mad at him when he didn’t let him do it, so Jimin left it in their little practice sessions, let him touch it and almost play with it at times. Part of Jimin was a little exasperated, a little amused, and extremely grateful that Taehyung loved his dick so much that he wanted to achieve The Perfect Blowjob, as if it was a mini-game he was addicted to. To help Taehyung along (and hurry things up, because god, they had already been at this for ages ) Jimin encouraged him with little nothings, petting his hair and shifting his hips up into Taehyung’s eager, wide mouth.   “Such a sweet little baby,” Jimin moaned, petting the Beta’s cheek. “You eat me so well. I love feeling your hot insides around me. My cute, messy pet, Tae-Tae.” Then, that sadistic flash jolted through Jimin again, and he lifted his foot to press up against Taehyung’s cock, feeling it was hard as a rock. Well, shit. I guess that’s why he was ‘very green.’   “Wow, you’re so ready to come, aren’t you, Tae-Tae?” Jimin cooed, loving the way Taehyung started to hum and moan around him, taunted by the pain and pleasure that Jimin’s foot rubbing against him caused. “I actually thought you would get scared of me..” Jimin’s voice dropped off, the character faltering for a moment as he looked down at Taehyung, the tears in his eyes as he suddenly gagged on Jimin’s cock again, his bottom in the air, tail wagging because of the way his whole body shook with each movement. “I thought you might come to hate me, if you saw this.”   Taehyung slowly backed off, eyes wide and glassy as he looked up at Jimin. A little smile came to his face, and it wasn’t pet Tae-Tae, eager to please, but his Taehyung , the one he never wanted to lose.   “I could never hate you,” he said. He probably didn’t even realize that he’d said the same thing before. Jimin’s chest felt tight with emotion, and he blinked hard to force the tears back down. “I trust you.”   Jimin pressed his lips together, willing them not to tremble as he tried to slip back into his character, into the dominant Alpha he wanted to be for Taehyung, which he had wanted to become for so, so long. “Baby,” he hummed, petting the Beta, “Are you ready for us to Mate?”   Taehyung’s eyes lit up, as if Jimin had just offered an early Christmas. “Yes, yes!”   At that, Jimin couldn’t help the smirk that twisted across his face. He jerked a little at the leash, making Taehyung’s mouth open, his tongue lolling out, lips a bit swollen from where he’d been suckling on Jimin’s now fully-hardened and leaking cock.   “Are you sure?” Jimin queried, even as his fingers itched and slipped their way to the fake wolf tail, gripping it as Taehyung nuzzled in to Scent him.   “Yes, yes, I’m sure, master!” Taehyung let out an awkward, excited little bark, Scenting him harder. Waves of pleasure washed over Jimin, making him gasp a little in surprise.   “Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckled, “Then let me up.” Taehyung shifted back, about to sit upright on his heels before deciding to turn around, exposing his ass to Jimin once more.   “I like the logs,” Taehyung whispered, as Jimin took hold of the tail firmly. “They make me nervous.”   Jimin tilted his head to the side, then got up and reset the logs on top of the leash, effectively pinning Taehyung in the doggy position on the edge of the mattress again. Before he crawled back up, Jimin took a moment to watch Taehyung, his cheek laid against the sheets, his bottom sticking up, ass exposed. He was so naked , in so many senses of the word. Maybe it was time Jimin became naked, too.   Taehyung glanced up curiously, seeing Jimin watching him, and he flushed with shyness. “Sir?”   The Alpha smiled, peeling off his clothes in front of the fire. Taehyung hadn’t been lying when he said it was still chilly in the room. Additionally, he couldn’t tell because the curtains were down, but he suspected the sun had set by now. Once freed of his garments, Jimin crawled up behind Taehyung, noting with some consternation the size difference between them, for the nth time.   Taehyung, who had re-buried his face into the sheets, mumbled, “You’re so pretty…”   Jimin halted, not expecting the praise, then he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Taehyung’s waist, leaning his chest down against the Beta’s broad, tanned back.   “Thank you,” Jimin whispered against the raised and red scratches in Taehyung’s skin, “For picking me.”   The original plan in Jimin’s head, had been to continue to egg Taehyung on with their characters, throughout the entirety of their first time together. The general idea was (secretly) to cover up his inevitable awkwardness by keeping up that aggressive, loosened front. But when it came down to the actual moment, he could do nothing but allow it to remain awkward and tense. He positioned himself behind Taehyung, leading his member inside Taehyung’s entrance, and instantly the Beta started to writhe on the bed, struggling against the weight of the logs, his pretty collar digging into his equally pretty neck as he pressed himself backward, upward, and to every which side.   “Oh, god…” Taehyung groaned, “You’re so thick…” Jimin arched a concerned eyebrow. He had known this was true, but… what was Taehyung going to say when he saw what happened during Jimin’s ruts? “Color?”   “Green, but fuck… You’re...” Taehyung gave a little wheezing gasp, “Ah… maybe a little yellow...ish?”   At that, Jimin slowed himself down, giving a little grunting exhale as he struggled to maintain their position. “Shit...you’re so tight.” Maybe adding the logs hadn’t been the best idea. Taehyung - or rather, Taehyung’s body - seemed to be fighting against him.   “Ouch!” Taehyung hissed, and his back arched forward and downward, his neck straining against the leash and his hands gripping fiercely at the sheets. “Shit!”   “Relax,” Jimin managed to say into Taehyung’s ear, “Just relax…” But worry was starting to bubble up in his throat, keeping him from being able to use his Alpha voice to calm the Beta.   “I’m trying ,” Taehyung snapped, shifting where his knees pressed into the mattress, his breath coming in quick, frantic pants that told Jimin he was doing the exact opposite of trying to relax.   It took them several minutes of easing Taehyung into it, and Jimin had to use a lot of shushing and shakily get his Alpha voice under control, but eventually, Jimin felt like he could move. Perhaps that would help Taehyung loosen up.   But fuck, was he already on edge, his member hot and raw from the tightness around him. He was close. Probably too close, he imagined. Maybe he should have prepared Taehyung more, used a bigger toy. But either way, they were there; and he pressed into Taehyung’s bottom with his hips, and suddenly Taehyung’s cries of pain started to lengthen, to round out into moans that were sweet, and Jimin finally found their rhythm.   “Tae-” Jimin managed, gasping against the Beta’s back, clawing at him as he fought to press in harder, increasing their pace as Taehyung continued to whimper softly. “Taehyung, I’m close.”   “W-wait, I’m not there yet,” Taehyung cried, gripping at the bed and trying to press more against Jimin’s member. That was when Jimin noticed that, in their current position, he couldn’t possibly Mate Taehyung. The long, lanky body of his Beta was too far for him to get to his Scent mark. Jimin growled, suddenly pulling out and making Taehyung squeak.   “Flip over,” he demanded. He didn’t want to reach his high point before Taehyung did, but he certainly didn’t want to before he’d officially Mated with him, and made it official, once and for all.   “Okay..” Taehyung nodded, twisting his body amidst little complaining noises, shuffling until he was on his back, the leash draped across his face. He was gasping, sweat collecting on his beautiful brow. His nipples were erect, and Jimin’s hand reached up absentmindedly to play with them, as he clambered up Taehyung’s body and leaned in to Scent him. Taehyung let out a long curse, his body shivering as he let the effects of the Scenting wash over him. Jimin slipped inside of Taehyung again, this time from both ends, his member more smoothly easing inside of him this time even as his caught Taehyung by the mouth, diving into him with a steady, smooth rhythm. Jimin shifted his hips down into Taehyung with energetic purpose, even as his lungs started to ache with the effort. The strain came not so much from his own weight as with holding back, waiting for Taehyung to catch up.   “Taehyung,” Jimin gasped, realizing after Taehyung met his eyes that he still wasn’t there yet. Fuck. Perhaps after the Mating. Jimin kissed at the edge of Taehyung’s mouth, his words sweet and his voice raspy as he asked, “May I Mate you?” “Yes,” Taehyung said, smiling. Jimin dove down, nuzzling fondly at the sensitive Scent mark before digging his teeth in, in much the same way he had bitten down on the other side of Taehyung’s neck earlier that evening.   Taehyung actually screamed, his eyes screwed shut as he writhed beneath Jimin, the delicate edges of his nerves thrown in complete array when Jimin broke the skin. The metallic taste of blood slipped its way into his mouth, and he gasped at the smell of citrus and peppermint colliding, a toxic sort of sweetness that had his head spinning on edge. Was it supposed to feel like the greatest high of his life?   Beneath him, once he had control over his flailing, Taehyung heatedly grappled a hold onto Jimin’s shoulders, craning up painfully against the leash that still bound him to the floor, pulling Jimin down lower against his chest. Without hesitation, Taehyung dove in and bit down ferociously into Jimin’s Scent mark, and the pain and power of it knocked the air out of Jimin’s lungs, making his heart skip a beat. It was reeling, as though all the other little nibbles and bites that had led up to this point were practice, a gaining of momentum to that moment. The world spun, his body swept up in hot and cold flashes, and he found himself laughing deliriously even as he cried against Taehyung’s chest. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but even with Taehyung still clamped down on his neck, Jimin had started moving again, rocking deliciously into Taehyung, making the bed creak noisily and the logs shifted and rolled further down along the leash. He came loudly, messily, crying out in broken shouts and with Taehyung’s name on his tongue. Taehyung lay beneath him, moaning at the sensation as Jimin emptied out into him, filling him from the inside out. The Beta’s hands were in his hair, brushing the clumped, sweaty locks away from his eyes as Jimin felt his face flush with embarrassment, coming down from a lovely high only to find that Taehyung hadn’t made it there.   “S-s-sorry…” Jimin managed. Taehyung shushed him, smiling and looking utterly blissful.   “Shh, don’t worry,” Taehyung whispered against his cheek, where Jimin was falling forward, his bones like jelly. “I’m so happy right now, Jimin. I’m so happy.”   Jimin took in a deep breath of air, almost coughing on the smell of smoke from the fire and the dryness left in his throat after all the shouting he hadn’t planned on doing. His voice rasped painfully as he trailed his knuckles along the side of Taehyung’s cheek, staring at him in wonder.   “Tae-Tae,” he crackled, “We’re Mated, we did it.”   Taehyung beamed up at him. He kissed Jimin’s palm where it rested against his cheek. “I love you.”   Jimin kissed his mouth, the sweet, lovely, broad mouth. But god, he was exhausted. Between them, he could feel Taehyung’s member just throbbing away, seeming to be painful.   He lifted up a little, his eyes not quite focusing fully, and did his best to meet Taehyung’s eyes. “D-do you wanna try the Driver?”   Taehyung blinked up at Jimin, looking a little unfocused himself. It was like they were both drunk, and Jimin wondered if this was the best time to be trying something new. But with the way Taehyung’s breath suddenly caught, his chest  lifting and pressing up against Jimin’s clammy, bare skin, he was quickly sobering up from his sleepiness. “I’ll bet if we did, you would get there. You’ll love it, Tae-Tae.”   He seemed incapable of responding for a moment, letting out a little whimper and shifting underneath Jimin, considering. Then, he murmured one word: “Green.”   Jimin nodded, gingerly slipping out of Taehyung, feeling cold. He shivered, taking a moment to get dressed and throw another log onto the fire. He went back over to the now almost-depleted selection of toys, and picked up the one that was the heaviest. It had cost more than a pretty penny, and Jimin was certain that it was worth it.   (He wasn’t admitting it to Taehyung anytime soon, but he had made a rule that any toy he brought to Taehyung had to be tested on himself first, no matter how challenging. This one had thrown him through the roof in amazement, and he had been gushing about how much Taehyung would enjoy it for weeks.)   “It looks so scary,” Taehyung breathed, rolling over carefully onto his stomach and inspecting the toy.   It was, basically, a sort of electronic power drill. The heaviness of the base felt dangerous in Jimin’s hands, and in the best sense. He felt powerful holding it, his finger waiting on the trigger. On the end, instead of a proper drill-tip, there was a dildo attached, one of the ones Jimin had specifically picked out for Taehyung. He prepped the dildo with plenty of lubricant as Taehyung watched in fascination.   “Is that really the same size as yours?”   Jimin quirked his lips to the side, offering Taehyung a look. “It’s smaller, baby.”   “Oh.”   He paused in his lubricating, the clear cherry-scented liquid making his fingers gross and sticky, and he met Taehyung’s gaze. “Baby, are you okay with this? What color can you give me?” “I’m fine, I’m fine.”   But Jimin just frowned. “Give me a color.” He was starting to feel that paranoia creep in, the self-doubt that Taehyung was feeling pressured and just indulging him for Jimin’s own sake, that he was still on the edges of his headspace where he was submissive and compliant to everything. That was not the way he wanted to start off their Matinghood. He was, in a way, extremely relieved when Taehyung paused and really considered for a moment, the glassy look in his blue-rimmed eyes that revealed that he was buried in self-reflection, in a miniature world away from Jimin’s direct influence.   “Green,” he said at last, blinking and spreading his knees. “I want to try it.”   Jimin smiled, patting Taehyung’s raised bottom. “Beautiful. Lift up a bit more.”   Taehyung did as he was asked, and Jimin eased the dildo into the Beta carefully, letting it rest inside of him for a moment. As he counted the seconds, as he had taught himself, Jimin considered that maybe they should have started with the Driver before they tried Jimin himself.   “Okay?” Jimin queried, curving around a bit to glance at Taehyung’s face where he was buried into the mattress, taking in pointed, deep breaths. His bare chest expanded, brushing down against the mussed up sheets. His member was discoloring from pressure, but now that they had decided on the Driver, Jimin was determined to avoid touching him if he could help it.   After a moment, Taehyung nodded. “Green,” he managed.   Jimin flipped the switch, hearing the hum of the machine flipping on, letting it warm up for a moment before he started to squeeze the trigger just slightly. It was good, he realized, that he had tested it out first. Like the gas pedal of a car for a new driver, he had already worked through the sensitivities, and knew to start off slow. Agonizingly slow. The dildo pumped in and out of Taehyung at the slowest possible speed, to where it was barely even moving. Slick and lubricant stretched across the sides of the dildo, and Taehyung was letting out his breaths as evenly as possible, trying to teach his body to relax.   “Wow,” Taehyung managed, “That’s pretty good, too. It’s easier than I expected.”   Jimin tilted his head to the side, smirking as he held the drill with one hand, his other on Taehyung’s bottom. “You okay with trying some different speeds?” “Sure!” Taehyung said, his voice breathless but eager.   It was then that once again, Jimin’s sadistic streak resurfaced, seeing the chipper, easy way Taehyung took the dildo. He should have taken me half this easily, he cursed inwardly, mostly toward himself. He squeezed the trigger more, the pace increasing and the machine letting out a louder whirring sound, pumping in and out of Taehyung to a pace similar to what Jimin had tried for. Taehyung puffed, and Jimin knew the wind had been knocked out of him.   A low, deep, gravelly moan escaped the Beta, and he threw his head down against the sheets. “Oh, god...Yes, Jimin! Yes!”   “You like this dildo in your ass, baby?” Jimin’s voice dropped low again, like he had just fallen into the shell of his character as easily as people changed clothes. His eyes flashed pure red, and he angled the Driver a little more, laughing aloud when Taehyung screamed that he’d found it. The lovely little bundle of nerves that their other nerves had prevented them from finding, had prevented Jimin from hitting that first time, much to his chagrin - it was there. He was able to pound into it relentlessly, tirelessly, pressing in deeper as Taehyung started to yell that it was so much, that he was so sensitive.   That was when Jimin increased the pace once more. The dildo started to blur in his vision as it screamed inside of Taehyung, the squelching noises of Taehyung’s developing slick soon covered up as a wordless, incoherent babble of screams and moans were thrown out of Taehyung, a force to be reckoned with. He writhed on the bed, the logs becoming dislodged as Taehyung’s knees yanked and edged him further back, trying to increase the depth, to press harder even as his back arched and his body was shrieking at him to pull away.   A messy, babbling, “Ooooh goooddd..” managed its way out of Taehyung, his whole body vibrating and pulsing on the end of the Driver, and he started cursing, slapping his hand against the sheets in a futile effort to find relief. In between moans he was hiccuping, sniffling. He writhed, his cheek pressed to the sheets as tears streamed down his cherry-red face from all the exertion. “FUCK YES! FUCK YES! FUCK-ES FUCKS!!”   “Come on, baby,” Jimin coaxed, reaching out and slapping Taehyung’s buttocks hard, making him brokenly squeak. “Lift your ass up, that’s right. It feels good, doesn’t it, baby? You’re so fucking good for me, I’m so amazed at you.”   Taehyung let out a broken cry, suddenly shuddering headily against him, and Jimin let up the pace only slightly, letting Taehyung collapse forward onto the mattress completely, his whole body quivering in ecstasy as he tumbled down the steep incline, gasping for air. He had fallen forward into his own mess, his ass still tilted up into Jimin’s hands, into his control, as he wept.   Jimin waited until the aftershocks slowed, being extra-careful with removing the Driver. Taehyung let out a deep, bodily-heavy sigh of relief, his entire frame sinking into the mattress. Jimin leaned forward, kissing Taehyung’s temple and moving to take off the collar. The tiny, delicate key slipped into the lock, dropping the heart heavily into Jimin’s hand as he slipped it away, massaging at the Beta’s neck.   “Baby, are you doing okay?”   Taehyung laughed, sounding almost drunk as he opened one weary eye for Jimin. “Holy sh-sh-shit..”   The Alpha smirked, running his hand through Taehyung’s bangs and smoothing them away from his forehead. Conspiratorially, he leaned in and whispered, “I told you that toy would be amazing.” “A new favorite,” Taehyung giggled. “Now...can I sleep?” “Not until we finish the aftercare,” Jimin whispered, “Just a little while longer. Are you thirsty?” Taehyung looked across the room, as if his answer was there, and considered a moment. “Yeah, I think I am.”   “Would you like some water? Something to eat?” “I’m not hungry,” Taehyung mused, strangely childlike in his voice and mannerisms now. “I just want water. And to be warmed up.”   “Water and warmth, coming right up,” Jimin singsonged, sitting up from the bed and cleaning up their mess before dropping two comforters on top of the Beta. He left the wasted towels in the sink to be dealt with later, and got Taehyung a temperate cup of water, waiting curled against his side until he drank all of it. As he watched Taehyung sip, he cuddled in close, petting him all over and peppering kisses against any exposed skin.   “Mates,” he breathed, when Taehyung finished the cup completely. “Mates for life.”   “ Soul mates,” Taehyung sighed, smiling as he curled his leg over Jimin’s. The Alpha kissed his forehead again, and the Beta hummed contentedly. “I feel so much better. Like a fever just broke. Sleepy, but…” Taehyung yawned, long and hard, letting out a single note as he exhaled. “Sleepy and clammy, but content.”   “I’m glad.” Jimin leaned over, touching his lips to the top of Taehyung’s soft hair, reaching over and messaging Hoseok. “I’ll let the others know we’re safe, and we’ll be back in the afternoon tomorrow.”   “Okay,” Taehyung murmured, his eyes already shut as he nuzzled in against Jimin, sniffing happily at their combined Scents mingled in Jimin’s Scent mark now. “Mm… Citrus and peppermint. It smells like Christmas.”   Jimin chuckled, curling up inside Taehyung’s arms, allowing himself to feel small and needy for a moment as the larger male curled up around him like an octopus. “Goodnight, baby.”   “Mm…” Taehyung barely managed, “Goodnight, my Alpha.”   Jimin flushed, grinning from ear to ear as he buried his face in Taehyung, drifting off to sleep.   The two of them had fully intended on waiting until the late morning before starting the journey home. However, just as the sun rose over the trees, birds singing in a welcome for a cool, sunny spring day, their slumber was rudely disturbed by a clattering sound like something heavy being thrown against another, and the sound of gruff, angry voices and wolf snarls just outside the door. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "When your values are clear to you, making decisions becomes easier." ~Roy E. Disney   By the time Taehyung’s eyes shot open, Jimin was already sitting upright, the Alpha’s whole body tense and quivering with anxiety as he stared at the door to the cabin. The Beta whimpered quietly, curled up against Jimin’s side as the sounds of wolf snarls and yips filled the air. It sounded like so many of them. Taehyung could hear them, could even smell them, a large hoard of bodies and fur and strength right outside their door. There was a bang, and a rattling against the door, and then a bark. Things stilled, and Jimin’s hair seemed to stand on end.“Jimin…” Taehyung breathed in fear. Jimin laid a hand on Taehyung, the strength of his Alpha Scent oozing across the room, defensive and powerful. The smell of peppermint was so thick against him that Taehyung could almost taste it on his tongue, and he looked up at Jimin in worry.“Stay here,” Jimin said. His voice was deep, guttural and aggressive. Taehyung whimpered again, reaching out to hold him back and keep him near, but Jimin slipped out of his grasp, sending him a deep, long look. It was a promise, a reassurance and a rebuke, all at once.“Stay here,” he warned once more, then went to the door. Taehyung watched him go closer, clutching the blankets around himself tightly. The cabin had, only just the night before, been a sanctuary of safety and openness; a place to be vulnerable. The sanctity of that haven had now been utterly disrupted in a way Taehyung was sure he was not ready to deal with. He wanted to move forward, to stay at Jimin’s side, but the pull of the Alpha’s command left him quivering nervously on the bed.Hoping that they would go unnoticed was impossible. They must have seen the truck outside, seen the smoke from the fireplace, smelled their Scents lingering outside. Now they knew the door was locked, and that someone must have been home.Jimin placed his hand upon the knob, turned it, and was met with the entirety of the Rising God clan at their doorstep. He felt the light coolness of the early spring morning, his breath escaping from between his lips in a lazy fog as he exhaled slowly. All eyes were on him, a small legion of wolves that sat at the ready, postures aware but relaxed, knowing the force of their own strength. Jimin was alone, and with his freshly Mated and still delicate Beta inside, waiting for him. He didn’t know what to do, and felt the hopelessness of the situation sinking into his bones like poison into freshwater.He was totally, utterly, at their mercy.But he wasn’t about to let them enjoy that.“What do you want?” Jimin growled, letting his voice deepen and turn thick with feigned self-assurance. He willed his mind to walk away from the anxiety, not allowing it to seep too deeply into his bones and muscles so as to reveal itself. He forced his mind to focus on the inner aggression, the defensiveness. That was his Mate inside. Futile or not, it didn’t matter. He would fight to the death for Taehyung, and things were as simple as that. He straightened, his hand on the door as he frowned at the trespassers, the ones infringing on his territory, and glared at them evenly. It was a technique he had learned from Namjoon, who knew the value of putting off the right Scent at the right time, of not lying but refocusing energy into what you needed for the moment. It was coming in handy now, he felt. They may have been able to tell someone was there, but he realized that they may not attack if they weren’t sure how many of the pack were present. For all they knew, Namjoon and everyone else was waiting inside for the word. “Your own claimed territory is clearly marked,” Jimin continued, “So move along.”The wolves’ ears twitched, and a few shifted in impatience at the tone. They looked at each other in question, and Jimin fought to keep his focus clear. He heard Taehyung shuffling behind him, and he was tempted to turn around, his head subconsciously tilting a bit toward the noise. He hoped Taehyung would listen, would understand that this was his task, his job, and he wanted to do it right.But as moments passed, he started getting worried. Why weren’t they just attacking?Finally, one wolf out in the front shifted, revealing a feminine-faced man with concern on his face.“Jimin,” the mysterious Beta said, his voice surprisingly gentle, making Jimin feel even less at ease. He stepped onto the bottom of the wooden steps that led up onto the porch, and Jimin bristled visibly. The Beta stopped. “Jimin, is Jungkook here?”“Why do you want to know?” Jimin snarled, unsure why the man knew him by name and not liking it, not one bit.“Because, I need to speak to him, about his brother,” he said, in a voice of practiced diplomacy. Jimin looked up into the man’s eyes, conflict burning into his chest. He wanted to know - for Jungkook’s sake - if there was new information on the location of his brother. But his instincts screamed at him that the limitation of access to the brother was suspicion enough. Namjoon had even suggested that the existence of such a brother was a lie in and of itself. And looking into the Beta’s eyes, Jimin saw a strange, broken gentleness, but he also saw fear. He was risking something, something big, by being here.“That’s not why you came,” Jimin said evenly. “You didn’t know we’d be here today.”The Beta’s eyes flashed in fear, and he tried vainly to smile. It twitched weakly at the edges. “My name is Geun Suk. I don’t mean any harm, and I’d like to speak to Namjoon or Jungkook, if you please.”“No,” Jimin stated firmly, closing the door behind him and stepping out onto the porch. The closest of the wolves stepped forward, taking a defensive stance, and Jimin paused, crossing his arms. “If you have anything to say to either of them regarding Jungkook’s brother, you can say it to me. No games.”“But you don’t understand, I--” He was cut off by a growl at his back, and the Beta turned around frantically. To the wolf walking up, teeth bared, he berated in warning, “No, he said there was to be no aggressive engagement, that’s not why we’re here!”Despite his words, the wolf continued to press forward, until Geun Suk moved towards him. The wolf snarled, snapping his maw at Geun Suk and making the Beta take a step back. His brow furrowed, first in confusion, then in fury.“Would you really? Now?” He turned to the rest of the pack, gesturing in the wide, exaggerated style of a man pushed to his limits. “And are you all in agreeance to this?”In response, the majority of the wolves growled, pressing forward. Geun Suk shook his head, shifting back into wolf form and seating himself off to the side of the porch, glaring at them with eyes narrowed. He seemed to be waiting for something, and Jimin felt his anxiety pulse and increase. The aggressive Alpha who had challenged him stepped forward, up onto the porch, and met Jimin’s gaze calmly. Jimin pressed his lips together, frowning. The man intended no compromises or bartering. Jimin shifted into his wolf form mere seconds before the Alpha wolf leapt forward in attack.Teeth ripped into fur and flesh, snarls shaking the morning air as Jimin met him from beneath, pressing upwards and unbalancing the bigger Alpha. He bit furiously at anything he could reach, moving his body skillfully in order to avoid being caught. If he were to be pinned, it would all be over.The Alpha growled against him, and he could hear the rumble in his chest, could smell the acrid smell of his breath washing over him. Jimin pressed in against him, knowing from muscle memory how close the edge of the porch waited. The majority of the Alpha’s weight was on his shoulders, and he was still shoving, biting, tearing at whatever he could. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt the sting and coolness that he knew meant he was bleeding, too. Where was the edge? He should have reached it by now, he should have--The wolf was pressed off the edge of the porch. It was a short distance, but it was plenty in order for Jimin to leap down after him, pinning him with the entirety of his weight to the ground. The Alpha scrambled, hoping to get a foothold and run away, but the wolves were pressed in so closely, and Jimin was too quick. He tore into the wolf mercilessly, knowing the right tendons to tear at to weaken him the most, high off the smell of offensive Alpha in his territory, still able to smell the faint whisps of Taehyung’s Beta Scent clinging to his own body, a sign that he belonged to another, and had something -someone - to fight for. When the wolf stilled, panting weakly and lying in defeat, Jimin finally looked up to see that many of the wolves had drawn away, although their teeth remained bared. Another wolf stepped up, and moved to attack. In a brief moment, Jimin caught the Omega’s Scent, and realized that this was the fallen Alpha’s mate. His ears pinned down, but he braced his body for the oncoming attack, racing back up to the top of the porch and placing the door at his back. He would defend the Main Hall until he couldn’t anymore.There was a little creak, and the door opened just a crack behind him.“Jimin…?” Taehyung breathed, “Are you okay?” He could hear it in Taehyung’s voice. He wanted to come help. He knew he should. Every instinct in Taehyung’s body would be telling him he was supposed to be fighting at Jimin’s back. Jimin watched the oncoming Omega, and crouched lower, snarling. No, Taehyung. Go back inside. Someone has to make it back home.The Omega was at the steps when another wolf entered from the edge of the woods at a full run, barking as he ran full-speed against the oncoming Omega, knocking them both to the ground. The wolf was black in fur, with red eyes that suggested Alpha.A gasp was let out behind him, and he heard Tae whisper, “That’s Jae.”Jimin’s ears shifted, confused. The Omega and Jae scuffled, each yipping and trying in vain to best the other. The Omega eventually ran off toward the clearing, trying to get Jae to stop pursuit, and their snarls continued. What was going on? Was Jae defending them?Another wolf entered the clearing, halting for a moment and twitching his ears, sniffing the air to figure out what had happened. Then, he howled, and the wolves seemed to become uncomfortable. The large wolf shifted, revealing a man Jimin knew mostly by association. This was Yunho, their lead Alpha. Jimin straightened a little more, attempting to appear even a little bit more formidable. This Alpha was tall, broad-shouldered, masculine in face and in form. Jimin noted, however, that the man’s Alpha Scent was not as strong and overwhelming as he expected, a strangely familiar flowery Scent that he realized afterwards was that of roses.“I’m sorry,” Yunho said, smiling sadly, “Are you hurt?”Jimin blinked. No, he wasn’t hurt, at least not badly. But that was the last thing he expected the lead Alpha of the Rising Gods to say. The suspicion started to blossom in his chest, an acute awareness of Taehyung at his back ever-present.“We’ll leave straightaway,” the Alpha promised, “May the rest of your Mating go peacefully.”Yunho gave a little bow, and albeit hesitantly and in bemusement, Jimin responded in kind. He carefully watched Yunho walk down the steps, turning to look at Geun Suk, who had his head bowed and tail curled inward in melancholy.“We’ll talk about this back at the pack house,” Yunho snarled at them, his voice suddenly cold and rebuking, harsh and utterly opposing his previous treatment of Jimin. “Get home, now.”The wolves started to move out as one, and Yunho turned to offer one last apologetic bow before he shifted, setting off at the tail end of the party. Geun Suk lingered a little longer. He didn’t look their direction, but rather, towards the clearing, where Jae was sitting and waiting for him, keeping his distance from the Main Hall cabin. Geun Suk turned and, with slow, heavy legs, made his way to the Alpha before they followed after the others.Jimin didn’t move a muscle until he could hear and smell that they had truly left. He still felt wired, as though expecting them to leap out at any second. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when Taehyung practically fell on top of him from behind, burying his face into Jimin’s neck and trying to dry his tears in Jimin’s soft light-brown fur.“You asshole,” he snapped bitterly, “You’re such an asshole. You did so beautifully, so bravely, so stupidly. My Alpha. I’m so glad you’re safe.”At that, Jimin relaxed his body, a warmth of relief rising up into his chest. They were okay.~~~~~ “Hoseokkie,” Yoongi murmured. The Alpha hummed contentedly into his pillow, wanting to purr at the feeling of Yoongi’s warm hand running through his hair. “It’s time to get up. It’s almost noon.”“Mm?” Hoseok opened one eye. “No way.”The Omega was curled up against Hoseok’s chest, one arm wrapped protectively around Hoseok’s shoulders. He leaned forward and placed a kiss against Hoseok’s lips. “You know how you get during wrackspurt.”“Wow,” Hoseok ran his hand over his face, trying to rub the sleep out of it. He squinted his eyes into semi-openness as he looked over at Yoongi. “How are you feeling?”“Got up for a piss and nearly died,” Yoongi stated in a deadpan. Hoseok gave him an apologetic smile.“Poor baby,” he teased. “Should I carry you around all day and pamper you?”“Maybe.” Yoongi shuffled in a bit closer. “I don’t want to go to class.”“I’ll carry you to all your classes on my shoulders, then.”“Okay.” Yoongi held out his arms, and Hoseok chuckled, tucking him into his embrace and rolling them off the bed so he was on his feet with the Omega in his arms. He carried Yoongi to the bathroom door and set him down gently before turning to go back into the bedroom. “I’m still naked.”“I know, I’m getting us clothes for a shower,” Hoseok said, going around the room and collecting fresh clothes for them to change into. The ground was littered in discarded articles, and he picked up his jeans to shake them off and throw them into the hamper as he went, when his cell phone dropped to the carpet with a clatter. He looked at it in surprise for a moment, then moved it to the charger, ignoring its blinking lights and tossing it on the bed before going to join Yoongi.They showered quietly, shuffling around the tiny shower and at one point playfully splashing each other from the stream. By the time they got out, the bathroom was full of steam and their muscles felt loosened and relaxed. Yoongi wrapped his arms around Hoseok’s upper arm, his cheek resting against the Alpha’s shoulder. Using one hand to dry his hair a bit more, Hoseok unlocked his phone with the other and started to scroll through his messages. There were a couple of phone calls from his coworker, probably about his time sheet, and one from Jungkook that morning asking if they were awake and wanted waffles, and he smiled as Yoongi tucked his head into the space between his jaw and chest.“I’m not ready to go back out into the real world,” Yoongi whined, clasping his hands on the opposite side, palms pressed up against Hoseok’s neck. “Tell them all to go away.” He whimpered childishly, then turned to look at Hoseok, contemplating a kiss. What he found was Hoseok staring at his phone in shock, jaw dropped and face paling. “Hoseok? What is it?”“It’s Jimin…” Hoseok whispered, “He and Taehyung are at the island. Th-they eloped…”“What?!” Yoongi snatched the phone out of Hoseok’s hand, gaping as he read. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”“I’m… I can’t believe..” Hoseok was shaking his head, and then his hands were shaking instead, a quivering through his body as he pushed his way out of Yoongi’s embrace, rushing toward the door. “I have to...I have to go get them.”“Hoseok!” The Omega followed him out into the hall, tugging on the back of his shirt as they rushed down the stairs. “Wait, wait up!”They thudded past the kitchen, where Seokjin and Jungkook were sitting cross legged under the table, looking up in confusion when they saw Hoseok storming out to the living room with Yoongi chasing after him.“Hoseok, let’s talk to Namjoon first, before we do anything rash, okay? If we just rush off, it’ll only make things worse…”“What’s going on?” Seokjin called out, crawling out from under the table and following in time to see Hoseok reaching for the doorknob.“Listen, Hoseok, I’m worried, too!” Yoongi reasoned, gripping Hoseok by the arm, his voice raised as if to penetrate the wall of irrationality that had risen on every side of Hoseok. “But if something happened, you may not be able to fix it on your own, we need to work as a pack.”Hoseok froze, visibly affected by Yoongi’s warm undertone from his Omega voice, the homey smell of tilled earth wafting through the room in a calming cloud. The Alpha sighed, relaxing his hand.“Namjoon is in his room with Kiara right now,” Seokjin said, “Should I go get him?”“Yes, “ Yoongi said, turning to look over his shoulder at him. “Taehyung and Jimin eloped.”There was a beat of silence, and Jungkook slipped into the living room to tuck himself in behind Seokjin.“What?!” Seokjin’s voice raised in pitch in a painful sounding way, his eyes wide. “They did what?!”“I got a text from Jimin, like at 2 in the morning, saying they were safe on the island and that they’d gone to Mate, and not to worry.” Hoseok scoffed, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.Jungkook hugged in at Seokjin’s side, poking his head around his waist and peering up at him. Quietly, he pointed out, “Taehyung did say it was only fair if they Mated before us, I’m not surprised.”Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long, low groan. “Oh my god… I’ll go get Namjoon.” He brushed Jungkook off of him and walked off, leaving the Omega to step towards Yoongi and Hoseok quietly.“Are you okay?” he said.Hoseok sighed, “Yes, I’m just worried. This was so stupid of them.”“I’m sure they’re gonna be alright,” Yoongi reassured, his hand on the Alpha’s shoulder. “They said they were safe.”“But why did they just run off like that?” The Alpha looked exasperated, on edge, and he started to pace back and forth across the living room, the two Omegas hovering around him. Namjoon came in, hair mussed and eyes swollen-looking but held wide in alarm.“When was the last time anyone saw or heard from them?” he demanded instantly.“Two this morning,” Hoseok sighed, holding up his cellphone. “They said they were safe, but that was hours ago.”“How did they even get there?”“Oh my god,” Seokjin let out a groan. “Jimin asked to borrow my truck yesterday. I didn’t even think anything of it.”“Well, naturally,” Yoongi sighed, “This isn’t exactly typical Jimin behavior.”“Or Taehyung,” Namjoon was scrolling through his phone, checking in case he had any additional information. After a moment, he dialed Jimin’s phone and placed it to his ear, straightening his shoulders. “Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. I need some of us to stay here in case they come back, and to keep an eye on Kiara. She’s having contractions and I’m a bit worried that--”“Wait,” Jungkook said, having stepped closer to the front window, “Isn’t that them pulling in now?”Everyone halted, as if surprised that that was what was happening, of all things. Then, Yoongi was leaning into the window, pressing against Jungkook’s back. He gasped, “It is them.”“Oh, thank god,” Namjoon breathed. Hoseok was already halfway outside, the screen door slamming noisily behind him as he rushed out.By the time the others followed after him, Jimin had already gotten out of the truck, instantly attacked by Hoseok’s aggressive embrace nearly bowling him over.“You scared the shit out of me!” Hoseok practically wept into Jimin’s shoulder, the smaller Alpha looking over Hoseok with a slightly embarrassed look on his face. He slowly met eyes with Namjoon, who stood staring from the edge of the driveway with an unreadable expression, then Jimin lowered his head. Taehyung closed the passenger door, shrugging their backpack onto his shoulder.“We came back as soon as we could,” Taehyung tried to reassure, his voice quiet and his form somehow smaller and more fragile-looking than normal. Already looking towards his brothers with the same puppy-eyes he usually gave when he needed comforting, he was stepping towards Namjoon and the others when suddenly Hoseok was rushing at him, grabbing him and pulling him roughly into a tight embrace. The Beta’s backpack dropped to the ground with a strange clatter, his eyes wide in surprise as Hoseok squeezed him tightly, holding him long and hard.“Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again,” Hoseok demanded, voice muffled as his face was buried into Taehyung’s shoulder. “I was so worried about you two.”“Um.” Taehyung looked to Seokjin as if for an answer. He lifted his arms and hugged Hoseok back, patting his shoulder, “M’sorry…”“God, you two are gonna be the death of me.” Hoseok finally released him, wiping almost angrily at his eyes before leading Taehyung toward the house. Jimin walked to the front of the truck to meet them, stopping in front of the leader. Namjoon was standing with his arms crossed, expression solemn.Jimin lowered his head, “Namjoon…”“Are you two okay?” Namjoon snapped, cutting him off with a clipped edge to his voice that left the air thicker, as though he had drawn blood with it.Jimin blinked, then nodded. “We’re okay. Stuff happened, but… we’re okay.”“Good.” He seemed to hesitate, then reached out and pulled Jimin to him, holding him and breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank god. You’re in a shitton of trouble, just by the way.”“I think that’s fair,” Jimin smiled, his voice muffled by Namjoon’s arm as he nuzzled in.~~~~~ “I can’t believe this,” Kiara said, curled up onto the couch against Namjoon’s chest with a blanket tucked around their laps. The entire pack was seated or sprawled around the living room as between the two of them, Taehyung and Jimin related the events that had transpired that morning. “The Rising Gods are clearly out of hand.”“You shouldn’t have even been there,” Yoongi said simply, Jungkook curled up into his lap and watching them all quietly. “You put yourselves and the whole pack at risk.”“I know,” Jimin sighed. Hoseok had grabbed hold of him once they were inside and hadn’t let him go, burying his face into the younger Alpha’s shoulder and breathing in his Scent for reassurance. Meanwhile, Taehyung had his head in Jimin’s lap, enjoying his hair being petted gently and draping his knees across Jungkook’s legs. “But Taehyung was so miserable… and Seokjin said that if we Mated, it would help, so--”“What?” Seokjin’s voice piped in, squeaking in surprise. “I wasn’t suggesting you two run off and Mate!”“We know that.” Taehyung yawned, his eyes blinking slowly. “That’s why we didn’t tell you.”Seokjin gaped at Taehyung, reaching out and slapping him on the leg. The Beta yipped, then laughed.“I’m serious, though. You two acted against the best interests of the pack, and deliberately against what I told you,” Namjoon said. “This pack is a family. We would have been devastated if something had happened to you two.”Jimin lowered his head again, his cheeks reddening a little. “I know…”“If you had come to me and told me how badly you wanted to Mate, we would have talked about it and figured something out.” Namjoon frowned. “You were lucky to have survived. What am I supposed to do with two pack members who can’t listen to my orders, which I made for your own safety?”“I’m sorry, Namjoon,” Jimin said quietly.There was a long silence, and Namjoon sighed. Yoongi was the first one to speak again, after several long moments.“You realise,” Yoongi started slowly, “That the reason you were even attacked was because some of the Rising Gods pack members went against their leader’s orders? Whatever reason they were there, they weren’t supposed to attack you. Probably because Yunho knew that it was unlikely that you two would be going anywhere on your own, especially that far from the pack.”“Jackson says that there are rumors going around,” Namjoon added, “That the Rising Gods are having a sort of coup against Yunho. He’s lost all their respect, and apparently it’s been building up for years. I’m not sure the reasons, but it’s been coming for quite some time.”Taehyung shifted uncomfortably in Jimin’s lap. “Th-there was something else that bothered me, too.”“Mm?”“Jae…” he mumbled, “He protected Jimin from that Omega. He attacked his own pack member.”Seokjin, who had been sitting quietly, looked up to find all eyes were flickering towards him. “Don’t look at me - I haven’t heard anything. But it seems weird to me, too.” The Alpha seemed to consider, glancing towards Jungkook but with eyes glassy, deep in thought. “I decided to stop hoping for him to change, in all honesty.”“But you said that the pack turned on him once they found out about you two,” Taehyung reminded him. “So what are they going to do with him now?”“Probably nothing nice,” Seokjin murmured bitterly. He turned his face away, blinking heavily and pressing his lips tightly together. Jungkook reached out and touched his arm, but received no response.“Seokjin…?”It was delayed, but eventually, Seokjin turned to Jungkook, offering him a sad smile. He laid his hand on Jungkook’s knee, and gave it a slight squeeze.“He made his choice,” Seokjin said quietly, “And I made mine.”Jungkook’s expression seemed to crumple at that, but before he could formulate a proper response, Kiara cut in with: “Meanwhile, we have to make a few choices of our own. Should we continue with the plan for Seokjin and Jungkook’s Mating tomorrow as usual? And do we contact the Rising Gods and see what they have to say about this whole brother situation?”“That,” Namjoon murmured, turning over Kiara’s palm in his, rubbing at the tendons of her hand slowly. “Is an excellent question.”He lifted his eyes, looking towards Jungkook. The Omega seemed to withdraw for a moment, second-guessing himself, then he met the leader’s eyes.“I want to Mate as soon as possible,” he said. “But.. I also...would like to know what they have to say.”“Very well,” Namjoon said. Seokjin stiffened, the soft Scent of soap and worry hovering in the air. “I’ll go talk to Jackson tomorrow and see if he knows anything from his side. They went for a hunt the other day on the island, so they may have heard something. In the meanwhile, we continue with the Mating plan as before. Although I suppose with decidedly less danger of Jimin or Taehyung being targeted.” He sent a pointedly grim look to the two of them, then patted Kiara’s shoulder. “So I suppose we should go start getting ready.”“Yeah,” Taehyung curled his legs off of Jungkook’s lap, curling up closer to Jimin. “Let’s go get packed so tomorrow the lovebirds can finally let off some of that steam.” He sat up, leaning in to whisper something in Jungkook’s ear, then let Jimin help pull him to his feet.When they were alone in the living room again, Jungkook crawled over to lay down in Seokjin’s lap, silently requesting a hand running through his hair. They sat in silence for a span of time, saying nothing and not moving, lost in their own thoughts.“You don’t need to worry,” Seokjin said quietly. “Jae and I are completely over. It’s not even a consideration.”“I know,” Jungkook mumbled, but he didn’t sound convinced himself. “And you don’t need to worry, either. I won’t put myself unnecessarily at risk, I just...kind of wish I knew what the big deal was, why they keep trying to get me to meet with him.”“Yeah…” Seokjin sighed, curling downward to kiss Jungkook’s forehead as his hand brushed the bangs back in a smooth, wave-like gesture. “It’s just that neither of us has exactly had a great experience, when it comes to the Rising Gods, and now Jimin and Taehyung can say the same. I think even if I try not to, I’ll still worry about it. They were really lucky that nothing more serious happened.”“Mmm…” Jungkook curled in closer. “I’m glad they’re back.”“Me, too.” There was a pause, then, “So how do you feel about Taehyung snagging a Mate before you could?”Jungkook snorted. “I couldn’t care less.”Seokjin chuckled.“But hey…” The Omega wriggled his body up so that he was half-dangling from Seokjin’s shoulder, nuzzling his face into the Alpha’s chest. “Guess what? One day left.”“Yeah,” Seokjin smiled. “One day left.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” ― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets    “Are you all ready yet? ” Hoseok called from the doorway, letting out his nth sigh of the hour. Jimin was standing at his side with his backpack already slung over his shoulder, playing with something on his phone, but he looked up at the exasperation in the older Alpha’s tone. “They’ll be done soon, I’m sure. Taehyung was mostly packed last night, and Namjoon has to take care of his own things and Kiara’s.” “I know, but we planned on being out of the pack house an hour ago.” Hoseok’s lips pursed into their tight little triangle, and Jimin watched him for a moment, sniffing the air demurely. “You’re nervous…” Jimin said slowly. “Are you worried about Seokjin and Jungkook’s Mating?” The Alpha looked over at him, turbulence evident in his eyes as he bit at his lip. “No...I mean, well, maybe.” Jimin stared at Hoseok harder, leaning in and bumping up against his shoulder lightly. Hoseok was a worrier-type, that was for damn sure. But in this instance, Jimin got the feeling that there were a lot of unspoken concerns bubbling beneath the surface. It wasn’t like Hoseok to be nervous like this . “Hoseok...what’s wrong?” Before responding, Hoseok looked around the empty living room. There was a pile of forgotten, untended-to socks on the coffee table. Namjoon’s daily paper lay unread next to a cup of coffee that was half-emptied and fully-cold by now. There was a stray shoe strung halfway across the living room that looked like a fancy slipper, and the game controllers were strewn about haphazardly like a tangle of black vines, ready to capture an unsuspecting traveler. “It’s nothing, really...it’s stupid.” “Hoseok, I’m sure it’s not stupid if it’s you ,” Jimin chuckled lightly, but he leaned in to touch the Alpha’s shoulders, squeezing lightly and leaning in. “It’s because of Jungkook, right?” Hoseok frowned, crossing his arms as if in petulance. “He’s the last one,” he said at long last. “He’s the last of the Unmated pups, but it all happened so quickly. I knew it was coming, but…” “But we’re like your pups,” Jimin finished gently. A soft smile graced his lips. Hoseok sighed. “He’s the last one. And he’s so excited, but…” “I know,” Jimin patted Hoseok on the shoulder comradely. Taehyung’s familiar footsteps trudged down the stairs, the Beta looking put-out. “And who knows? Maybe there will be lots more pups running around the pack house soon enough!” “Hm? What?” Taehyung queried, frowning as he adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. He seemed sluggish or disappointed, the two emotions looking so similar on him that Jimin was constantly amused by it. “I was talking to Hoseok,” Jimin said, instinctively reaching out to pull Taehyung over to stand next to him. “We were talking about pups in the packhouse.” “Oh, yeah,” Taehyung’s lips didn’t curl upwards like Jimin hoped, but his eyes sparkled a little, and he took Jimin’s small hand in his own, holding the palm up to inspect the hand with his eyes and with his fingertips, as if he were a fascinated child. “Pups would be good.” “I think so, too,” Jimin smiled. He nudged up against Taehyung, nuzzling against his cheek. In response, Taehyung wrapped one arm around Jimin’s shoulder, touching their temples together and giving a delicate smile. “Okay, let’s get on the road already,” Namjoon called out, thumping noisily down the stairs as if walking on his heels. He was soon followed by the rest of the party, including Jungkook, who looked about ready to explode from barely contained excitement. He was grinning in that way that let his teeth peek through, the crinkles at his eyes deepening as soon as Seokjin walked in from the kitchen, the picture of calm. Hoseok sighed, feeling a strange mix of happiness and melancholy in his chest. Yoongi leaned over, picking up the newspaper from the coffee table and tucking it under his arm for the ride before turning to the two soon-to-be-Mates. Normally he waited his turn to read after Namjoon finished his morning cup, but the schedule was a bit chaotic today. “You two know how to contact us, should you need anything. Which I highly doubt you will.” “The hotel isn’t far,” Kiara said, taking gentle hold of Jungkook’s shoulders and squeezing at the muscle there, sending him a smile. “So if you need anything , you call right away, alright?” Jungkook nodded, and Kiara lifted her chin up. The man then leaned down a little so that the short woman could press a kiss to his forehead, a simple gesture that filled him with warmth nonetheless. One by one each of the pack came forward and offered hugs or pats on the head, and Jungkook felt a sudden jolt in his gut that he hadn’t expected. If things had been calmer, if things weren’t always so intense and crazy, then this moment, this instant, would have been the baseline for how the pack would have handled his Presenting, and they could have done things their own way and in their own time. Not that he was exactly complaining. Seokjin’s arm snaked around his waist as Yoongi said his final goodbyes to them both. It was just that he hadn’t thought too long on how sincere their wishes of good will were, reflected in their eyes as they smiled knowingly. Hoseok was the last to bid him goodbye, and Jungkook paused as he realized the Alpha had tears in his eyes, his face starting to redden from pre-crying stress. “Hoseok?” Jungkook said quietly, his hands shifting forward without his willing them to, without needing to will them. “I just…” Hoseok sniffed, rubbing furiously at his eyes and letting out a slow breath as if to calm himself. “I’m fine.” He rushed forward, embracing the youngest tightly, squeezing him so close he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Over Hoseok’s shoulder, Jungkook saw Seokjin smiling, eyes sparkling in amusement. “I’m proud of you, you know,” Hoseok managed. “You’re growing up well, Jungkook.” Jungkook’s face crumpled in emotion, moved by Hoseok’s words but unable to form a response that even held a candle to what he wanted to convey. So they stood in silence instead, with Jungkook squeezing harder at the hug until Hoseok finally let out a strained chuckle, moving away as he wiped his tears. Yoongi was waiting in the doorway for him, a crooked little smirk on his face. “Come on, Hoseokkie,” Yoongi chuckled, gesturing for him with one hand, his keys in the other. “Leave the lovebirds alone, we have to get Kiara to the hotel before her pregnant bladder betrays her.” Over his shoulder, he pointed a warning finger to the two inside, “Don’t you dare do anything in our room, and for your own safety, don’t trespass into Kiara’s nest. Not for anything. She’s already gotten it just as she likes it, and it’s gonna be stressful enough for her to leave it for this long. We’ll see you on Monday morning, so have pants on by then.” “ You, of all people, demanding we wear pants,” Seokjin mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. Jungkook giggled, leaning back against his chest and taking hold of his wrists, wrapping them around his body like a protective blanket as he grinned mischievously at them. “Come home safe,” Jungkook singsonged, obviously brimming with excitement but trying to focus. Yoongi rolled his eyes, taking hold of Hoseok’s arm and leading him out the door, the Alpha waving one last time to the two of them with a sniffle-ridden smile before the door shut and locked. Seokjin hovered around Jungkook’s back, slowly swaying side to side with a gentle rhythm they had established. He tucked his head over the Omega’s shoulder, kissing along his jaw and feeling the warm rush beneath the Omega’s skin, smelling the leather and salt rising with nervousness. Jungkook suddenly wriggled around in his arms until he was facing Seokjin, encircling the Alpha’s trim waist with his arms and grinning up at him. “So what’s my surprise?” Seokjin laughed. “Surprise? What surprise?” There was a playful lilt to it, indicating that Seokjin knew exactly what Jungkook was hoping to see or hear, and Seokjin felt the nervousness bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. “ Your surprise. You said you had requests this time.” Jungkook shuffled in, nuzzling in to Scent Seokjin thickly, making goosebumps rise on his arm. “What is it? Is it a toy? Is it a nickname?” The laugh that escaped the Alpha this time was decidedly more riddle with nervous energy. “What if I told you it was just that I want you to settle down and behave yourself for once?” “As if that would be your request,” Jungkook laughed. Then, at Seokjin’s silence, he paused, drawing back with a puzzled look. “It’s not, right?” In response, Seokjin laughed, earning a rough punch on the arm from the Omega. Jungkook continued to smack at his arm as he followed Seokjin, who started moving upstairs while dramatically shouting at Jungkook as if he was being violently beaten. “Ow, why are you so mean to me?” Seokjin playfully whined, trying to shove the clingy Jungkook off of him as they stumbled and laughed their way to Seokjin’s room. “What will you do if you hit me so hard I forget what your surprise is?” Jungkook offered no verbal retort or response, just laughing. They fell against each other as Seokjin leaned into the door to open it, the Omega’s foot landing roughly on Seokjin’s and making him yip. They tumbled into the room, and once past the threshold, Seokjin turned to grab Jungkook by the hips, lifting him up and dumping him face-first down onto the bed, a grunt escaping the Omega as he continued to laugh into the blankets. Seokjin shook his head, crawling up onto the bed and pinning Jungkook down by laying down on top of him. He heard Jungkook laughing, his voice muffled as he tried to turn his head to gain more air. “You’re heavy!” Jungkook complained. In retaliation, Seokjin leaned down into Jungkook harder, digging his fingers down and into Jungkook’s sides, tickling him. The Omega started to cry out in peals of laughter, trying to wriggle away and escape, but to no avail. “Jin! Jiiin!” he laughed, writhing and shoving at Jin’s hands, their fingers entwining as he threw his head back. Seokjin laughed, his teeth gritted as he tried to keep his upper hand. When he figured Jungkook had had enough torture, he stopped his tickling and kissed the back of his neck, leaving his lips there so he could feel the thrumming beat of Jungkook’s racing heartbeat gradually start to slow and relax again. The smell of his Scent was so strong and pure in that moment, emanating off of him, Omega Scent mingled with joy. Jungkook slowly shifted until he was out from under Seokjin, one of his legs thrown casually across Seokjin’s lap as he leaned back onto the heels of his palms. “Who is the real mean one here?” Jungkook teased, “When you al--” Jungkook froze suddenly, staring at the edge of the bed. Seokjin looked up in concern, following the line of Jungkook’s vision, and felt his stomach drop as he saw the slightest edge of pink sticking out from under the comforter where he had tucked it earlier. There was a full five second period where they both stared at the fabric, then both leapt forward in a rush, diving frantically for the edge of the bed. Jungkook’s hand grabbed the edge of the pink, moving to yank the article free, when Seokjin’s hand slammed down, keeping them both and the cloth down. Seokjin’s heart was racing as though he was being chased as he looked down and saw Jungkook staring up at him, sparkling eyes mere centimeters from his as the boy grinned wickedly. “What is it?! Is it for me?!” Jungkook chirruped gleefully, struggling against Seokjin’s hand and trying to fish the pink material out from its hiding place. His expression was so bright, it somehow made Seokjin even more scared. “I j-just wanna explain it a bit, first.” Seokjin said in a breathless rush, the words all slurred together and incoherent. Jungkook blinked. “What?” “It’s just, I wanna explain it, first.” Seokjin blushed. “Explain what? I asked you to give me a cum facial, I don’t think we have anything to be shy about at this point, Jin.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, impatient as always. Before Seokjin had a chance to respond, Jungkook reached out and jabbed a finger into his stomach, making him choke a bit and allowing Jungkook the moment of surprise to yank the material free. “Jungkook, wait I--” The Omega was holding the material up in confusion, a soft nylon leotard of what Seokjin remembered from the website was ‘fairy tale pink,’ tumbling between Jungkook’s fingertips until it hung at full length. It looked kind of like a one-piece swimsuit to Jungkook, soft plush fluffy material at the chest part in a long strip, and the straps for it only a thin, elegant white ribbon.He slowly turned it around, looking at the little fluff of white cotton at the top of the butt. “It’s… a bunny.” Jungkook said in a deadpan, looking lost. Seokjin blushed. “Like I said, I wanna explain. See, after that first time, when you wore those panties, under the skirt? I just… it surprised me, I suppose? That was the last thing I expected to find at that moment, but you didn’t even seem worried about it. And I guess I couldn’t get them out of my mind, and...” He frowned, blushing deeper, his words slurred together from the anxiety. “I guess I just thought it was cute. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, I swear.” Jungkook blinked uncertainly at the outfit, then at Seokjin. Then, after a pregnant pause, he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I mean, I guess we could try it? I dunno if I’ll like it, but…” He smirked crookedly, teeth gleaming. “I wanna try things that you want to try.” Seokjin took in a sharp breath of air, one of surprise but also relief. “Really?” “Of course.” Jungkook smiled. “I’m a little worried it won’t fit, though…” “It’ll fit,” Seokjin smirked, “I’m sure.” Jungkook shrugged, taking him at his word. He tentatively scooped up the outfit to his chest, sliding off the bed. “I guess I’ll go change?” Seokjin bit his lip, nodding slowly. “And uh…” He leaned over, reaching underneath the comforter one more time before removing a black headband with a pair of pink ears attached. Jungkook groaned. “Are you for real ?” Jungkook was half-laughing as he reached out and took the ears. “I just want you to remember, I’m a big strong training-to-be-a-cop guy.” “I’ll remember,” Seokjin smirked, crossing his arms. “But my Omega is also cute and needy and secretly enjoys feeling pretty.” Jungkook flushed pink and growled at the same time, the title obviously having its intended effect. Jungkook waved the headband dramatically at Seokjin. “If you breathe a word about the ears to the others, I’ll cream you.” “Fair enough.” With a pout, Jungkook slipped off to the bathroom, and Seokjin chuckled, flopping back onto the bed. He ran his hands through his hair, disbelieving. It was Mating day , of all days. It had actually arrived, after all. A day that Seokjin had thought would never come, that this was a part of his life that he had lost, a part that he had missed out on. But the door opened, and there he was. Jungkook scrunched up his face as if to pout, but it only looked all the more endearing as he stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob. The pinkness against his flushing cheeks was soft and sweet. His undoubtedly muscular but slender arms fully exposed, the thin ribbon resting against his broad neck. The high-waisted edges swooped up in a broad oval, exposing the deceptively slim waist and hips. Jungkook wriggled self-consciously, reaching around to adjust at the back of the outfit. “The back is like fucking shoestring ,” he complained. But his posture was altogether altered as he stepped across the room in small, light steps, as if he was lighter, more fragile. He pouted, and one of the pink ears drooped down as if waving dismissively at the way Seokjin was staring openly. “You look so cute,” Seokjin breathed, holding out his arms to wordlessly beckon the man closer. “But that’s to be expected of my Omega.” Jungkook let out a little whimper, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes widened, as though he was surprised at his own reaction, then scrunched up his face in that resignedly intrigued expression again before stepping over to the bed. Seokjin reached out, smoothly wrapping his arms around the Omega’s waist and pulling him closer, the tips of his fingers brushing against the fluff of a tail. His hands trailed against it, then slyly floated down to cup Jungkook’s cheeks, kneading at them in such a way that the ‘shoestring’ inevitably pulled a little. Jungkook stiffened, eyes wide and breath catching. “Woah,” he breathed. Seokjin smiled, leaning forward to kiss the center of his chest just above the white fur-like material that lined the top. “You make an adorable bunny,” Seokjin insisted, before reaching down with one hand and scooping at all of the front of Jungkook’s crotch, feeling out how the Omega had arranged himself carefully inside. Jungkook instinctively grabbed Seokjin’s wrist, but merely arched his back into the sensation. “Cute,” came the Alpha’s whisper, as he leaned down to kiss it. “A-Alpha…” Jungkook breathed, reaching out to run his hands through Seokjin’s hair. The man practically purred into it, tilting his jaw forward as he mouthed at the already damp pink fabric, his hands back to work at the exposed skin of his ass in wide, circular strokes. “What’s the safeword?” Seokjin whispered, as he always did. And Jungkook whispered it back, tugging lightly at Seokjin’s hair to pull him in further, loving the heat of the Alpha’s exhales against him, needing more. “Bunnies,” Seokjin murmured into his crotch, “Need a lot of tending to, during their heats. They’re very needy.” “Thanks for the biology lesson, Doc,” Jungkook hissed, rolling his hips and stepping forward, trying to push Jin back onto his back on top of the mattress so he’d have more to press against. Seokjin leaned back pliantly, as he had hoped, but halted Jungkook with the grip on his hips, smiling. “Aren’t you going to show me how the bunny hops when it’s in heat?” “Oh, god,” Jungkook sighed. “You’re not serious.” “As a heart attack.” “Why couldn’t you have been into, I dunno, spanking ?” “Says the man who likes cum facials,” Seokjin teased, crawling backwards onto the bed and bending his knees up. “Although to be fair, that’s actually good for your skin, it’s backed by science.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, following Seokjin up onto the bed, placing his legs on either side of Seokjin’s legs so that he was straddling them, his bottom planted on Seokjin’s feet. He lifted his bottom up a little, pressing  the half-hard erection against Seokjin’s shins, and leaned forward over the man’s knees. A sudden slapping sound caught him off guard and he gasped indignantly at Seokjin. “Hm, turns out I’m into spanking, too,” Seokjin chuckled, leaning back against his pillows and crossing his arms under his head so he could watch. “Okay, now go.” “Cocky asshole,” Jungkook half-growled, half-laughed at the ridiculousness of his position. He started to grind slowly against Seokjin’s raised knees, leaning further and further forward as he started to pick up the pace. Perhaps it was the outfit, perhaps the slight swaying of the ears on top of his head, drooping forward and brushing against his forehead and the edges of his black fringe, was distracting in the most lovely sense. Perhaps it was leaning over Seokjin, or having the Alpha’s eyes locked intently on him, or the excitement of the day and the promise of what was to come. But either way, after less than a minute it was as though a switch had been set off inside of Jungkook, and the lazy, humiliated humping against his Alpha turned more energetic, more frantic and messy. His thick thighs shook with the movement in gentle earthquakes, his breath coming in increasingly high-strung pants. Jungkook’s deep, intensely blue eyes locked with Seokjin, who still lay calmly watching him from his pillow. “Does that feel good?” Seokjin’s face broke out into a sudden smile at the cherry-red glow to the Omega’s cheeks, the way his mouth dropped open as if to receive more pleasure from the air, the very thought of them together. “Bunny, you look like you feel really good already. Do you like it?” “S-shut up…” Jungkook whispered, more like mumbled, in essence. “I’m t-trying to--oh, fuck!” The Omega’s eyes clenched shut as he started to slam heavily against Seokjin, his hips moving wildly. His upper body hung almost limply over Seokjin’s knees, one hand clutching uselessly at Seokjin’s chest. His eyes flickered up to Jin’s through his dark bangs, and he was gasping for breath. Seokjin could smell it in the air, Jungkook’s high, hovering against the edge that was coming towards the Omega. It mingled with the smell of his slick, and Seokjin felt that strange, sticky wetness against his shins. The thighs gripping to him for dear life had a strange sort of sensation to them, a feverish clamminess. Jungkook’s eyes stared into his, and he panted more deeply, fists tightening. Seokjin realized that he had gone into his heat. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just humping against his Alpha’s legs, as adorable as he was. “What a cute bunny,” Seokjin murmured, smiling softly as he reached up and brushed Jungkook’s bangs out of his eyes, readjusted the bunny ears on his head. It was no use - they just slipped forward again. Seokjin chuckled, meeting the Omega’s eyes squarely. “I want to taste you.” Jungkook’s movements slowed, trying to think through the haze as to what Seokjin meant. Seokjin slipped off his T-shirt, dropping it off the side of the bed. The Alpha repositioned them, moving so that Jungkook was kneeling over his chest. The Omega’s eyes widened, and he shuddered a little in anticipation and realization as Seokjin started to run his hands all over his erection, the fabric now utterly damp all across the bottom. “You’re so wet,” Seokjin breathed. He tucked one finger inside the thin stretch of material that ran all the way back and tucked between Jungkook’s cheeks. He trailed his finger along it, then grabbed the front with his other hand and suddenly yanked at the fabric, tearing it clean off. His knuckles rapped against Jungkook’s thighs and the Omega actually gasped in surprise at the gesture. The bottom of the outfit now rolled and coiled up to Jungkook’s stomach, leaving his lower half free.`“Let me taste you, Bunny.” Promptly, the Omega obliged, shifting forward until his erect member brushed up against the pink mouth. Seokjin looked up at him, gripping one of his thighs tightly. “I want you to fuck my mouth.” he grinned mischievously. “Can you do that?” Jungkook whimpered, then, and Seokjin was giggling as he took Jungkook into his mouth in a sizeable mouthful, lips wrapping around tightly and sucking him in with a force Jungkook hadn’t been prepared for. The Alpha’s hands grabbed his now barren-ass and slammed him forward, and Jungkook groaned brazenly at the warmth and wetness. Wet, taboo sounds met the air as he slammed into Seokjin, his head pushed further and further back into the pillow at a steady rate. Jungkook could feel the Alpha’s tongue flickering, teasing mercilessly and searching for a spot that would have him coil like a loosened rubber band. The chilling part, the one that made him shudder and incapable of controlling his sounds, was whenever Seokjin would open his eyes and look up at him with that intense, almost worshipful look. His eyes said you’re beautiful.  That was when Seokjin’s hand snaked up to his chest, thumbs dragging across the pink nylon and making Jungkook’s breath hitch. When he reached the top of the costume, Jungkook expected him to start back downward, but Seokjin yanked the front of it down, revealing his chest and pinched one nipple roughly between two fingers. Jungkook’s breath stopped, and the world seemed to tilt a little with the sensation. “Oh, fuck,” Jungkook gasped, his torso bending forward, shoulders rolling as he leaned his hips into Seokjin’s mouth even deeper. He heard the choking sounds, the deep guttural warning sounds and felt the fluttering, squeezing sensation around his cock, but Seokjin’s hand still pressed him in, the Alpha’s eyes rolling back a little. “Fuck,” the Omega let out in a breathless murmur. “You’re so kinky.” A laugh escaped the Alpha, cut short when he choked on Jungkook’s long but slender dick, but the vibration felt so nice that Jungkook wished he would laugh again. Jungkook planted his hands on either side of Seokjin’s head on the pillow, staring down at him in wonder. “You look pretty even when you’ve got my cock in your mouth,” Jungkook gasped. “I can’t believe it.” Another chuckle was earned, quivering all around him, and Jungkook keened. “God,” Jungkook swallowed heavily, hips still gyrating. He felt like every sensation was gradually snowballing, compiling and growing the further they took it. Rather than nearing satisfaction, he felt teased, edged, like there would be the most beautiful build. How the fuck was Seokjin able to suck that hard, as if it was nothing? His lips were swollen and pink, his eyes locked on Jungkook and he just looked so, so pleased with himself. A shudder ran through him, and suddenly Seokjin’s chest was covered in slick, and it dripped all up his collarbone and off his shoulders onto the mattress. The smell of Jungkook’s arousal soaked through the room the same way as his powerfully scented slick soaked into the sheets. Seokjin blinked up at the Omega, who touched one curled finger to his lips, biting it lightly in concern and embarrassment. The Alpha could feel the slick soaking in all around him, leaking out of Jungkook and continuing on and on and on, a sign of his heat and neediness. Jungkook groaned another time, sending another wave of slick that Seokjin could feel pooling on his belly. “S-s-sorry,” Jungkook gasped, confused and fearful. “I couldn’t help it.” The Alpha continued to gape up at Jungkook, then removed Jungkook’s member from his mouth with a little pop. He rested himself in the wetness, the heat and overwhelming Scent of Jungkook that surrounded them, thick and heady. Here was something he wasn’t used to, an experience only an Omega could provide. “That was... hot,” Seokjin rasped, his voice breaking. “Can you do it again?” “W-what?” Jungkook blushed. “I mean, I dunno. But I’m so messy now.” “Yeah, you are,” Seokjin chuckled, pinching Jungkook’s nipple in his fingers again, amused at the way Jungkook seemed incapable of holding back whenever he did so, the way his back arched so cutely in response to the feeling. The Omega’s lips were parted, eyes glowing blue. Seokjin switched tactics, lowering his voice. “You’re a fucking mess, Jungkook. Look at what you did to the bed.” The reaction bubbled and rose as Jungkook let Seokjin’s words sink in. He looked around at the mattress as though for the first time, mouth gaping like a fish, at a loss for words or an excuse. “You dumped slick all over my bed, and me ,” Seokjin growled lightly, yanking at his nipple quite suddenly, pulling it at an angle so that when Jungkook instinctively leaned forward, it still hurt just a little. “I’m just sucking your dick and you decide to just go all over me like that, like a kid who wet the bed.” In all honesty, he expected the petulant Jungkook to emerge, the one that would laugh and slap his shoulder, that diverted petty attacks without much concern. But the Jungkook that responded instead actually trembled a little, straddling Jin’s chest and whimpering quietly, his expression making him look so much younger and innocent. He seemed like he wanted to speak, like he was searching for a reason to explain it away, but came up empty-handed, and it was so adorable that Seokjin wanted to hug him. “Are you like a little kid? You can’t control your slick?” “I d-didn’t...I was trying to…” “A horny little bunny,” Seokjin cut him off, scoffing for dramatic effect and turning his head as though disgusted. He was a little surprised to find slick waiting there for him when his cheek touched the pillow, wet but cooling against his jaw. “And you can’t even do it again when I tell you to. What a fucking joke.” He tugged on the other nipple, lifting his torso off the bed and lifting Jungkook with it, rattling the boy and making him gasp, his erect member bouncing with the movement. “J-Jin, I…” “Slick for me, Bunny,” Seokjin tugged. “Slick all over my chest again.” He considered a moment, while Jungkook released little heated sounds, and then one hand wound its way around the Omega’s hips, tucking into the crease of his ass. “Or do you have to be played with first?” The question was genuine, spoken in sincere wonder, and the reaction was instantaneous. “No, wait, I--” Jungkook shuddered, his shoulders hunching up as another thick wash of slick rushed out of him, soaking Seokjin through with another pool of warmth. “F-fuck…” “Wow,” Seokjin’s eyes rolled back a little, and he rested against the pillow with a little smile. “That feels pretty nice.” “ J-Jin… ” “I just sucked you off, and I did a good job,” Seokjin reasoned, closing his eyes and relaxing. “Give me a moment to relax.” “F-fuck you,” Jungkook gasped, already grinding his hips down against Seokjin, only to find that every movement was met with an obscene squelch that made him burn crimson. After a few minutes, he arched his back, slick rushing out of him again as he let out a grunt of effort. Still, Seokjin remained as he was, eyes shut and a playful smile on his face. In retaliation for being left to his own devices, Jungkook crawled backwards until he was rubbing his ass over the front of Seokjin’s sweatpants, feeling the arousal there and was pleased when Seokjin’s face crumpled a little in concern. Jungkook lifted his bottom, grinning as he slammed it back down right onto the Alpha’s dick, cause Seokjin to jolt up in a cry of pain. Jungkook laughed as Seokjin gasped for air, surprised at the attack. “You little shit,” Seokjin managed. “You little fucker.” “That dirty mouth of yours,” he teased flippantly. “Now take care of me.” “With what? ” Seokjin snapped, hand covering his crotch, “How am I supposed to take care of you if you squish my dick into a pancake?” “Sitting on you once isn’t gonna do that.” The Omega rolled his eyes. Seokjin pouted, still petulant and his eyes still a little watery. “You don’t know that. You’ve got those thunder thighs, so you need to be careful.” “Thunder thighs?” Jungkook howled with laughter, even when Seokjin reached over with both hands to squeeze and tear at the thighs that were still wrapped around his waist. “Yes, thunder thighs.” He gave one a slap, and they both watched the flesh there quiver with the gesture. “Very nice.” “Great, now will you just fuck me already?” “Horny Bunny strikes again,” Seokjin chuckled, but he sat up, still damp from Jungkook’s slick all around them on the bed. He shifted the Omega off his lap, taking him by the shoulders and moving him easily to the edge before standing up. Jungkook laughed. “You’re soaking wet .” “And whose fault is that?” Seokjin retorted, slipping his jeans and boxers off in one movement and kicking the slick-dampened material to the corner of the room. “My poor dick needs time to recover, so I guess we’ll have to use something else.” At that, the Omega perked up, perching a little higher on the bed as Seokjin moved to his closet. When he came back, a purple dildo was clutched in his hand, and Jungkook’s eager look fell into a frown. Seokjin saw the look and raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “What is it?” Jungkook looked up at Seokjin in uncertainty. “I know you’re trying to punish me for sitting on your dick, but… really?” “Really what?” “That thing is like half your size,” Jungkook frowned deeper. “It’s tiny compared to you.” At that, Seokjin’s face twitched through a plethora of emotions, ranging from flattered to defiant, and he straightened his shoulders up and tried to collect himself. “Well, for your information , this one’s mine. And it’s average -sized.” Jungkook’s jaw dropped, and Seokjin coughed, busying himself with lubricating the dildo. He hated the way he could see Jungkook piecing things together. “Wait, wait-wait-wait..” Jungkook shifted on the bed, the pink nylon of the bunny costume rolling up even further on his chest, until it looked like all he was wearing was a crookedly made crop top. “Are you saying his dick was that small?” “I’m not saying anything,” Seokjin pouted, “Now bend over.” “Okay,” Jungkook turned over, facing away from Seokjin. He rested his chin in his palms as he cheekily raised his bottom. “But you’ll probably have to let me know when it’s in. I may not feel it.” “You’re such a little shit,” Seokjin said. Jungkook couldn’t tell by his voice if he was just teasing or if that was a trace of warning, and he couldn’t see his face, so the Omega fell quiet. Seokjin slipped the dildo in with careful movements, then once the muscles in Jungkook’s thighs seemed to relax, he took a firm hold of the torn fabric of the bunny costume, yanking on it even as he shoved the dildo in and out. Jungkook let out an exhale, as though the air had been forced out of him by the movement. Seokjin’s voice came quietly behind him, as if mostly speaking to himself. “I didn’t even need the lube, really.” “ Well , I wonder why.” Jungkook snapped back. Although he was enjoying the sensation for what it was, it wasn’t quite enough. Seokjin increased the pace, and Jungkook grunted, hands dropping to grip the sheets and finding that they were still wet, and now cold. “You really that spoiled already?” Jungkook considered for a moment, waited until Seokjin had shoved in with a few more heavy-handed strokes, then nodded. “Yes, I’m that spoiled. I like you better.” “Duly-noted, then.” “Does this mean you’d take my dick up your ass?” Jungkook pondered, his thumb rubbing back and forth across the sheets. “I don’t feel so bad about being smaller than you now, if you actually like little ones.” He hiccuped as Seokjin ground the dildo into him roughly, and he enjoyed the way it made his insides flip, his muscles contracting pleasantly with the bit of abuse. “I just think that, since we have the whole house to ourselves, with no one around to hear, you could do a little better than this,” Jungkook shrugged, his words jostled by the movement. “The bunny costume is an interesting addition, though. I think I like it. But now it’s all ruined.” Seokjin sighed, removing the dildo. “Fine, then. What would you suggest?” Jungkook turned halfway over, curling around so he could look at Seokjin over his shoulder. “Fist me.” The Alpha arched an eyebrow. “You did seem to like that last time.” “I’ll like it even more if you can draw it out.” Jungkook thought back to how he’d wanted it to be dragged out for hours, liking the feeling of Seokjin wrecking him. He wondered if Seokjin would come on his face again, like before, or if he would have to request it specifically. “Wait, I have an idea…” Seokjin patted Jungkook’s bottom affectionately, moving back to his toy collection and coming back with what looked like two chains connected to a bit of leather, a silver ring dangling at the end. Jungkook rolled over, his head lolled to the side in confusion. “What is it?” “Clamps. Your nipples are really sensitive,” Seokjin explained, picking up the ends of the chain and opening and shutting the twin rubber ended contraptions. “I got it thinking you’d like it.” Jungkook stared at the toy for a moment, his eyes rolling down to the end and back up in curiosity. He shrugged, shifting to the end of the bed. “Let’s get this off, I think we’re done with it,” Seokjin tugged the remains of the bunny costume over Jungkook’s head, the bunny ears discarded off to the side as well. Seokjin knelt in front of the Omega, laying his palm against the unerect nipple, massaging at the skin there. Jungkook felt himself leaning forward, heard the noise escaping his lips, even though he hadn’t permitted either. Damn, someone’s been paying attention . He bit his lip when Seokjin leaned forward, wrapping his mouth unceremoniously around the spot, lips and tongue teasing against him in long and languid movements. Jungkook leaned back onto his palms, mouth agape as he tilted his head down towards Seokjin. He ground his erection up against Seokjin’s leg gently, slowly. Then, Seokjin lowered the clamp down firmly around his left nipple, making him audibly gasp. The pain that surged across his skin burned and ached, but his stomach flipped in unexplainable ecstasy. It felt amazing even as it hurt, the shock making him jolt. Seokjin tended to the other, and when the second clamp went on, pinching tightly and making Jungkook keen, the Alpha seemed satisfied. “Why do I never start with things like this?” The Alpha shook his head, then knelt on the ground in front of Jungkook. He took up the end of the leather strap that dangled loosely from the ends of the chain, and wrapped his fingers around the silver ring that waited there. Forming a circle with his thumb and pointer finger, Seokjin slipped the ring around the base of Jungkook’s member, the tight feeling a welcome temptation. After the Alpha moved backwards, Jungkook went to sit up, and found the distance between the start and end of the chain was a couple inches too short, meaning his nipples were tugged, stinging as he let out a groan. “That’s more like it,” Seokjin patted his shoulder, pleased. He gently turned Jungkook around until the man was kneeling away from him again, careful so there was slack in the chain. The Alpha inspected Jungkook’s ass for a moment, parting the cheeks and seeing that there was already fresh slick leaking out of him, enjoying the tingling sensations of the clamps. He’d struck gold, as far as he was concerned. Seokjin slipped two of his fingers inside of Jungkook, moving smoothly in up until the last knuckle, hearing the hissed exhales escaping the Omega. He coiled his fingers inside of him, pressing up against the tightness there, loving the gasps that he caused to escape. He pulled in and out several times, before pulling out a little more, angling all his fingers to a point like an arrow before shoving the whole hand inside, encompassing his hand to its widest point in heat and wetness. Jungkook cried out, writhing against the mattress at the fullness, and in so doing only yanked the clamps against himself harder, the multi-angle attack working him into a fast frenzy. Seokjin’s hand was suddenly hot with leaking slick that shot out of Jungkook and into Seokjin’s lap, and the Alpha growled at being smothered yet again with the smell. He worked his hand deeper, and Jungkook cried out, unable to stop arching his back downward, starting to scream as the clamps were tugged farther. Jungkook bounced his hips back towards Seokjin’s hand, needing the abrasiveness, wrapped in primal need for further stimulation. Seokjin leaned in until his legs were curled around Jungkook’s leg, using his hand on Jungkook’s waist for leverage as he groped in further. Jungkook was cursing, but in a babble of meaningless drawls, cries that escalated higher until they seemed to echo through the room. Seokjin was in to his wrist before he realized Jungkook was screaming and that he should probably slow down a bit, blinking away the headiness that accompanied the action, sitting back a little and making his movements less aggressive. “F-fuck…” Jungkook moaned helplessly against the mattress, his body shaking in visible trembles. “Don’t slow.” “Well,” Seokjin leaned until he was knelt over Jungkook’s back, their clammy skin pressed up against each other and reeking of the Omega’s heat, “I was just wondering…” Seokjin teasingly brushed Jungkook’s bangs from his eyes, “If you wanted me to keep this up or use my actual dick, which has decided to forgive you now that you’ve been so good.” “YES.” Jungkook spat out firmly, suddenly extremely excited. Seokjin laughed, positioning himself, slipping on a condom and rubbing at his hard member a few times. He didn’t even really need to do it, it was more of a habit than anything. Seeing Jungkook happily getting wrecked and teased did a lot for raising his attention, and his own flags, so to speak. Seokjin pressed himself across Jungkook’s back, and the Omega realized with a blinding shock that this was it. This was the position Seokjin had been in, from the dream from so long ago. Wetness of all kinds all around him, chills from the cooling slick against his skin contrasting with the heat pooled in his belly, the mattress soaked and Seokjin’s dark growl in his ear. The rain had been his slick, the field Seokjin’s room, unfamiliar and safe at the same time. Seokjin’s member was pressed heavily against him, the Omega’s hips slightly raised because he liked the way the clamps pulled. Now he knew what the dream Seokjin meant, saying that it would hurt and then it would feel good. “Jungkook,” Seokjin was saying into his ear, soft and gentle as he brushed some of the hair away from his face. “Jungkook? Look at me.” The Omega blinked slowly, craning his head to look over his shoulder at the Alpha, who was looking at him with an expression of concern. “Are you alright?” For a long moment, Jungkook waited, trying to make sure that his answer was the true one, not just shrouded in the feeling of the moment, of the rush, of the inevitable craziness of his head. He lifted his head to the Alpha, and he smiled. “Yes,” he murmured softly, reaching up and touching Seokjin’s cheek. His gentle Alpha with the hungry dark streak, his loyal Alpha who would suffer if it meant Jungkook was even a little bit closer to feeling safe. He leaned over and kissed him. “I just love you.” Seokjin’s expression relaxed, “Well, good. Because I love you, too.” And he breathed a sigh of relief before he pressed himself into Jungkook, rolling his hips inward and upward, lifting Jungkook’s knees a little off the mattress and making the chains clatter. Jungkook moaned, dropping his face to the mattress, inhaling his own Scent, enjoying the feeling of being filled, of being pressed forward. Seokjin was pounding into him animalistically, and Jungkook almost bit his tongue from being jolted back and forth so roughly, and he felt himself cry out before he actually did. His Alpha wolf was taking him, solidly and without restraint, and Jungkook let out a long sigh when he felt Seokjin groan and come in a rush. Jungkook saw stars before his eyes, knowing Seokjin was still inside him and knowing he was reaching around to slip the cock ring off. He missed the extra pressure on the clamps but it felt so good having Seokjin’s hand on him, an arm tucked around his waist and his lips pressed into the curve of his neck as he made Jungkook come the hardest he’d ever came before. Jungkook fell limply forward onto the sheets, still coming into Seokjin’s hand and rendered senseless with tremors as he rode the high for long, lovely, well-earned seconds. He gasped, inhaling slick smell, and stilled against the sheets. Seokjin dropped down to the bed over him, as if shielding Jungkook with his body, and continued to kiss behind his ear in long, purposeful kisses. “Feel better now?” Seokjin asked. Jungkook gave the slightest nod, wriggling his face in towards Seokjin, feeling sleepy and suddenly wanting something akin to a cuddle. Sensing this, Seokjin ran a hand through Jungkook’s hair, brushing his bangs back in a soothing movement that was quickly lulling him toward sleep. “You should clean up, and we can go downstairs to the table, get something to eat before next time.” Jungkook grunted lowly, as if in protest, and Seokjin giggled, letting him rest for a couple minutes more before nudging him up. Jungkook didn’t really see much point in a shower when he was in his heat, especially since by the time he stepped out again, he was already feeling flushed and feverish, and he knew he’d be gross and slick-ridden again before long. Seokjin tended to him carefully, keeping one eye on the Omega at all times as they cleaned, and playfully batting at him with one hand, as if needing a response from him at regular intervals. He wanted to tell Seokjin he was fine. Great, even. But he figured his body was doing most of the talking at this point, and he was still in the post-coital exhaustion, so he grunted wordlessly in reply to Seokjin’s comments and ran a brush through his hair in silence. They stepped back out into the room from the steam and shampoo smell of the shower, and instantly both wrinkled their nose at the smell they’d left. Seokjin went over to the side table, where his phone lay, and noted that he didn’t have any messages from the others. “What time is it?” Jungkook managed, yawning and staring at the soft bed which he had effectively ruined. “Way beyond dinner time, now.” The Alpha chuckled, “We should get some food in you.” “What about the bed?” “I’ll clean it up a bit later,” Seokjin sighed. “The mattress actually has a plastic cover on it, but the sheets are pretty much ruined anyways.” “Sorry…” Jungkook flushed, flopping lightly against Seokjin’s chest and burying his head beneath the Alpha’s chin. Seokjin laughed, wrapping his arms around him. “Don’t be, it was really amazing.” “I can do it again,” Jungkook whispered, “I can feel it’s gonna happen again.” “I guess your heat’s in full-blown mode now. I’ll just have to go against my better judgement and spoil you more, I suppose.” With that, he leaned down and suddenly scooped Jungkook up, bridal-style, making the boy laugh. His nose crinkled up as he wrapped his arms around Seokjin’s neck, feeling small and protected, and as if he weighed next to nothing as Seokjin easily carried him, moving towards the doorway. “Oh, wait!” Jungkook suddenly started, almost kicking his way out of the Alpha’s embrace. “C-can we take the clamps with us?” Seokjin blinked, then laughed. “Sure.” With the clamps held in the curve of his lap, Jungkook clung needily to Seokjin as they went downstairs, letting the Alpha take him to the dining room table and release him to crawl underneath. Seokjin stood up with a contented sigh, moving to grab them a couple of large cup ramens from the cupboard. Jungkook watched him move through the kitchen, staring at his back, the way his loose pajama shorts clung to his waist, the stretch of skin and Seokjin in front of him compelling in a silent way. Jungkook himself was only wearing the largest of Seokjin’s hoodies, a giant monster of a thing that draped down to his knees and always clung loosely at his shoulders, the hoodie pulled up and dangling down into his eyes. Jungkook fiddled with the edges of the table, hooking the edges of his sheets into the nails he had placed there earlier that week, surrounding him in a thin curtain-like domain. It felt safe under here, it felt familiar. He wriggled around on the blankets, his hands exploring the various different fabrics he had collected over the months. Seokjin crouched down and crawled inside, smiling at the tent-like walls Jungkook had set up. “It’s very cute,” Seokjin pointed out. “Like a blanket fort.” Jungkook hugged his knees to his chest, accepting the cup of water Seokjin handed to him. “It’ll take a couple minutes for the ramen,” Seokjin said, cranking the ugly stained egg timer that Yoongi had found at a garage sale and setting it on the seat of a nearby chair. “I don’t want us to get too distracted.” “By what?” Jungkook smirked, finishing up the water in deep gulps. He tilted his head back to take down the last of it, and then jolted when he felt Seokjin’s fingers against his neck, trailing down his adam’s apple and tickling him. He coughed, making the Alpha laugh. “I have a question for you.” Seokjin took the cup and reached over to put it next to the egg timer. “About your nest.” “Why do people keep calling it that?” Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Wolves don’t have nests they have dens .” He protectively adjusted a couple of the pillows on the edge of their cushioned little circle. “It’s just how I like to sleep now, that’s all.” Seokjin chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle against Jungkook’s neck, kissing it and touching his nose to the Omega’s Scent gland. “No, I’m talking about how you’re nesting . Omegas do it sometimes, it’s perfectly normal.” “What?” “Jungkook,” Seokjin said slowly, smiling. “You picked the table for your nest, just like how Kiara chose her and Namjoon’s bedroom? A wolf nest is kind of your way of preparing...for...y’know, a family . The pack house is like our den and the nest is...well.. It’s a nest.” “Wait,” Jungkook looked around, hugging one of the body pillows to his chest as he realized what Seokjin was saying. “But… I’m not pregnant? At least I don’t think I am.” “You don’t have to be pregnant to nest,” Seokjin explained, his voice warm as he ran a hand through his hair. “It just means… I dunno. That you’re thinking about it. That you’re trying to be prepared. For us. It’s why I wasn’t surprised when you said you wanted to Mate here. This is your safe place, so you made it into a nest so you could Mate and maybe have pups here someday.” “Oh.” Jungkook blinked. It made more sense now, why he got so irritated whenever Taehyung or Jimin tried to crawl under the table with him now, when it hadn’t bothered him before. Or how he had needed the walls to close him in more, or felt anxious if one of the blankets went missing. “I didn’t even realize it.” “I suspected as much,” Seokjin shrugged. Jungkook leaned forward, nuzzling into Seokjin’s chest. Muffled as it was, when Jungkook spoke, Seokjin couldn’t understand him. He asked him to repeat what he had mumbled against his chest. Jungkook let out a sigh, his voice embarrassed as he said, “I do I want them. Y’know. Pups.” “You do?” Seokjin was keeping his voice decidedly neutral, waiting for what the Omega would say next. “Yeah…” Jungkook tilted his forehead and leaned it against Seokjin’s collarbone, twisting his head back and forth in a rhythm, despite knowing it would make his hair stand on end later. “I want to have pups with you someday. “ Seokjin felt his breath catch, one hand resting in Jungkook’s hair. The timer went off. “Oh, there’s our ramen,” he said, reaching over and up onto the table to carefully cradle their twin cups of ramen down with them. He held one out to Jungkook, who took it eagerly. “Make sure you finish it all, you’re gonna need the energy.” Jungkook grabbed a tangle of noodles with his chopsticks that was over half the contents of the container, dipping it up and down and blowing on it gently before he shoved the whole mess into his mouth, slurping loudly and practically inhaling it. Seokjin laughed when Jungkook had obviously burned his tongue, and they were finished with the ramen before long, enjoying the quiet of the pack house and the closeness the table underside offered them. They didn’t readdress the unspoken question until the food was gone and they were curled up again, resting. Seokjin drew Jungkook to his chest, the Omega leaned up against him with Seokjin’s arms surrounding him, and the Alpha kissed the back of his head slowly, repeatedly. Jungkook wasn’t going to press, he knew. But it was something he had to say. “I don’t think I’m ready,” Seokjin murmured quietly. “I wanna do it, but… I wanna do it right. ‘Let’s enjoy the time we have right now,’ that’s how I feel.” “Yeah?” Jungkook played with Seokjin’s hands, resting against his stomach as he traced his thumb over every inch, every curve of those familiar palms. “I think that sounds fair.” “You do?” “Yeah, sure.” Jungkook tilted his head up to look up at Seokjin, his expression soft. “We should wait.” Seokjin breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought you would have been more eager to get started right away.” “I’m impatient about a lot of things,” Jungkook said quietly, tilting back into Seokjin’s chest. “A lot of things about us . I didn’t want to give up before we had started. I didn’t want to miss our chance. But when it involves a whole new, living being? I think it’s reasonable you’d want to wait. At the very least to wait until things have calmed down a lot more.” At that, a silence fell between them, gentle and understanding. Seokjin kissed the back of his head one more time. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Okay,” Jungkook wriggled his hips a little, letting out a little sound of discontentment. “Let’s do this. I wanna Mate before I get too sleepy from my heat.” Seokjin laughed. “Another reasonable request.” He reached down, gently laying his hand across Jungkook’s crotch, running his thumb across it and building up friction slowly, sensually. Jungkook turned into his neck, exhaling. He mouthed at Seokjin’s Scent mark, swallowing the taste of his Alpha, inhaling the now-so-familiar smell of powdered soap, tingling at his senses as he leaned into Seokjin, slightly dizzy but content. He gave a kitten lick at the Scent mark, feeling Seokjin shudder a little at his touch. Seokjin pressed in further, easing Jungkook to a point where he could no longer hold still beneath him, suckling cloyingly up his neck and along his jawline, catching his mouth and deepening the kisses as Seokjin continued to palm him. Jungkook’s hands trailed into Seokjin’s hair, burying his fingertips deep within it while he started to grind slowly against him, hot exhales and that hormonal need burning throughout his skin. “This is the last time,” Jungkook gasped, “That your Scent won’t have mine in it.” Seokjin hummed against him in pleasant gratification. “You’ll always smell me on you. Everyone will know you belong to me.” At that, the Alpha shifted a little, looking a mite displeased. “Not belong to . People don’t belong to people. I belong with you.” The Omega tilted his head a bit to the side, still slowly curving his hips into the Alpha in careful, relaxed movements. “Yes. You belong with me. And I belong with you.” “That sounds lovely,” Seokjin exhaled, as though expelling from his body all the trials of the days before, a dark distance in his eyes that only seemed to lessen when he tilted his face to smile at Jungkook. The Omega kissed the edge of the Alpha’s mouth, trying to will away the bit of concern that still lingered, the worry that always seemed to darken his features. “I belong with you.” The sweet repetition of the words seemed to stir up something deep and strong within Seokjin, his expression softening into one of tenderness as he cupped Jungkook’s face with a smile. “So. How do you want to do this?” “I want to lead,” Jungkook said firmly. “I want you to be sure every moment throughout that this is what I want.” Seokjin let that sink in for a moment, and then he nodded, sinking back from his sitting position into the pillow-made sides of the nest. Soon he was laying down, and Jungkook was straddling him, thick thighs on either side of the trim waist, bare skin quivering a little under the experimental touch of Jungkook’s hand as he laid his palm there in wonder. “You already know it’s what I want.” “I don’t have any doubts,” Jungkook chirruped. “Especially not when you let me do whatever I ask.” The Alpha rolled his eyes. “Oh? That makes me sound like such a pushover.” Jungkook tugged Seokjin’s shorts off until they dangled at the Alpha’s ankles, wrapping one hand around the Alpha’s member. “You are a pushover,” Jungkook lifted one shoulder, his free hand massaging up Seokjin’s chest to curve up to the crook of his neck, fingers digging into the flesh there and loosening the nerves, making him relax into the Omega’s calming touch. “But only for me.” Seokjin snorted at that, but he smiled up at Jungkook, lightly silhouetted in the dim light that bled in through the sheets he had hung up around them, hidden away in their protective nest. It was fragile, and quickly built, but it was their own, untarnished by the outside world and left only for two souls, two wolves who had been waiting for a long time, pressing against instinct, judgment, and whatever ancient power their alleged Bonding created between them, boiling hot and reassuringly cool at the same time. Jungkook lifted up the edges of the oversized hoodie, then hesitated, opting to slip it off entirely to avoid as much mess later. He dropped it off to the side, now naked on top of Seokjin and taking a hold of his member, leading it to his entrance slowly, shifting his hips to make the movement smoother. “You’re not ready,” Seokjin whispered, taking hold of his arm. “Just wait a moment, I’m sure I…” The Omega leaned forward, leaning his stomach down onto Seokjin’s, kissing his collar, his cheek, his forehead. He scooped up Seokjin’s head in his arm, cradling it to his chest. “God… Yeah, I can tell it’s…” Seokjin, breathing hotly against his bare skin, turned until he could mouth at the still sore and sensitive nipples, taking one into his mouth and suckling on it as he had earlier, his fingernails finding their way into deep lines across Jungkook’s ass. Jungkook lifted his bottom into the claw-like hold, moaning as he clutched Seokjin even more tightly to his chest, his member abrasive against the Alpha’s Scent and his bare skin. Seokjin bit down lightly on him, and Jungkook let out a high-pitched little cry that crackled and broke, and then came the wave, washing through his body and making him shiver. Slick spilled out of him in a silent stream, coating him and Seokjin in preparation for this moment. Their movements were fluid and flowing, due to his natural lubrication, and the added warmth helped take the edge off the chill in the air, even though Jungkook felt sweat on his brow already. “Okay, god...fuck...okay.” Jungkook reluctantly released his grip on Seokjin’s head, letting him move back against the pillows as he repositioned over the erect member, leading it forward as he moved back. They both hissed together in time as Seokjin sunk more deeply into Jungkook, and Seokjin waited for Jungkook to lead, to take his time. When they were seated together, Jungkook with his arms planted on either side of Seokjin, his Mate, filled with him from the inside out, they shared a look of understanding. Jungkook rocked forward on his knees, tilting hips and crotch so as to move Seokjin in and out of him, pressing back in a little more roughly each time, wanting to reach for that edge. Nothing felt as satisfying, as well-fitted as Seokjin inside of him, underneath him. The Alpha let out his usual little hisses and shaky breaths, quiet even when Jungkook leaned into him the way he knew he liked. Jungkook was never so quiet as Seokjin was, somber and mature in his added years of experience, in the gentle giant aura of his nature. He panted, moaned, keened in the close air of the nest, curled up on top of Seokjin and angling down into him with his bottom, clutched at the Alpha’s shoulders and hair. Seokjin’s eyes fluttered closed, and he did something Jungkook didn’t expect - he tilted his head back, exposing his neck to Jungkook in the ultimate sign of vulnerability and trust. Jungkook’s thrusting ceased, and Seokjin opened his eyes in question. Their gazes met, and Jungkook bit his lip. Seokjin nodded. “It’s okay, Jungkookie.” His voice was a deep thrum, soothing and serene. “I belong with you.” He bared his neck again, this time his eyes remaining open and locked on Jungkook, and the Omega leaned down, Scenting him deeply, feeling the physical and emotional reaction in his Mate, smelling the arousal as he went into that overwhelmingly powerful Scenting that always made his toes curl. He pressed his face heavily into the Scent mark, admiring its simplicity and retained purity, knowing that despite the difference in their years and experience, despite knowing they could never erase the past hurts, that this one thing was all his, only his, that Seokjin had given him. He licked at the Scent mark, tasting it in its untarnished glory one last time before he sunk his teeth into it, biting down as roughly as he could. The strangled cry that escaped Seokjin was heavenly, that was all he could describe it as. They were floating, ephemeral and mortal yet transcendently eternal. Seokjin cried longer, writhed weakly beneath him, and ground up into Jungkook as if balancing their playing field. Jungkook felt Seokjin’s hands on his neck, cool and grabbing for purchase, then he felt the Alpha’s hot breath against his own Scent mark. The bite stung, then exploded into a thousand little nerve endings that shot through every fibre of his body, and Jungkook moaned, spilling more slick out between them, grinding needily against his Alpha as their Scents mingled in a lovely, blind dance. He saw stars, saw Seokjin’s face, and tasted little diluted streams of blood in his mouth as he drew back. The world was spinning, the greatest high, like a trip that he never wanted to come down from. Seokjin cried out, the loudest Jungkook had ever heard him, his voice ringing in the Omega’s ears as he threw his head back one more time, writhing feverishly. The sound escalated, growing higher in pitch and desperation as he clung to Jungkook, orgasming slow but hard inside of him with a delightful rushing sensation. He hiccuped, dropping back limply against the bedding of the nest, and stared up at Jungkook through lazy, hooded eyes, a thin trail of blood dripping down their necks. The smell of soap and leather mingled in the air, thick and relentless. The irises were coated deeply in burning red, matching Jungkook’s own icy blue as he whispered quietly. “My Mate.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “When you look back, I think things are as they are meant to be. Timing is very important.”-  Lesley Nicol  On Monday morning, Seokjin crawled out of his bed with the full knowledge that Jungkook would not be following him anytime soon. The ugly orange backup top sheet tucked over the mattress (their last resort while waiting for all the other sheets they’d soiled to be washed) was already rolling up underneath Jungkook’s legs, and he lay soundly asleep in the quiet, as the sun crept in through the blinds. Seokjin leaned back down to plant a kiss on his forehead, and when he lifted up to straighten his back, he found the Omega had clawed up to grab hold of his large T-shirt, pulling him back toward the bed with a little whine. Seokjin chuckled, prying Jungkook’s fingers off of him and patting his head.“I’m just going to go clean up a bit before the others come home. Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?”Jungkook nodded into the pillow, his eyes still closed but his face coiled into a delicate, sleepy pout. Seokjin pulled the comforter off the floor, tucking it over Jungkook’s shoulders to fill the void of his own body heat. Jungkook made a small sound like an infant, curling up into the comforter until only his wild hair poked above the top of it.Downstairs, the pack house (particularly the kitchen, to which they had holed themselves up for the majority of the weekend) was an utter wreck. There were ramen cups half-finished everywhere, dishes piled in the sink, and an ungodly amount of used condoms tucked into a plastic bag that hung unceremoniously from the back of one of the chairs. Blankets were strewn about, some of them still sticky from sweat and slick, and there was the undeniable smell of an Omega’s heat throughout the room. His Mate’s heat. Seokjin let out a sigh, opening the windows first as he started the cleanup. Everywhere from Jungkook’s nest to the front door had been either used or abused, and he found bits of clothing even dangling from one of the bookshelves. When the fuck did that get there?Laundry was thrumming in the washroom, the dishes in the sink quickly finished, and Seokjin was mopping the kitchen floor while breakfast cooked. That was when it hit Seokjin again. He stopped, kneeling up on his heels and pressing a wonder-stricken hand to his Scent mark, still feeling the slight scarring of Jungkook’s bite there. He let out a slow breath, smiling softly as he tilted his head to the side. Kim Seokjin, after everything that had happened, had found a Mate. Someone to be happy with. To laugh with and fight with. He couldn’t believe it, and if the physical reminders hadn’t been there, he still would have suspected he would wake up at any moment to find all of it had been one long, elaborate dream.The pot on the stove sizzled, and Seokjin hurried to finish mopping and finish the meal. He was just laying out the bowls onto a tray, arranging silverware on it along with a cup of water, when the front door opened.“We’re home, are you decent?” Jimin called out, poking his head in the door and cutely grinning.“I am, but Jungkook’s not.” Seokjin smirked. “But he’s upstairs in my room resting.”“Should have figured you to be one of those Alphas that renders your Omega an invalid…” Jimin sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose. “You haven’t aired the place out yet? It’s like walking underwater in here.”“It’s like living in a bubble bath,” Taehyung giggled, following after Jimin.“I did air it out already. And used up a whole can of de-Scenter.” Seokjin sighed, going back to the kitchen to retrieve Jungkook’s breakfast with Taehyung already clinging to his back like a koala.“Woaaah…” Taehyung mused. He Scented into Seokjin’s neck gleefully, light-hearted and pure. “You smell really good together.”Seokjin flushed. He’d been enthralled with the realization of the Mating for the last three days, but it hit him fully afresh, having someone else acknowledge it. Jimin pushed in next, curious but not quite as forward as Taehyung, and he complimented the new combined Scent, too. By that point, Yoongi and Kiara were filing in, the former helping the exhausted-looking latter by easing her in and seating her on the couch. They called out greeting to each other, muffled and casual, in that certain lilt of tone that only occurred within a close pack.“Smells like the inside of a washing machine in here,” Yoongi joked. “And sex.”“Hey, can I have some of that?” Taehyung asked, pointing to the bowl on the tray Seokjin had. The Alpha tugged the tray closer to himself, a bit protectively.“No, I only made enough for Jungkook, so keep your paws off,” he warned, smirking so Taehyung wouldn’t take it too hard. The Beta whimpered, tugging on Seokjin’s T-shirt.“Can we see him? I wanna see him!”“Maybe after a bit, he’s too tired right now.” Seokjin patted his brother’s head, and the Beta pouted prettily.“Come on, you’ve had him all to yourself for three days ,” Jimin whined, butting in.Seokjin frowned at that, not liking the argument, and Yoongi chuckled from the couch. “Welcome to pack life, Seokjin.”“We were just Mated, calm down a little,” Seokjin mumbled, picking up the tray and heading upstairs, only to have the two younger ones still trailing behind him.“ We were just Mated, too, you know,” Taehyung continued petulantly.“And you’re trying to tell me you two didn’t end up in your own hotel room?” Seokjin arched an eyebrow, and Taehyung stopped in his tracks in the doorway. Jimin grinned archly, turning his face so that his humor was not quite so obvious. “Let him eat and rest awhile, and I’ll let you two in when he says he’s ready. Fair enough?” “ Fine ,” Taehyung sighed, turning to follow Jimin into their room. Seokjin let out a little exhale, shaking his head in amusement before he went back into his room. Jungkook hadn’t moved from his previous spot. The tray found a place on the bedside table, and Seokjin turned to his Mate.Seokjin tugged the comforter back, staring appreciatively at the softness of Jungkook’s features when he slept. His expression was that of a child, mouth slightly parted and the soft, wide expanse of his closed eyelids just begging to be kissed - a temptation to which Seokjin indulged with a smile. As innocent and youthful as Jungkook’s sleeping face was, however, everything below that suggested of much more matured, needy body. He was entirely naked underneath the tangle of blankets and sheets, his slender form firm with well-toned muscle and decorated in a plethora of red marks, bites and hickies. Seokjin kissed the scarred Scent mark on his neck, running a hand down the Omega’s well-tone body. Jungkook didn’t even react when Seokjin’s hand brushed over his flaccid member tucked beneath one corner of the sheets, now delicate in its satisfaction.“Jungkookie,” Seokjin half-sang. “Wake up~”The Omega didn’t react, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. He lifted both hands to Jungkook’s exposed nipples, twisting them to the side and making the boy gasp, shaking him from his deep slumber. When he opened his eyes and saw Seokjin smirking down at him, he reached up and gave a fairly sturdy punch to the Alpha’s arm, making the older man laugh.“The pack is home, you should eat something and get some pants on before Jimin and Taehyung burst in to visit you.”Jungkook pouted, rubbing at his eye with the heel of one hand and sighing. He moved to sit up and got about halfway before his face twitched in pain and he groaned, flopping back against the mattress. “Oh, fuck…” he whispered in deep complaint. Seokjin reached over and helped him sit up, then gently placed the tray in his lap before adjusting some pillows behind him to prop him up. Once situated, Seokjin found a pair of sweatpants and laid then across Jungkook’s knees, crawling back up onto the bed to curl up at Jungkook’s side. The Omega ate rather more slowly than usual, but it didn’t take him long. He patted Seokjin’s shoulder, indicating that he was finished, and Seokjin smiled up at him.“How you feeling?” the Alpha inquired.“Like I was hit by the sex bus,” the Omega shot back.“That’s perfect,” Seokjin said, kissing Jungkook’s forearm, the closest bit of him that the Alpha’s lips could reach. “I’m proud of me.”“Right, well why don’t you--”A sudden eruption of obnoxiously persistent knocks interrupted their quiet moment, and Seokjin smirked up at Jungkook. Taehyung’s voice called through the door, with Jimin’s echoing in kind as they called the Omega’s name.“Your public awaits,” Seokjin teased. Jungkook sighed, letting Seokjin slide the tray off the bed. With grunts of achiness and pain, Jungkook pulled the sweatpants on, catching the large t-shirt that Seokjin tossed to him. He had it halfway on before he realized it was one of Seokjin’s shirts, not his own, and he reveled in the smell of it for a moment before adjusting it on his shoulders properly.“Okay,” Jungkook sighed. Seokjin unlocked the door, and instantly in bounded the two boys waiting, happily yipping as they leapt up onto the bed. Taehyung curled up against Jungkook’s side, naturally finding his usual spot, and Jimin knelt on his other side patting his head reassuringly and smiling down at him with pride. They started a barrage of questions, and Seokjin chuckled, taking the now empty tray out with him as he went back downstairs. He was sure they would spoil Jungkook plenty in his short absence.Dropping the dishes into the sink, he heard the door to Namjoon and Kiara’s room open, and turned to find Yoongi standing there with an expression of some trepidation. Seokjin paused, sensing in the air that something was off.“Where’s Namjoon and Hoseok?” Seokjin asked, seeing the weariness in Yoongi’s shoulders and automatically moving to start a pot of coffee for him.“They went to the island,” Yoongi said quietly. “Jackson said he found a lead that may answer some questions about Jungkook’s brother. They said they’d be back tonight.”Seokjin frowned. “That’s not good. That sounds like a trap, Yoongi.” “I know,” the Omega sighed. “And Namjoon thinks so, too. But he said if it’s for Jungkook, he’s willing to take some risks. As long as the pack and the packhouse are safe, he’s going to try.”“He’s been protective of Jungkook ever since he first found him,” Seokjin said quietly, crossing his arms as they both watched the coffee maker percolate. “I remember Namjoon talking about him back then, and it was like he had found a diamond abandoned in an alleyway.”“Yeah…” The bubbling steam of the coffee maker punctuated the air with a moistness, the smell of coffee slowly slipping into the room, weakly attempting to mask the smell that said that this room had Jungkook’s chosen nest in it. “And that kind of devoted love has its own dangers. But to make matters more complicated… I think Kiara’s pups are going to come, and very soon.”Seokjin blinked, worry reflected in his eyes as he turned to the younger wolf. “How soon?” Yoongi pursed his lips, as if in contemplation. “ Very soon. I think her contractions have already started, Seokjin.”The Alpha took in a sharp inhale, letting it out slowly. “We should call a doctor, just in case. “The Omega nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought. I just wanted to check with you.” Yoongi looked up for a minute at Seokjin, thoughtfully tilting his head as he went to retrieve two mugs for them. “You do realize you’re the lead Alpha until they get back, right?” Seokjin paused, his hand on the handle of the coffeepot, and bit his lip. “Yeah, I know.” He slowly poured them their two cups, and they sat down at the table, careful to avoid sticking their feet under the table and into Jungkook’s nest. “I don’t like it either, but it can’t be helped.”“Seokjin, I have no issue with you being the lead Alpha for the time being.”Arching an eyebrow, Seokjin slowly added sugar to his coffee. “I’m a bit surprised at that. You of all people have the right to have misgivings. You saw what I was like before.”“Call me soft,” Yoongi said with a frown. “But I, of all people, understand what forgiveness means.”Seokjin nodded at that in understanding, teeth working at his lip a little bit. “I’ll call the hospital, you check on Kiara. If she’s still having contractions, time how far apart they are. I won’t be able to go in her nest, since I’m an Alpha. But since Namjoon is gone, she may let you in.”“I’ll need Taehyung and Jungkook’s help, most likely,” Yoongi frowned. “If this is really happening.”“Let’s hope it doesn’t.” Seokjin let out a sigh, pulling out his cell phone. “It would be better if Namjoon was here for this.”~~~~~Life, however, never liked following much of a schedule. Kiara’s contractions lasted throughout the entire day, through dinner and into the night, just intermittent enough that the midwife didn’t see much cause for concern. By the time ten o’clock came around, Jungkook was up and around, gingerly following after Taehyung and Yoongi and running things back and forth into Kiara’s nest to help make her more comfortable.Seokjin was on the phone for what felt like the hundredth time, calling his brother and cursing when the ringing clicked away into his voicemail.“Where the fuck are they?” Seokjin hissed, tossing the phone onto his bed with a sigh. The door creaked open, Jungkook poking his head in, and he offered Seokjin an attempt at a reassuring smile.“Hey,” the Omega said quietly. “No word from Namjoon?” “None. And they should have been home hours ago. This isn’t going to help Kiara’s stress levels at all .”“Or yours,” Jungkook pointed out, wrapping his arms around Seokjin’s waist from behind. “He’ll be home as soon as he can. Trust him.”“It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s that I’m worried about him.”Jungkook, in reply, nuzzled gently into the dip of Seokjin’s shoulder blades. Something about the gesture made Seokjin exhale a slow, heavy sigh, his muscles doing their best to relax from the tension that had been slowly building over the last several hours. Jungkook lifted his head a bit, pressing a kiss to the back of Seokjin’s neck that was barely a breath, and Seokjin shut his eyes momentarily, soaking in the soothing effects of his Omega.“How is Kiara doing?” A soft chuckle. “Well, I’ve never witnessed a birth before, so I’m not too certain. But I think she’s doing as well as can be expected. She’s practically squeezed mine and then Taehyung’s hand off, and she’s screamed at Yoongi almost as much as she’s screamed at the contractions.” The Omega was quiet for a moment, then laid his forehead gently against Seokjin’s back. In a lower voice, he added, “I may be wrong, but… I get the feeling her water is going to break soon, and things will really start.”Seokjin’s brow furrowed. “How soon, do you think?” “I dunno. Probably before midnight, I guess?” He felt, rather than saw, the slight shrug that lifted Jungkook’s shoulders. “I think it might be her smell.”“Well, you’ve been around her this many years, you can probably tell the slighter differences.”“That makes it sound gross, somehow.”“No, not really.” It was Seokjin’s turn to shrug. “Pack members in small, close-knit packs often can sense when other wolves are going into their heats and ruts, if they’ve been together long enough. If you think about it, any prior warning can be a help, no?” “I suppose so.” Jungkook paused, then added. “Also, I’m kind of glad we made the decision to wait.”Seokjin chuckled. “Intimidated by the prospect of labor?” The Omega was quiet for a long moment, and Seokjin turned around in the man’s arms to find him playfully sulking.“Maybe.”He laughed again, kissing Jungkook’s head. “There’s more than enough time. Let’s go check on things downstairs.”As soon as their feet hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs, a sudden half-shout half-howl shrieked through the walls of Kiara’s room, echoing against the walls in a long, desperate cry. Jimin was sitting curled up on the couch, a book held in his hands that he had been attempting for the last hour or so to read.“It’s hard to listen to,” Jimin sighed, looking up at Jungkook and Seokjin. “I feel like I should go in and help somehow.”“Yeah, but you’d just aggravate her more,” Jungkook said with a level of certainty. Seokjin sat down on the couch, pulling Jungkook in his lap.“Other than the obvious,” Seokjin said to Jimin after a moment, “How are you doing?”Jimin looked over at Seokjin, pouting his lips a bit in thought. “I’m a little sad I couldn’t go help Namjoon, but… I’m not surprised he made me stay behind, after what happened.”“Yeah,” Seokjin hummed, petting Jungkook’s hair. “I think that’s fair.”The younger Alpha sighed. “I just wanna try to be helpful.” “You’ll have your chances,” Seokjin reassured him, “Just don’t push things before their time.”Jungkook said nothing, his head craned over towards the door to Kiara’s nest. If he had been in his wolf form, Seokjin was sure his ears would have been perked up, tilting in to listen carefully to the little sounds beyond the door. Suddenly, Yoongi was calling out Jungkook’s name, and the Omega frantically leapt into action, pushing his way out of Seokjin’s arms, off his lap and rushing into the door.Seokjin looked over at Jimin, who shrugged. “Maybe we should make tea?” The younger nodded, and they stood up to go into the kitchen.Meanwhile, the inside of the room Namjoon and Kiara had been sharing was utter chaos. In the last several hours, Kiara had spent any spare moment between contractions piling up her items around the bed in very particular ways. Namjoon’s shirt hung up over the headboard, dangling down until it brushed down against her pillow. Her grandmother’s jewelry box perched on the side table, an antique brush that she loved perched on top of it. Namjoon’s collection of books on evolution and socio-political changes was stacked up on the floor to the height of the bed. Taehyung, Yoongi and the midwife were all trying to dodge their way around the comforting items, doing their best not to disturb the delicate balance as they offered her cool water and more pillows. The room smelled heavily of coffee and (although notably weaker) of woodfire smoke.At the moment, Kiara’s face was flushed, Taehyung tenderly patting at her forehead with a damp cloth and frowning down at her in worry. Yoongi was listening to the midwife’s order, a long rambly explanation that was murmured in hushed tones.“What’s happened?” Jungkook asked, receiving no answer for an infuriating moment and having to repeat himself.“Her water broke,” Taehyung explained. He gestured for Jungkook to come nearer, and the Omega dodged a pile of Namjoon’s beanie hats on the floor so he could stand at Kiara’s other side. Instantly, her pale hand reached out, seeking his desperately. The moment their fingers entangled, Kiara squeezed down, letting out little cries as she lay there with her eyes closed, just on the tail end of a contraction. She clenched even more tightly at their hands, and Jungkook worked his bottom lip, biting back the complaint at the pain, and waited patiently with her.Kiara’s breathing slowed, and Jungkook reached up to brush her curly red bangs away from her forehead. She slowly, painstakingly opened her eyes to look up at him. Already she looked so tired, but she glowed with a mature strength and determination that had Jungkook held in awe.“Jungkook…” she gasped, trying to smile up at him. “Jungkook-Jungkook, my baby…”“I’m here,” he reassured her, leaning down and touching his forehead to hers.“Jungkook, where’s Namjoon?” Kiara’s face crumpled, since she already knew the only answer he could give. Her green eyes pleaded with him, to please, please tell her differently. “Is he going to be here soon?” “I’m sure he will be,” Jungkook murmured. “He’s probably on his way right now.” Jungkook licked his lips, bit at them for a moment, then added. “You know he would want you to focus on your pup right now, and not worry about him. He’ll be okay.”It made him feel guilty, even attempting to have such confidence in their leader’s safety when he, for one, had no real reason to believe otherwise and, for another, was part of the reason Namjoon had gone out in the first place.“You’re right,” Kiara nodded, taking a few noisy deep breaths to brace herself. “It’s the puppy’s time.”“The puppy’s time.” He repeated the phrase to help her believe and focus on it a little more, squeezing her hand back in a feigned display of confidence and understanding. After a few moments, he smirked playfully, kissing her knuckles with a certain aura of lightheartedness. “Hey, at least the pup didn’t choose a really bad time and place for this important life event. Like…say, in the middle of the woods at night in fucking winter, right?”“Don’t jinx my pup’s Presenting or I’ll grind your ass into a flour to make my motherfucking pancakes out of, I swear to fucking god.” The threat gradually rose in pitch and animosity, the pain of the birth striking her from the inside out and leaving her nearly screaming the words at the end. Jungkook looked up briefly at Taehyung, and the Beta’s eyes were sparkling with amusement.Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Seokjin was checking his phone obsessively, seeing no word from Namjoon or Hoseok. Jimin sipped at his tea, watching the older Alpha in concern. Seokjin called his brother one more time, leaving a message.“Hey, Namjoon. Please call me back as soon as you can. Kiara’s having your pup, probably this very moment. We’re all safe here, but…” Seokjin breathed in shakily, and Jimin could see that the Alpha’s hands were trembling a little. “Everyone’s still worried sick about you. Get home safe.”The man set down his cell phone, barely two seconds passing before he was hitting the button again to check for a message he may have missed. Jimin reached out, laying his smaller, round hand on top of Seokjin’s long, angular one.“Seokjin,” he said slowly, meeting his eyes with a calm evenness. “I’m sure he’s fine. It’s a long drive to the island, they could just have been delayed and had to start out much later.”“But then why isn’t he answering his phone?!” Seokjin sighed in exasperation. “We shouldn’t have let them go.”Jimin pursed his lips together. Silence encompassed the table, save for the muffled shouts and cries from Kiara’s nest, and the elder Alpha rested his head in his hands, tension oozing off of him in little waves like a radio signal, wavering and uneven. A long time passed, and Jimin watched the clock on the stove slowly and agonizingly tick away into the night. It was now three in the morning.“Seokjin…” Jimin whispered, his fears compiling in the silence and bubbling up into something resembling panic. “What if… what if the Rising Gods found them snooping around?”The Alpha looked up at Jimin through his hands, a frown evident on his features. “I don’t know. I really… I just don’t know.”“They went with several wolves,” Jimin pointed out, “But the Rising Gods clan is huge , I don’t know if they’d run into all of them, like Tae-Tae and I did, or if they’d be able to fend them off…” He pouted, staring into his empty teacup as though it was keeping all the answers from him. “Meanwhile, we just have to sit here and do nothing.” “No,” Seokjin said, in a bit of a harsh tone that made the younger look up in question. “We’re doing a lot . The Omegas inside can focus on their tasks more easily, because we’re out here to protect them. Because we’re here keeping an eye out for Namjoon and Hoseok to come home. That’s a whole lot, Jimin. And you know that.”The younger Alpha’s eyes flickered downward as though in embarrassment, and slowly, he began to nod in agreement, a tiny sigh escaping his lips. “You’re right.”’Their conversation was interrupted by a new sound, fresh and previously unheard of in the world – the first cry of Kiara’s pup. Seokjin and Jimin froze, staring at each other in alarm, mouths dropping open.“Oh my god,” Seokjin breathed. They both leapt up, moving to the doorway. Seokjin was the one who dared try the handle first, twisting it and poking one head in.“We heard the pup,” he called out gently. “Is…is it alright if we…?” “Kiara?” Jungkook was asking, looking at her and waiting for her weak little nod. He turned to the two of them and waved them in. Seokjin slipped into the room, his footsteps as light as he could make them as he and Jimin crossed the floor. The midwife and Yoongi were seated on the edge of the room, exhausted and with their sleeves rolled up, but smiling in blissful contentment at the bed. Kiara was barely propped up by pillows, Taehyung and Jungkook hovering over her, one at each shoulder. The tiniest bundle was curled up against Kiara’s chest, and she smiled down at it with the warmest, most serene smile possible. The two Alphas slowly tiptoed into the room, and Seokjin’s senses positively tingled and crackled on edge from the headiness of the Omega hormones running rampant in the room. Despite the permission given, there was a protective aura still hovering around the edges of the room that told his senses that he shouldn’t trespass, that he shouldn’t be in there. But the draw of the tiny pup held in Kiara’s arms was too compelling, too drawing.They came near, leaning in delicately on the edge of the bed. The pup was still discolored from birth, freshly cleaned with a little tuft of light-colored hair on top of the still-pliant head. Two tiny hands clutched instinctively at the blanket wrapped around, moving in time to the pup’s breathing as it rested.Jungkook leaned in until his shoulder was up against Seokjin’s, a proud beaming grin on his face. “It’s a girl,” he breathed.“A girl…”“Seokjin, Jimin…” Kiara breathed quietly, smiling up at them. “Meet Naiara.”They leaned in, eyes sparkling. Jimin reached out a tentative hand, touching a single finger to the velvety soft baby hand that coiled around his index finger without much hesitation. He practically purred. “Hello, Naiara…”“She’s absolutely beautiful…” Seokjin almost sang into the quiet, looking over at Yoongi. “Were there any problems?” “Not a one, once she was ready to go.” Yoongi exhaled, leaning back against the wall behind him and looking positively spent. “It all went smoother than expected.”“I’m not surprised,” Seokjin hummed. He reached out and petted a hand over Kiara’s hair, a soothing gesture that made her sigh a little. “Not from our lead Omega. She was already a natural mother from the start.”“She’s so beautiful…” Taehyung breathed in wonder, touching his fingers to the soft little head and then leaning down to kiss the crown ever-so-gently. Jimin moved up next to his Mate, slipping his arm around the Beta’s waist and pulling him close.“Soon,” Jimin promised into his ear with a whisper. “We’ll keep trying.”Taehyung sighed.Everyone hovered around the baby for a few more minutes, and Yoongi came in with his trusted camera to shoot a few photos of everyone with the newborn pup and her mother. Then, the midwife scooted them out, insisting that both mother and child needed their rest. Jimin and Jungkook were the last to leave, nuzzling in to Kiara’s neck as she lifted her head a little to receive them, letting them Scent her gently. The smell of coffee and sweat mingled across her skin like a blended perfume, a powerful mist that hung in the air around her and coated everything. Jimin touched a hand to Naiara’s tiny wrist, smiling at Kiara for a long moment. She touched a hand to his round cheek in fondness, then quietly let him go. Jungkook nuzzled into her neck a little longer, even curling up as if he was about to crawl up and lie in the bed next to her, protecting her and the pup through the night. Kiara chuckled, albeit weakly, and leaned over to kiss Jungkook’s forehead.“Try not to look quite so jealous,” Kiara teased. “You’ll always be one of my pups. You’re just not the youngest anymore.”Jungkook pouted. “That wasn’t what I was thinking at all,” he lied.“Of course not. You have your big, strong, handsome Alpha to keep you occupied,” she laughed, mocking him even in her exhaustion.The male Omega dramatically looked down at the sleeping pup, saying, “You’ve been here less than an hour, and you can already see what a meanie she can be, Naiara.”Kiara chuckled, patting playfully at Jungkook’s cheek, wordlessly sending him off to bed. Jungkook gave her forehead one last kiss before finally standing and leaving the room and the smell of Kiara and the newborn behind.He nearly jumped out of his skin when he peered into the living room and found Seokjin sitting in the semi-darkness, all alone and facing the front door. He leaned a little further in, earning no reaction from the Alpha. He crept in, trying to drag his heels on the carpet a little in order to warn the Alpha gently of his presence, but upon further, closer inspection he found that Seokjin’s eyes were fluttering closed. As soon as Jungkook was close enough to try and warn him properly, he suddenly noticed the Omega and promptly jolted nearly a foot in the air out of shock, letting out a little cry that was certainly louder than necessary, given the hour. Jungkook shushed him, chuckling a little as he crawled onto the couch to get into his usual spot in Seokjin’s lap. It felt good to sit there, especially when Seokjin wrapped his arms around him, since it was a softer hold that his still-sore body appreciated, particularly given the late hour.“Why aren’t you in bed?”Seokjin grunted a little, grumpily nosing his way into Jungkook’s T-shirt. “Mmrgh. Waiting for Namjoon.” “You can’t stay down here all night,” Jungkook insisted, running his hand along the back of Seokjin’s neck and massaging the tense muscles there. The Alpha instantly preened, leaning into Jungkook’s touch and blinking lazily. “Let’s just go to bed. They’ll be home soon enough.”“I can’t,” Seokjin insisted. He was too sleepy to offer up much of a good argument, but he was stubbornly looking towards the front door as if willing the lead Alpha to come back through it immediately. With a grim, crooked quirk of his mouth, Jungkook went to the kitchen, retrieving a couple of pillows and a blanket for them from his nest and coming back to the couch. He curled up next to Seokjin, sighing as they arranged themselves on the cushions as best as they could.“You rest first,” Jungkook instructed, sitting up and gently tugging Seokjin’s head into his lap, running his hands through the Alpha’s hair. “You’ve exhausted yourself worrying.”“Mmrgph,” was the Alpha’s only reply, curling into Jungkook’s lap with only a thin, easily crumbled layer of resistance. He was asleep within moments, and Jungkook smiled down at him.Unfortunately for his plan of standing guard for Namjoon and Hoseok, Jungkook had forgotten that he had obtained, in the last semester or so, the uncanny ability to sleep while sitting fully upright, and the hour wasn’t out before he was joining Seokjin in slumber, head angled to the side and lips slightly parted.~~~~~Jungkook was woken up by the door opening, the slight jingling of keys and muffled voices. He opened his eyes and saw two welcome sights. His expression brightened, and he breathed a sigh of relief, shifting Seokjin’s head from out of his lap and rushing across the room to embrace Namjoon first, quickly followed by Hoseok.“Thank god!” Jungkook whispered, clutching Namjoon’s arm as he felt so relieved he was dizzy. “Where the hell have you two been?”Hoseok, looking like he had been dragged through hell by his ankles, blinked over at Namjoon. In the dim, bluish light of pre-drawn, Jungkook saw that they were both covered in mud and scratches, leaves sticking in Namjoon’s messy hair and a world-weariness that even permeated their Scents indisputably.“We’ll talk about it more later today,” Namjoon sighed, laying a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Right now we just wanna sleep.” “Didn’t you get any of our messages?!” Jungkook hissed, looked between them frantically.“No, I lost my phone,” Namjoon grimaced. “And Hoseok left his in the truck, so it was dead.”“ Namjoon ,” Jungkook took firm hold of the lead Alpha by the shoulders, looking into his eyes. “We were trying to contact you because Kiara went into labor while you were gone, and she—“The Alpha’s expression quickly crumpled like a tin can, and he paled, pushing past Jungkook and towards his bedroom in a few long-legged strides, rushing into the room before Jungkook could finish.He halted in the door, mouth agape, and Jungkook peered in over his shoulder, smirking. “—had the baby.”Lying amidst a gentle swaddling of blankets, barricaded in by the items Kiara had instinctively collected around her, Kiara looked like a princess locked into a tower and held captive by a deep sleep, the tiny bundle curled up next to her in a protective manner. Namjoon, the prince here to break the spell, stepped easily around the debris of collectibles, a normally clumsy man who quite suddenly found his grace, as though he had made his way up to the top of this tower a thousand times in his dreams.Sensing his presence, Kiara’s eyes flickered open just as he came to the bedside, dirtied and smelling of the road, of the coolness of the night, of whatever it was he had had to fight through to get home to her. She smiled up at him, her green eyes meeting his in bliss as she reached out for his hand. He took her pale fingers and entwined them with his own, his expression one of a man stunned as he stared down at her and the pup.“Namjoonie,” she breathed quietly. “Meet your daughter.”It was as though her voice broke the trance Namjoon was under, and he leaned in, touching his huge hand against the soft head, inspecting each one of the tiny fingers and toes, the delicate pout of the already petulant and egotistical mouth. Namjoon’s tears had started as soon as he had walked in the door, but they fell freely now, streaming down his cheeks as he looked up into Kiara’s proud eyes. She caught his lips in her own.“My Alpha,” she whispered into his mouth.“My Omega, my love.” Namjoon wept back. “My queen.”“And your princess,” she giggled, angled the tiny pup so her father could see her. “Just as you predicted.”The tears fell afresh, and Namjoon choked through a half-sob, half-laugh, biting at one of his knuckles in barely contained glee.Jungkook smiled, stepping quietly out of the room. Hoseok was waiting at his side, looking into the room. He turned to meet Jungkook’s gaze, and he nodded in understanding.“I should go let Yoongi know we’re home safe,” he whispered to Jungkook.“I’m glad,” Jungkook whispered back. Hoseok leaned in, tugging Jungkook into another tight embrace, the irony being that the more tightly the Alpha squeezed his ribcage, the less prominent the tightness that had been lingering in his chest all night seemed to feel. Hoseok smiled at him, tickling lightly under his chin the way Hoseok had done since he was young, and then went upstairs. Jungkook returned to the living room, sighing but feeling relieved. He curled up against Seokjin’s body, seeking it for warmth and comfort. At the little movement against him, Seokjin blinked awake, looking up at Jungkook in dazed question. Jungkook leaned in to kiss his cheek, brushing his hair back. “They’re back. Safe and sound,” he breathed. “Oh, thank god. Then I can kill them in the morning.” The half-awake Seokjin managed. But he squeezed Jungkook’s hand in his, silently seeking comfort.Perhaps the arrival of the pup could have been considered quite ill-timed, keeping in mind everything in the pack house that weighed upon their lead Alpha’s shoulders. But nonetheless, she was a gift to their little family that was more than simply warmly received – but cherished.Naiara, Jungkook suspected, would certainly grow to earn her title of princess . ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It's amazing. Life changes very quickly, in a very positive way, if you let it. -Lindsey Vonn   In the morning, Jungkook found that he had a crick in his neck from the way he’d curled up against Seokjin, and he was jolted awake by the sound of clanking and talking in the kitchen. Jungkook sat up, Seokjin’s arm still heavily draped over his stomach and his hair sticking up on end, and blinked. The sunlight spilled into the living room, warm and white, and there was a buzz of energy that tingled through the household, gentle but distinct. He wriggled his way out of Seokjin’s arms, hearing the Alpha grunt, half-asleep. Ignoring him and moving into the kitchen, he found Hoseok standing in front of the stove, his back to the pan of scrambled eggs and with his arms crossed as he pouted at Yoongi. The shorter Omega, in that moment, was sitting at the table with shoulders shaking as he chuckled at something he had said to Hoseok. “That’s not what I was suggesting,” Hoseok sighed back, and Yoongi just chuckled harder, busying his hands with tearing apart one of their paper napkins bit by bit as he watched Hoseok cook. “Y’know, for being so clingy last night, you’re being awful mean to me today.” “Part of the job,” Yoongi laughed, turning to see Jungkook scratching at his stomach from the doorway to the kitchen. “Morning, Jungkook.” Hoseok sent him a smile. “You hungry?” Jungkook gave a little noise of assent, coming to curl up against Hoseok’s side and wrap his arms around him, burying his nose in the Alpha’s shirt and inhaling his sweet smell. Hoseok patted his head, chuckling and saying over Jungkook’s head, “Don’t look so jealous, you got your turn.” “It’s always my turn,” Yoongi grunted. “Would you like some eggs?” Hoseok asked, brushing Jungkook’s hair out of his eyes and speaking softly. Jungkook nodded. The Alpha laughed, turning and taking Jungkook with him. “Yoongi has to go to PT soon, so he gets the first plate.” Jungkook grunted, then finally let go of Hoseok and moved to sit at the table across from Yoongi. He rested his chin in his palm, watching Yoongi tear up the already tiny bits of soft paper into even tinier ones, until he could barely see the flecks of white pressed between Yoongi’s squarish fingers.“So what happened on the island?” Jungkook queried, looking over at Hoseok. “Why were you so late?” Hoseok’s movements slowed, and his expression fell. He slid out some eggs onto a plate, turning to push it in front of Yoongi before returning to the stove. “I think Namjoon wants to explain it to you.” “But he’s in with Kiara and the baby,” Jungkook argued quietly. “He’ll probably be in there all day. Just tell me.” Hoseok sighed. “Even so…” “Namjoon will have to be out and about anyways,” Yoongi said as he ate, demurely putting more salt on his food while Hoseok’s back was turned. “He has to go put in paperwork at the dean’s office about his absences yesterday and today, and Friday’s for the rest of the pack. Hopefully they’ll take the excuse of pack business without needing a meeting.” “I’ll need to put in extra hours this week at the shop.” Hoseok sighed, “We’re already pretty tight on the food budget this month.” Jungkook paused, mid-buttering a slice of bread, and pressed his lips together in concern. He knew he’d been eating more food at the pack house, since he’d started his ‘house arrest.’ “I can put more hours back in once I start my patrols again,” he offered helpfully, sprinkling a spoonful of sugar into his bread. Hoseok looked over at Yoongi, and the two exchanged a look of concern. Jungkook glanced between them, worry bubbling in his belly. “What?” “Talk to Namjoon,” Hoseok sighed. He set the two remaining plates on the table, sitting between the two Omegas. “But I’ve already been Mated, there’s no more danger, right?” Jungkook said. The other two didn’t answer him, a silence stretching on. Jungkook poked a fork at his eggs and noticed that Yoongi wasn’t eating as much. “Yoongi?” Hoseok mumbled quietly. The Omega stood up, dumping the rest of his food onto Jungkook’s plate. “I’m not very hungry. Jungkook, make sure you eat plenty. Don’t worry about the money right now.” He leaned down to kiss his Mate on the forehead. “Thanks for breakfast, Hoseok.” Hoseok watched Yoongi leave with worry in his eyes, and then turned to Jungkook. “I guess he’s just tired.” The Alpha gave a weak smile. “He acts like he isn’t so clingy but you know he was curled around me like a scarf all night.” “I’m not surprised, it’s Yoongi.” There was the sound of the downstairs bedroom door opening then, and the two of them listened as they heard Namjoon’s voice coming from the living room, then Seokjin’s sleepy mumble. Jungkook shoved the rest of the eggs into his mouth, mentally thanking Yoongi as he scuffled off into the living room, where Namjoon was seated on the couch up against Seokjin’s side as the older Alpha lay still curled under Jungkook’s blanket. “That’s good,” Seokjin was saying, a smile on his face. “You’re her father, after all.” “Yeah,” Namjoon beamed. “I guess I am.” “Namjoon?” Jungkook queried, coming up behind the lead Alpha and moving tentatively up against his back. He wasn’t as broad or as warm as Seokjin by any means, but there was plenty of room for him to curl, like he had in the early days when he’d learned how to ask for comfort. “Morning, Kookie,” Namjoon chuckled. He sent Jungkook that tender smile that would never have won any awards or defeated any critics, but which had convinced Jungkook early on that the usually cool, collected leader had a gentle heart when it came down to it, making him feel secure and safe. “I need to talk to you two.” “Both of us?” Seokjin arched an eyebrow, watching the way Jungkook’s fist curled up against the nape of Namjoon’s neck, his cheek against the Alpha’s shoulder. “What happened on the island?” Jungkook asked. “Well…” Namjoon sighed. “We got there with Jackson and part of his pack. We had a contact within the Rising Gods Clan saying they wanted to meet with us.” “That sounds like a trap,” Jungkook pointed out, his brow furrowing. “You shouldn’t have gone.” “Yeah, well, sometimes being part of a family means you have to take some risks. You wanted answers - we all wanted answers for you. But I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.” “How so?” “We met with him, at the border between our lands. He was alone, and he hadn’t told the rest of the pack about the meeting. Not even their lead Alpha.” Namjoon frowned. “He took as big a risk as we did, in the end. But he explained that there had been some rumors about the Jeon family, that there was a reason their pack was so strong and their Matings so sure. It was like the pack could communicate telepathically at times, like they were in-tune with each other.” “There was a rumor,” Namjoon said slowly, “That wolves of the Jeon line, being of a more pure blood, still carried the Bonding ability, perhaps in some complicated gene. Jeons choose their Mates, and it’s stronger than most wolf Matings nowadays.” Jungkook lifted his head, meeting eyes with Seokjin. His stomach churned. “But we don’t even know if I am a Jeon,” Jungkook mumbled. “The pound had my name written as Jeong.” “They could have gotten it wrong,” Namjoon shrugged. “Maybe you did, I don’t know. But either way, the Rising Gods pack suspects that you may be one of the only two Jeons still alive.” “That’s not how genetics work anyways, right?” Seokjin mumbled, “Even if Jungkook inherited that ability it would be dor-” “It’s connected to his wolf’s genetics,” Namjoon said slowly. “All of us have the gene, they think, but some people are able to ‘trigger’ it. That ability is suspected to be connected to the same genes that determine his Presenting. In the Jeon family’s case...it’s attached to the genes in their Omegas.” Jungkook swallowed. “So me Presenting as an Omega means that the Rising Gods think I have the gene.” “And your brother,” Namjoon said slowly, “Or the man they say is your brother, presented as a Beta last year.” The room seemed to spin a little, and he felt Seokjin sitting up, grabbing his arm, but it felt very far away for the moment, as Jungkook sank into his own head. “Yunho didn’t want to get involved in any of this,” Namjoon said slowly, “According to the man we spoke to. But he’s under pressure from his family to create the strongest wolf pack known to man, to make a legend for their family name. But they see Yunho as a weak leader, and there’s been a coup rising for some time now. It doesn’t help that he’s shown ‘mercy’ by allowing some pack members to remain in the Rising Gods, or by following some of the more humanitarian pack rules.The pack members want to be the first to break open the world’s understanding of Bonding. They don’t just have pretty members - many of them are scientists or lawyers or just come from family businesses that make a fuckton of money. But none of them are used to losing.” Namjoon stared at Jungkook, who sat gazing distantly off at the carpet, his expression unreadable. The lead Alpha bent forward, patting his head. “Jungkook, that’s why they want you. They’re willing to risk it if there’s even a chance.” “So what about my brother? If he’s a Beta, there’s still a chance he could Bond. How did he end up with them?” Jungkook breathed. He felt Seokjin’s hand reached out and fall gently against his back, trying to reassure him or trying to brace him, the Omega wasn’t sure. “From what I gathered, they found out about the gene after he joined them. He’s been forced to stay…” Namjoon frowned. “The man who brought us there...he showed us the pen he was being kept in.” Jungkook’s eyes flashed, icy blue with fury as he met Namjoon’s eyes. “What?!” “Yeah, I know.” Namjoon sighed, his expression pained with the memories of what he had seen. But he offered Jungkook a grim smile. “But he escaped.” “Escaped? Where? When?” “The pen was empty. I got the feeling our little insider let him out, but to be honest, I don’t know for sure. The Rising Gods didn’t know yet. It was the middle of the night, and the pen was empty, no sign of how he got out. I’m only pissed we can no longer prove it and so can’t call the authorities on their asses. I’m sure the pen is disassembled by now.” Jungkook stood up, abandoning the comforting touches and Scents of his lead Alpha and his Mate, pacing up and down the room a bit as they watched him sadly. “Jungkook,” Namjoon said quietly. “You know this means we may never find your brother. He’s long gone by now, in all likelihood.” The Omega bit his lip. They had probably gotten there so close. They could have helped him. He knew without a doubt in his heart that if Namjoon had found him, he would have brought him home. To their home. But he had had to leave and slipped out right under their noses. Jungkook’s pacing got more frantic, and he heard Seokjin softly calling his name, but he didn’t stop until he had let out some of the nervous energy, had let the words sink in a little more. “Namjoon,” he said finally. “Was his Scent still there?” The man nodded. “What was his Scent?” Namjoon glanced over at Seokjin for a moment, then back at Jungkook, his lips curved down into a strange expression that was somewhere between sadness and something almost like empathy. “Fresh paint,” he said slowly, “And saltwater.” Jungkook sank to his knees on the floor. He’d known, somehow. Maybe in the shattered, frayed edges of his memory or perhaps instinctively, but he’d known. His brother was out there. His blood brother. Alone. But utterly and hopelessly out of their reach. “Jungkook…” Seokjin said quietly, suddenly at Jungkook’s side. “Are you okay?” The Omega nodded, albeit slowly. “I’ve never even met him, but somehow, I’m more worried about him than me.” “Well, be that as it may,” Namjoon hummed. “You’re at risk. While we were there, the Rising Gods clan found out that he had escaped. We almost got caught, even though we technically hadn’t done anything. We had to hide in the woods for hours, and we only managed it because he knew how to hide us, and helped us wait until it was safe. If they had found us, I’m sure they wouldn’t have hesitated to beat out of us whatever they could.” That explained their tattered and dirty state when they had come home, then. And also the delay. “Namjoon…” Seokjin spoke quietly, staring down at the little bit of space he had left between Jungkook’s knees and his own. His face was dark and drawn tightly as he looked up at his brother. “It was Jae, wasn’t it?” The question wasn’t really a question, it was spoken as more of a knowing statement, and Namjoon only confirmed it by the way he pressed his lips together. “He told me not to tell you,” Namjoon mumbled. “But I figured you’d know. You know him better than anyone.” Jungkook got a bitter taste on his tongue as soon as Jae’s name was spoken aloud, but nonetheless he mentally sent out a thanks to the man that, for whatever reason, had helped send Namjoon and Hoseok home safe to him. “He’s different now, Jinnie,” Namjoon said quietly as he touched a hand to his ear, scratching it contemplatively. “I don’t know how, but he seems...kind of broken. I don’t think he’s going to last much longer in the clan.” Seokjin’s lips pressed together so tightly that the color drained out of his normally pink lips, and he stood up. “I figured that’s why you wanted to talk to us both.” He sighed. “I’m going to go get something to eat.” “Jinnie,” Namjoon’s voice was suddenly reprimanding, forcing the Alpha to turn and arch an eyebrow in question. “That’s not why. Or rather, not the main reason. They know you two are Mated by now, I’m sure. Or if they don’t, they’ll know very soon. You’re in just as much danger as Jungkook.” “But why? We’re Mated, what can they do now?” Jungkook’s voice rose in concern. “I don’t know what they’ll do, but I know that they want to know what makes a wolf Bond with another. And you two are both Bonded now, or so they suspect.” “So what do we do, live in house arrest forever?” Jungkook spat, temper boiling. “Keep me locked up in case some asshole tries to get between me and my Mate? Let them fucking try.” Namjoon’s lips curved up into the first semblance of a smile for quite some time, and he chuckled. “No, that’s not what I’m suggesting. I know you wouldn’t put up with it for long, anyways. What I’m suggesting is that we take whatever evidence we have, whatever case we may have, to the authorities. Perhaps it won’t do much for us, maybe it’ll do everything. But at least we would be on the right side of the law, and inevitably when the Rising Gods oversteps, we’ll have that ace in hand.” Jungkook, feeling the aura of anxiety mingling now with a strain of hope in the air, turned to see Seokjin’s eyes glimmering. Their gazes met, and Seokjin gave a little smile before saying, “I think that sounds like a reasonable place to start.” “Excellent. That means you two just need to lay low for a little longer, until we can at least speak to a court about, I dunno, a restraining order? Maybe even force the Rising Gods to be disbanded, I’m not sure. We’ll have to talk to some people and figure it out.” It was a lot more work than it sounded like, and Jungkook was aware at least of that. Things like restraining orders and forcing pack duties and rules was a messy, subjective business in the eyes of the law, and it would likely involve a lot of hoops, paperwork, and begging to speak to the right people. It was also a danger - not only to them, but to Namjoon, to the pack. Calling out another pack on unjust actions was like painting a red bullet mark on your forehead, and would likely cause some packs to lose respect for them. But if the Rising Gods was really that awful, had that bad of a reputation, had truly become that poisoned and corrupted, then it was possible other packs would rise up to support them and their claims. It was messy, it was risky. It had to be done. Jungkook nodded. “Let’s do it. I want justice for my brother.” ~~~~~ Exactly as predicted, it was a long process. Over a month into the claims, and Namjoon was exhausted. Jungkook and Seokjin were allowed to go back to school as usual, but stayed close to each other at all available times. Seokjin was often waiting outside Jungkook’s classroom every day, his expression hardened as he watched each passing wolf with suspicion. Jungkook, on the other hand, was feeling optimistic. Perhaps it was in his nature to not remain down for so long, or perhaps he wasn’t good at taking things very seriously, but how could he remain depressed, when actions were being taken as best as they could, and when he had his Mate waiting for him every single day? He leapt forward, almost bowling the Alpha over, and reveling in the quiet, cautious whispers around them. He nuzzled into Seokjin’s tank top, clung to his bare arms, and smirked up at the way Seokjin always tried to look nonchalant whenever Jungkook indulged in the blatant PDA. Jungkook didn’t care. He was now a Claimed Omega, happily Mated long before half his peers, and there were no longer annoying advances or flirtatious Alphas dogging his every step. He was taken more seriously, which Seokjin found despicably shallow but which neither of them could do anything about. It also helped that Jungkook liked going through his day able to clearly smell Seokjin around him, permeating off his clothes, his skin, hovering in the air like a comforting cloud. Sometimes, he felt like he even heard Seokjin, like a distant blur of a memory playing in his mind’s ear. It was like he was talking, in that gentle lilt of his, but Jungkook never understood the words. Most times, if Seokjin was actually feeling irritable or angry, Jungkook knew before the class had even ended. “Jungkook,” Seokjin grunted, a weak, breathless chuckle escaping him as he tried to pry the needy Omega off of him. “I can’t breathe.” “Mmm...you smell all happy today,” Jungkook smirked, hooking his arm in Seokjin’s as they went to walk out to Seokjin’s truck. “And maybe a little horny.” “God, I…” Seokjin rolled his eyes, but there was a smile creeping and twitching around the edges of his lips, right where the dimpled curved hid. “Are you sure that’s not you you’re smelling there? You’ve got the libido of a fucking rabbit, after all.” “Hmmm…” Jungkook chuckled, opening the passenger side door, the wave of oppressive heat from inside the vehicle stifling. “Maybe it’s my youth. You may have forgotten what that feels like.” “Shut the fuck up,” Seokjin growled, “Or I won’t let you ride me.” “Are you using sex to bargain with me, Kim Seokjin? That’s so cruel. Sex is not a commodity, it’s an activity. An activity that feels damn good.” “You’re getting so spoiled,” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t like you so much I’d--” “You’d what?” Jungkook laughed, shoving at the Alpha’s shoulders as he stopped at a stop sign, looking over at him and furrowing his brows. Jungkook smirked at him, as though he’d won some sort of game, watching as Seokjin surveyed around them as if searching for any eyes pointed their direction. Then, Jungkook let out a hiccup of a sound as Seokjin reached over and grabbed firm hold of his shirt collar, and slammed his mouth unceremoniously against Jungkook’s. He wanted to laugh, to make fun of the eager way Seokjin held him, as if appreciating and reprimanding him at the same time. But he had no time to come up with a decent retort as suddenly something slipped between Seokjin’s teeth and past Jungkook’s tongue, nearly choking him as the overwhelming taste of full-power cinnamon bit across his taste buds. He coughed as Seokjin pulled away, the Alpha licking his lips in satisfaction as he turned back to the road as if nothing had happened. It was one of Seokjin’s cinnamon-flavored mints that he had gotten addicted to, a too-strong taste that no one else in the pack could bother to keep in their mouths for longer than a dozen or so seconds, and he had just slyly forced it into Jungkook’s mouth. “You trying to kill me?” Jungkook snapped, when he had managed to adjust to the strong flavor of cinnamon, his eyes threatening to water. Seokjin shrugged. “Sharing is caring.” When they pulled up to the packhouse, Jungkook was already bickering with Seokjin again, although this time over pizza toppings, and when that didn’t successfully aggravate Seokjin into full-on playful mode, Jungkook used a free moment while the Alpha’s back was turned to lay a few taunting slaps to his ass. Seokjin sighed, still on the phone with the pizza place, and looked up into the heavens as if praying for patience. Jimin was at the table as they entered the kitchen, looking up and sending them both a warm smile as he went through data sheets he had brought home from work to survey. “You ordering dinner?” Jimin asked Seokjin, earning a nod from the older Alpha. “Kiara asked for extra pineapple. I’m sure Yoongi will be happy about that.” “Is Kiara awake?!” Jungkook’s head popped up from the other side of Seokjin’s shoulder, where he had been reaching up to rub at Seokjin’s hair, making it stand on end in little Medusa-like strands from where his hair gel still clung. “Yes,” Jimin rolled his eyes. “But the baby is still asleep so don’t--” Jungkook was already rushing to the downstairs bedroom, abandoning the two Alphas. Jimin sighed, and Seokjin laughed, his voice squeaking on the phone so much that the pizza shop worker on the other end had to repeat back their order twice. “He’s so giddy these days,” Seokjin pointed out as he ended the call, sitting down at the dining room table for no particular reason. Jimin hummed in agreement, reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, threatening to fall at any moment. “Mostly because of you, I think,” Jimin said. Seokjin blinked, and Jimin glanced up, smirking mischievously. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been silly and utterly ridiculous. But now he seems more at ease to be that silly. Like he just knows you’ll put up with him.” “Isn’t that just a side effect of being Mated, though?” Seokjin teased, resting his chin in his palm. “He knows he’s stuck with me and I’m stuck with him? That kind of thing?” Jimin stared at Seokjin for a moment as though he had just uttered the most asinine thing on the planet. Heaving a deep sigh, he returned to filling in notes on his pad in rushed, heavy strokes of his pen. “Delude yourself as much as you want, but Jungkook loves you. I don’t make the rules.” A few more swipes of his pen, and Jimin glanced up again, seeing the conflict in Seokjin’s eyes. “You make him relaxed. You let him act like a little kid. He didn’t get much of a chance to be a little brat when he was actually a kid, so you give him that.” “Isn’t that the same as saying I spoil him, basically?” The younger Alpha laughed. “Yes.” “You two!” Namjoon hissed, suddenly stepping into the kitchen and making both of them jump nearly a foot out of their seats. “What the fuck, Namjoon?” Jimin mumbled, trying to erase the long pencil mark he had accidentally scrawled across the page. “I come home from a long day at the courthouse and I wanna cuddle with my Mate, but your Mates are hogging up my bed!” The lead Alpha fumed, his face crumpled in irritation as he jutted one harsh finger toward the bedroom. “That happens to be my Mate and pup in there, you know! Get them out!” “Just tell them off yourself, jeez,” Seokjin laughed, sliding his chair out and following Jimin to the downstairs bedroom. When walking in, the soft purple curtains were opened, allowing light to spill in on the bed which was (in all fairness to Namjoon) extremely crowded. Kiara was positioned up on several pillows, laying on top of the main comforter and wearing a pair of Namjoon’s favorite Ryan socks, a thin afghan draped across her and the baby she held against her chest. On either side of her lay Jungkook and Taehyung, knees pulled up just enough that they could balance on the edges of the bed without falling off, each with one hand draped up and against the baby’s tiny back. All four were now softly asleep, the sound of their overlapping sleep breathing echoing in the room, and the Scent of comforting, protective Omegas wafting through the room like a heady incense. Seokjin and Jimin looked over at each other. “Well, fuck.” Seokjin breathed, as Jimin’s whole face and body seemed to curl up in glee. “That’s really cute.” “They’re so cute!” Jimin breathed, excitedly fumbling in his pocket for his phone. With one hand he pushed up his glasses further onto his nose, moving further into the room to get a good angle for his photos. Jimin, Seokjin had come to realize, liked to document everything in his phone, but particularly when it came to Taehyung or Jungkook. He had a feeling that Jimin would be the best resource in five or so years down the line, when anyone needed baby photos of Naiara. Jimin would have thousands by then. “Tae-Taeee…”Jimin half-sang, half-whispered, brushing Taehyung’s long bangs out of his face. “You’re going to make such a good parent, I know it. Look at you.” Taehyung, meanwhile, with his puffy cheeks and innocent, unaware expression in sleep, looked closer to a child than anyone allowed to have a child. And Seokjin had to admit Jungkook was basically the same, curled up with his long, unfairly masculine and perfect hands coiled up protectively against Naiara’s back, his face pressed against Kiara’s shoulder. Seokjin’s mind reeled back like a hearty push to an invisible rewind button to their conversation under the table, about the future.  “I do I want them. Y’know. Pups. I want to have pups with you someday.“  Seokjin felt his chest tighten painfully, as if a large hand was squeezing around his torso and trying to crush him beneath the weight of it. “Come on, Tae-Tae,” Jimin cooed, tugging on the sleep of the Beta and nudging him into half wakefulness. They shuffled out of the room, but not before a sleepy-smiling Taehyung laid one last soft kiss on the gentle crown of Naiara’s head. Rousing Jungkook took significantly more effort, and when he did wake, it was with a jolt as he turned to look immediately to his side, as if checking that the pup and her mother were still here. Sighing in relief, Jungkook accepted Seokjin’s hand and stood up, rubbing his eyes. Seokjin took Jungkook’s hand in his, squeezing it tightly as they left the room.  I’m sorry, Jungkook. I just need a bit more time...Please don’t come to hate me for it.  It was silent, locked away in his head, but the instant he thought it, Jungkook looked up as though in alarm, and squeezed Seokjin’s hand back. “Pups make you sleepy,” Jungkook commented. “And it’s scary how delicate they are.” “Yeah, I suppose so..” Seokjin said. “Hey,” the Omega bumped his shoulder against Seokjin roughly. They were standing in the hallway outside the bedroom, and Jungkook spoke in a quiet voice. “I said I wanted to wait too, didn’t I?” Seokjin looked up to meet Jungkook’s eyes, still feeling that vice grip in his chest but finally able to breathe enough to allow a little smile. “Yeah...yeah, you did.” That night at dinner, as they all gathered around the table to messily share pizzas, Namjoon interrupted Hoseok’s spirited debate wherein he was trying to get Yoongi to eat more of his actual pizza and less of just the pineapples, much to the Omega’s chagrin, in order to announce some news. “It’s been over a month since we started the movement against the Rising Gods Clan,” Namjoon started, a weary smile on his face as he held hands with Kiara, the baby curled up against her and swaddled in blankets. “And I’m happy to say that they’ve approved our request for a restraining order.” “Oh, thank god,” Yoongi breathed. “And the island?” Kiara prodded quietly. “Until they’ve had a chance to speak in their defense, they’re not allowed on the island.” Namjoon smirked. “So we can finally go back and have another hunt.” “That’s good timing, isn’t it?” Jimin perked up, “Since Kiara’s had some time to rest up after the baby, and everyone’s about to do their finals. I can put in some vacation time again if I have two weeks notice…” Namjoon gave a nod, and a smile that stretched across his face. “It’ll be good to go back to the island for a proper hunt.” “We haven’t exactly had the best luck so far,” Yoongi scoffed. Kiara sent him a glare, “Don’t you jinx my baby’s first time on the island, sir.” “I’m not, I’m not,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, a playful gleam to them. Jungkook could tell he was excited, too, even if he wasn’t exactly smiling, his posture and eyes said everything. “I’m going to be glad, because then we can have you four do a proper Mating hunt. I guess it would be a bit odd to do a whole ceremony, but we can at least do that.” Namjoon sighed, sitting back into his seat. “I’m sure none of us are too worried about that,” Seokjin said, eyeing as Yoongi picked off more pineapple off his plate. “Circumstances were what they were.” “Besides,” Jimin said, grabbing Taehyung’s arm. “I’ll be glad to be going back with the whole pack Mated. That’s pretty amazing, right?” Taehyung smiled at Jimin, cuddling in closer, his cheeks filled to endearing roundness with pizza. “And if the sea is warm enough, we can even swim!” Jungkook realized, sitting up a little with a start. As the dinner continued, rife with plans for their first hunt as a pack in months, Seokjin and Yoongi started a burp-off match, nearly spilling their sodas, which sent Jimin into uncontrollable giggles. Naiara woke up partway through, watching the party with wide, blue eyes brimming with curiosity, and Taehyung cooed over her, leaning in to let her wrap her tiny fingers around his one long one. Things were looking up, and as they shared the table together, their feet carefully not prying into Jungkook’s nest, their food shared and voices loud and boisterous, Jungkook looked around the table with a smile. How could he not be optimistic, with his family around him like this?  ~~~~~  The island, coming into view as they crossed the long expanse of bridge over the sea, was even greener than Jungkook remembered. The cabins, he was sure, would be slightly dusty (except for the Main Hall, which had been last used by Jimin and Taehyung several weeks prior), but the comforting smell of pack would still permeate the grounds. But the camp was utterly torn up. The door to the Main Hall hung on its hinge, smeared blood written across it and the furniture upturned. The mattresses had been drug out into the yard, tossed into damp underbrush until small creatures had eaten their way through them and mold had started to grow. “It’s a scare tactic,” Namjoon said, surveying the damage. “They wanted to have a last show of power, I suppose.” “They can’t come back through, can they?” Jimin said quietly, prodding a moldy mattress with one foot and looking worried. Namjoon offered the younger Alpha a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’d be stupid to, with all of us here, and with their court date coming up soon.” Kiara stepped gingerly forward, Seokjin moving ahead of her and holding what was left of the door aside. She looked around the Main Hall, the couches torn and the drapes ripped to long, gnarled strips. When the others followed her inside, she turned, hugging Naiara’s bundled form to her chest. “It’ll take more than some busted furniture to shake me,” she said firmly. “Jungkook, will you get Naiara’s carrier from the car? We need to get to work cleaning this up.” A few minutes later Naiara watched on from her car seat carrier in the corner, suckling a tiny pointer finger absentmindedly as the pack moved to replace the salvageable mattresses, moving them to the floor of the Main Hall for the time being. The ripped cushions of the couch were re-stuffed and wrapped up in sheets. Yoongi and Hoseok teamed up on the front door while Seokjin and Jungkook did their best with the remains of the cupboards. “Will we still be able to go on our hunt later?” Jimin asked, wiping at the counters with Kiara as Taehyung swept. “Of course,” she said nonchalantly, lifting one delicate shoulder. “I mean, you guys will. I’ll be staying back with the baby today. But there’s no reason you can’t go hunt. We’re not the ones who have done anything wrong, after all. Well, technically some of us have sorta almost trespassed, but they probably can’t prove that.” She laughed, wringing out her rag in the sink. “I can’t wait to be hunting again,” Jungkook whined, his shoulder drooping as he sat on the (now clean) counter, holding a cupboard door for Seokjin as he tried to hammer the hinge back into a decent shape. Jungkook’s eyes were trained on Seokjin’s arm muscles, pouting a little in jealousy as he saw the little bulge of his biceps, teasing every so often underneath the edge of his short sleeves. “It feels like it’s been forever.” “It kinda has been. Last time we came as a pack was, what, March? And last time we were all here was your Presenting,” Jimin commented, glancing at Seokjin pointedly. “Yeah…” Jungkook said quietly, still watching Seokjin, thinking of the last time he had seen the white wolf on the offensive, in the wild and unleashed in a very different sense than Jungkook had grown accustomed to seeing. “I’m looking forward to it.” Seokjin glanced up from his hammering, arching an eyebrow up at Jungkook in curiosity, then chuckling. “If you’re thirsty, get yourself a drink of water, Kookie. Jeez.” Jungkook pouted, slapping Seokjin on the shoulder lightly with his bit of cupboard door, earning a laugh from the Alpha. By the time lunchtime rolled around, it was starting to get hot, and the cabin clean-up was nearing its completion. Jungkook ate his sandwich sitting in Seokjin’s lap, his legs sprawled over Jimin’s knees as the younger Alpha split half his ham sandwich with Taehyung, getting half an egg salad in return. They sat leaned up against the trunks of trees in the cool shade of the camp, soft earth sticking to their pants and the gentle buzz of bees flying in the distance. It was a warm summer day, and Seokjin was solid and comforting at his back. The ground felt all the cooler for the heat of work that had consumed their morning hours, and the sound of the ocean off through the trees echoed up towards them like a distant roar. This is one of those moments, isn’t it? Jungkook realized, closing his eyes, his head tilting back against his Mate’s shoulder as the wind let out a soft exhale, brushing through the trees in a sound like dropping silk. One of those moments that people never want to end. That make you want to stop time. A familiar, soft hand brushed his hair from his face, then tickled beneath his chin lightly, making him smile. His eyes fluttered open to see Seokjin leaning over him, smiling down with the white-gold light spilling through the trees and leaving little patches of crooked diamond-shaped lights across the Alpha’s face. Seokjin leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then returned to eating, being careful not to drop his crumbs on Jungkook. A little sigh escaped him, lifting Jungkook up a bit with the movement, and Jimin was giggling softly at something Taehyung was telling him animatedly. “Hey,” Seokjin said quietly, his arm snaking around Jungkook’s waist, pulling him a little closer and making him feel rather small, in the good way. “Mm?” Jungkook hummed, holding his sandwich to his lips much like a harmonica, nibbling at it slowly with his teeth and savoring the creamy texture of the mayonnaise. “I’m glad, you know. That Namjoon found you. That you were able to have a proper pack life.” Jungkook craned his head back up towards Seokjin, the sandwich held momentarily forgotten. “Y’know,” Seokjin shrugged, “Not just because of me, but...because of you. I’m glad you didn’t have to keep wandering alone.” The Omega curled his legs together, heels digging gently into the ground as he considered. Namjoon, Hoseok… Taehyung… all of them. They were much like a family but also much more than a family. After all, wasn’t blood just blood? You didn’t choose where you were born or where you came from, but each of them had chosen. As for Jungkook himself, it had been an instinctive knowing, a certain something he had known with every fibre of his being, that he could trust Namjoon. Sure, he’d had his times of doubting, but precisely 0% of him was surprised that Namjoon had risked his neck just for the chance of finding Jungkook his brother, a man neither of them had ever met. He hadn’t been surprised at Namjoon doing it, and he was even less surprised at the casual, matter-of-fact way Namjoon had treated it. Like it wasn’t that big of a deal, that it was the natural choice. Before Bangtan, Jungkook was sure that none of them had had that - a solid foundation, a self-assuredness in the fact that they, as a pack, would always depend on each other, and always be there for each other. It was something that didn’t need to be proven, but was evident, and displayed, all the same. It was as significant and as commonplace as the couch in their living room. Namjoon had saved him. He had given him a home and given a home to rest of the pack, too. If it hadn’t been for Bangtan pack, wouldn’t he have ended up in the same sort of predicament his brother had? Would Jimin have found familiarity instead of rage? Would Yoongi have found an equal instead of an owner? Would Seokjin and Taehyung have found a place to start over? “I’m glad, too,” Jungkook murmured, lazily stretching his back and letting out a little groan. “I’m glad we’re all here.” “Okay, guys, lunch break is over!” Namjoon called out, entering their side of the camp clearing with a broad beam on his face. “Who wants to go on a hunt?” Taehyung let out an excited whoop, followed quickly by Jimin as they disentangled themselves from each other and started shuffling towards the beach. Namjoon turned slowly, seeing Jungkook and Seokjin still on the ground but collecting themselves in a more leisurely fashion. “How are you two doing?” Namjoon asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Good,” Jungkook chirruped, clambering up to standing on his knees, reaching out and grabbing Namjoon by the thighs and hugging onto him. “I’m ready for a hunt, though.” “Well, go tear Yoongi away from the baby and tell him you guys are ready to go. I’ll be staying back with Kiara today, and we’ll take a short run tomorrow, once we’ve settled in a bit more.” “I’ll go on ahead,” Seokjin said, “And go keep an eye on the Elopers.” “Okay.” Jungkook stood up to his full height, brushing off his jeans before moving around to the far side of the Main Hall, where Yoongi had Naiara in her carrier set up on one of the picnic benches, the thin spotted canopy pulled down even though they were already seated in the shade. Yoongi was kicking his feet lightly underneath the wooden table, one hand rocking the carrier back and forth ever so gently as he hummed at the baby inside. Naiara, for one, looked utterly fascinated by Yoongi’s face, wide eyes blinking up at him and small, uncoordinated hands flailing out in all directions occasionally, as if wanting to capture him. Yoongi leaned forward, smiling broadly, all teeth and gums as he moved within Naiara’s very limited arm span, and got a tiny fist slapping against his face in return. He laughed, shoulders shaking as the sound was more like a deep popping sound than a chuckle. Naiara’s face broke out into a smile, and she flailed harder, excited by the reaction of her current large, humanoid toy. “Yoongles,” Jungkook teased, stepping up to the picnic bench and surprising Yoongi, who sat up instantly and let the smile drop from his face as if covering up some secretive activity. “You ready for the hunt? The others are headed down to the beach already.” “Oh, okay,” Yoongi stood up carefully, grabbing the handle on the baby carrier and taking Naiara back toward the cabin and in turn to her waiting mother. As they went, Jungkook smirked - Naiara was still trying to stare up at Yoongi, kicking her tiny legs against her carrier and her mouth agape. He didn’t know much about babies, but he knew they were good judges of character. Jungkook chuckled, heading down to the beach where Hoseok was writing cute things in the sand with Jimin and the others. Taehyung was drawing an elaborate something off on his own, an abstract image that Jimin still praised, even as he focused all his energy on a singular emoji he preferred on his phone, taking great care to imitate the details he’d memorized. Seokjin was bent closely over his own sand-art, and Jungkook came over to stand behind him, almost brushing his shoulders when he leaned down and alerted Seokjin to his presence. Suspiciously, Seokjin suddenly leaned forward, landing on his knees and attempting to cover with his hands and brushwood stick the acrostic poem he’d been making out of his Mate’s name. Jungkook guffawed, openly mocking Seokjin as the Alpha slapped his shoulder, and the two of them ended up somehow tumbled into the damp sand. “Okay, lovebirds,” Hoseok teased, hiccupping with laughter as Yoongi came up to his side. “Let’s gather around this disgusting little flag.” The Alpha gestured down to the dirty-rain-stained little sock of Namjoon’s that hung limply from the makeshift flagpole the lead Alpha had planted so many months ago. “You know the drill. If you get lost or injured, try to stay in groups and signal for help, or of course head back to camp if you’re able to safely. Work together, and most important, happy hunting!” “Wait!’ Jimin said, frowning as Hoseok stopped mid-step, about to turn a 180 and transform. “Aren’t we supposed to do the little slogan thing?” Hoseok looked at the others, who all shared expressions that bordered on agreement but also on boredom. Jimin looked back and forth, as though thrown by the lack of response, but then Taehyung stepped forward, putting out his hand palm-down. “Jimin’s right. Namjoon may not be going with us, but this is still a pack hunt, we’ve gotta do it right.” “Right,” Jungkook agreed, putting out his hand, too. Seokjin laid his hand on top of Jungkook and Taehyung’s, and the others soon followed. Yoongi shook his head as if in disbelief, but then nudged Hoseok’s shoulder. “Um.... Teamwork makes the dream work?” Hoseok managed through his laughter. “Teamwork makes the dream work!” Everyone shouted the phrase, tossing their met hands up into the air and turning to transform. Overeager and tingling with the thrill of the oncoming hunt, they wasted no time in rushing off the beach and into the woods. As usual, there wasn’t any one particular wolf leading the way, but Jungkook didn’t pay much mind to that, racing through the woods with youthful leaps and bounds, clearing deep dark ditches, creek beds and underbrush alike. Seokjin was at his side, notably closer than he had remained the last time they had hunted together, and the white wolf’s heavy panting echoed in Jungkook’s ears in a rush, in time with his own labored breaths. This time, Seokjin’s Alpha Scent seemed to tinge the very air, red-hot like a spark, and he could not only see the playful gleam in his Mate’s eyes but he could feel it in the way Seokjin brushed up against him, the way he adjusted his pace easily to Jungkook’s. It took them a long time to find anything. They stopped a few times, sniffing around a clearing or at what looked like a well-used watering hole. Once Taehyung found a hare, and he had hopped after it eagerly, effectively chasing it off when he slipped a bit on some loose rocks and tripped himself up. Seokjin had barked gleefully at him, not holding back in mocking his brother as he watched Taehyung shake some of the creek water out of his fur with a disgruntled air. The Beta’s light fur was already darkened by water and mud dotting its edges, an endearing if unintimidating sight. That was when Hoseok let out a little sound, high-pitched and brief but nonetheless effective for calling the others to attention. He was sniffing at some feces on the ground, then at a bit of roots of an oak tree, and then they knew it. A boar. A big one. Jungkook’s heart seemed to leap, and he leapt like a clumsy pup over to Hoseok’s side, catching up and running at his side with Seokjin and Taehyung close behind. He wanted to help more this time, wanted to get into more of the action. He felt ready. The trees opened up into a bit of a steep cliff made out of grass, brush and stone. Angled rocks jutted out off to the side like dislodged scales on a dragon’s back, the lush emerald of the foliage covering up a thick, large mound like a gentle briar. Jungkook raced forward, ahead of the others. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he happily bound headfirst into the foliage, the green curtain drawing back and revealing the boar’s hiding place. It snuffled, grey and mud-slewn and irritable, when Jungkook interrupted its digging. It buried its ugly, pinkish grey snout deep into the soft, wet, black earth as it hunted for food, hoping the black wolf would leave it alone. Hesitantly, Jungkook edged forward, sniffing at the boar’s smell, thick and sweaty, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Its fur was grey and black with thick bristly tufts across its back and tucked into the edge of its cheeks. Deep golden-orange eyes were wide and hyper-alert, looking in all directions as it picked its way in the dirt. Taehyung followed soon after, pulling back suddenly in surprise at seeing the boar in such close quarters. Sensing the danger of being cornered, the boar started to shuffle away, as if by act of pretending that the wolves weren’t in need of food and just happened to cross his path by mere pup-like curiosity. Jungkook jolted forward, sniffing the boar’s leg, and it grunted, suddenly rushing towards him and angrily waving his head - along with its crooked, well-prepared tusks - at the wolf’s face. Shock shooting through his system, Jungkook instinctively shuffled backwards, nearly entangling his feet in the long vines that draped down all around them, like a thick bush resembling a weeping willow, hiding them from the eyes of the others. Just as Jungkook hopped forward, snapping lightly at the boar’s front leg and causing the large beast to jump furiously towards him again, Taehyung grabbed at the creature’s back leg. Confused at the two-sided attack, the boar grunted, turning on its heel to lunge at Taehyung, only to have Jungkook shove against him, knocking the boar’s back legs off balance and sending his rump clumsily hitting the ground. It squealed throatily, whirling around and shuffling its legs around to rush at Jungkook, who awkwardly backed up until he was just outside the protection of the foliage, taunting the boar until just its nose poked out from between the vines. It snorted, then returned to its hideaway. After a few more tries of circling the beast, building up its anger in the hopes that it would stupidly make more mistakes, Jungkook and Taehyung finally convinced the boar to chase them outside of its little nature-made hovel, where the other pack members were waiting for it. Jungkook tripped, his paws floundering as the boar fell on top of him, pain shooting through his body as he felt himself being crushed under the great weight. Still gasping for breath, he barely registered when two of the other wolves bit hard into the boar’s side, shaking the creature and effectively tugging him off of the Omega. Shuffling to his feet again, Jungkook jolted forward to encompass the boar’s snout in his jaws, a bold and more risky move. He wouldn’t have tried it, if not for the fact that he could see the boar tiring, could almost feel the other wolves attacking the boar from all sides, could already taste the blood in the air. The nasty, acrid taste of the bristly fur stung lightly in Jungkook’s mouth, the boar’s snout hissing and snorting wetly in pain at it squealed, immobilized by Jungkook’s hold on its maw. The boar went down heavily, shocked and bleeding, and Jungkook held on, blinking heavily as he felt the boar’s tusks tearing at his cheek, one scraping up against the roof of his mouth. He only let go once Jimin’s light-colored paw moved into view, pinning the huge, thick neck down to the rock-ridden earth. Jungkook lifted his head, seeing that the others were already wrangling and mauling at the boar’s side with animosity. It still panted and moaned beneath them, until gradually it moved no longer, and Jungkook’s snarling muzzle started to relax. The high of the hunt abated like the sun that sunk slowly against the sky, lazy and weighted. They stepped back from the fruit of their labors, licking their maws and staring into the dead face of their kill, satisfied. It had been a good hunt. Fair yet cunning, and the boar had put up an honorable fight. Jungkook padded off, sniffing at the blood-stained ground around them, startled for a moment when he felt something nudge up against him. He turned to find Seokjin there, bumping up softly against him, licking at his face and bumping his nose into the depths of Jungkook’s fur to check for injuries. I’m fine, Jin. Jungkook wanted to laugh, but instead opted to bump his nose up underneath Seokjin’s chin in playful reprimand. Just some bruises and some scratches. Seokjin seemed to calm, his tail wagging back and forth contentedly. It had been their first hunt shared as Mates, with their pack at their side. The six of them headed back slowly, making their way through the brush. It was dark by the time they arrived home. The lights of the Main Hall flickered, orange and red through the windows, spilling warmth out onto the porch and into Jungkook’s heart. He shifted and reached for the doorknob, feeling Seokjin’s presence rise at his back as he stepped across the hearth. “Welcome home!” Kiara sang, looking up from her place by the fire, Namjoon kneeling at the hearth and smiling up at them when they walked in. “How did the hunting go?” Jungkook sighed. It was one of those moments, he thought, as he sat down wearily next to Seokjin on the couch. Hoseok was fussing over Yoongi, who in turn was fussing over Hoseok. Taehyung and Jimin shuffled over to check on the baby, Jimin snapping that Taehyung got to hold her last, so it was his turn. It was a moment he wanted to hold onto. ~~~~~ “Jungkook,” called a voice, light and slightly nasal. The Omega groaned, flapping a hand blindly at the voice and not wanting to be woken from his sleep. “Jungkookie, wake up.” “What is it?” Jungkook mumbled, his eyes suddenly opening as he worried that Seokjin was waking him up for some sort of alarming reason, but the Alpha was smiling down at him, eyes crinkling and looking even warmer than the firelight that glowed across his face. Jungkook looked around, seeing the mattresses spread across the room and currently being occupied by the other wolves. The firelight was the only illumination in the room. “Why did you…?” “Let’s go for a swim,” Seokjin whispered, a delighted lilt to his voice that sounded like he was stifling giggles. “Right now!” “Seokjin, it’s the middle of the night…” Jungkook groaned, smacking lightly at Seokjin’s cheek to push him away. But the Alpha just nuzzled in closer, and Jungkook suddenly felt the man’s hands encircling either side of his waist, buried underneath fabric to press in at the soft, hot skin there. “Come on, it’ll be great! The water is so warm!” He leaned down, twisting his head back and forth against Jungkook’s chest, his hair tickling at Jungkook’s nose and the playful, childish gesture that always made Jungkook erupt in uncontrollable giggles. He slapped a hand across Seokjin’s head. “G-god stop!” He laughed, trying to keep his voice down and not wake the others. “What is it, like 3 in the fucking morning? Aren’t you tired?” “Can’t sleep. Too wired,” Seokjin said, muffled against Jungkook’s chest. He buried his mouth in Jungkook’s collar, not to be deterred by something so simple as a late hour - or an early one, rather. “Come swib wif me.” “Who is the older one here?” Jungkook sighed, rolling his eyes. But Seokjin was painfully digging his hands underneath Jungkook’s back, struggling to lift him up off the mattress, and Jungkook gave out a little half-gasp, half-hiccup, shoving at his hands and hissing, “Shit! Okay, okay, I got it! I’ll go with you, jeez!” Seokjin giggled with glee, and they snuck out of the cabin, hand in hand. The Alpha didn’t even give him time to put shoes on. The wet, dew-covered grass dampened their feet, soothing it from the rough roots they stepped over. It wasn’t long until Seokjin led them out into the moonlit beach, his steps sure and his hand tugging Jungkook along eager. The roar of the waves surprised him with its relentless song, less like a thunder and more like the white noise of a speaker that was permanently unable to not cry out, pounding in at his ears. “Last one in’s a rotten egg?” Seokjin laughed, letting go of Jungkook’s hand and removing the black T-shirt with the yellow Mario star on it that Seokjin loved to sleep in and Jungkook loved to steal; the lingering Scent being more than a little of the motivation. He tossed the T-shirt to the sand, and Jungkook sighed into the night. “What is this, a rom-com?” Jungkook muttered, but now that he was starting to be properly roused from sleep, he moved to drop his own shirt next to Seokjin’s in the sand. It took him a moment to realize, in his half-asleep state, that they hadn’t brought swim trunks, and wearing them to bed hadn’t exactly been an option, so didn’t that mean….? “Wait, are we go--” Jungkook looked up, finding Seokjin already halfway to the waves, naked and already diving in as Jungkook’s mouth fell agape. What the fuck had gotten into Kim Seokjin? After a solid moment of watching Seokjin’s form bob up and down along the waves, hearing his laughter off in the distance, Jungkook realized he wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of the spontaneity. Especially when...ahem… an increased appreciation for nature in all her respects was involved. Dropping his boxers to the sand, Jungkook gingerly stepped out of them and made his way toward the water, suddenly hit with a wave of anxiety (or rather, the preamble to an actual wave) suddenly racing forward through the dimness, leaping in and splashing up next to Seokjin, who was smoothing his long, overgrown bangs away from his face with a pleased look. “What the fuck?” Jungkook gasped. “You said the water was warm, you liar.” The surface was like a tepid and abandoned bath, but from his thighs down the water became increasingly cold, and ended with a distinctive iciness around his toes. He splashed at Seokjin, intending on revenge but only getting unbridled laughter that echoed off into the waves and was swallowed by them whole. “Well, it was warm at the shore, I guess,” the Alpha defended. “But come on, it’s still pretty nice.” In form of reply, Jungkook splashed at Seokjin’s face again, making him splutter through his guffaws. The Omega huffily swam off, dog paddling off into the dark waters, one eye out for any debris or unexpected something in the water. Hadn’t some horror movies started out like this? Was this the wolf version of Jaws? “C’mere, you,” Seokjin’s voice was suddenly right at his ear, an arm snaking around him and yanking him back despite his protests. He kicked and whined, wrestling his way out of the Alpha’s hold and sending him a powerful kick to the stomach through the water, making use of the thick thighs he had once been so self-conscious of. Seokjin laughed, even as he shivered and groaned at the pain in his gut. “You little shit,” Seokjin gasped. Waiting for Seokjin to recover, the waves bobbing them along gently and the moonlight illuminating their wet heads and dark eyes, Jungkook worked his bottom lip, feeling the chilliness of the flesh there against the heat in his mouth. “Why’d we come out here?” Jungkook asked. “Is something wrong?” Seokjin paused at that, staring at the Omega with an expression hard to read by the limited light they had at their disposal. “No,” Seokjin said slowly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just felt like coming out, and I did. Then I wanted to come out here with you, so here we are.” Easily, with a couple of practiced strokes, Seokjin closed the distance between them, until he was treading water at Jungkook’s side, breathing hotly against his lips. “Do I need a reason?” “N-no. But aren’t the others going to worry if they notice we’re missing?” Jungkook glanced toward the shore, where their clothes were a dark blob against the grey-white of the beach. Seokjin took hold of Jungkook’s jaw with one hand, turning his face back towards him, and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Caught off guard, Jungkook almost forgot to keep treading the water, starting to bob down deeper under the surface but finding Seokjin’s fingers firmly wrapped around his wrist. He refound his balance, still gasping for air when Seokjin’s lips pulled away, agonizingly slow. Jungkook moved back in, determined to deepen the kiss. He felt the slight abrasiveness of their fingertips, skin dried out by the water, a great saltiness on their lips and Seokjin’s hand in his hair. Seokjin’s foot momentarily entangled with his own in their slow, languid movement through the dark abyss of water beneath them. Jungkook was lightheaded, and he forgot how long they had spent floating along the waves of their little cove. He also wasn’t quite sure when he had ended up on the edge of the water, his back pressed deeply in a Jungkook-shaped impression in the wet sand, pruny fingers groping at his now clammy skin as Seokjin attacked his lips with quiet fervor. Jungkook lifted one knee slightly to slot it between those pale thighs, earning a hot flicker of tongue deep into his mouth that caused his center to flip in nauseated, dizzied delight. There was sand stuck to Seokjin’s forearms and it sprinkled off his skin like salt, falling onto Jungkook’s chest while the Alpha moved to mouth at his jawline, letting Jungkook rise to that invisible surface for air. It was scary. Terrifying, even. Laying on the shore like this, the waves rushing in every few minutes to wash away the sand that collected between their bodies, the saltwater tickling up against his shoulders and the edges of his ears as it slid up around him before pulling away once more - it all felt so exposed and yet so intimate. Anyone could have come, then. Seen them there and known exactly what was happening. But no one saw. Just the moonlight, and the waves bellowing around them like a protective biosphere of sound, giving them their own little piece of heaven, a warmth in a cool, clammy-skinned moment of memory Jungkook wanted to carry to his death so profoundly that it made tears sting at his eyes, only adding to the wide expanse of salt water on the beach that night. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “I’ve been fighting to be who I am all my life. What’s the point of being who I am, if I can’t have the person who was worth all the fighting for?” ― Stephanie Lennox, I Don't Remember You    The morning sun was sluggishly rising, preambled by strange, heavy clouds that hovered above the horizon. Seokjin was sitting on the beach, watching the nearly full moon hanging in the sky just above and to the left of the eerie purple that was trying to mingle with the sun’s hazy orange. The clouds would soon roll over, consuming what he could see of the moon, along with the rest of the sky. The wind was tearing at his hair - it was getting long and shaggy. Jungkook liked to run his hands through it.   He wanted to go to Seokjin now, to sit next to him in the sand and comment about the weird sunrise that his Mate was watching, but he found himself firmly planted to the ground, an unspeakable feeling of dread washing over him. After a moment, the gentle rolls of the exhausted undertow washed over him, as well, brushing up against his ankles as he studied Seokjin’s form. Why couldn’t he go to him? It felt like even though the water wasn’t strong or overwhelming, that he was being held back, a feeling he hated the most. The amusing sky was quickly turning, the strong wind that now stung at his eyes was pushing the clouds in faster than he had thought possible. The edges of the moon slid silently behind the clouds, and still the purple-orange and now pink formations moved closer, darkening the beach with their warning colors.   “Seokjin,” he said, the sound hollow and distant as if through a great tunnel. “Seokjin come back to the house.”   It didn’t seem like Seokjin could hear him, still smiling softly out at the waves. He even shut his eyes, sinking into the feeling of the steadily rising wind. Jungkook could see him sigh, could almost feel it in his own chest. He laid a hand on his heart, and felt Seokjin’s sigh, and felt his own heart racing.   He tried to step forward, but before he could move, another figure appeared on the other side of the beach, walking up to Seokjin’s side with a smooth, practiced nonchalance. He wore simple clothing and it had been months since the one time Jungkook had seen him, but he knew who he was right away.   Jae.   The Alpha sat down next to Jungkook’s Mate, a breezy smile on his face as he said something to the man, a gentle smile gracing his features and emphasizing the handsomeness of his bright smile. Perfect teeth. Sharp jawline. Broad hand on Seokjin’s back. He knew the man’s biggest strength was his familiarity, the posture and tone that filtered through him on the other side of the increasing undertow as he watched, powerless to move.   The worst part, the part that made him want to sink into the sand, was that there was nothing malicious in Jae’s smile. Here, Jungkook thought, was a Jae that Seokjin knew, that Seokjin had fallen in love with, and also an entirely new Jae, as fresh and as strange as the rising sun that illuminated the two men with their broad, muscular backs as they sat close on the sand. Jungkook’s eyes lowered, and he pressed his lips together. Seokjin was turned toward Jae, and Jungkook couldn’t see his expression. All he had was the look of rapture that sparkled in Jae’s eyes.   “Seokjin!’ he called out again, mustering all the strength in his lungs that he could. “Jin!”   This time, both Alphas looked over, as though shocked, and found Jungkook standing there. He felt closer now, as if he had managed to cross some distance, and he gave a strained smile at the small victory. Jungkook opened his mouth to speak again, to make a comment filled with false confidence to his Mate and to the two Alpha’s surprised, unreadable expressions. But the moment his lips parted, there was a high-pitched shriek that filled the air, pounding in on his ears and accompanied by an undeniable shaking of the ground beneath them. It was as though some enormous force had yanked the entire island to and fro, and Jungkook nearly fell over. Paling, with a look of unbridled fear, Seokjin was reaching out for Jungkook, and he could hear his Mate yelling his name, asking if he was okay.   But he wasn’t, because a great black hole had opened up between them, unbelievably wide and deep. He could hear the wind still screaming around them, tugging at his hair, his skin, his clothes, his voice. And Jungkook fell into it, reaching blindly out for his Mate as the darkness swallowed him whole.   Jungkook jolted awake with a little cry, unmoving on the bed and his body tingling with the shock of how hot and heavy he felt. The Omega stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before he recognized the worn, wooden planks as the ceiling of the Main Hall, and knew that the strange, suffocating heat was from having two blankets thrown over him. He pushed the comforters off and instantly felt the itchy abrasiveness of sand that he and Jin had brought back from the beach with them the night before, despite their efforts to clean up before going back to bed. In hindsight, sex on the beach wasn’t quite as picturesque as movies would suggest, but it had been nice, nonetheless. Jungkook flopped one arm over to land on Seokjin and felt his heart drop as the Seokjin-shaped form beside him was missing, his wrist dropping limply to the empty mattress instead. He looked over and frowned when he found himself alone on the bed. When he sat up, the fire in the hearth was dead and the morning sun was spilling in through the rips in the curtains. Namjoon and Kiara’s bed was empty, too, so they must have left for their hunt already. Yoongi and Hoseok’s forms lumped on their beds, and Jungkook craned his neck to see that Naiara had been placed between them protectively, a stiffness to their shoulders as they instinctively refrained from rolling in their shallow sleep. Yoongi had one hand curled around Naiara’s back that nearly covered her like a sort of blanket, and her tiny mouth was parted in sleep. As Jungkook watched, she let out a deep sort of sigh of contentment, and Yoongi’s thumb trailed back and forth a little up and down the delicate, chubby arm. Jungkook could see Jimin and Taehyung’s sleeping forms, but their faces were turned away from him.   Jungkook slowly got up off the mattress, slipping on a hoodie as he went out to the porch to look around. He half expected to see Seokjin out there with Namjoon, the two of them fond of standing against the railing and surveying the rather small and quaint clearing of the camp like it was a silent kingdom. But the porch was empty, and not a bird sang. Jungkook looked up at the sky and was half-surprised to see that the morning sun rose to a clear blue sky, already half-illuminating the woods. He took in a slow breath of air, letting it out slowly. The air was damp and flat, the crisp of the night’s chill having already been melted and smoothed out by the dawn. The door behind him opened, and Taehyung was there, looking at him curiously.   “Hey,” Jungkook said quietly, as Taehyung moved up behind his back, almost pinning his stomach to the railing as the elder curled up against Jungkook’s hoodie, seeking warmth.   “Hey. Do you feel it, too?” the Beta asked.   “Feel what?”   Taehyung hesitated, and Jungkook thought he was gonna brush it off as nothing, but the Beta held out his arm - the one that had been injured - and stared at it for a long moment. “It’s going to storm. The air pressure changes, sometimes hours before, and I can feel it in my bones now.” He slowly let the arm drop, and Jungkook wondered how long it had been aching. “It’s kinda cool, actually. But also kinda weird.”   “Yeah,” Jungkook pressed his lips together, turning to look at the empty clearing. Hearing talk of an oncoming storm, particularly in the summer, was par for the course. But something about it twisted Jungkook’s gut, and he wondered if he had just learned to be paranoid of any obtained moments of happiness. Either way, he would have felt better if he could have seen Seokjin.   “Have you seen Jin?”   “He left just about ten minutes before you got up, actually,” Taehyung said. Jungkook felt a bit of relief set in; he couldn’t have gone far, then. But his relief was shattered like a crack shooting across glass at Taehyung’s next words.   “He went for a walk on the beach.”   ~~~~~   The waves roared, and the little layer of foam that arched up the beach in quiet fervor trailed further and further down, until the water level was visibly lower than when he had gotten there just a few minutes ago. Seokjin sighed, curling up more tightly into his oversized hoodie. It was somehow colder than when he and Jungkook had been out here a few hours before. Exhausted from the exercise (as well as the exercise ), Jungkook had drifted off to sleep almost instantly. But Seokjin, just as before he had woken up Jungkook for their nightly swim, hadn’t been able to sleep.   He could have blamed it on being back at the island, but it felt much deeper than that. Seokjin wasn’t feeling afraid exactly. Rather, it was closer to a feeling of being anxious , unsettled. It had kept him up from sleeping and it had compelled him to relax in the warm silliness of Jungkook’s company on the beach. What was it, nagging on the edges of his awareness?   Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he wasn’t sure how to be happy, after everything. His nature was to live in the moment - he had been light-hearted and ridiculous once, unworried about the future and brazenly hunting down simple pleasures, like midnight swims. Life had altered him, the past had altered him, and he hated still feeling the weight of those chains. The long process of healing was a strange one, stripping away the little details which had once compiled an awareness of self-identity, but now the lines were too blurred. Was it strange to feel like going back to the personality he had once had was both a return, but also was in a way refusing to look back and be dragged down? It was sort of like pressing in his experiences like an accordion, or closing it between the heavy, deceptively dependable covers of a book. He couldn’t erase the past but he could try to make its effects on his present smaller. Seokjin wanted to keep it simple, wanted to just be happy with Jungkook. But could he truly do that if he didn’t share with Jungkook what those experiences had taught him? Spontaneity was precious to him, but he wanted Jungkook to not see it as a sign of doom but a sign of the old Seokjin (who was simultaneously an altogether new Seokjin) emerging, ready to move forward one sandy footprint at a time.   Seokjin sighed out the complications, smiled gently at the waves and the smell of saltwater which he had increasingly become addicted to. He stood up and decided to go back to the Main Hall. He wanted to sleep a little longer - or rather, he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping but enjoying the warmth of Jungkook’s firm, muscular arms snaked protectively around him. They could grapple with the full truths, the full trust, on another day.   He was halfway back up the beach when there was a shift in the wind, and Seokjin halted abruptly on the spot. A sweet smell permeated the air, familiar in a way that was like striking a match to set aflame old memories. When the dark-furred wolf that reeked of that well-known honeysuckle stumbled and raced out of the wood and onto the beach, Seokjin’s breath caught. Jae looked wounded, and pretty badly, limping forward with one paw lifted and held to his body as if to protect it from even being seen. The wolf panted, slowly as it reached the burdensome sand and moving as if to go down the shoreline, when one ear perked up. Jae lifted his head, whirling around to see Seokjin standing there a few yards away.   Instinctively, Seokjin rushed forward to the wolf, closing the distance. Seokjin could almost see his eyes flash, and then he was transforming, running forward on bare feet with his arm clutched to his chest, fear written on every beautiful feature.   “No!” Jae shouted, holding out his good arm as if to make Seokjin stop. “Why did you come?! You shouldn’t be here!”   Seokjin slowed, confusion whipping through his belly with a strange, chilling after-effect. “We came for our hunt…” he said quietly.   “You have to go!” Jae screamed, shoving at Seokjin in the first physical contact they’d had since the night in the park. “Get the fuck out of here!”   “Jae, what the fuck?” Seokjin shook his head, brushing Jae’s hand off. His wrist felt far too slim and frail under Seokjin’s grip. The Jae he knew was muscular, strong, but slender. Warmed skin and rounded laughter. This Jae was trembling visibly on his legs just from standing, unbelievably thinned, with deep purple bruises across his bare arms. “You’re hurt, what-”   A long, smooth howl rose up in the air, and they both turned, Jae relinquishing a gentle whimper. Amongst the trees they could see glimpses of fur as at least three wolves neared the edge of the treeline. A grey-speckled wolf, exceedingly tall and broad, was the first to touch paw to sand, pausing to meet Seokjin’s eyes. Reflected there, Seokjin could only see murderous intent.   “Oh god..” Jae cried quietly, tears already forming in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought you weren’t here. I was just trying to get to the bridge…”   Seokjin swallowed, eyes still locked on the wolf. “Get out of here, Jae.”   “No.” His voice shook, strangely childlike in its terror,but he squeezed Seokjin’s fingertips in his hands from where the younger had been holding his wrist. “I can’t.”   “Then get back to the camp and warn the others,” Seokjin growled lowly. When Jae hesitated, he added, “I’m not asking. We have a pup up there.”   He could almost smell the disbelief in Jae’s Scent, and they watched as the wolf was joined by two others, one on each side. The grey-speckled wolf shifted his paws a bit in the sand, preparing to advance. Seokjin released Jae slowly, then shoved him off to the side and toward the path that led to the clearing. “Go, now!” he shouted, rushing forward and transforming into his wolf form as he went, meeting the grey wolf’s maw with his own.   The wolf bit fiercely into Seokjin’s side, mostly gripping at fur instead of skin, and growled so deeply that Seokjin felt it in his bones. Another set of teeth came at him from the opposite side, and Seokjin whipped his head around to meet it, his eyes flashing and teeth bared.   He couldn’t check to see in the rising brawl, a mix of teeth and snarls and bristling fur, whether Jae made it up the beach.   All he could do was fight, and hope.   ~~~~~   “Jungkook?” Taehyung craned his head around the Omega’s shoulder just as Jungkook pushed off Taehyung’s hands.   “I gotta go to him,” Jungkook mumbled, starting off the porch.   “What’s wrong? You smell like you’re worried.” He couldn’t exactly explain with I just had this dream last night and I haven’t had one that vivid since the one from Jimin’s Presenting, okay? And I just know this one will come true, too. Sorta. Maybe I’m a broken dream oracle. Who knows? So Jungkook opted not to answer the Beta.   He was halfway across the clearing when Jae appeared on the other side, stumbling through with a full-grown wolf leaping at him, gnawing at his calves, tearing at his jeans in jerky, tearing movements. Jae fumbled forward and clung to a nearby tree for balance, trying to kick the wolf off of him. He looked as though he had been dragged through the underbrush for a few days.   “Jae?” Taehyung called out, his voice thinning as concern swept in.   Jungkook stared at Jae, open-mouthed and unsure what to do. He wanted, in all honesty, to run past and go to Seokjin. But seeing Jae attacked by one of his own pack members like that, mercilessly trying to disable him permanently, Jungkook couldn’t help it. He leapt forward, catching the offending wolf off guard and leaping around him as he shifted mid-movement. The wolf turned, trying to get in close enough to reach Jungkook with its bleeding jaw, but Jungkook was much faster, fresh with energy and adrenaline whereas the offending wolf was already tired from its attack on Jae. Jungkook was soon joined by a Taehyung, also in wolf form, the Beta moving in with the same evasive tactics that they had used with the boar only the day before. Jungkook would never have suspected he would be suddenly using those same movements on another wolf.   Taehyung mercilessly bit down on the wolf’s leg, twisting it just as Jungkook was shoving his whole weight against the wolf to throw him against a tree. The wolf let out a high-pitched noise of pain, then crumpled to the ground, laying silently. Taehyung and Jungkook, more surprised than anything, stepped back in confusion. The wolf’s bloodstained fur rose and fell in quick succession with his pained, unconscious breaths.   “Jae? What the fuck is going on?” Yoongi stood in the doorway of the cabin with Hoseok just behind him, eyes bleary and mouth wide in shock.   “The Rising Gods are coming!” Jae called out. “They’ve already found Seokjin on the beach.”   Yoongi somehow moved faster than Jungkook had ever seen him, rushing down the porch before any of them could move and grabbing a hold of the tuft of fur on Jungkook’s nape with a rough and firm hand. “Jungkook, get your ass inside. Now .”   Jungkook looked up at Yoongi, blinking. He needed to go to his Mate. Seokjin was out there and needed him. But Yoongi’s face was crumpled and dark, the blood draining from it fast and his lips pursed together so hard that they practically vanished.   “If you go out there, you will definitely put his life at more risk than it already was. Get back inside. Okay?”   Waiting a long moment, Jungkook let his head drop. He knew Yoongi was right, and the feeling of powerlessness washed over him and made him sick to his stomach. Hoseok slipped back inside to go get Jimin.   “There’s only a few of them right now but they alerted the others,” Jae managed, gritting his teeth. Jungkook could see from the coloring of his ankles that at least one of them was broken. Taehyung switched back, helping Yoongi carry Jae between them, looping his arms around their shoulders to walk him back toward the cabin as Jungkook slunk between their legs. He cried out a few times, and they moved agonizingly slow. Hoseok collected Jimin, who had been feeding the baby, and the two of them rushed out to go find Seokjin. With his heart racing so quickly the blood pounded into his skull, Jungkook paced around them protectively, keeping his eyes on the path that led to the beach and praying Seokjin would be appearing at any second.   “How many are there?” Taehyung snapped his head up and looked the opposite way, towards the woods.   “At least a dozen, closer to two,” Jae groaned, delicately sat down on one of the torn up couches. “They’re here against Yunho’s orders. He won’t have even known they were gone until this morning.”   Yoongi inspected Jae’s wounds, shaking his head. “Taehyung, you guard the front door. Jungkook, you watch him . I’m going to call the police. This is bullshit, utter bullshit. We have a restraining order .”   “They didn’t know you were here, honestly.” Jae gave a grimace, trying to angle his leg to avoid the worst of the pain. “They came here to finish me off.”   “The fuck? Why would they want to do that?”   Jae hesitated, his eyes flickering over towards Jungkook for the briefest moment, and then he deliberately turned away, shrugging. “Bad blood, I guess. Literally. My bloodline isn’t exactly the mos-”   “It’s because Jae was the one who set Jungkook’s brother free.” Taehyung’s voice came out deep and certain, and they all looked over to see Taehyung stationed at the window, peering out at the front porch. Yoongi blinked, then turned back to Jae in incredulity. Yoongi opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, shaking his head. Taehyung frowned out the window. “Here they come.”   Jungkook listened, and he expected to hear warning snarls, growls, or even the very soft padding of feet on the porch.But there was only silence. Taehyung stood at the window, shoulders rising and tensing up at whatever it is he was able to see, and then he swore.   “They’re setting fire to the other cabins,” he cursed. “The bastards.”   “How many?” Yoongi clutched Naiara to his chest, moving to grab her blanket and toy Ryan from her carrier as he simultaneously dug across the bed for his phone.   “I see at least five.”   “Fuck.” Yoongi dialed the number, and Jungkook could see his hands were shaking slightly. As a comfort both to the confused and petulant-expressioned Naiara, as well as to himself he bounced her a little in his arms. “We’re all split up and so fucking vulnerable. The others need to get back soon.”   Jungkook could now hear the crackling of the fires, and he wondered if they would set fire to the Main Cabin, too. We’ll be sitting ducks.   “We may have to make a run for it to the truck.” Yoongi sighed, looking around. Jungkook already had the keys in his mouth, holding them out for Yoongi. “Thank you.”   It was a bad plan. Between the baby and Jae, they would never make it to the truck. But Yoongi slipped the keys into his pocket nonetheless.   Taehyung backed away from the window, turning to Yoongi with a dark look. “The door is still too busted to hold. Our best bet is if I try to hold them off for a bit until the others get back.”   “Goddamn it, I’ve got no signal!” Yoongi punched at the buttons on his phone again, trying one more time. Then he lifted his eyes to Taehyung, and the look he gave was enough signal. But nonetheless he uttered a straightforward and heartfelt. “Be careful.”   The Beta gave a grimace. “Our Mates will be back soon, I promise.” He turned to grab the doorhandle, yanking it open with a clatter and slamming it behind him just before shifting. It was less than ten second later, and they could hear the fighting. Yoongi fumbled with his phone again, and Jungkook poised himself facing the door, not surprised when there came a loud thud against it as a wolf body struck it full-force. Jungkook bared his teeth, arching his back in preparation for the inevitable attack. There were whimpers, and then a crash. A howl rose up in the air, and Jungkook’s fur stood on end. Namjoon was back from his hunt with Kiara. And he sounded pissed.   “Hello, yes!” Yoongi cried into the phone. “I’d like to report a group wolf attack, we’re here on our hunting grounds and they’ve violated a restraining order and everything. We have pups here.”   Jungkook could hear the voice of the woman on the phone, a strange mingling of calm and concerned as she continued to ask him questions.   “We’re just north of--”   BAM.   A wolf Jungkook didn’t recognize clattered through the remnants of the wooden door, snarling as she raced forward. To Jungkook’s surprise, she leapt right around him without even engaging, headed for Yoongi and the baby. Jae and Yoongi cried out at the same moment, wordless in their panic as the she-wolf tackled Yoongi to the ground, biting his shoulder, his arm, his stomach. Jungkook jumped over the mess of couches and landed on top of the wolf, biting roughly right into her neck. The metallic taste of blood oozed into his mouth, and she kicked out of his hold, moving quickly out of his range and across the room to reassess. Jungkook stood between her and the Omega, and he bared his teeth menacingly, trying to warn her off and praying that no other wolves from their pack would rush the door.   “Yes, we’re just north of that, across the bridge.” Yoongi was frantically explaining into the phone. “Tell them to hurry!”   Jungkook could smell blood and fire, could feel the wolf glaring at him with hatred, knowing that she knew exactly who he was. And he knew she was doing this out of revenge, out of spite. He could smell Yoongi’s blood on her.   “Jungkook,” called a voice, and he tilted his ear toward Jae but kept his eyes locked on the she-wolf. “Jungkook, don’t. Think of Seokjin.”   He didn’t have much time to think of anything in that moment. The wolf was rushing towards him, trying to get around and to Yoongi, who was still on the phone directing. Jungkook grabbed her and threw her to the ground, knocking the breath out of her. She was bleeding profusely from a wound just below her neck, and she was gasping for air unevenly, a wheezing noise rising out of her. Jungkook wondered what it had taken for her to get through the doorway. Seeing the confusion and hesitation on his face, the she-wolf threw him off and made a run for it.   Perhaps that moment was what Jae’s warning had meant. For Jungkook raced after her. His blood boiling to think that any wolf could sneak into another’s pack and attack a newborn pup, would set fire to their hunting grounds, and it made him furious. No one was as slow to anger as he was, but in that moment, Jungkook only wanted to make her pay for threatening his family in such a low, pathetic way.   “Jungkook, no!” Yoongi cried out. Jungkook could hear the couch being moved in front of the doorway. He didn’t know how Jae managed it, but Jungkook was grateful. Jungkook raced around the porch and off into the woods after the she-wolf, who was retreating. The clearing was a battlefield, an entanglement of bodies that made it hard for him to distinguish in his fleeting glance who was who, much less who was winning. He saw Namjoon with two smaller wolves pressing in on both sides, trying to trip him so they could tear at any available flesh. The Lead Alpha threw one of them with his mouth so far that they slammed against the base of the tree where Jungkook and Seokjin had eaten their lunch just the day before.   The bastards. All this just for a show of power. Just to be better than everyone else.   The she-wolf was vanishing into the thicker part of the woods, and Jungkook gave chase. If even just one of them, he would make them pay. She clambered messily up a rocky incline, kicking dirt and pebbles into Jungkook’s face as he followed close behind. When she jumped across sudden drop-offs, he followed. Jungkook felt the warning screams in his chest, feeling the tension of fear and exertion gripping tightly at his lungs, but he pressed on.   The she-wolf turned suddenly, threading through a small copse of dying trees, then leapt through a large bush. She vanished, and Jungkook rushed after her, only to find that the ground dropped off into a sudden cliff, sending both of them careening to the bottom of a gorge. Jungkook’s last thought before his head thudded against the sandy, rock-studded ravine was that he still didn't know if Seokjin had made it up from the beach.   I'm sorry, Jin. I was reckless.   ~~~~~   Seokjin threw off yet another wolf, yanking the smaller tawny-colored Omega off his back with a heavy pull of his teeth, then moved back to Hoseok’s side. The younger Alpha’s grey fur was dotted with flecks of blood. Hoseok was barking, a large wolf that he had been chasing down now caught up against the burning embers that signified the remnants of one of the cabins. The wolf’s tail was between his legs, head halfway craned to the side and against the ground as he tried to make himself a smaller target. Hoseok spared no ferocity, leaping in and wrapping his front paws over the wolf’s torso and pinning him to the ground, digging his pointed teeth into the wolf’s neck and tearing at it, shaking his head from side to side as the air was ripped with the sound of the wolf’s cries. Seokjin waited a moment to see if he needed any help, pausing to catch his breath. He had made his way up to the clearing in time to see Namjoon and Kiara rushing back to camp, and between the six of them, they had managed to corner the majority of the wolves. Red stained his fur from the front paws to his hip bone, and he was exhausted. But most of the wolves had been scared off or were left incapacitated on the edge of the clearing, panting into the earth. Taehyung limped up to Seokjin’s side, nudging against him and getting the moment of nuzzling comfort he was seeking. Jimin started padding across the clearing, joining them and watching Hoseok.   Things were starting to calm, and they could hear the police sirens in the distance as they crossed the bridge.   But suddenly, Seokjin felt a stab in his chest, icy and piercing as though an icicle had been thrust right into him. He jerked away from the others, looking towards the woods.   Where’s Jungkook?   He hadn’t seen him through the fight, but he hadn’t seen Yoongi or the baby, either. No, this was something else, jolting his very core and telling him in a sickly warning that things were not right. Something had happened.   There was no explanation for the creeping dread, or for the sudden drop of his heart, and he knew then that Jungkook had fell.   Jimin was poking against his side in question, but he ignored the others and raced off into the woods. The sirens behind him got nearer, and voices called out. Hoseok was pulled away from the foreign wolf, still snarling for a moment before he realized that backup had come.   The trees scraped against his cheeks as Seokjin bounded through the woods, the dread only growing bigger, like some great monster fed on its own fear, dizzying him in how overwhelming it was. He could smell Jungkook’s leather smell, and his own soap Scent twisted into it like the twistings of red on a candy cane, once sweet and comforting. At one point he wasn’t sure, though, if he was Scenting or sensing where they had gone. The sky was darkening suddenly, and as he passed through a clearing he saw that the sky had turned an eerie green and orange, a warning of an oncoming storm.   Jungkook’s Scent suddenly ended mysteriously at the top of a cliff, and Seokjin paused in confusion. The wolf his Omega had been chasing just seemed to have vanished without a trace, as well. Seokjin hunted around, whimpering at the sand and gravel that dotted the uneven terrain, snuffling at the roots of a gnarled, dead tree. His frustration and worry only grew with the continued lack of answers.   Then, his heart stopped. He lifted his head to the edge of the cliff, and he prayed. But when Seokjin leaned carefully over the edge of the cliff, he saw exactly what he had been praying he wouldn’t. Two dark forms lay curled at the bottom of the rocky gorge. Seokjin let out a wounded, strangled cry that pierced the air, then raced back down the hillside, going around until he could slide down to the bottom. Dust rose up around him, stinging his eyes, and it started to sprinkle, dotting the sandy gorge with its droplets that turned the ground a dark brown.   Jungkook lay curled up on top of the she-wolf he had fallen with, both of them a tangle of crumpled limbs and fur. The Omega’s black fur was crusted with dried blood, and he lay limp. Seokjin shifted to his human form, slowly stumbling forward until he fell to his knees at Jungkook’s side. The tears were already cascading down his cheeks as he rushed to check for vital signs.   There was a heartbeat, there was breathing. He was alive, but who knew how badly wounded? Seokjin carefully took the giant head into his hands, hugging Jungkook to his bloodstained chest and crying.   “Don’t you fucking die on me, Jungkook,” he managed to choke out. “Don’t you fucking die. Please, please don’t.” He buried his face into Jungkook’s neck, breathing in the smell of saltwater, leather and soap as deeply as he could, clenching his fists full of tufts of soft blackness. The little lightning-bolt like trace of white beneath Jungkook’s eye that showed where his cheek scar lay was traced by one of the Alpha’s fingers, and he wept.   “Please.”   ~~~~~   “Dr. Winslow, we need you to check in on the patient in room 23.”   “Mary, it’ll be fine, the baby will be fine.”   “Can you please tell me where Ryan Brown’s room is?”   Seokjin felt nauseated, which was actually not a feeling he was accustomed to experiencing, even in a busy ER waiting area. He paced back and forth anxiously, while Namjoon, and Kiara spoke to the half a dozen policemen and reporters who were pushing into the tiny alcove with its uncomfortable easy-to-clean couches and its assortment of outdated magazines. Jimin was flipping quietly through the last of these, occasionally looking over at Taehyung, who had minor bandages on his arms and upper chest, and was leaning up against Jimin’s shoulder with his eyes closed and arms crossed. Jimin had offered to drive him home to rest several times, but they hadn’t heard back about Jungkook yet, and he had insisted on staying until then.   “I just think you should get checked out, just to be sure,” Hoseok was whispering to Yoongi. The Omega was growling in his seat, scratches along his face and blood soaked into the shirt he usually wore to bed, his hair mussed and traces of smoke residue having been wiped ineffectively off his cheeks and forehead simply lingering in gentle smears.   “I’m fine , I promise,” Yoongi mumbled. “I just held a baby, you were the one in the middle of like half a dozen brawls, you idiot.” His words were clipped and harsh, but his hand reached out to clutch at Hoseok’s sleeve, fingertips pressing in tightly to hold his Mate there.   “You did more than just protect Naiara, you manage to keep the Main Hall from burning, too. I can’t believe you managed it one-handed.” Hoseok shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, so will you let the nurse take a look at you if I let them take a look at me ?”   This argument caused the Omega pause, and he pouted a little, staring off into nothing as if considering it for several long moments. Then, he gave the most brief and slight of nods, and Hoseok smiled, taking his hand and tugging him out of his seat.   “We’ll be right back,” Hoseok promised. Taehyung opened one eye, and Jimin offered a little smile. “Let us know if there’s any news.”   “Will do,” Jimin promised. He reached over to run a hand through Taehyung’s hair, and Taehyung reached over and quietly took Jimin’s other hand in his own, wrapping his long, elegant fingers around the Alpha’s.   Several long minutes passed, and Seokjin continued to pace. Eventually, Namjoon and Kiara were released from the police’s relentless questions, and they took down his contact information and left. The lead Alpha released a sigh, sitting down next to Taehyung, Kiara taking the seat on his other side. Naiara slept peacefully in her mother’s arms, somehow undisturbed amidst the chaos and noise and new smells around her. Her nose was buried against Kiara’s chest, sniffling quietly in her sleep. Kiara and Namjoon looked at each other, offering quiet, tired smiles, and she dropped her head to rest on his shoulder. Namjoon reached over and laid his large hand gently on top of Naiara, feeling her gentle, relaxed breathing.   “That’s what we get for having a baby in the middle of all this craziness,” Kiara whispered, amused. “She’ll sleep through anything now, she’s heard it all in the womb already.” “Maybe you’re right. That could definitely be a good or bad thing, depending,” he chuckled, wiping at his face with a small, semi-clean spot on his sleeve.   “He’s going to be fine,” Kiara promised, offering a sad smile to her Mate.   “I hope you’re right.” Namjoon sighed.   “Are you the family of Jeong Jungkook?” called a warm female voice. Seokjin stopped his pacing and everyone looked up. In half an instant, Seokjin was at the doctor’s side, fingers itching to snatch away the clipboard she was casually tucking under one arm.   “Yes, how is he?” Namjoon stood, Kiara’s hand slipping into his and squeezing tightly.   The doctor’s lips upturned quietly, in what Seokjin couldn’t determine was a smile or a grimace.   “It looks like he’s going to be just fine,” she said soothingly. Everyone took a breath, but most of all Seokjin, who felt like he was going to sink to the floor and collapse right then.   “He had some moderate lacerations and a considerable amount of bruising, but fortunately, other than that, he’s going to be fine. He seems to have suffered some head trauma during the fall, so we were worried he’d had a concussion. We performed a CT and everything seems to be fine, but we’d like to keep him for a day or two to observe him, just in case.”   “C-can we see him?” Seokjin breathed, not realizing until after he spoke with the wet-sounding voice that he had started crying again. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.   The doctor smiled, touching a hand to his shoulder in comfort. “Certainly. He’s not quite awake yet, but I’m sure he’ll be happy if his family is here when he wakes up. Just give the nurses about 15-30 minutes to finish, and I’ll walk you to his room, okay?”   She went over to the front desk, handing over her clipboard and quietly murmuring some instructions to the receptionist, and as her back was turned, Seokjin felt Namjoon come up and embrace him from behind, his warm, familial Mated smell of woodsmoke and coffee washing over Seokjin, who sighed.   “He’s gonna be fine,” Namjoon reassured, burying his mouth against Seokjin’s shoulder and squeezing him until it was hard for Seokjin to breathe. The achiness of the brawl still lingered in his ribs, but it was comforting nonetheless, as though Namjoon was squeezing out all the built up anxiety and premature mourning that had been developing in the pit of Seokjin’s stomach since that morning.   “Seokjin?”   The Alpha turned, a man in a wheelchair being pushed past. Jae’s legs were now cleaned and heavily bandaged, but he still looked frail and sickly in the chair, despite the spark in his eyes. Yunho stood behind him, hands on the handlebar to the wheelchair and his face pale. Jae was reaching out his hands, one behind him to tell Yunho to stop, the other to reach out for Seokjin.   Reluctantly, Namjoon loosened his hold on his brother, and Seokjin stepped forward, his fingertips entwining with those of the injured Alpha’s. Jae’s eyes questioned, his mouth parted in worry.   “Is he…?”   Seokjin sniffed heavily, taking his free hand to wipe away more of the tears, and then tried to smile, but his muscles felt tight and wrong. “He’s gonna be okay.”   Jae’s lips then curved into an unbelievably bright smile, one that lit up his face as he sighed in relief, sitting back a little into his wheelchair. “Oh, thank god . Thank god .”   He reached out his hand, pulling Seokjin to him, hugging the Alpha’s slim waist and burying his face in Seokjin’s stomach. It was a strangely intimate gesture, after everything, and Seokjin felt Yunho’s eyes locked on him in concern. But after a moment, Seokjin reached out and buried his hands in Jae’s hair, brushing the thick locks back and sighing. Jae even felt different in his arms, thin but more whole.   “I’m so sorry,” he murmured into Seokjin’s shirt. “I really didn’t mean to. I was trying to leave the island and tell Yunho what they were planning. It was a small rebel group, they wouldn’t listen to reason, even after the restraining order.”   Yunho looked up, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. The two lead Alphas frowned at each other, then Yunho lowered his head and looked away.   “I don’t think words can properly express my apologies, Namjoon,” Yunho said quietly. “But you should know that as of today, the Rising Gods is disbanding.”   “You’d have to do that anyways,” Jimin snapped from where he was protectively holding onto Taehyung. “The courts wouldn’t let you to continue after all of this. We have you on pointed attack towards our pack members, arson, kidnapping, and undue aggressive action.”   “But Yunho wasn’t even--” Jae started, pulling back from Seokjin to defend the Alpha. But Yunho touched a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it firmly and shaking his head.   “It’s fine, Jae.” Yunho smiled down at him softly. “I have no excuses. It never should have gone this far, and it was my responsibility as the lead Alpha.”   Seokjin just looked down at Jae, an emotion fluttering through his chest that he couldn’t name. It wasn’t the same feeling he had once had whenever he was in Jae’s presence, this was a smaller, weaker emotion, blooming small and fragile. “Where will you go?” he asked.   Jae shrugged. “Somewhere. I may have to just go lone wolf. Seuk has family near the mountains he’s being summoned to, and we expect word from Yunho’s father any moment now. I can’t go home, it’s already too much on my sisters.”   Seokjin pursed his lips together, unsure how to phrase the question that lingered on his lips. “Well, I can’t speak for our lead Alpha, but if you needed a place to go to feel safe, I think--”   That was when Jae’s face crumpled, a sloppily thrown together mess of fondness and melancholy. He shook his head. “No, Seokjin. You know I can’t.”   “It could be different now,” Namjoon said quietly, leaning in to grip Seokjin’s shoulder. “Maybe.”   Jae’s smile warmed, and he simply beamed up at Namjoon. “No. It took me this long to wake back up. But I don’t know if I would relapse into that person again…” he looked up pointedly at Seokjin. “It’s too tempting, despite everything. And I don’t want to go backwards, I want to go forwards.” With tears lingering in his eyes, he sniffed in sharply, then let out a little burst of laughter that sounded like it used to, rounded and wheezy and like a balloon letting out its air. “Besides, I don’t think your cute little Omega would appreciate my company. This isn’t some sitcom with a redeeming story arc.”   “That’s fair,” Namjoon murmured. “But if you need assistance, let me know. We’re purebloods, after all, our family can vouch for you, maybe help you get into a pack. You fought on our side, even wounded. I saw you protecting Yoongi, and our pup. It’s not forgotten.”   “She’s a cutie,” Jae said lightly, looking over at the baby in Kiara’s arms. “And I’ve always been weak to kids anyways. I always wanted some of my own.” Jae paused, staring after the sleeping pup for a long moment, then letting out a sigh, squeezing Seokjin’s hands one last time. “I wish you luck, Seokjin. And thank you. For all of it.”   “Well, maybe not all of it,” Seokjin mumbled uncertainly.   “Maybe not,” Jae shrugged. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. If worst comes to worst, my eldest sister can give me a hand. I’m the baby and the only son out of eight girls, and I’m not afraid to use it. I have nieces now, you know. So I should go see them anyways.”   “Jae,” the Alpha quietly murmured, holding onto the hand of his first love, his worst love. And yet somehow still a precious one.”Be happy.”   “Of course.” Yunho wheeled him away, about to turn the corner when Seokjin called out a quiet, “And Jae?” They paused, Jae looking over his shoulder. Seokjin hesitated, his ears burning with the reminder of the emotions that had brought them here. “I did love you. I’m sorry for saying I didn’t.”   There was a pause,and then a warm smirk crept across his face. “I know.”   And they turned around the corner. It was a strangely quiet, still moment amongst everything that had happened. The doctor slowly tiptoed back over, leaning into Seokjin’s view and offering him a comforting smile.   “Shall we go?” “Please,” Seokjin sniffed, wiping his sleeve. Nonetheless, he had a sneaking suspicion he would be crying again in a few moments. They followed the doctor down the hall, and Jimin and Taehyung were soon at his sides, holding onto his arms and leaning into him, making the walk a little more wobbly and awkward than necessary.   Meanwhile, in one of the other hospital rooms, Yoongi was seated on one of those uncomfortable observation beds with the crinkly paper stretched across it, his legs dangling limply down, at least a foot from the floor. Hoseok sat taking his turn in the ‘guest’ chair, one knee tucked over the other as he tried not to pick at one of the looser bandages on the back of his forearm.   “There’s nothing even wrong with me,” Yoongi sighed, “And we’ve been waiting in here forever .”   “I’m sure as soon as we go to leave they’d walk in,” Hoseok mused, smiling up at his Mate. “That’s how it always goes.”   “Naturally,” he sighed. He kicked his feet a little more off the edge of the bed. Just as he moved to slip off and go check outside to see if they had been forgotten, the door opened.   “Yoongi, right?” the doctor said in a chipper voice, stepping into the room.   “Yes, that’s me.”   “Well, it looks like you’re much better than expected, other than a few bumps and bruises. Nothing too serious. But just in case, we ran some general tests,” she smiled, sending Hoseok a reassuring look as she reached out and patted Yoongi’s shoulder. “But looks like you and the baby are doing just fine.”   The room spun. Yoongi blinked. “What?”   The doctor’s smile fell, unsure of what she had said. Yoongi looked over and met eyes with Hoseok, whose mouth was open in the most beautiful expression of shock, eyes wide as tennisballs.   “Um…? You and the baby are just fine? Is there something wrong?”   Hoseok stood up, moving to Yoongi’s side and meeting his hands with his own, gripping so hard his fingers ached. “B-baby…” Hoseok breathed, a beam breaking out across his face that was brighter than a thousand suns, tears forming in his eyes as he moved in to press his lips to Yoongi’s. He had, in all honesty, expected Hoseok would cry when the day came. He didn’t expect himself to cry, however. He sniffed hard and wiped at his tears furiously with his sleeve, then moved forward and wrapped his arms around Hoseok, burying his face in the Alpha’s shoulder as a fresh onset of tears wracked firstly through his chest, then throat, before spilling over.   “Baby,” Yoongi managed, feeling Hoseok greedily touch his hand to the Omega’s stomach, making him laugh. “You won’t be able to feel it now , dumbass.” But he placed his hand over Hoseok’s graceful one anyways.   ~~~~~   “Jungkook?” Seokjin whispered, stepping into the hospital room with Taehyung and Jimin pressed in closely. The nurses were just moving back, having checked his vital signs one last time, and they offered a brief, automated smile as they left.   The Omega was laying in the bed, his eyes closed, hands down at his sides. The bandages on his chest and head looked more grim and dramatic than expected, and Seokjin felt Jimin grip him tighter as they moved into the room. With all of them milling around the bed, the room felt very full and stuffy, pressed in close. Seokjin hesitated, staring down at his sleeping Mate.   “Jungkook, are you awake? Everyone’s here.” He reached out tentatively, encircling Jungkook’s wrist with his bony, crooked fingers and tightening his hold just slightly, feeling the little pulse of his heartbeat.   “Figures,” Namjoon teased gently, “Jungkook’s always been the hardest one to wake up.”   Seokjin smiled a little at that, despite himself. Perhaps it was all the nervous energy in the room.   “God, Seokjin,” Taehyung nudged his brother with his shoulder, hitting a bruise unknowingly. “Just kiss him and wake him up, Sleeping Beauty Style.”   Jimin giggled, one hand flailing up to land lightly on Seokjin’s chest. “Sleeping Beauty Style?”   “What, should I demonstrate?” Taehyung wiped his mouth on his sleeve, only for Seokjin to laughingly place a hand on his shoulder, separating Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook. With a smirk on his face that quickly faded the closer he moved to the very small and frail looking Jungkook, he reached out and brushed the Omega’s hair from his face.   “Kookie,” he murmured into the man’s ear, and he could have sworn he saw his eyelashes flutter, the lips parting just a little more to reveal the signature teeth. “Wake up.” He leaned in, flushing from the sensation of everyone watching them, and touched his lips to Jungkook’s.   The lips were cooler than they should have been, dryer than usual, but there was no mistaking the hand that suddenly, greedily clutched around the back of Seokjin’s neck, pinning him to the bed and, in effect, Jungkook’s mouth. The teasing Omega slipped his tongue into Seokjin’s mouth with all the vivacity of a youthful love, and Seokjin only blushed deeper when everyone started laughing.   Once released, Seokjin was able to appreciate fully the way Jungkook’s eyes crinkled deeply at the corners as he laughed heartily, loud and unrestrained, nose scrunched as if all the muscles in his face were trying to conjoin together in a smile-filled swirl. “You little shit, you were awake the whole time.”   “Maybe, maybe not,” Jungkook teased. But despite it all, Seokjin felt like his voice sounded a bit crackly and worn. The Omega lifted one shoulder in a weak little shrug. “A man with a concussion has a little trouble focusing, maybe some memory problems. I can’t remember what I had for breakfast.”   “You were a little busy, sweetie,” Kiara giggled, reaching out to touch Jungkook’s leg through the blanket, smiling warmly down at him. “You’re safe now, you know. The police have already taken in all the wolves who were involved.”   “That’s a relief,” Jungkook sighed, laying back against the sheets and staring up at the ceiling. He looked utterly relaxed, even closing his eyes for a moment, brow crinkled as he let it set in. Then, he paused a moment and added, “No, really, I’m fucking starving. Feed me.”   Seokjin blinked, then hiccuped with laughter, prodding Jungkook with one finger on a visibly safe spot, earning him a little smack from Jungkook’s hand. Before the Omega could withdraw it, Seokjin caught Jungkook’s hand in his own, and squeezed it so tightly he could feel the man’s fingers folding in together.   “You scared the piss out of me,” Seokjin mumbled accusingly.   Jungkook smiled, “I missed you, too.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Love is not possession. It is not ‘being completed.’ It is two people walking along the path of life and saying, ‘I want to hold your hand along the way.’ It’s the silent ‘I love you’s and it’s compromise and pain, but it is feeling like you belong. Having someone at your side that you trust in, and for whom you want to become your best self.”    Six Months Later  Jungkook sat beneath his table in the kitchen, knees drawn up to his chest and the hems of his oversized tan sweater pulled down over his legs. On the underside of the table was hung a thin strand of cheap pumpkin decorative lights, their exaggerated grins offering orange light in his special space. They had been hanging there for two, almost three months now, but instead of taking them down Jin had just brought Jungkook a strand of pure white snowflake lights to entangle around them, over-illuminating the nest until one could see the glow from the outside despite the heavy black curtains Jungkook had sewn together with Yoongi’s help. He fell back against the arrangement of pillows and blankets that curled around the edge of the table, keeping as much heat in the little shelter as possible, and he looked up at the underside of the wood. About two months after their Mating, Jin had had the gall to carve their names into the table, and Namjoon, Seokjin and Yoongi had had a shouting match about it for hours. Now, it was generally accepted that the Bonded couple had laid their mark on it, carving or not, and Jungkook had been delighted to get a polaroid camera from Seokjin for his birthday that September. Instantly, the collection had started. A veritable collage of photos had been stuck to the underside of the table, visible in the dim glow of the decorative lights. Photos of Taehyung chasing Jimin around the house, whipped frosting on their faces and in their hair. Yoongi proudly displaying the baby mobile he had repaired, and then one of the mobile hanging above Naiara’s crib, the tiny hands reaching for the collection of Scented items, a sparkle in her eyes. Jimin playing Monopoly with Taehyung and looking frustrated (he lost by a long shot). Yoongi on the couch, arm wrapped absentmindedly around his swollen, pregnant belly as he read, Taehyung curled up next to him, napping with his mouth hanging open. Seokjin sitting in his truck, laughing and blurry as he tried to shove the camera away from Jungkook while keeping his eyes on the road. Namjoon carrying Kiara and dumping her playfully on the couch. Hoseok making Yoongi’s morning coffee, his tanned back in its white tank top turned towards the camera. At least half a dozen selfies Jungkook had taken in different spots in the house which seemed random, but which Seokjin knew were a playful reminder of the memories from their Mating weekend in the pack house. Taehyung and Seokjin in wolf form, teaming up on Namjoon as he tried to carry briquettes across the camp on the island, tackling him to the ground and him beating them with the bits of messy charcoal. Seokjin by firelight. Seokjin getting ready in the morning, shaving in the reflection of the mirror and looking bleary-eyed. Seokjin sleeping in his bed, shirtless and underneath a thin layer of sheets. Seokjin when Jungkook had convinced him to dye his hair pink, looking aggravatingly ethereal. Pictures of them together, out on a picnic. Seokjin on the beach, laughing and red to the tips of his ears as he sat shame-facedly besides a recreation of his acrostic poem of Jungkook’s name written in the sand. Seokjin playing guitar in the living room, his lips pursed in concentration. There were a lot of memories, a lot of struggles. The pack house had gone through a rough summer financially, after all the court meetings, the money compensated to them was almost entirely used to recreate the camp on the island, repairing it to livable conditions. But now that Seokjin was working on applying for residency, and Hoseok was working on opening his own repair shop closer to the pack house, things were starting to calm down. And today, they were all together, and safe. Jungkook couldn’t ask for more. He pulled aside the curtain to his nest, and the smell of Christmas turkey wafted through the air. Seokjin turned on the spot, glancing over at Jungkook, and sent him a smile. “Have a good nap, sleepyhead?” he chuckled. Jungkook sent him a playful grin, tilting his head back before crawling out from under the table. “The turkey still has at least an hour on it, so you should go tell the others that we might as well take the family photo now.” “Okay.” “And Jungkookie,” he reached out and hooked one arm around Jungkook’s waist, halting his exit of the kitchen. Jungkook looked over his shoulder at his Alpha, who was nuzzling into his neck already. “You’re under the mistletoe.” “Oh my fucking god,” Jungkook rolled his eyes. “We don’t have any--” But out of instinct, he looked up, and taped to the ceiling was a couple of sad-looking green leaves and some white, round berries attached. “What the…?” “It’s tradition!” Seokjin declared, wriggling around his hold on the Omega and kissing him deeply, his hands in Jungkook’s hair and his skin heated from hovering over the stove. When he pulled back, he chuckled, patting him and pushing Jungkook toward the door. “Okay, we’re done now, don’t loiter.” Jungkook, still a little dazed, grumbled about selective traditionalism as he walked into the living room. Naiara had been set out in the middle of the floor on one of her blankets, but she had recently acquired the ability to roll and adored using it to her advantage for the sake of exploring. Jungkook watched as she slowly curled her little body over, making her way towards the foot of the chair her mother was sitting in. Kiara, her red hair grown down to her shoulders, leaned down past her knees to smile down at her daughter, inciting the infant to squeal with happiness and wave her arms frantically. Namjoon had specifically bought his ‘little princess’ a lovely red dress with white frills on the end, and the little knitted booties that went with it had practically caused the adult wolves in the house to collectively melt. For the time being, Taehyung was sitting nearby, leaning back on one palm and proudly watching as Jimin laid on the floor parallel to Naiara’s journey, tickling at her back and trying to regain her attention. “Naiara, Naiara sweetie,” Jimin cooed, pouting when the baby didn't instantly turn around. “Hey, you!” Still no response. Jimin hunched up his shoulders a little, trailing one finger down her back and trying with a quiet, “Princess…” Naiara craned her head to look, all wide eyes and soft edges, and beamed a two-toothed smile, reaching an arm out for him. Jimin broke off into giggles, falling forward and burying his face into the carpet as Kiara giggled. “You can blame Joonie for that,” she remarked with amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Speaking of which, I need to go wake him up from his nap. He takes them even more than she does. Jimin, make sure she doesn't eat the Christmas tree for me?” “Absolutely,” Jimin promised. “Actually,” Jungkook interrupted from where he had been fiddling with the Christmas presents next to Jimin, “Seokjin says the food will be ready in an hour, so we should get ready for the photo.” “Ahh,” Kiara sighed, holding an arm out to call Jungkook to hold her hand. “Then you need to come with me, you have bed-head anyways and I want to show you something.” Taehyung waited until Kiara and Jungkook had left, then he rolled over closer to Jimin and the baby, touching its tiny foot with a long, slender finger. Jimin looked across to his Mate, offering him a smile that made his eyes crinkle up. “Hey,” he murmured. “Hey,” Taehyung replied, smiling softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your appointment this morning,” Jimin sighed. He had tried to be at every single one, blood tests, the check-ups, the ultrasounds, the countless ‘Sorry, but not this time’s, all of them. “How did it go?” Taehyung lifted one shoulder in an awkward half-prone shrug. He reached out and petted Naiara’s soft head, where little brown curls were already growing, curling around her ears. Jimin frowned, guessing the answer had been the same as the previous times - that a Beta pregnancy was risky, was hard to achieve. They’d had some false alarms, some weak hopes, and he worried that Taehyung was getting strung out, so he didn’t want to press for details. That was one good reason to go to every appointment, if not to be there for Taehyung himself. “Don’t worry, baby, it’ll happen.” He reached out and entangled his fingers with Taehyung’s, the contrast between them a lovely one that he had come to adore, his fingers decorated with silver rings and Taehyung’s slim wrists with little black and brown leather cords. One for each try. He held Taehyung’s knuckles to his lips, kissing them. “I promise.” Taehyung just stared wide-eyed at Jimin, transfixed on his face before a smile blossomed across his face. “I love you.” Jimin laughed at the sudden directness of the confession, a typical Taehyung sort of move. Naiara kicked her feet in her booties and cooed, sniffing at the foot of the chair that she knew by Scent was her mother’s favorite. “In the meantime,” Jimin smiled deeper, until the vision of Tae with his cheek pressed the carpet vanished between his crinkled eyes, “We have babies to play with and we get to watch them make all the mistakes first.” Taehyung chuckled deeply, reaching out to pat Naiara’s diapered bottom. “She’s gonna be crawling soon enough, and then we’ll never be able to keep track of her.” “Even if she couldn’t crawl, she has everyone under her command, the bossy little princess.” He reached over and gently sat Naiara up, leaning in to nuzzle at her face and making her blow a delighted raspberry at him. He giggled, wiping the bit of baby-moisture left on his nose away. “Has anyone seen Kwangie’s pacifier?” Hoseok asked, coming down the steps with his newborn son curled up in his lean arms. Yoongi followed close behind, a cloth still thrown over his shoulder from burping the baby. “Oh, it’s here,” Jimin offered helpfully, indicating the coffee table, the sharp legs and edges of which had been covered in a grotesque arrangement of old towels and single socks, all taped on in a protective preparation to Naiara’s to-be adventures. Also to save the wood from being nibbled on by sharp growing pup-teeth in the upcoming months. “I’m telling you, if you hold him constantly, he’s going to stay overly attached to you,” Yoongi teased, even as he moved in protectively to rearrange the blankets on their son with a sigh. “Kwang-min, you’re not even in the world for a full moon and you’ve already got a mess of particulars.” “He is not a mess,” Hoseok pouted back, “He’s just sensitive. ” “Yes, his stomach is sensitive, his chest is sensitive, his eyes are sensitive, his everything .” “It could be worse…” Hoseok tilted the baby, who was laying in his arms and blinking slowly with wide eyes and a worried frown as he stared up at his parents. “He could be a fussy baby, but he’s so quiet!” Hoseok pouted his lips, leaning in and speaking in a playful voice. “Isn’t he? You’re such a good baby~” To Yoongi and in his normal voice he added, “And there’s nothing wrong with a sensitive, quiet sort of man!” “No,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, leaning up on tiptoe to press a kiss to Hoseok’s jaw. “There’s not.” “Can I hold him?” Taehyung chirruped, halfway sitting up from the ground where Jimin was turning Naiara so she could roll a new direction. “I already have dibs.” Jungkook popped his head around the corner, setting the camera in his hand onto the coffee table before holding out his arms. Yoongi frowned, looking fretful as he hovered nearby. “Jungkook, maybe you should sit on the couch, y’know…” “I’m not a 4 year old,” Jungkook laughed, careful as he took the infant from Hoseok’s arms, hugging the baby to his chest. Quietly, he leaned in and whispered, “Hi there, Kwang-min. You look so awake today.” In response, the baby sniffed up at him, and Jungkook dropped lower to let the boy learn his Scent. Kwang-min had Yoongi’s little mouth, all angular and unbelievably soft as it turned into a confused pout. But the eyes were more like Hoseok’s, already slightly puffy with the baby-sized eye bags underneath to accompany and curved downward as if in an eternally sleepy expression. While Jungkook’s guard was down, inspecting the tiny being and his softness, Kwang-min flailed one hand upwards and caught hold of one of Jungkook’s many hoop earrings, grabbing firm hold and yanking on his ear painfully. Jungkook let out a cry of surprise, making Kwangie jump, and Hoseok laughed. “Do you like Uncle Kookie’s earrings?” Hoseok guffawed, leaning in to whine endearingly at the baby. Kwangie looked over at his father with wide, enthralled eyes, not releasing his hold until Yoongi came over with a broad, gum-lined smile and disentangled the tiny fist from the Omega’s ear. “Okay, are we ready?” Seokjin called out, stepping into the living room and undoing the apron from around his waist, revealing the soft gray sweater he wore that matched Jungkook’s. “Where’s Kiara?” “She’s upstairs waking Namjoon up and getting him ready,” Jungkook bounced Kwangie a little in his arms, looking up at Seokjin with a soft smile. He hadn’t said anything. Not for months. But Seokjin knew what the look meant. He smiled back, walking forward and rubbing a soft fingertip across the still velvety crown, kissing Kwangie’s dark forehead. He looked up at Jungkook and smirked. “Where should we set up, then?” Yoongi queried, looking around the room and inspecting the angles of the overhead light and the tree. “Probably the couch would be easiest,” Jimin suggested, “Then the babies can all be in someone’s laps.” “Sounds reasonable enough,” the Omega agreed with a nod. They started the shuffle toward the couch, putting Kwangie back into Hoseok’s arms as Yoongi curled up next to him. Taehyung sat on the floor just in front of them where he would be with Jimin, and Taehyung insisted several times that he wanted to do a ‘cool pose’ while half-holding Kwangie, to which Hoseok agreed with a roll of his eyes and a pat on the Beta’s head. Jungkook and Seokjin took their place on the arm of the couch, Seokjin leaning in while Jungkook sat perched on the edge, the Alpha’s hand on his shoulder as he beamed. The house smelled warm and lovely today, and it was permeated with the unforgettable pup smell that seemed to soak into the walls and carpets, giving everything a domestic feeling. Namjoon came down, still slightly bleary-eyed but with his hair parted too-perfectly off to one side. Kiara sat down with Naiara in her lap, Namjoon curled over their couch arm with a proud, wide-lipped grin on his face as he tilted his chin slightly forward. Jimin angled the camera on the tripod, peering through the viewer to make sure everyone was in the frame. “Okay, ready? Everyone say cheese !” Petulantly, no one but Taehyung said cheese, but he did so loudly to make up for everyone else half-giggling, half-quietly smiling. As soon as the light flashed, their eyes flashing weird blobs of green and purple from the flash, Jimin bolted up and lined up to check the photo. “I want to get lots of photos of all of you,” Kiara demanded in a motherly tone, “Of Kwangie with his parents, then one with all his uncles.” Jungkook felt Seokjin squeeze his shoulder a bit, and he looked up to see Seokjin nuzzling in on his neck. “I’m sorry your brother couldn’t be here with us.” To that, the Omega gave a light smile, taking Seokjin’s hand in his own. “Maybe next Christmas we’ll have found him, and we can all be together. As a family.” Seokjin swallowed, tightening his hold around Jungkook’s fingers. Jimin called out that they would take one more, and he set the timer. “I think I’m ready, too,” Seokjin whispered, in a voice only Jungkook could hear. “For that conversation we’ve been putting off. Let’s talk after dinner.” Jungkook beamed up at him, his chest swelling with eagerness and nervous energy. He already knew he wanted to have a spring baby, so they would have to wait awhile even after their decision had been made. But it would be nice to have that conversation, to add to the warmth and youthful energy of the pack house. Things had been noisier lately, bustling with movement and chatter, cries both small and loud, infant and adult. It was a rare day one of them didn’t end up asleep on the couch. But in a strange way, things felt the most right that they ever had in Jungkook’s life. He hadn’t expected things to take quite this turn, when Namjoon had announced his two brothers would be moving in, but the development felt natural and inevitable, from the first moment his skin had tingled at the sight of Seokjin walking up the driveway, to now, when they leaned in together for their first official family photo. Loving the pack, loving Seokjin, hadn’t always been easy, and it had come with its own frustrations and complications, its calls to action and calls for patience. But he wouldn’t have taken a single moment of it back, as Seokjin kissed the back of his neck and whispered a gentle, “ I belong with you ” that had come to replace their “I love you”s. Jimin waved his signal, then slid back down on the floor next to Taehyung, smiling up at the camera as Taehyung wrapped his arm around his Alpha’s waist. “Okay, smile everyone!” Jimin cried out, and Kiara shuffled her hold so her daughter was a bit more visible. “Everyone,” Taehyung called out loudly, puffing up his chest with pride as the timer’s light grew faster and faster, indicating it was about to go off. “Jimin and I are pregnant!” The camera flashed on all their surprised faces, not the least of which was none other than Park Jimin himself.
10515708
is where we both are us
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Ron Weasley, Blaise Zabini", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by smirkingcat", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-01T00:00:00", "words": "5,681", "Additional Tags": "Kinbaku, Shibari, BDSM, D/s, Don't copy to another site", "Relationship": "Ron Weasley/Blaise Zabini", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Before Ron could open the door himself, it was opened for him, and he stepped through it without a thought. Softly, the door closed behind him, and he felt the wards settle.“Welcome home, sir,” the smooth voice greeted him, making Ron smile.“Glad to be back,” he said, moving his fingers through Blaise’s hair, as he knelt in front of him. Ron leaned down. “Glad to be home, my beauty,” he whispered into Blaise’s ear, watching a shiver work its way down his lithe frame.When he shifted back, Blaise moved his head, making eye contact for the first time.Ron loved this ritual they had established; it was the warm welcome he longed for, when he was away for more than two days in a row. Seeing Blaise’s relief at him being back was just the cherry on top.“So?” he prompted, when Blaise kept silent.“It arrived.”There was a slight hitch in his voice and Ron could feel the muscles in his lips twitch. He adored that hitch, because it was a sign that there were no masks; that they were just them.“The day before yesterday,” Blaise added softly, making Ron able to understand the anticipation that had built up.“Let’s go to the living room,” Ron said. It would do them no good if he got stuck in Blaise’s emotional turmoil; they worked best with him in control, and their routine was as much a way for Blaise to calm down as it was for himself.In the living room, Ron sat in his velvet covered high wingback chair and waited for Blaise to return with his juice. It was rare for Blaise to be this flustered right from the get go. They had been together now for years. They knew each other well enough that he would make sure that nothing was bothering his beautiful man.Blaise, in his usual efficiency was back within five minutes with Ron’s favourite strawberry juice and a glass of water for himself. After Ron took his glass from the tray, Blaise put it down on the small table next to his cushion and waited. The twitching of his toes gave Blaise away, like it always did. “Okay, stop. What is bothering you?” Ron asked. He wanted to head off his partner before the situation turned messy. They grew together, there were signs, and just like Blaise stopping him when it felt all wrong because he had lost his balance, it was on him to stop Blaise. “I don’t know,” Blaise grit out, his lips tight.“We don’t have to —”“NO! I want this. I really do, it was my idea —”“That doesn’t mean anything, Blaise. We can do it later, talk more—”“I’m afraid that I will like it more than I should. All the images, when I imagine myself in those positions, what if...” Ron let the silence stretch for a minute before he prompted Blaise to speak again: “What if?” “What if I crave them afterwards even more than I do now- I should not crave them this much, but I do.” Blaise hung his head. Ron stood up, got on one knee next to Blaise and lifted his head, looking into his eyes. “You know there is nothing wrong with you craving this. There is nothing wrong with us, with the way we do things, with the things we share. It might not make sense to anybody else, but it makes sense between us. Never doubt what you want, because I’m right there with you, and you know you should never doubt me, Gryffindor ridiculousness, your Master and all that,” he said sternly. Ron sighed on the inside. When Blaise had to go and visit his friends alone, he always started to doubt himself; started to think that maybe he was wrong simply because they lived such a different life from the one his friends had. Usually Ron would be there with him, able to put his hand around Blaise's wrist and ground him in what they shared. This time though, he had been on a business-trip for nearly two weeks. Maybe they ought to do this another time, he thought. It was only that he had promised Blaise this reward.“What do you say if we start slowly with you giving me a massage— because, really, George had me working hard— and then you let me know if it works for you, or if we do it another time?” he asked. There was a time to order, a time to demand and a time for questioning, and by now he could recognise what Blaise needed just by watching the way he held his body. He loved his beautiful partner— not just for the pleasure they both got from each other, but also for being allowed to understand the other man so implicitly. “Yes, sir,” Blaise nodded and moved back into the scene.Ron nodded and stood. He finished his juice, before going to the bedroom.Blaise entered behind him, and started to remove Ron’s jumper first, and then opened the buttons from his shirt. He did so with a grace Ron himself could never master, and simply watching him pleased Ron.As soon as his upper body was naked, he lay on the bed, waiting to be attended to. Blaise gave the best of massages! He did not disappoint this time around: every knot in Ron’s back simply seemed to melt away under his fingers.After some time, there was a loud, deep breath from where Blaise was kneeling next to him, assuring Ron that Blaise had himself back under control. He still let the massage continue for a little while longer until he and Blaise both were fully relaxed by the familiarity of the task. He lifted his head, then got up on his hands: the silent gesture for Blaise that the massage was done. Sure as clockwork, Blaise stopped his finger movements and left the bed to kneel in front of it.“How are you feeling now?” Ron asked as he sat on the bed, looking down at Blaise.“Good, calm. More like myself. Still a little bit excited.” “What are you excited about?” Ron asked to make sure.“About how it will feel to have you knot me up. This will be different than the normal bindings.”“Ropes, Japanese style binding will be different in many ways, than what we have done so far. You know that in the Eastern tradition this is considered teamwork.”“Yes. And I know you will make it good for me; you always do. I trust you,” Blaise said, hiding his grin by looking down, but Ron knew it was there nonetheless.He knew that others might punish Blaise for his cheekiness. Back at the beginning he had certainly done that too. But then he understood that Blaise would always speak in cheeky ways when he was confessing things from his heart. Now those things just made him smile and endear Ron even more to his beauty. “Get the parcel,” he ordered, moving to the bottom edge of the bed, to put his feet down.Blaise got the inconspicuous package from their walk-in cupboard and handed it over to him. Ron opened it without reserve. It held their cords of fine Japanese jute rope that they had ordered. Most of the bundles were about twenty-five feet long, with two of them being thirty-five feet. Each rope was five-sixteenths of an inch thick.The thickness was not traditional, as a quarter of an inch seemed too narrow to them, but the length was familiar. The jute had a very distinct smell— that's why they had agreed on it— and soon the air was filled with it.As Ron took out the first bundle Blaise let out a sharp intake of breath. Ron stopped the movement to watch Blaise closely, but there was no discomfort. “Good?” Ron still asked. He didn’t normally need to in their usual ways, but today was different. Today they would do something new, and while he was certain he could read Blaise well enough, after the unusual nervousness from before, he had to make sure. “Yes,” Blaise breathed, focusing his eyes on Ron’s, showing that he really wanted to do this. “Then start stretching and warming up, I shall prepare the room,” Ron ordered, business-like and put the parcel down. That was also routine for them. As their relationship was built around their need for dominance and submission, they usually needed some time before a scene to get into the right mindset. A scene was not the whole of their relationship, and they handled themselves differently in one than they did outside of it. But outside of the scene they were still Master and sub, and Blaise still deferred to him for guidance. Normally, Blaise was Ron's Beauty, but inside a scene he was his Boy.That had been new to Ron, like many other things, but if he rushed Blaise now— did not give him several moments— Blaise would not seek his own enjoyment in the scene, but would do everything to please Ron, even going beyond his limits and his comfort. Experience was the harshest teacher of all.It was also part of the after care. Blaise did not enjoy being left alone after a scene, and going around then to fumble for supplies they would need, like water, a small snack, and blankets was simply not an option. At last, because Ron liked to play it safe, he also summoned a pair of scissors to lay on the cupboard, and Blaise's sharp dagger, which found its place on Ron’s belt— just in case.While Blaise had no experience with the rope, Ron had learned this skill during his travels after the war, which he had taken to learn more about himself. It may have been due to that time that he rarely used his wand in a scene. Sometimes doing things the muggle way, taking the time it needed to be done, was the enjoyment of it.When he was certain he had everything they would need during and afterwards, he sat down in a similar high wingback chair, like the one in the living room, and called for Blaise.With confident strides Blaise entered the room and stood in the middle of their Persian carpet, waiting. “Undress slowly, beautiful, I want to watch, as I haven't had the pleasure of seeing you naked for weeks,” Ron ordered and leaned back more comfortably. He would make this so good for his love, that Blaise would never doubt his wants again!###Blaise controlled the smile he felt on the inside, not letting it slip out. Ron always liked to watch, and he would let his gaze roam freely over Blaise's body. Like a touch, he would note the slightest twitch and either increase the sensation and therefore take Blaise higher, or he would stop, giving Blaise a chance to catch up.Blaise was well aware that as far as subs went, he was on the high maintenance list. He was rather slow on the uptake, and often had to work against his upbringing to really get what he needed. Luckily, he had only had one other failure of a Master, before he had met Ron. They simply clicked; there were bumps and mistakes, but never enough to entirely give up on each other. And, in a way, it was now too late for them— they had gotten used to each other. The shirt was easily enough to remove. Ron was always fascinated when he opened each button one at a time and then simply let it slide down. His trousers were a different thing. Blaise was not certain there was an erotic way to get out of trousers, so he would open them slowly, push them down, let them collect around his feet and simply step out of them. Mostly these days he did not bother with underwear at home. He simply didn’t see a point to them, especially as it would take more time to get naked. And like today, he really did not want to waste time on undressing. “So much grace, boy. One must admire you. I can see all the hearts you broke while never even taking notice of them. And now you are all mine, to do as I please,” his Master spoke softly as he stepped closer. “Yes sir,” Blaise replied, because he wanted to affirm Ron’s claim. He was all Ron’s.“And today I shall frame your beauty even more so,” was whispered in his ear, as his Master's fingers moved over his torso. “You will be so beautiful, and so perfectly helpless at the same time. I can already see it; such a sight,” his Master spoke further, making him catch his breath. Yes, that was what he wanted— needed. Blaise did not know when his Master had grabbed the rope, but he felt the length being put around his neck to meet in the front. It was an odd sensation at first, and as he saw Ron twist it four times he wondered how it would go on.For their first time Blaise had vetoed a blindfold: he wanted to see what Ron was doing. Ever since Ron told him that he had bound people in the Japanese tradition, it had become of interest to him. Nearly a month ago, he had finally gathered the courage to ask. He wanted to experience this with all his senses.“Stretch your arms out, and hold them wide,” his Master ordered and Blaise complied.The rope slithered down in front of him, only to be taken between his legs and then pushed back. The rope felt soft but also hard against his skin. Blaise was not sure what he was supposed to feel, but at the moment he found he was rather ticklish at one spot where the rope hit him. That for certain was the wrong sensation to have, was he doing something wrong?!“Beautiful? Why are you tensing up?” His Master was right behind him. He could feel Ron's chest right next to him. Blaise took a deep breath.“It tickles. It shouldn’t tickle, right?” Blaise mumbled, knowing that if he stayed quiet, this would stop.“If it tickles, it tickles,” Ron said easily enough. “Tell me where it tickles.”“Right behind... next to—”“Where does it tickle?”Damn, should have said it outright. “Behind my testicles,” he said and took a deep breath.“Do you mean this rope,” his Master pulled on the one strands, “or this one?” He tried the other one, before pulling on both of them. Blaise first laughed at the strange sensation, then had to catch his breath. THAT had felt odd but not bad.“Oh you will love this, boy, you will love it so much when I’m done with you,” his Master promised. And then the rope moved again, waving from the back to loop around the two cords in the front. Each twist was decorated with a loop, breaking the twist and stretching it like a diamond across his body. Blaise felt the rope glide against his skin and against itself, tying together and gripping him. Ron’s long fingers put each rope in place, and caressed his skin, sending shivers down his spine. It happened ever so gradually that Blaise only half took notice of the rope pattern evolving, of his breath evening, of the arousal taking place. He could feel Ron’s fingers at his back, and could sense the knots shifting together. Slowly he became aware that his arms were starting to feel heavy, and he began to be aware of his feet standing, while at the front the rope moved ever so slightly with each breath he took“Take your arms down, slowly,” was spoken at his neck, while there was a soft kiss placed there, making Blaise jerk slightly at the different sensation. He followed the order, and then the sensation of his blood rushing back into his fingers took over his awareness. Blaise never realised that he had closed his eyes, nor was he aware of the ropes Ron had used to bind his upper arms to his body. It felt nice. He knew his Master was close to him, would take care of him, would be there. Some part of his mind came to a halt, making everything besides his Master, the rope that bound him and himself insignificant. Time slipped away.Ron’s fingers were moving up his back, stroking over the rope and his skin, making Blaise breathe even deeper. He was grateful that Ron did not try to speak to him just then, when he was about to drown in the sensations he was receiving. Deciphering speech at that moment would just pull him back. No matter what, he was his mother's son, he always had to be on top of everything— everything but Ron, because Ron got him in a way no one else could.The long fingers around his erection made him jerk again, but the strong body behind him kept him from losing his balance. This was not over; his Master was not yet done with him.Then there was rope where his Master's fingers had been. He felt the moment Ron stepped away from him, trusting him to stand on his own two feet. And he would. He could, in fact it was easy. And then the rope started to bite slightly into his hot flesh. It was an itching sensation, and the fingers brushing against his sensitive skin there were slowly driving him mad. With the added pull on his balls, he started to hear his heartbeat in his ears, while not daring to watch Ron actually putting the rope on. This felt painful—stinging, but in a good way. He didn’t want to move even a muscle.Fingers were once again wandering over his torso, this time at the front, tweaking one of his nipples, making him moan. And then there was a kiss right on the sternum. “Insane— so... so—,” Blaise whispered, feeling his arm muscles twitch.“You feel good?” his Master asked, kissing his earlobe.“Yes,” escaped Blaise's mouth. His ears always, always got more sensitive, when he got turned on. It would be embarrassing— it had been in the past— but now he felt comfortable enough to even lean slightly into the caress and enjoy the tingling sensation that he got out of it. “Kneel down, boy,” Ron ordered, his hands steadying on Blaise’s shoulders. Blaise let himself drop to his knees, feeling a tightening on the ropes across his upper body. “Spread your legs.” Another order, and Blaise did so without a thought. The gasp escaped him due to the sudden strain on his balls, and the tightening of the rope the wider he spread his legs. “Are you comfortable?” “Yes, sir,” he answered without a doubt.“Will you be comfortable in this position for a while?” Ron asked again.Blaise let the question sink in. Would he be comfortable in this position for a while? There was a slight strain on his knees— but he was used to that and would soon enough be able to ignore it. His erection and balls were pressed by the rope, and each breath made them shift ever so slightly, but that was intended. Nothing hurt. “Yes, sir,” he said again.“Good, my boy, then move your lower arms, next to your ankles.” Blaise positioned his arms as he was told, and started to note that there would be a buildup of strain on his arms. The mere thought of it excited him, but for the moment it was unusually comfortable. That time, even though he had not seen Ron move, he expected the rope that bound his wrists to his ankles. He did not, however, anticipate the slight tug on one of the ropes that hung from his penis. This was going to be interesting later on, and Blaise nearly could not wait for that time to come. “Beauty, you are tensing again.” “All good. Just my excitement getting the better of me,” Blaise answered easily, realising that he had dragged himself out due to his own thoughts and assumptions. “Where have you wandered off to, then?” Ron spoke softly with him, his hands resting on Blaise's shoulders, keeping him in the present. “In the assumptions on how the rope, this position will feel later on— how I will feel then, and wondering if I can go there,” he answered. Shibari, or Kinbaku as Ron has told him it was called in Japan, was so different from the western art of bondage. It was not about the punishment, it was about the rope binding people and by binding them, setting them free. Blaise knew this. However, he also knew himself, and at the moment he wanted to be there, not get there. “Take a deep breath and count aloud to three,” Ron ordered him, making Blaise focus on the outside and calming his racing mind. Deep breath in- “One - two - three,” he said clearly. Deep breath out.“Again.”Deep breath in- “One - two - three.” Deep breath out.“Once more, silently. Just breathe, feel the air in your body, and feel the position of your body.” Deep breath in- One - two - three. Deep breath out. With a slight shudder the tension moved out of his body, and Blaise was engulfed in the ropes again, holding him in place, while Ron just stood behind him. The more he relaxed, the better he could feel the rope moving with his breath, binding his body in place, making him unable to move. “Yes, that's it. Give yourself to my bindings. They will hold you, and guide you,” Ron said as he stroked through his hair once more. Blaise felt how Ron slowly finished his right side up and started to bind his left side. This time he let it happen, just let everything drift away. He was vaguely aware of Ron kissing his lips softly before stepping away, sitting down in his chair a mere three steps away, in front of him. At first Blaise felt a hint of irritation. He was hard, he was in need and he could not move! His Master was too far away to help him. The built up need just thrummed in his body. His hips jerked every now and then, but the ropes only made the itching worse, not better. The bindings held no relief for him. He was utterly helpless in them, victim to his own mind and the pleasure and tension wracking his body. Time started to lose any and all meaning, as he himself gradually drifted away.*Slowly, Blaise opened his eyes. His first reaction to move was halted as he remembered he was bound. That also explained the heavy feeling in his arms and legs. He lifted his head, and found Ron’s gaze on him. “I fell asleep,” he said in self-realisation, still feeling dazed. His Master nodded.“You did, for about the last hour.” His Master stepped closer, holding a glass of cold water to his lips. It was only as the first drops touched his lips that Blaise realised how thirsty he was. He gulped down the water, making some splatter and hit his chest. The jerk he gave in response made him aware of different things at the same time: he was incredibly hard, hot, and very much bound in a way that was getting painful, but mostly because he could not move. Each twitch would make the rope on his erection make him jerk some more, each squirm would make a different part of the cord move, like many tiny groping fingers. He moaned loudly. “How do you like the rope, boy,” his Master whispered in his ear, making him moan again. “Fuck!” Suddenly it was hard to get enough air in his lungs, and each movement just seemed to make his situation worse. “I intend to. After all, I had to watch you the whole time, being put together like a gift waiting to be unwrapped by me.” The caress on across his nipple was not really helping, but it got even worse when Ron’s fingers ghosted across his erection, pulling on the rope ever so slightly. “Fuck, no.” Blaise’s hips jerked, making the cord across his testicles tighten ever so slightly, enough to make them agonizing for a moment. “No? Really, do you think you have a say in this, boy?” his Master asked, pitching his voice lower, making it sound dangerous. “No— not— I mean yes— yes, sir.” Blaise fumbled feeling how his mind no longer seemed to work the way he wanted it to work. “Well then, boy, how about some appreciation for your Master?” His Master asked and pulled out his own hard cock. Blaise’s tongue wetted his lips. Oh yes, he always wanted to worship Ron’s cock just because it was Ron’s. It tasted good and it was about as perfect as they come, with the soft red curls to finish it off. However as he tried to strain himself to start licking the wanted flesh, his restraints held him back. He looked up to his Master, who raised an eyebrow at him.“Getting the idea yet, boy?”The question made him shiver again. “Yes, sir.” He sat back, relaxed his shoulder and neck muscles as best as he could and opened his mouth for his Master to do as he pleased. “Good boy,” his Master complimented him, and moved his fingers through Blaise’s hair, until his hand rested comfortingly the back of Blaise's head.Blaise felt the tip of his Master’s cock against his lip and eagerly moved his tongue against it, tasting the first drops there. “Such a good boy, so well trained,” was the praise he received. Slowly, his Master moved, filling his mouth. Blaise enjoyed the weight of his Master's cock against his tongue and did his best to caress as much of it as he could. His Master moved ever so slowly, prolonging each time he stayed in Blaise’s mouth, while at the same time claiming his mouth deeper and deeper. Blaise just stayed still, breathing when he should, and enjoying the shivers he managed to elicit from his Master. The best part was the deep, raspy breaths and moans his Master would always share openly with him, showing his appreciation for what Blaise was doing to him. “Well done, my boy, well done,” his Master said, as he removed his cock, after he had pushed in deeper and stayed longer than before.Blaise let the praise fill him with pride, while trying to get his ragged breathing under control. He took a final deep breath and stared up his Master, who smiled down at him, before he reached and did something to one of the ropes on his back. Not that Blaise felt a huge change, but then, he never saw his back. “Lean slowly forward, boy,” his Master commanded. Blaise followed the order, always afraid of being restrained, but nothing of the sort happened. He could in fact move so far that he was resting on his chest and shoulders. He realised that this position also lifted his arse in the air. “So beautiful, especially when you do as you are told, aren’t you my boy?” his Master crooned. His hands were travelling over Blaise's back, tugging slightly on ropes, making his skin twitch, and his hips jerk as the rope around his balls once more tightened. “How do you like the ropes now?” his Master teased, not that Blaise was able to answer beyond a loud moan as his Master tugged at them some more, making the fine jute scrape over his skin. “I knew you would like this, boy. And it makes me want you so much more,” his Master spoke, and Blaise took the compliment, moving into his Master's caress, even if it made the rope sting a little more. “Please,” he whimpered, as the fingers of his Master ghosted over his tightly wound erection, caressing his balls and moving further back. “Please,” he begged again, this time with the longing he had held at bay for the two weeks his Master had been gone. “Such a good boy,” his Master said, but still took his time to move his fingers, caressing his prickling skin.Blaise longed for the touch, would move into it, if he only could. The first kiss was placed at his neck, right next to the rope. "Such a beautiful boy," was whispered again, making him whimper. Taking his sweet time, his Master kissed over his back, everywhere but over his spine where the rope still held him. His ministrations made Blaise twitch and moan over and over. Then there was a kiss placed right next to his entrance, making him squirm. In his ears his heartbeat pounded and Blaise couldn't say anymore how loud he was being. His Master's fingers on him— his attention— and the promise of so much more was taking him even higher.Blaise wanted it to be over, and wanted it to never end all at the same time. He got lost in sensation, until there was nothing but the ropes holding his body and the touch of his Master in his mind. The first nudge of a finger hadn't been anything special, it just egged him on further. The hot breath, on the other hand, was something quite different. If he was asked, he never was certain if he enjoyed the strange sensation of that intimate kiss. But when there was no choice, the pleasure nearly was too much: the slow tongue strokes, the deep sensations, when he pushed inside.. His body tensed under the onslaught of sensation.He moaned softly as he felt the intrusion of the slicked finger of his Master. He could not change the situation, even if he wanted, and this made it all the better. He simply had to take it, and his Master gave it to him so good. He made him moan and squirm as his sweet spot was massaged to a point where Blaise was so overwhelmed with sensation he could not say if it felt too good, or was too much, or anything at all.Only as shudders were working their ways through his body, did his Master stop, giving him a moment to control his urge to come. “Good boy,” his Master whispered in his ear, making his groan sound helpless and loud, even to him. And then— finally—his Master claimed him as he pressed inside. Though it was not the instant relief he wished for, the feeling was still incredible. Each movement of his Master took him higher until his mind was unable to focus on anything but the one standing order that never was to be broken— Don’t come before your Master. And at the moment it took every inch of his still working will, as well as the help of the rope for him to not let go. He was certain it was more the rope than him, because he felt so damn good, and everything was prickling while his mind went blank with each touch from his Master. And then he felt the tightness of the rope lessen and, at first, he was grateful, until he felt an urgent telltale wetness against his stomach, signaling his impending orgasm.“No— no please— can’t,” he whimpered overpowered by the sensation and the need. “Try, my boy,” was murmured in his ear, making him lose control over his vocals. He wasn't sure if he was whimpering or screaming. “So good, my boy. So hot!” His Master was tensing, thrusting deeper. Blaise could feel the heat pulsing inside of him, filling him up. He was whimpering for sure, then, as the wetness grew, leaking from his throbbing cock. He felt like he was failing, and his Master had not yet realised. “Come, boy, come for me now.” The words did not fully sink in before Blaise felt his control slipping away from him. He came hard, his cock twitching and spurting his release over his stomach and the remaining rope. He felt like the last of his strength was disappearing, every tension vanishing, as the sweet shudders of his release washed over him.###Ron softly kissed the neck right in front of him, while holding himself up on his arms, so as not to squash Blaise with his weight.He pulled out of Blaise slowly, still keeping one hand always on Blaise while removing the ropes, which he had already opened before. He simply let the cord slide down from Blaise’s body and then reached for his wand to conjure a warm, wet flannel. He carefully cleaned the mess they both had made on Blaise, while trying not to drag Blaise back already. His beauty had been such a good boy; he deserved to be in that cloud a little longer.He got the blanket and put it around Blaise before he picked him up and laid him on the bed, sliding in with him, holding him close, and slowly drawing different patterns over Blaise's back. The rope certainly had left its mark. Not that one string broke skin but for the next few hours the pattern would be visible— a sweet memory of the incredible thing they just shared.Ron had to admit he still felt a little high: watching Blaise give himself over so completely over always did that to him. To have someone trust him so much, he never had thought it would happen.Ron looked down as Blaise took his hand, to still the movement and hold on to it, before there was a final deep breath. Ron smiled softly, kissing Blaise's forehead. Sleep with his love in his arms, after they had been separated for so long, was the right idea. Ron pulled the blanket over the two of them, and cuddled close to his beauty. Home.
10504236
Traicion
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Orson Krennic, Original Female Character(s), Original Rebel Alliance Character(s)", "Fandom": "Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)", "Language": "Español", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Bow_Lunita", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-30T00:00:00", "words": "1,331", "Additional Tags": "a little bit angsty, Sad, Krennic it's a heavy sleeper, and kinda cute really, pre rogue one", "Relationship": "Orson Krennic/Original Female Character(s)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
No podía conciliar el sueño, la calma que me envolvía y una sensación de peligro inminente se enfrentaban en mi interior y por más que lo intentara no era capaz de apartar las más terribles ideas de mi agitada cabeza. Permanecía tumbada, inmóvil, con la mirada fija en un punto que la oscuridad no me permitía reconocer. Aunque quería gritar, moverme, dar vueltas o salir corriendo hasta que aquello terminara, tenía la sensación de que el más ligero movimiento despertaría a Orson que dormía plácidamente con un brazo alrededor de mi cintura y el rostro enterrado en mi cuello. No era la novedad lo que me daba miedo, no, el pavor que me impedía descansar era fruto de la familiaridad de aquel momento, lo fácil que se había vuelto estar allí, lo segura que me sentía entre sus brazos o lo perdida que me encontraba cada vez que lo miraba a los ojos. Yo acepté el riesgo de aquella misión desesperada, dejé Yavin 4 sabiendo que debía conseguir la confianza del Imperio a cualquier precio o aceptar las consecuencias de mi fracaso. Fue fácil al principio, el interés de Krennic era una oportunidad que no podía dejar pasar y su compañía me dio acceso a información que de otro modo jamás habría llegado a la Alianza Rebelde. Nunca me pregunté en que me había convertido al estar dispuesta a meterme en su cama, si alguno de los datos que había conseguido transmitir salvaba una sola vida con eso bastaba, pero ahora no podía dejar de pensar en que me había convertido por enamorarme de él. Ya no tenía el control de la situación y tal vez jamás lo tuve, creía saberlo todo sobre el Director Krennic, pero no contaba con conocer tan bien a Orson. Pronto me costó seguir viendo al oficial del Imperio obsesionado con la construcción del arma definitiva en lugar de al hombre que había detrás, el que sonreía a pesar de sí mismo cuando contaba historias sobre su infancia en Lexrul o anécdotas sobre sus años en la Academia, el que amaba el arte por encima de todas las cosas y dibujaba cuando nadie podía verlo, casi como si le diera vergüenza ser descubierto. A su lado jamás tuve que fingir ser quién no era, fui sincera cando le hablé sobre la muerte de mis padres en las Guerras Clon, sobre mi infancia en Corellia donde me acogió una amable pareja que cuidó de mí y otras dos niñas a las que quería como si fueran mis hermanas, jamás le dije nada que pudiera comprometer mi tapadera, pero cuando comprendí que había dejado la guardia baja ya era demasiado tarde y era cuestión de tiempo que mi mundo se desmoronase como un castillo de naipes. No hice nada por evitar que una lágrima silenciosa cayera por mi mejilla, de forma instintiva me arrebujé aún más en los brazos de Orson, buscando una calma que solo podía encontrar en su acompasada respiración, cerré los ojos y me obligué a dejar de pensar hasta que solo pude sentir y poco a poco me calmé lo suficiente como para reconocer la ironía de la situación. Orson Krennic era el problema y también la solución. Sabía lo que debía hacer, pero no tenía el valor suficiente. —¿Estás bien? — No estaba segura de cuando se había despertado, pero su voz me sobresaltó ligeramente y di un suave respingo contra su pecho que de ninguna forma pude disimular. Debía responder, convencerlo de que no pasaba nada, pero temía que si lo intentaba mi voz se quebraría del todo y él se daría cuenta de que algo no iba bien. Solo pude asentir con la cabeza, enterrando mi cabeza en la almohada con la esperanza de ocultar las patéticas lágrimas. —Eh… ¿Qué pasa? ¿No puedes dormir? — El sueño era obvio en su voz pero se incorporó ligeramente, la mano que antes rodeaba mi cintura ahora acariciaba mi cabello de un modo tranquilizador — ¿Necesitas algo? Necesitaba un milagro. —Solo un vaso de agua — Carraspeé un poco con la esperanza de que fuese lo bastante convincente, cuando Orson intentó levantarse lo detuve a tiempo—. Yo voy, no quería despertarte. Su respuesta fue un tierno beso en mi hombro antes de dejarme ir del todo, con un ligero suspiro volvió a tumbarse pero incluso en la oscuridad podía sentir sus ojos fijos en mí. —No importa, despiértame si me necesitas — Estaba preocupado, de alguna manera siempre lograba que me fuera imposible pensar en él como el monstruo inhumano que veía la Alianza. Cuando la puerta del cuarto de baño se cerró tras de mí la bloqueé con un ligero toque en el panel, la luz me cegó durante unos segundos pero cuando mis ojos pudieron acostumbrarse levanté la mirada para enfrentarme a mi reflejo en el espejo. Era un completo desastre. Me lavé la cara hasta que el agua fría limpió el rastro de las lágrimas y volví a mirar, esta vez pude sonreír ligeramente, imaginando lo que cualquiera pensaría si me viera en ese momento, parecía más vulnerable de lo normal, el pijama reglamentario me quedaba tan grande que parecía aún más pequeña de lo que realmente era. Era suyo, Orson me lo había prestado después de convencerme para que me quedara a su lado. Logré contener un sollozo, mis manos se aferraron con fuerza al mármol del lavabo y supe que tenía que parar. Era la salida cobarde, tal vez, pero si me quedaba ¿Cuánto tiempo tardaría la Alianza en conseguir los datos suficientes para llegar hasta Krennic? ¿Cuánto tiempo hasta que él descubriera la verdad sobre mí? ¿Cuánto tiempo hasta que me viera obligada a tomar una decisión que me resultaba imposible? Para no traicionar a nadie iba a traicionarlos a todos, esa ironía tampoco se me escapaba. Tomé aire y logré tranquilizarme una vez más, la determinación que ahora sentía alivió la inquietud que llevaba semanas consumiéndome y esperé allí en silencio lo que me parecieron horas hasta que reuní el valor suficiente para salir. Orson se había quedado dormido, evité mirarlo mientras me vestía a toda prisa pero cuando estuve a medio camino de la puerta paré en seco y volví la vista una última vez. Me acerqué de nuevo y mis labios rozaron su mejilla apenas un segundo, era una despedida. El resto pasó rápido, mis pies me guiaron de vuelta hasta la pequeña habitación que me habían asignado a bordo, había un pequeño panel en la pared que ocultaba un fondo falso, lo retiré con cuidado, el corazón me latía deprisa pero mis movimientos eran seguros cuando activé el comunicador para enviar un único mensaje a casa. —Agente Dantel, solicito extracción urgente, la misión está comprometida — Lo repetí hasta que una voz monótona que apenas era capaz de identificar confirmó que el mensaje había sido recibido y la operación estaba en marcha. No necesitaba más, sabía lo que tenía que hacer, pues mi salvoconducto estaba listo antes de que empezara la misión, tal vez otro agente no habría tenido tanta suerte, pero Cassian había insistido en que no me abandonaran a mi suerte en el momento en que me ofrecí para aquel destino. Un gesto que debería agradecerle después de todo. Recogí lo poco que tenía y salí de allí para no volver jamás, el Hangar era la última parada pero no fui allí directamente, en un nuevo arrebato de culpa me detuve ante la oficina de Krennic. El interior era pulcro e impersonal, casi como la fachada del hombre, pero cuando los recuerdos empezaron a agolparse en mi cabeza los aparté de golpe y caminé hasta el escritorio. El datapad estaba sobre la mesa y sin pensar mucho en lo que hacía copié todos los archivos que contenía, pero en lugar de aliviar mi culpa la sentí crecer en mi interior. Antes de dejar el aparato donde lo había encontrado mis dedos teclearon una rápida nota llena de verdad que Orson jamás creería. “Te quiero, eso siempre fue verdad.”
10523364
Sometimes we need a
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Toby Hamilton, Adil Joshi", "Fandom": "Hotel Halcyon", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by brazul", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "796", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": "Toby Hamilton/Adil Joshi", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
He needed to run faster. To get there in time. Before it was too late. The letter had made him realize what he had done. What he needed to do. If he lost him, he would never be able to forgive himself.He ran from the hotel and to the small one room apartment half an hour away. He needed to hurry! The sound of the siren and the bombs hitting the ground made nothing more than making him run faster. Finally! He rushed up the stairs and to the right door, banging his fist to the wood. No answer. "Adil!" He shouted. When he realized that the boy wouldn't answer, he kicked the door in and rushed to the bed where he was lying. He could smell the gas and looked around, coughing. It wasn't hard to see the heater and rushed forward to turn the gas off. He then rushed back to the other and lifted him up brital style before he carried him out of the one room apartment and laid him down in the stairway outside the door. "Wake up!" He begged and shook him. No answer. Panic began to rise and he forgot he learnt about saving life. So he shook him again."Wake up! I'm so sorry, I forgive you. I love you!" He begged and placed his hands on the others cheeks. "Please wake up!"The cough made relief flow through his whole being, and he finally opened his eyes. Chocolate brown eyes looked into his for a second before the darker male reached up and pulled him down for a hug. They laid like that for a second before they broke away and he looked down on the other. He could finally feel the tears in his eyes, and this time he let them fall. "Please don't cry, Mr Hamilton" the other whispered and wiped the tears away with his thumb. "It's Toby for you, Mr Joshi” Toby answered with a small smile.”Then you better call me Adil, Toby.” They both laughed and Adil pulled him down for a second hug. A loud BANG was heard and the house shook, and they finally registered the warning siren.”We need to get out” Toby said and stood up. Then he pulled Adil up to his feet and helped him down the stairs and out the front door. They saw how the last planes left the city and soon the signal of them being safe was heard over London.“You need to get back to the hotel” Adil said and took a step away, but Toby was quick to pull him back to his side. It was clear that the other was still weak and wouldn't make it alone. “Then let's go” he said, only to have the other frown at him. “I'm not leaving you again. Not now, not never. Now come on” he said and they began walking.  They could see the hotel in the distance, and the smoke rising from it. Next corner and they would be there. But Toby stopped them and turned to Adil.“I should have done this sooner” he whispered and pulled Adil in for a kiss. Adil responded quickly and Toby relaxed. They would still need time to heal, and Toby wouldn't let him out of his of his sight after the suicide move he just pulled, but they would be fine. They both would. “Hrm.” They quickly parted and looked at the newcomer. “Mr O'Hara” Toby began and pulled Adil behind him, not to hide him, but to protect him. He looked at the person beside O'Hara and visibly paled. “F-Freddie” he greeted. His brother just smiled before he walked up to them. Toby could feel how Adil covered behind him before the bartender bowed to the Lord. Freddie just smiled and gave Adil a pet on the shoulder. “Take care of my brother.” “I-I will, Lord Hamilton” Adil answered with a bow. Freddie then turned and walked back to Emma who stood not far from them and gave her a peek on her cheek. O'Hare came after him. Then they all three left together. Adil wavered beside of him and toppled forward, but Toby quickly catched him. Worried, he took them to the side way and sat them down. Adil let out a sigh and closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall. But he quickly opened them again and gave Toby a reassuring smile.“You will be staying with me until you get better” Toby ordered, but Adil frowned.“Lady Hamilton won't like that.” “Mother have no say in this. And I also need someone to serve me coffee.” He grinned cheekily. “And to keep my bed warm.” He deserved the slap he got to his chest.
10570962
Poking the wolf
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Agent Vasquez (Supergirl TV 2015), Hank Henshaw | J'onn J'onzz", "Fandom": "Supergirl (TV 2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by PlushPanda", "chapters": "4/4", "completed": "2018-02-03", "published": "2017-04-08T00:00:00", "words": "5,982", "Additional Tags": "shapeshifter!au", "Relationship": "Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Sleepwalker", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Alex stepped out into the desert, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight. There was laughter to her left, and when she looked, she spotted a familiar blue and red figure. Three black figures were standing close by as Supergirl zoomed about, tossing a large round object into the distance.Alex made her way over in her own time, finding that the black figures were DEO agents, and that Kara was throwing around… a car tire?She approached Vasquez and J’onn, who were looking different shades of amused. “What’s going on?” she asked, coming to stand beside them. She noticed that the third black figure was missing.“Look for yourself,” J’onn said, nodding towards Kara.Alex did as suggested, finding the third black figure. It was Lena in her wolf form, zipping after the tire that Kara had lobbed into the distance. The wolf was panting heavily as it reached breakneck speeds just to catch the tire before it hit the ground. Alex couldn’t tell how high it jumped with no visible reference markers around, but she guessed it was impressive from how Kara whooped.The wolf trotted over to Kara, carrying the tire easily in its muzzle, the large object lifted clean off the floor.Kara flew down to take the tire from Lena, and Alex smiled as Kara appeared completely sidetracked by ruffling the wolf’s fur. It wagged its tail in response, yipping happily.“Oh, she’s gonna throw it this way,” Vasquez observed with excitement, then quickly took out her phone and proceeded to film the entire thing.Kara flew into the air, and the wolf walked backwards in anticipation.Alex knew she should find it at least a little strange how their dynamics shifted once Lena turned into a wolf, but honestly, after hearing the whole shapeshifter reasoning, it was just sweet. Without the restrictions of logical thought, Lena liked to play with Kara. And with both their superhuman abilities, it made for an impressive show.Kara threw the tire with no effort at all, yet its trajectory would land it behind the group of spectators.Against all odds (or at least the odds that Alex had calculated), the wolf gained upon the projectile and even managed to snatch it out of the air before it reached them. Now, much closer, Alex saw that it jumped a good 10 feet in the air, but that wasn’t the part that surprised her. No, the part that surprised her came after the wolf sent vibrations through the ground with its heavy landing. It turned to its spectators, face vaguely contorted to hold the tire in its maw. With a little skip in its step, it approached Alex.Alex’s eyebrows rose as the wolf dropped the tire in front of her and glanced up at her with big, questioning eyes. Alex was about to refuse, say that she couldn’t possibly throw that thing far enough for it to be a challenge, but she was interrupted by a bark.The wolf yipped, lowering its torso to the ground. Its tongue lolled out, and Alex swore it was smiling.“What? No,” Alex protested. “Ask the other super powered alien.”Kara carried a delighted laugh with her as she approached, landing near them. “I think Lena is enjoying a little mental holiday. You’re talking to the wolf.”Alex glanced at J’onn for confirmation, and his eyebrows hiked up in response. “She has been quiet.”The wolf was watching them with clear eyes, but the distinctive human intelligence was missing in them.Kara gasped dramatically, drawing all eyes to her. She covered her smile with a hand, faking even more of a shock, and shot Alex a look. “I think she likes you.”Alex suspected her skepticism was dripping from her face. “I doubt that.”“There’s only one way to find out,” Kara quipped, glancing at the giant black beast meaningfully.The wolf was inching closer ever so slightly, stretching out its neck to sniff at Alex’s hand without entering her personal space.“Aww,” Vasquez cooed, still holding the camera up in a way that suggested she was filming.Alex shot her a dry look, but unfolded her arms anyway. She turned her hand palm upwards, knowingly giving the wolf the okay to inspect her further—“Hey guys! I heard some hollering. What’s going on?” Mon-el proclaimed loudly, making so much noise that the wolf jolted and backed away.Alex didn’t think it was possible, but she was actually disappointed that the beast backed away. She was kind of curious to know how soft its pelt really was, and now it would be a while before she found out.Kara nudged her side, smiling knowingly.Alex rolled her eyes in good humor.“Oh, an earth native domesticated animal. How cute,” Mon-el exclaimed joyfully. Without further warning, he stepped forwards, reaching out to touch the wolf’s head between the ears.In the next moment, Alex felt two things at the same time; dread, because no one but Kara could come close to touch the wolf, even when Lena was in control, and some kind of twisted satisfaction at what would no doubt be instant karma for his rash and vaguely condescending behavior.She didn’t, however, expect the wolf to twitch away and all but chomp down on his outstretched arm. Simultaneously, its ears flattened into its neck, a vicious growl rumbling low in its throat as it clenched its jaw.“Oh Rao, Lena!” Kara dropped her smile like a hot potato and rushed forwards, stopping short of the scene as she tried to decide on a course of action.Mon-el let out an anguished yell. He wiggled his arm in an attempt to free it, but the wolf only held on tighter. “What are you waiting for? Pry him loose!”Kara shot him a murderous look. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t randomly decided to touch the giant murder machine,” she snapped, and, sadly, that had the effect of making the wolf more vicious.Mon-el yelped, trying to move along with the wolf’s erratic movements.“Kara,” Alex interjected before something drastic happened, like Mon-el’s arm getting ripped off. “The wolf is channeling your emotions.”Kara’s eyebrows raised at that, looking surprised for a whole second before getting down to business. She quickly crouched down and enveloped the wolf in a hug. “Lena,” she said softly. “Lena, I’m not angry. Calm down. Shhh.”The wolf stilled its movements, but kept its vice-like grip.“It’s okay, you can let go,” Kara continued, purposely avoiding the topic of Mon-el. She pressed her face into the side of its scruff while she ran her fingers through thick fur. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”The growling stopped abruptly, and the wolf let go of Mon-el’s arm, only to chomp down on Kara’s shoulder. Alex shot a worried look at J’onn, who she hoped could wrestle the beast from Kara, but he was smiling in amusement. With a confused frown, she took a second look at the scene.The wolf bit at Kara’s shoulder; shortly and in various places, almost as if sampling the tenderness of a new chew toy. “Stop that,” Kara giggled, pushing at its muzzle.It huffed out a breath, complying, and nuzzled its large face underneath Kara’s chin. By all means, the wolf had turned into a puppy again, ears perked up and tail wagging like crazy.“I’m bleeding,” Mon-el said, affronted. His shirt was ripped to tatters, the skin underneath not looking much better. Blood gathered in the wound and trailed down his arm, dripping off his fingers.Alex hissed at the visual. “I suggest you stop by medbay,” J’onn said dryly. “You might need stitches.”Mon-el’s face fell. “This is all the fault of that stupid beast!” he growled underneath his breath.The wolf immediately jumped up, barking angrily and the man. Thankfully, Kara held on tight this time, preventing a second attack. “Language!” she scolded.Mon-el inched back at the hostility of the beast, and wisely kept his mouth shut as he turned on his heel and followed J’onn’s advice.Alex watched him go, not completely surprised with this turn of events. “Vasquez?”Vasquez startled, finally dropping her phone. “Yes?”“Can I have a copy of that video?” she asked, smiling roguishly.“Oh! You recorded all that?” Kara quipped from underneath the wolf, who had draped its jaw and neck over her head.“I’ll need a copy too,” J’onn said evenly. The only thing that betrayed him was a twinkle in his eye. “To make sure no uncontrolled data is released.”Vasquez glanced between all of them, and let out a laugh. “Yeah, sure.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It had been a few hours since the little show Kara and Lena had put up with the tire frisbee, so when Alex entered the break room, she was surprised that Lena was still in her wolf form.Asleep.On the couch.At the DEO.Alex looked around, wondering if anyone was around to explain this particular scene. Then again, Kara had told her Lena had been experimenting with the duration of her transformations. She just hadn’t expected her to do it then and there.Alex glanced down at the wolf. It lay on its stomach, face between its paws. It looked surprisingly composed, more like Lena than she’d seen it so far. With a shrug, Alex went over to the fridge to get her lunch. At least no one in the DEO would question the large black beast.###Alex was halfway through her sandwich and a cute cat video (courtesy of Kara) when the beast on the couch next to her flopped onto its side rather suddenly. It wiggled into a more comfortable position, one that resulted in its face being pressed into Alex’s thigh. It radiated a surprising amount of heat into her skin, much like Kara.Alex chewed thoughtfully, distracted from the cute cats by the cute puppy—wolf. That was definitely a wolf, Alex corrected herself, remembering how the beast had ripped Mon-el’s arm to shreds. Her phone vibrated with a message from Kara, telling her how she was seconds away from adopting a cat due to all the videos. With a tiny smile, Alex snapped a picture of the wolf, and sent it to her sister, captioned, ’You already have a pet.’The reply was instantaneous. ’Omgggg, my two favorite people,’ followed by a copious amount of crying emoticons. Then, just as quickly, she received, ’Watch your sandwich. That puppy will inhale anything.’Alex glanced down. The wolf was still out cold, and her sandwich was resting safely on her opposite thigh. ’Lena is in a coma. I think you TIREd her out.’ ’That is the literal worst thing you’ve ever made me read with my own two eyes, and I’ve read Mon-el’s attempt at poetry.’ ‘Drama queen,’ Alex typed out. As she hit send, she spotted a blur of black movement from the corner of her eyes. The wolf was twitching in its sleep, paws kicking intermitted. A little whine escaped from its closed muzzle.Alex didn’t even get the chance to consider waking the wolf, as it sprung awake with a muted bark. It looked around in confusion, eyes alert and ears rotating every which way. “You had a nightmare,” Alex said, feeling like the explanation might calm Lena down. Without second thought, she reached out and rested a hand on its scruff. “You’re in the break room of the DEO. You’re safe.”The wolf deflated noticeably, eyes drooping into a casual gaze. Along with the touch, it lowered its face again and rested it in Alex’s lap. With a hefty doggy huff, it melted into Alex.Alex’s eyebrows raised at how well her accidental touch was received, momentarily frozen. Her phone blew up with several messages, startling her from her stupor. All of them were from Kara, who, judging from the amount of heart eyes emojis, was spying on their little moment. ’Don’t you have something better to do?’ Alex sent back, carefully running her other hand through the black fur. Its fur was surprisingly long, to the point that Alex’s entire hand disappeared into the pelt. It was soft and warm and pleasing to touch, and she could practically feel the tension draining from her body. Suddenly, she understood why Kara was always touching Lena in this form.She stilled her hand.“Is this weird? Should I… not?” Alex asked out loud.The wolf huffed, pressing its cheek a little firmer against her thigh. Its tail twitched once, slapping loudly against the couch.Alex guessed that meant it was fine. A message pulled her attention away from the wolf. ’Houdini has scammed you.’ At Alex’s answering frown, another message popped up. ’Your sandwich!’Alex only found the empty paper that previously held her food, and a wolf that was trying very hard to appear innocent. “What the hell, Lena.”The wolf glanced up, muzzle falling open in something that looked like an obnoxious smile.Alex lolled her head back against the couch. “I’m going to starve around you two,” she groaned. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lena rinsed one last time, the scent of mint diluting until she could smell the rest of the world again. Still, after brushing her teeth and gurgling twice, the taste of blood remained. She disliked every single time her instincts pushed her to bite anyone, human or alien. Though, by now, with her track record, she was officially worried she caught an alien blood transferable disease.God forbid she transferred the hypothetical disease to Kara.She glanced around the empty locker room, not even thinking twice about processing the scents and visuals. There were many, but they paled in the wake of the few she recognized. Kara’s was most noticeable as a bright yellow presence, and Lena found herself dissecting the tiny abnormalities in it; of ozone in her hair, her last lunch on her breath and fingers, gunpowder and metal in her suit, her typical scent in the places where she was warmest—Lena shook herself out of it, reaffirming she was in a locker room that smelled like old socks. It was definitely not the place to be a dazed mess over her lovely girlfriend. No, she needed to get an alien expert who could tell her she didn’t have a space virus. Someone who wouldn’t dumb her down by their mere presence.Maybe the sudden intensity of Kara’s pheromones meant the Kryptonian was ovulating.Lena looked at herself in the mirror, frowning skeptically as she tried to make biological sense of her reactions.Or maybe she had changed more than she thought.Lena shook her head, throwing all theories out the window until she was far, far away from the DEO, and whirled away from the sink to follow the deep orange scent. Alex could help her—with the space virus, not her sudden and intense attraction to Kara. For all she knew, that was a normal relationship progression for lycanthropes.As luck would have it, the trail led her to the labs, where Alex seemed to be delegating a task to a man in a lab coat. If anything, Alex could help her with a blood test right away.Lena approached once she was done. “Agent Danvers?”Alex looked up, surprised. “Lena, hey,” she greeted with an easy smile, a stark contrast to the professional air she held just a moment ago. “What’s up?”Lena blinked, and tried not to let her surprise show. A friendly relationship built as a wolf apparently also transferred to her human self. At least when the person in question knew about her fluffy self. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I had some concerns about my… condition.”Alex became serious at that, and turned more fully to face Lena. “What is it?”“I’ve bitten two different aliens on two different occasions, and I’m worried that ingesting their blood might have some adverse consequences,” she explained, folding her arms across her chest and hugging herself tightly.Alex nodded, glancing off to the side as she thought it over. “We can do some blood work,” she said slowly, thoughtfully, then looked up at Lena as if she’d decided on a course of action. “I think your condition also means that you’re more resilient to disease, otherwise it wouldn’t make sense, evolutionary-wise. But let’s find out.”Lena followed Alex’s nonverbal prompting to sit down on a nearby stool. “Ah,” she uttered, catching on. “A creature should be capable of enduring the effects of their nature.”Alex shot her a finger gun. “Exactly. I’ll be right back.”###“Huh.”Lena tore her eyes away from the wall to look at Alex. She’d purposely averted her eyes while she took her blood. “Something the matter?”Alex held up a bent needle. “I didn’t know your abilities manifested in your human form, too,” she commented, discarding the useless needle and rummaging around for another.“They didn’t,” Lena commented, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Until now.”While Alex tried different types of needles, specific for different types of aliens, Lena wondered if perhaps this development was somehow connected to her sensory organs going into overdrive. Her ‘powers’ seemed to be developing like a second puberty—which was an unfortunate choice of words if she ever encountered one.“Ow.” Alex shot her a mildly apologetic look when she finally managed to pierce her skin. “Not entirely bulletproof, then.”“Not quite,” she agreed, watching as plain red blood filled the vial. “I don’t suppose you have any research available on my kind?”Alex was focused on her arm when she answered, “We can check.”###Winn grimaced as he watched a giant black wolf chomp down on Mon-el’s arm. On screen, Kara calmed down the wolf until it eventually let go of Mon-el. “Vicious puppy,” he muttered to himself.Lena looked down at him, vaguely affronted, at the same time that Alex backhanded his shoulder. “Ow, sheesh, that’s not a bad thing.” He rubbed at his shoulder even as the recording ended. “So?” Alex prodded.Despite his protest, he proceeded to work on different screens, pulling up records left and right. “I don’t think we have anything on werewolves, but if Kara hasn’t mentioned anything, they should be earth native.” A grin stretched across his face. “This is so cool,” he whispered to himself. “Who is it?”Lena caught Alex’s eyes behind Winn’s back and shook her head. “Need to know basis only, Schott.”He shrugged a shoulder, not at all upset. “The werewolf could be a product of these Anubis-like aliens mingling with humans,” Winn continued to speculate, creating theories with the help of Alex. Lena listened carefully, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t quite right. She didn’t feel like her home was amongst the stars. Whatever her species, it was definitely earth native.Winn pulled up more info, even opened Wikipedia at one point, and while it felt wrong, Lena was still intrigued. Passive outside stimuli were still swarming to get her attention, but they slowly blended together in the background until all she saw and heard were Alex and Winn.To the point that she nearly jumped out of her skin when someone touched a hand to her lower back.“I almost didn’t recognize you there, in DEO fatigues,” Kara said softly, sidling up next to her until they were standing side by side. Her hand slipped from her lower back to her hip, pulling her into a sideward hug.And oh boy, if she weren’t a dazed mess before. All Lena could see was Kara’s smile and her soft blue eyes. Up this close, her scent was so warm and cloying, she could practically taste it on the back of her tongue.And Kara just kept closing in, nudging their foreheads together.Lena was much too distracted to do anything else but lean into the touch. Her eyes fell closed of their own accord, the room suddenly too bright. Opposed to how she thought she would react, she felt warm and strangely at peace, engulfed comfortably in Kara. So comfortable, in fact, that she didn’t register that Kara’s behavior was a little clingy, or that Winn and Alex were right there.“Whoa.”“Kara, can I talk to you for a second?” Alex asked.“Huh?” Kara tore herself away, and Lena opened her eyes just in time to see her blinking repeatedly. “Yeah? Sure. Of course.”Kara slid her hand across Lena’s back, looking like it took the greatest possible effort to walk away. “Be right back,” she whispered, following Alex to the other side of the room where they had a talk about God knows what.Lena let out a quiet breath, turning her attention back to the screens and a grinning Winn. “What?”“Nothing!” he said, shaking his head and swiveling to face the screens again, unable to lose his smile. “Okay, what’s gotten into you?” Lena’s head snapped to the right at the sound of Alex’s voice, but she was exactly where she last saw her going—the other side of the room. “What do you mean?”  Lena’s jaw slackened as she saw Kara’s mouth move along to the words. “You huddling up to Lena like no one was around? Did something happen?” Lena straightened and pretended to focus on the screens before her when Kara shot her a brief glance. Apparently her sense of smell wasn’t the only thing that was on metaphorical steroids.“No?” Kara said, much softer. “I just feel really good around her, and I can’t stay away.”Lena became keenly aware of the heat in her cheeks, and she was glad Winn was immersed in scouring newspaper headlines involving suspicious dog behavior, because she couldn’t fight her oncoming smile even if she tried. She should probably stop listening before she heard something she wasn’t supposed to, but she couldn’t seem to tune them out no matter how hard she tried to focus.Alex’s next words sounded dry as could be, “Like when you cuddled up to James in the middle of the work floor?”“I never—oh.” A pause. “Oh no, do you think something happened to us?”“It could be nothing. We’re running tests on Lena’s blood as we speak, but if you’re affected as well…” Alex sighed deeply, muttering, “I can’t believe I have to ask this.”“What?” Kara prodded. “Did you two have sex yet?” “Wuh—what? Why would that be relevant to anything?” Lena brought a hand up to cover her mouth, not sure whether to laugh or find a rock to hide under. The answer was no, but still, to have Kara’s sister ask was vaguely mortifying.“Ugh, fine,” Kara huffed, and Lena couldn’t help but wonder what kind of nonverbal reply she missed. “No.”“No?” Alex echoed incredulously, then followed up with a slightly defensive, “Okay, okay. That’s actually a good thing. It means it’s more plausible that it’s a metahuman thing instead of a virus.” “Hmn.” “Come on, we should discuss this with Lena. With any luck, it’s just your hyper sensitive bodies picking up on super pheromones.” “Are you calling us horny teenagers?” “If the shoe fits…” There was a slight twack that Lena interpreted as Kara playfully hitting Alex. “I’ll have you know my restraint is legendary,” Kara said even as she came into normal hearing distance. Without much thought, she came to stand next to Lena, and it felt like second nature for their hands to slip into each other.Alex glanced down at their joined hands before sending her the driest look possible. “I think you’re confusing the definition of legendary with nonexistent.”In a show of superior wit, Kara stuck out her tongue.###A few hours later, Lena took a look at her blood results over Alex’s shoulder, Kara joining at the opposite side. They looked familiar enough that Lena could surmise she didn’t have any weird alien diseases, but then she turned the page and Alex beat her to the punch, “Human cells, tissue strength suspected to be 300% the average. Further research required.”Lena quirked a brow, not entirely surprised by the results. She spotted a few compounds that definitely did not belong in the human bloodstream, but no one had commented on that—“Oh,” Kara breathed, like she found the answer to a puzzle.Alex and Lena turned to Kara in unison, the question reflecting in their eyes.Kara fidgeted minutely. “That explains why you were able to pierce Mon-el’s skin,” she said thoughtfully, fooling exactly no one. The only way she could be more suspicious would be if she blatantly said she knew something they didn’t.“Right,” Alex said slowly, eyeing her like they were going to have a talk later. “Well, Lena, you’re good to go. Further testing might indicate whether you’re immune or simply lucky.”Kara sagged in relief, looking as grateful as she could for Alex’s decision not to pry—yet.“Actually, I’d prefer to do that myself,” Lena said, running a finger across her bottom lip in thought. The possibilities were great and she’d need to get creative to get answers, but if they didn’t have her species on record, she’d like to oversee the discovery personally.A movement from the corner of her eye snapped her out of her thoughts. It seemed like Alex had elbowed Kara in the ribs, and Lena looked up in time to see Alex shooting Kara an unimpressed look, while Kara sheepishly flitted her focus between the ground, the ceiling, Lena’s eyes, and a space below Lena’s eyes.Lena lowered her hand from her mouth, grinning knowingly.“Are you sure?” Kara blurted out, face running a little pink as she tried to move the conversation along. “We have alien experts and, uh, aliens. They could speed up the process.”“I’m sure,” she replied a little too gently. It was strangely endearing for Kara to be distracted by the sight of her lips, and Lena only partially blamed the super pheromones.“Okay, I’m just going to—excuse me,” Alex muttered, squeezing herself between the pair to get to the exit.Alex wasn’t even out the door yet before Kara closed in the distance. Or maybe it was Lena, she couldn’t tell. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?” Lena whispered, standing much too close for casual conversation. Her hand adopted a mind of its own, idly hooking her fingers in Kara’s golden belt.Kara nodded, dividing her attention between Lena’s eyes and mouth.Lena breathed in generously, Kara’s scent engulfing her in the most pleasant of ways. It made her feel squishy and warm, but she was curious above all else, so she tried to keep her cool. She tugged at her belt, keeping Kara’s attention on the conversation. “Well?”“Oh.” Kara blinked a few times, smiling apologetically. “Your cells are human, but there are alien hormones in your blood. They might explain… this,” she sighed.Lena’s eyebrows knitted together. “But I feel it, too.” Kara nodded. Her gaze was unfocused, a little smile played on her lips. “Our immune systems are compatible—um, our offspring would be really healthy, and our bodies can tell.”Lena breathed a laugh at the dumbed down explanation, her fingers trailing upwards to rest a hand on her stomach. The muscles underneath flexed. “Are you saying we’re experiencing common attraction, Supergirl?”“Super attraction,” Kara quipped, smiling wide at her own pun. She drew back slightly after inching close enough to kiss, seeming to regain some control. “We could hang out in well ventilated areas. I mean, if you want. We still don’t know what kick-started this.”“My human form is assimilating more of the wolf properties,” Lena explained, unaware of the dreamy look on her own face as they hovered closer once again. “I think my biology is changing.”Kara squeaked out an acknowledgement, then frowned. For a moment, Lena thought she was going to add more information, but instead, she whispered, “Can I kiss you now?”Lena smiled, more than amused and definitely willing, but not before she pointed out, “The walls are glass.”“I know.”Lena quirked a brow. “Your sister may see.” Kara pouted at the apparent rejection, and barely spared their surroundings a glance. “I guess,” she said with the barest hint of a whine.Taking pity on her, Lena pulled Kara closer by the belt. Kara’s eyes widened as they were suddenly standing thigh to thigh. “I suppose a little peck won’t hurt,” she whispered against her lips, before finally giving in.It didn’t stay a little peck and they had to be interrupted by Alex’s loud, fake cough. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Alex dropped her watergun on the picnic cloth, eyeing her surroundings carefully. Winn, James, J’onn, and Susan were already there and laying out food, but she was keeping an eye out for the horny teenagers who had bodysnatched Kara and Lena. By now, she’d caught them making out two times, and that was two times too many. It wasn’t even like Alex kept intruding in private spaces. It was that the pair considered every vaguely sheltered space as private enough. The back of a DEO issued SUV, the living room after Alex went to the bathroom…She knew that Lena’s rediscovered biological identity had kickstarted it, and that their clinginess was perfectly natural behaviour for two superpowered beings in that situation, but enough was enough. With both their heightened senses and Kara’s super speed, you’d think they would never be caught, but they had gotten a little too comfortable with her, and Alex was scared to see way more than just over the clothes groping. She was going to dissuade the heck out of them. If she so much as caught a glimpse of them touching inappropriately, they would face her personal ice water challenge.Along with a few stares, she guessed.Yeah, she probably wouldn’t need to use the watergun if they still had a shred of common sense.“Aw man, if you’d told me we were going to hold a water fight, I would have brought my own gear,” Winn commented, having taken notice of Alex’s extra baggage.The weather was hot enough, and everyone was wearing summer appropriate clothes. Alex briefly considered making a watergun run, but then hastily rejected the idea. She was not about to create even more possibly sexy situations. “We’re not having a water fight.”Winn glanced down at the watergun, then up at Alex’s stoic expression. “O-kay then.” He shook his head, letting it go. “Did you bring the drinks?”Alex cracked a tiny smile. “I did.”###Alex should’ve trusted the part of her instincts that hadn’t been scarred by the existence of her sister’s more amorous side. Lena and Kara were clingy, sure, but, objectively speaking, they were being cute. And, more importantly, they looked happy, huddled together and giggling as they were.After a (super) intense game of frisbee, Lena and Kara had tired everyone out, and now everyone was gratefully recovering from the metaphorical beating they endured. The weather had gotten warmer, but it was nice, seated in the shade as they were. Plenty of cool lemonade went around, and everyone was enjoying themselves.Alex took a bite from her cucumber and cream cheese sandwich, silently eyeing everyone and their surroundings. Her idle curiosity was the reason for her noticing an elderly lady feeding ducks in the distance. A gaggle of ducklings waddled after their mother, clumsily following her lead.“Oh! Lena!” Winn suddenly piped up, drawing Alex’s attention back to the group. Lena looked up, smiling and at ease. It was a good look on her. “Have you found out anything about your, y’know, past?”It was only because Alex knew Kara most of her life that she saw the sudden way her sister perked up. She seemed suddenly tense, like she desperately wanted to say something but wasn’t allowed to.Lena let the suspense sink in for a second as she seemed momentarily lost in thought. “I have,” she said simply, and beside her, Kara’s smile became that much brighter. Winn leaned forward, eager to learn more. Alex was in much the same state of curiosity, though she handled it much more subtly. “Well?” Winn prodded.Lena grinned, a hint of devilishness shining through, but she didn’t keep her audience waiting too long. “I am human,” she started, and Winn’s face fell immediately. “Or my ancestors started out as humans, in any case.”“And then they procreated with aliens?” Winn speculated eagerly, wearing his emotions on his sleeve.“Shh,” Kara shushed him gently.“Maybe,” Lena said, entertaining the idea briefly. “But story goes that after the Great War—we’re still figuring out which one—aliens needed earth to have faithful soldiers to protect all earthborn life from alien invaders.”“And they kidnapped humans and probed them?” Winn asked, resting his elbows on his knees like he was watching a game on TV.This time, Alex paused mid bite just to send him a disapproving look.“Some volunteers came forward to become these soldiers,” Lena continued, ignoring Winn in a way that made it seem like her ’anyway…’ was implied. “Which probably meant advanced genetic engineering. They needed these soldiers to blend in, in either their soldier persona or their regular human form, so they created these kind of shapeshifters.”“They said that all shapeshifter and werewolf lore stems from these alien/human soldiers,” Kara added proudly, unable to keep quiet anymore. Instinctively, she slithered a hand into Lena’s and squeezed. “Isn’t that so cool?”Winn looked at Lena like she had just made it possible to mass produce the quantum computer. “The coolest,” he breathed.When even Alex tilted her head to the side in approval, Lena turned bashful, turning her eyes down to her own food.Winn stared for a moment longer until he snapped out of it. “Wait, who are ’they’?”Kara glanced at Lena, letting her answer the question—or not.Lena shook off the bashfulness remarkably fast, and answered, “After the wolf made the news when it helped Supergirl, a soldier of earth went out to look for me, and, well, found me.”Winn gasped loudly and slapped his thigh. “Your biological mother!”Lena looked at him, eyebrows raised and slack jawed for the briefest of moments. “As remarkable as that would be, no. Though she would have to be one of the descendants…” she trailed off, leading the conversation into a semi-serious silence.A loud quack interrupted the moment, making everyone jolt in surprise. More tiny peeps followed, and four sets of eyes turned to the sound. The mother duck Alex had just spotted a good distance away was confidently striding towards Lena, and plonked down next to her. Her ducklings scrabbled along and around Lena, one even daring to climb into her lap while Lena sat back in shock and did nothing but watch the scene unfold.It was a good thing she wasn’t wearing a dress, because one duckling became two, became three, until all of them were snuggled together in her lap and looking about ready to fall asleep.The first one to move was Kara, who slowly reached into her pocket to get her phone. Only after she took several photos did the spell break.“They know,” Lena whispered, her voice watery and eyes shining with emotion.Kara put away her phone, wrapping an around Lena’s shoulders to give her a warm squeeze. “Even little baby animals know you’re a good egg. Luthor smuthor.”Lena tore her eyes away from the ducklings, allowing them to hang around a little while longer before they created a mess. She shot Kara a grateful look instead. “Sweet talker,” she said quietly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.Kara leaned into it, grinning bright and proud.It was kinda disgustingly cute, but even Alex couldn’t hide her squishy feelings when a smile tugged at her lips.
10563954
The Blue Camellia
{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Tsubaki | Subaki, Belka | Beruka, Sakura (Fire Emblem), Kazahana | Hana, Camilla (Fire Emblem), Luna | Selena, Alfonse (Fire Emblem), Hinata (Fire Emblem), Minerva (Fire Emblem)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by YourLadyStar", "chapters": "2/2", "completed": "2017-04-14", "published": "2017-04-08T00:00:00", "words": "3,051", "Additional Tags": "Mentions of Hinoka, Mentions of Minerva - Freeform, chapter 1 is post round one results, chapter 2 is post round two results, Meta Humor, and once again a LOT of it, slight connections to Hair Ties, if you haven't read that check it out it's a quick read, Mentions of Fir, subaki is still a major league tease towards hinata, a 2 second mention of blood", "Relationship": "Hinata/Tsubaki | Subaki", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates", "Archive Warnings": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply", "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
With one final slash, it all came to an end. The last attack from the spear knocked Beruka off her wyvern, falling to the ground as her ax fell out of reach. As she shakily opened her eyes, she noticed her wyvern laying before her, exhausted and wounded. She tried to stand up, tried to continue on, but her body was too wounded and sore for her to even hold herself up. So, as much as she hated it, she gave up and allowed herself to fall limp. “That’s the end of the round,” Alfonse spoke up, “Victory goes to Subaki!” Loud cheers erupted, Sakura and Hana leading them, as the pegasus knight came back to the ground. He dismounted from his steed as he walked up to the fallen wyvern rider. She managed to open her eyes as his footsteps came closer and stopped in front of her. She looked up and saw him smiling, a hand extended out to her. “I’d hate to leave a fellow hero lying in the dirt.” She managed to reach up and grab his hand, and he helped her to stand up, despite her aching body, and watched as the pegasus helped her wyvern to pick itself up. “Subaki!” Sakura ran up to them, Hana right behind her, “Y-You did amazing!” “I gotta admit, I’m impressed,” Hana said, her arms crossed but a genuine smile on her face. “Beruka!” Camilla and Selena ran up to them, the princess taking her wounded retainer in her arms, “Are you alright, darling?” “My wounds will fade. But my failure won’t,” Her monotone voice did well to hide her disappointment. “Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Camilla hugged her close, easing her grip to avoid causing her pain, “You did fantastic.” “You both were impressive,” Alfonse spoke as he walked up to the small group, “Now, by all means, relax and take some time to heal. The next round won’t start for a while.”   “I still can’t believe you actually beat Beruka,” Sakura said as focused her staff’s magic on her retainers wounds, “I-I was really s-scared for a bit.” “I didn’t think you had it in you,” Hana said, a slight mocking tone. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” He said, fueling his rivals fury. “I’d prefer you not speak of your victory while around me.” Beruka sat next to the group, Camilla and Selena tending to her wounds, “You kept your promise of victory to your lady, but I couldn’t keep mines.” “Beruka,” Camilla cooed as she held her retainer close, “I already told you you did a fantastic job. I don’t care that you didn’t win, I’m just glad that you’re okay.” “Besides, you put up a hell of a fight. Be thankful for that, at the very least,” Selena spoke as she finished wrapping the gauze around Beruka’s right wrist. She hesitated for a moment before she spoke, “Very well.” “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Beruka,” Subaki reassured her, “I’m grateful for my victory, but I will not deny that you were quite the opponent.” “I did believe that I almost had you for a moment,” She paused before she continued, “Next time, I will be the one to succeed.” “I’m looking forward to it.” Camilla let out a small chuckle before she grabbed her two retainers hands, “Come on, girls. The next round will be starting soon and I’m up first. I’m sure you want to watch, especially you Beruka. You missed out on the last one.” “Yeah, you should have seen it,” Selena smirked, “She practically wiped the floor with Hinoka! Speaking of which, who are fighting this round?” “Alfonse said I’ll be facing a pegasus knight named Cordelia.” “Oh…” Camilla noted the red heads sudden sullen look, “Hmm? Something wrong, sweetie?” “N-Nothing. Just be careful out there! And… try not to be too harsh on her.” Camilla gave another chuckle, “No need to worry. It’s all for fun and games.” With that, she and her two retainers left the infirmary. Sakura looked back to her own retainer, “You won’t be going up until after Camilla. Want to come watch?” “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll stay here for now. I want to make sure I’m in perfect form for my next round.” “Suit yourself,” Hana shrugged and walked towards the door, “Let’s go, Sakura.” “O-Okay. See you there, Subaki!” Sakura and Hana left the room, leaving him alone. Now in privacy, he allowed himself to let out a sigh and lean back to lay on the infirmary bed, closing his eyes as he tried to relax. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about his next battle. He felt his nerves standing and his heartbeat quicken at the though of it. A part of him was dreading to think about him coming out with a victory only to be taken down the next round. But another part of him was lucky that he was able to make it this far into the gauntlet, especially since he hadn’t anticipated even being entered in the first place given the other pegasus knights he’s come to befriend in this world. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t taken notice of the door to the infirmary opening and closing until he heard a familiar voice. “Hey. Congrats on that last round.” His eyes opened as he looked towards the door, finding Hinata coming towards him, “Thank you.” The samurai stopped in front of him, “I just ran into Sakura. She said you were going to be staying here until you’re up. You sure you don’t wanna watch Camilla? Her fight with Hinoka was pretty insane." “I’m sure I’ll manage,” He sat up and patted the space next to him, motioning for the samurai to sit down, “But what about you? Her next round is starting soon, yet here you are with me rather than out there.” “I was planning on going, but then I heard you were here rather than out there,” Hinata paused, gazing down, before he continued, “I’ll be honest, I’m worried about you. What if you’re next round doesn’t go that smooth?” “My, thanks for the support,” Subaki teasingly mocked. “I’m being serious! I mean… Beruka was simple. We used to train with her all the time, you know exactly how she fights. But, we hardly know a thing about this Minerva you’re facing next. I mean, what if-” “Hinata.” Subaki interrupted him, placing a finger on his lips, “I’ll be fine. Even if I don’t come out of this next round successful, I’m just glad I was able to even have a chance at this. Just think, did you even believe that I would even be accepted into this gauntlet?” “Usually, I would say “not really”, but I’m really glad you did. You’re a lot stronger than people think you are, Subaki.” The pegasus knight smiled, “Thank you,” He grabbed the samurai’s face, “Try to stay like that during my next round. Rather than worrying sick about me, wish me the best of luck, okay?” Hinata sighed before he answered with a smile, “Alright.” “That’s better,” He gave the samurai a quick peck on the lips, something that made the other's face flare up. “I-I-If you’re gonna do that, at least let me know ahead of time!” Subaki chuckled at his demeanor, “Sorry, it’ll just ruin the fun.” “Yeah, you’re definitely doing fine,” Hinata stood up from the bed, “Well, guess I’ll see you when you’re up.” Subaki gave him a wink, “Count on it.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Even though he was in a rush, Hinata tried not to let that distract him from his training. He wanted to get a little bit of practice in before Subaki’s second round started, but the training partner he chose, Fir, turned out to be a bit more challenging than he had hoped, and he knew by the commotion he heard from outside the training room that he was going to be late. A part of him wanted to just throw in the towel and give her victory so he could hurry, but his pride said otherwise and pushed him to fight back harder to bring the match to an end.Eventually, he was able to knock the swordswoman down, and after giving the quickest thank you and goodbye, bolted out the room. He wanted to run as fast as possible, but instead kept a brisk walking pace. He’d be lying if he said that, even after their talk, he was worried for Subaki’s sake. During Minerva’s first match, he kept a watchful eye on her, discovering quickly that she was one intimidating force. It was the main reason why he went to seek out Subaki before the second round started. But he did give him his word that he would try to remain positive. So he let out a heavy sigh, calming his nerves as he kept his steady pace.As he walked, he watched as a small group of girls, the manaketes if he remembered, run by him, frantic and almost panicked. He stopped himself before he could start. "Keep calm. It’s probably nothing.” He tried desperately to keep calm, but as more and more people ran by him, each with the same frantic and worried look, and whispers of how the match was almost over, the barrier keeping his fears in check shattered. "OK, I’m NOT CALM ANYMORE!” He went from walking to running as fast as his legs could take him in an instant. He made it to the arena grounds the battles were being held, finding a large crowd of heroes surrounding the battle, their gazes focused down helping him realize the two fighters were grounded, but blocking his vision of them. He weaved his way through the crowd, finding whatever open spots he could to avoid having to push anyone, but stopped when he saw everyone look up. He gazed up as well, seeing Minerva a few feet off the ground, slightly wounded and small chips in her armor, let out a loud battle cry as she flew back to the ground, her ax raised high above her head, disappearing back into the crowd. The sound of the ax hitting something and a distinct cry of pain came before the crowd let out a collective gasp. He used this opportunity to finally make it through the crowd to the front, joining Sakura and Hana, as he saw what caused the collective shock.Subaki laid face down on the ground, his body bruised and battered and his long red hair, freed from its ponytail, pooled around his head, his pegasus collapsed in front of him and his spear embedded into the ground a few feet away from him. His body twitched as he tried to get up, only barely getting an inch off the ground before he slumped back down.“That’s the end of the round,” Alfonse said, breaking the silence, “Victory goes to Minerva!”Loud cheers erupted from the silent crowd, but Hinata completely blocked them off as his eyes locked onto Subaki’s unmoving form.“SUBAKI!”Hinata ran up to the fallen pegasus knight, Sakura and Hana right behind him, the sound of their footsteps made Subaki turn his head, brown eyes uncovered by his red hair.“Subaki!” Sakura fell to her knees in front of him.“Heh heh… Sorry you had to see me like this…”Hinata grabbed Subaki’s right arm, wrapping it on his shoulder. His free hand went to hold Subaki’s side, but upon seeing the man flinch and groan in pain, he drew his back, shocked to find it stained in blood. Upon seeing this, he looked and found a large gash on Subaki’s left side, the wound seeming to be deep and already staining his torn clothes red.“Oh my…” Alfonse walked up to Subaki’s other side, grabbing his other arm and putting it over his shoulder before looking to Hinata, “Let’s get him to the infirmary right away.”The two swordsman carried the pegasus knight away, Sakura and Hana following behind, leaving the worried crowd and a particularly conflicted wyvern rider behind. The young princess and the two retainers waited outside the door to the infirmary, anxieties racing through them as they waited to hear the extent of his injuries.“I don’t get it.”Sakura suddenly looked up at hearing the samurai, “What do you mean?”“How did he get this bad? No one who lost in the last few rounds; hell, even in the last gauntlet no one got this injured. How did this happen?”“Pride, if that’s my guess,” Hana said, catching his attention, “Not long after the match started, everyone knew Subaki was at a disadvantage. Even he knew it. But he still kept fighting. Even though everything was stacked against him, he would rather go down giving it his all than just throw in the towel,” Her eyes closed as her arms crossed, deep in thought, “I think I’ve been underestimating that guy…”The sound of the door opening caught their attention. Alfonse exited the infirmary, closing the door behind him.“Alfonse, h-how is he?”“No need to worry, Sakura, he’ll be fine,” The three let out a sigh of relief, “His injuries aren’t too severe, but he’ll have to stay off his feet for a few days. But I promise you he’s alright.”“Oh, thank goodness,” Sakura quietly thanked the Gods.“We best let the others know the news as well. I can imagine there are quite a lot of others that are worried about him.”The princes and her retainer followed alongside the Askr prince. But Hinata wasn’t so keen on leaving just yet. Once the others were out of sight, he reached over and opened the door, peering his head in. Subaki laid on the infirmary bed, still in his torn clothes that revealed the many gauze on his wounds, his eyes clothes with a content look on his face. Hinata thought for a moment that he was sleeping, but the pegasus knight seemed to take notice of him, looking towards him and beckoning him inside.“Hey,” He said lightly, closing the door and walking towards him.“This is the second time you’ve come to visit me in secret. I truly am the lucky one.”“I’m a little surprised that you can still play around like this.” Subaki gave a light chuckle as he tried to sit up, the injury in his side only allowing him to slightly hold himself up by leaning on his elbows, “You really shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this.”“I’ll survive,” He managed to get himself to sit up, wrapping his arms around Hinata when he sat down, “Hmm… You look so down. I haven’t upset you, have I?”“No. I’m not mad at you. I just hate that you make me worry.” Subaki gave him a confused look as he continued, “First I hear you got ambushed by a bunch of archers and now I see you lying face down on the ground. And both times I almost completely lost it. I just… I don’t like to see you get hurt, let alone think about it,” He looked straight into the other man's eyes, “I know you told me not to worry about you, but, truth is, I can’t. I’m always going to worry about you, right down to my last breath, so you may as well get used to it.” He waited to see how the other would react, only to be surprised when he let out a light laugh, “Huh? Why are you laughing?”“Because you’re adorable,” Hinata let out a frustrated groan, glaring at him with a bright red face as he continued, “I don’t mind you worrying about me, so long as you don’t drive yourself insane.”“I’ll try not to, so long as you try not to get yourself killed all the time.”“It’s a deal.”A sudden knock came along with a tough female voice, “Subaki. May I speak with you?”“Sure. Come in, Minerva,” The pegasus knight answered without hesitation, prompting a harsh glare from the samurai, who managed to pry Subaki’s hands off him before Minerva entered.The scarlet clad wyvern rider noticed the samurai’s presence, “I’m not intruding, am I?”“No, it’s fine,” The pegasus knight continued to speak like it was nothing.“I see. But I’ll make this quick. First, allow me to apologize. I hadn’t intend to injure you this badly. But when I saw that you needed to be held up by two others, I knew that I had taken it one step too far.”“It’s alright. I knew you meant no ill will.”“Thank you. Second, I must commend you for giving a good fight. I haven’t seen anyone fight back so hard in a situation that yielded no victory. You truly are a worthy fighter.”“I appreciate it.”“Glad to know that’s settled. I must be off. The final round will be starting soon,” She turned around to leave.“Good luck against Camilla!” Hinata shouted as she left. With the wyvern rider gone, he let out a heavy sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. He then let out a surprised shriek as he felt Subaki’s arms wrap around him, pulling him back to lean against the other man’s chest. “You really don’t seem to care who see’s us, don’t you?”“Not in the slightest. Still… thank you for looking after me.”One smooth hand reached up, turning the samurai’s face to look at him. Hinata waited to see what would happen, but he was only met with a gentle stare, “Um, aren’t you going to kiss me? This kinda feels like a time you’d do that.”“Well, I normally would, but you were the one who said that I should make sure you’re ready for me to kiss you. So, tell me, are you?”Hinata averted his eyes, keeping his face in the others light grip, “I-It’s fine, I guess. I’d rather you do that than n-”He wasted no time as he gave the samurai a quick peck, pulling back and giving an unashamed smile, “I really am a lucky one.”Hinata looked away again, but didn’t make an effort to pull away from him, “Oh, shut it.”
10544724
4AM
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Byun Baekhyun, Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Lu Han, Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao, Kim Jongdae | Chen", "Fandom": "EXO (Band)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by yibaek (marknominism)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-04T00:00:00", "words": "9,414", "Additional Tags": "nonlinear, Love, Romance, Pining, Kissing, Clubbing, Dancing, drag queens are present, Drinking, Alcohol, Aspiring Novelist!Yixing, Editor!Baekhyun, mild frottage, seeming infidelity but i swear it isn’t, Drunken Kissing", "Relationship": "Byun Baekhyun/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
May 5th, 2017, 9:00PM message from baekhyun: yixing!!!!!! you better be there at 11:45 on the dot! message from baekhyun: no, even better: you better have a drink in your hand at 11:45 on the dot!!! message from yixing: Of course. God forbid I be late to “Club Glitter.” lol message from baekhyun: god forbid you be late to my birthday :((( --- May 5th, 2017, 11:45PM The thrum of indecipherable music and ribcage-rattling bass is not the most foreign feeling to Yixing. The vibrations crawl across his skin and he squints until his eyes adjust to the neon pink and purple disco lights bouncing from every possible surface in this place.It’s not foreign, but it is. Yixing hasn't been to a dance club since his 21st birthday, probably. He’s 25 now, and thinks that the fact he thinks the music is too loud means he’s already getting too old, somehow.But even this, this place is like nowhere he’s ever been. It really is called Club Glitter, and the amount of disco balls suspended from the high ceiling genuinely seems to make the place glitter. Oddly appropriate.He orders a beer from the menu he can’t understand at the bar, not necessarily because the drink names are all written in English, but because there are no English drink names he recognizes. Pink Lady? James Queen?The bartender, who looks nothing short of a male model, hands Yixing his beer with a sympathetic smile as Yixing politely turns down the man to his left who has been trying to subtly hit on him the entire two minutes he’s been standing here.Turning to his right, Yixing runs directly into a group of three drag queens. He immediately bows and apologizes, but a voice cuts him off. “Aranetta,” says the one Yixing had actually bumped into, holding out a hand.Yixing smiles and shakes it. “Yixing,” he offers.“Yixing,” Aranetta tries with a smile. “Yixing, certainly you’re not here all alone?”“Mm, no, not really. I’m waiting for someone. It’s his birthday at midnight sharp.” Yixing chuckles, tugging on his ear sheepishly. “Look at that sparkle in his eye! Do y’all see that? He’s-”The force of a body crashing into his knocks Yixing completely off-balance, presses his back painfully into the counter, and Aranetta just barely saves his beer bottle from shattering on the floor as arms wrap securely around Yixing’s neck.Despite the shock, and perhaps mild annoyance, Yixing’s own arms slip around the small waist pressed against him to hug them tight and he can’t stop the way his face immediately buries itself in the crook of his attacker’s neck to breathe him in until he chokes on the undeniable smell of home, even if it is masked in a pleasant cologne, even if it is a feeling he keeps to himself for fear of freaking Baekhyun the hell out.But they haven’t seen each other in over a week, and that’s just too long by Yixing’s standards.“Hi,” is breathed into his ear, and he tries not to outwardly shudder. “You’re here.”They slowly let go of each other--Yixing doesn’t dare call it hesitance--and simultaneously grin. “Drink in my hand at 11:45 on the dot.” He taps Baekhyun’s nose. “You’re the one who’s late.”The lights aren’t painful enough to hide Baekhyun’s blush and sheepish grin.He’s so effortlessly beautiful, though Yixing supposes Baekhyun would never call it effortless, but that’s exactly what it is. His beauty doesn’t lie in the kohl lining his eyes or the soft blue button-down pulled taut across his surprisingly broad chest and shoulders, it’s in the pink of his naturally pouty lips, his blinding smile, the way he does his absolute best to make everyone around him happy. To make Yixing happy.“You don’t have a drink in your hand,” Baekhyun points out, a mischievous glint in his eye.“He did, Byun Baekhyunnie,” Aranetta’s voice rings out from next to them and they both startle. That happens sometimes; Yixing forgets other people exist when Baekhyun is around, shining so brightly and stealing all of his attention. “I saved us all from a mess when you tackled this poor boy here.”Aranetta hands Yixing his beer bottle, who accepts it graciously. “You two know each other?” he asks.“Of course!” the two in question answer simultaneously, then burst out laughing. Aranetta continues, “Baekhyunnie is the prettiest, sweetest boy who comes through here; we all love him at Club Glitter.”Baekhyun beams over the praise and proceeds to hug each of the drag queens standing there, seemingly greeting them all by name, though Yixing still doesn’t catch the two that he never exchanged greetings with.Yixing didn't even know a place like this existed around here, but leave it to Baekhyun to find it. A place for the publicly unaccepted to escape for a night, to be whoever they want to be, with whoever they want. A burst of affection rattles his chest more than the bass of the music does and he pets a hand down Baekhyun’s hair once they’re facing each other again, smiles at him. The other man preens, cheeks glowing under the pink, glittery lights.A hand slips between Yixing’s back and the bar and pushes, tumbling him right into Baekhyun, who startles but catches him, arms slipping around Yixing’s waist and squeezing to help him balance.And then they’re hugging again. “Missed you, Baekhyunnie,” Yixing murmurs in his ear, hopefully loud enough. But Baekhyun nuzzles into his neck and squeezes him impossibly tighter, so he thinks he was heard just fine. He chances a glance to the side and Aranetta gives him a thumbs up, winking. So there the culprit lies, then. Yixing chuckles and rolls his eyes good-naturedly, offering a subtle nod before Baekhyun separates their bodies and connects their hands instead.“Come on!” he says, grin so bright.A smile like that would make Yixing walk to the ends of the Earth.--- May 7th, 2016, 10:30AM Yixing picks a soft, pink flower petal from his hair and sighs, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs beneath the table before him. Peering out of the open window next to him, he allows himself a small smile, his brain a small break. It’s a beautiful day outside, and Summer is approaching, so the trees are losing a little color and the nearby seabreeze sheds their flowers and leaves. And it’s those that billow their way into Yixing’s favorite cafe, into his hair, onto his laptop.Yixing really does love this place, especially in Autumn and Spring, when the air is just the right temperature and the cafe opens up all of it’s windows to encourage customers to enjoy some fresh air. It’s near the beach but tucked away just enough behind the trees and within a little village outside of the city to avoid perhaps unwanted noise and seaspray, and it’s perfect.He’s been here for three hours now, battling writer's’ block. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; the owner of the shop, Mr. Qi, knows him by name and knows to come pour him a cup of black coffee when he’s two seconds away from pulling his hair out. He stopped before he reached that point this time; that’s why he breathes in the air now, nibbles on the chocolate chip muffin he purchased an hour ago and ignored in favor of staring at his laptop screen blankly.Why did he aspire to be a writer again?His first novel is a pain in his ass, to say the least, but it’s worse because he’s doing it completely alone. His initial proposal was turned down so many times by various publishing houses that Yixing had given up and decided to self-publish. But no legitimate deadlines, no editor… it’s not ideal to say the least.The bell on the door chimes and a body stumbles into the shop. Yixing blinks sluggishly in its direction; anything is more interesting than the blank Chapter Ten document.“The biggest coffee you have please,” the man murmurs, voice raspy, accent clear, though his mandarin is impressive. He’s wearing a gray hoodie, hood pulled snug over his head and sunglasses too big for his face. So, hungover then. “A vanilla latte or something. With like, twenty extra pumps of vanilla.”Mr. Qi quirks an amused brow. “I can do five.”“Five it is, then.”Yixing snorts to himself and tunes back in to the white screen in front of him because the show is over now.Or so he thought.He blanches when a dead weight plops into the chair across from him a few moments later, groaning and breathing in his coffee as if he can literally just inhale it. Yixing frowns. They're the only two customers in the cafe; this guy couldn't sit at one of the empty tables?But then the man startles, flails really, and curses. “Fuck, how did I not see you there?”“Good question.”Silence.Yixing gives him his most incredulous stare. He can get up any time now.The man seemingly tries to hide behind his coffee cup. “I’m really hungover.”“I can see that.”“It was my birthday yesterday.”“Happy belated.”Despite the feigned interest on Yixing’s part, the other man perks up a little and smiles crookedly. “I’m Byun Baekhyun.”“...uh. Zhang Yixing. Are you going to move tables or not?”Baekhyun whines. “I don't want to.”The pout of his pink lips is annoyingly cute, considering it’s the only thing Yixing can genuinely see other than a mess of blonde hair falling over his forehead, but he doesn't let it deter him. “This is my table.”“But this is my table!”Yixing watches the stranger wince and clutch his head and he sighs. “I’m working.”“Ooh really? Whatcha working on?”“That’s none of your business.”Baekhyun is pouting again. “Can I please sit here a little longer? If I walk anymore I might collapse.”Yixing sighs.When he doesn't offer a definitive answer, Baekhyun smiles triumphantly to himself, sipping generously from his cup and promptly burning his tongue. His forehead hits the table with a dramatic thump and he whines.Yixing pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you need some aspirin or something?”“Do you have any?” Baekhyun asks the table.“No.”“Yah, get my hopes up, why don’t you?”“Sorry.”“You don’t sound very sorry.”Yixing isn’t. “You’re disrupting my work.”“I’ll move eventually.”“Oh, thanks.”Baekhyun giggles and lifts his head to take another sip of coffee. The red mark on his head would be comical if Yixing wasn’t so focused on figuring out a way to get rid of this guy, but Baekhyun seems incredibly content where he is, as he now smiles serenely out the window, scrunching his nose when a flower petal hits his cheek. He’s cute, Yixing guesses, though the sunglasses take up most of his face. “This place is nice,” Baekhyun murmurs. “My friends all had to leave and I’ve never been down here, so I asked a local where the best coffee was. Didn’t think I’d find it.”“If I go buy you a bottle of aspirin, will you move tables?”Baekhyun sniffles and removes his glasses finally, revealing surprisingly pretty brown eyes. They're red from strain and kohl a bit smudged beneath them, but pretty nonetheless. The mischievous glint in Baekhyun’s eyes when he narrows them is certainly disconcerting, but Yixing forgets all about it when the other man says, “Sure,” because here is Yixing’s out. The locally owned drugstore is a minute down the path, and it would do him well to really stretch his legs; a few minutes and some change later and he would be able to work on chapter ten in peace again. But then, “I’m coming with,” Baekhyun announces.Yixing barely contains his groan, plopping back into his seat. “I thought you were too hungover to move to another table, let alone to walk down the path.”Baekhyun’s bottom lip protrudes in a dramatic pout. “But I need to know where the drugstore is. I’ll be here for a couple more days.”“It’s a minute’s walk down the east path. I’ll be right back.” Determinedly, Yixing stands, calling out to the shop owner, “Uncle Qi, I’ll be back in a few.”“Got it, Xing!” rings out from what Yixing knows is the stock room through the open door behind the counter. The staircase all the way to the right leads up to Mr. Qi’s studio apartment.“Wait-” Yixing hears Baekhyun stumble and groan and press heavy footsteps into the wooden floor as he apparently gets up to follow him. Yixing sighs. “I really do wanna come with,” Baekhyun pants from right behind him.Yixing turns to see him clutching his head and wincing. “I’m doing something nice for you. Just wait here.”“But if I- maybe if I brave the elements now, I’ll become invincible to hangovers. Or something.”“Did you turn 21 yesterday?” They’re out of the cafe doors now. Yixing is tired of putting up a fight.Baekhyun scoffs and falls into step beside him. “Twenty-four, thank you very much.” Yixing’s age. Huh. He seems so much younger. “Hey, what about your stuff?” Baekhyun asks. “Your laptop and everything… you just left it all out on the table.”“I’ve known Qi a long time. He won’t let anything happen to it.”“Very trustworthy of you.”“The people in this little village are good. If you’re staying here a few days just be nice to them and you’ll get along fine.”“Good tip, though strangely ominous.” Baekhyun trips over a stick and bumps into Yixing. The touch is warm. “Sorry. Anyway. If I accidentally step on someone’s foot, what, are they gonna come after me with pitchforks or something?”Yixing rolls his eyes. “I’m not coming after you with a pitchfork, am I?”“Hm, I suppose not. I’ve done nothing but annoy you yet you’re on your way to buy me medicine. What a sweetie.” Baekhyun’s cheeky grin shines bright in Yixing’s peripheral, especially when the other man latches onto Yixing’s arm as he says it, being purposely obnoxious. Yixing hides his grin by shaking him from his arm; Baekhyun laughs and asks, “So you’re a local, then?”“Not… really.”“Okay, not a local, just unreasonably vague. Got it.”Yixing actually chuckles. “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid, technically. My parents and I would spend a couple of weeks during the summer here every year and stay with Auntie Mei--a family friend--and her nephew. When it was time for university, I chose the one thirty minutes away, so I didn’t move here, exactly, but much closer.”“So you just spend a lot of time here now?”Yixing nods and greets Mrs. Li, the shop owner, as they walk into the drugstore. He walks straight for the small section of pain relievers and says, “Auntie Mei and Lu Han always welcome me with open arms and lend me their couch.” He grabs the smallest bottle of aspirin and moves past an entirely too attentive Baekhyun to the register. “So every now and then I come spend a few days out here when I need writing inspiration.” He adds bitterly, “Lately they’ve seen a lot more of me.”“Who is your friend here?” Mrs. Li asks sweetly at the counter.“Ah.” Yixing glances at his company, who is staring back a bit shocked, though Yixing doesn’t understand why. “This is Baekhyun.”Baekhyun starts, grinning and bowing. “Hello!”“What a cutie,” Mrs. Li coos. “Are you visiting?”“Oh, thank you,” Baekhyun giggles. “And yes ma’am. Yesterday was my birthday, and I heard this area was really nice, so, here I am!”“Oh! Happy belated birthday, Baekhyun! How exciting! I hope you enjoyed yourself!”“Well,” Yixing murmurs conspiratorially. “This medicine is for him, so…”Mrs. Li cackles while Baekhyun groans out, “Yixing-ssi!” When the laughter dies down, Mrs. Li beams at them. “Is that all today Xiaoxing?”Yixing groans good-naturedly. “Auntie Li, I’m 24 years old now!” He pulls his wallet from his pocket. “I’m not small anymore.”“Twenty-four,” she sighs wistfully. “I don’t believe it. You’re still six!” She bags the medicine and throws not one, as she usually does, but two chocolate bars in.He shakes his head and laughs, stepping away before she can offer him his change, which always covers the candy despite her efforts. “Bye Auntie Li!”When they step outside, Baekhyun grabs his arm, wide eyes full of wonder. “First of all,” he says. “That was really cute. Second, you’re a writer.” Yixing pretends he’s not blushing and starts walking again, albeit at a much slower pace than before. He also doesn’t shake Baekhyun away this time. “I did let that slip, didn’t I?” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t even know why I told you all of that.”“Because you’re a writer, and lonely, and probably deprived of genuine human contact.” Baekhyun’s long fingers slide more securely around Yixing’s arm, seeping warmth into his skin like that small moment from before. His grip is gentle, something Yixing could easily shake out of. But he doesn’t. It feels nice and maybe he is a bit deprived.He does mumble, however, “Not every writer is like that.”“The struggling ones are.”Flower petals shower them as they near the cafe and a glance at Baekhyun gives Yixing an eyeful of messy blonde hair falling over closed eyes and long lashes fanning across pink cheeks. He’s… pretty. Yixing clears his throat and looks away. “What makes you an expert, huh? And what happened to your hangover?”“You’re a good distraction,” Baekhyun murmurs. “And so is this place. I’ve always been a city boy, myself, but this is nice.”“A city boy, huh?” Yixing chuckles and nods at Mr. Qi as they walk into the coffeeshop, ignoring the curious expression on the man’s face in favor of pulling from Baekhyun’s grip and sitting back in front of his laptop. He sets the bag from the store on the table and reaches in for the medicine and chocolate when Baekhyun sits down right back where he was before they left, biting his lip. Yixing pauses. “I thought you were going to move to a new table if I got the aspirin for you.”“I- yeah but-” Baekhyun nervously sips his coffee, turns his nose up at it right after; it’s probably not hot anymore. There’s also a couple of flowers floating in it. “Ah, come on. Tell me what your story is about and I’ll move, I promise.” Yixing sighs. “Baekhyun-”“Please, I’m dying here,” Baekhyun pleads. “Look I’m supposed to be on vacation, but honestly, I work at a publishing house in the city that is set on contracting the worst writers. I’m bored as hell. I need something interesting to get me by and you seem interesting. Please.” Yixing is a bit taken aback, and feeling a little deflated. “What company do you work for?”“Judging by the look on your face…” Baekhyun sighs. “Probably one that turned you down. That just makes me want to hear your outline even more, Yixing-ssi.”“What if I’m not interesting? What if my writing is terrible?”“Then…” Baekhyun laughs, hands gesturing wildly in front of him. “Then at least you’re pretty?”A snort escapes Yixing despite himself. “Thanks, I think.”“Please, Yixing.”Yixing’s head rolls back, exasperated. On one hand, this is a complete stranger who could be lying and just- steal his idea or something. On the other hand, however, they do seem to get along pretty well and it would probably do Yixing some good to hear some kind of feedback. Maybe it really is terrible and he shouldn’t be wasting his energy stressing over chapter ten.Biting his lip, he stalls by rummaging through the drugstore bag again. “Will you be completely honest about your opinion?” “Yes.” Baekhyun’s practically trembling with excitement in his seat.Yixing sighs, pulling out the aspirin and the extra chocolate bar. He delicately sets it in front of Baekhyun and breathes, “Okay.”Baekhyun’s brown eyes widen. “Okay?!”“Yeah.” Yixing smiles. “Okay.”--- May 5th, 2017, 11:51PM Yixing ponders how things can change so drastically in just a year as Baekhyun somehow masters the art of maneuvering through drunk and dancing bodies with his lips pressed hotly to Yixing’s ear, hanging from him and giving a rundown of who Yixing’s about to meet. “ Kyungsoo can be grumpy but he’s really nice and Jongdae is loud but you’re used to me, right? Oh, and Tao is kinda… prissy, but if you can see past all the money and flaunting he’s really cute and funny. And you’ve met Yifan-” Yixing reaches over and rests his palm on Baekhyun’s forehead, who freezes and blinks up at him with sparkling eyes. Yixing grins. “How many drinks have you had?”“None!” Baekhyun giggles and wraps his arms around Yixing’s waist. “I’m just excited! All my favorite people together on my birthday. What a dream.”Baekhyun’s happy sigh gets lost in the wind of a Lady Gaga song and Yixing has to resist the urge to lean over and kiss him, despite the way it looks like Baekhyun may just want him to, because Yixing can't take what’s not his and they've finally arrived at the booth full of Baekhyun’s friends. His cheeks look flushed under the pink lights as Yixing’s gaze lingers a moment too long before he smiles at these strangers and Wu Yifan and stands there while Baekhyun introduces him and them; a whirlwind of events that lead to Yixing smushed between Baekhyun and Tao while Baekhyun’s fingers immediately sink into the hole on the knee of Yixing’s jeans, lingering, caressing, fiddling. It’s a little maddening but nothing new where Baekhyun is concerned.--- May 8th, 2016, 11:03AM “What are you doing?”Baekhyun blinks, finger freezing where it had been drawing a circle on Yixing’s knee. “Touching you.”“...Why?”“You’re deprived! Remember?”“I’m not deprived.” Maybe a little. “You decided that yesterday, not me!”But there’s no stopping Baekhyun as he leans into Yixing and stares upward, blowing messy hair from his eyes and continuing his blind doodle on Yixing’s skin. The sky above them is cloudless, the sand around them empty, the ocean in front of them gentle. There’s not another soul on this beach, but they're not even here to swim; Yixing is here for inspiration, and Baekhyun is stuck to him like glue.Yesterday had gone well for them, almost too well. They sat in the cafe until the moon was up and Mr. Qi had to close, with rarely a lull in the conversation. They talked endlessly about Yixing’s novel; Baekhyun is so excited about it, loves the idea, seemingly loves Yixing’s writing. He had sat next to Yixing and read his outline, and then the first two chapters, buzzing over the sci-fi and the openly bisexual lead and Yixing’s descriptive skills.They helped Mr. Qi close all of his windows, then packed up Yixing’s things and walked down to the food truck at the beach for dinner, bumping shoulders and further developing Yixing’s universe over burgers. Can I see you again tomorrow? Baekhyun had asked so quietly, as if he couldn't bear the thought of being alone but also couldn't bear the thought of Yixing rejecting him, so Yixing had agreed. The beach. Baekhyun loves the beach and Yixing’s never minded it. So now they sit in the sand, plastered together under the sun, Baekhyun’s head nestling on Yixing’s shoulder as Yixing settles in to write in his notebook. Writing things out by hand is therapeutic for him sometimes. Maybe if he tries to outline chapter ten in more detail he’ll get past this obstacle.“I think you’re focusing too much on writing this chapter in order,” Baekhyun murmurs, picking at the hem of Yixing’s shorts. Yixing hums noncommittally. “Figure out what scene you keep coming back to and write it first, then build around it.”Yixing gently nudges Baekhyun with his elbow. “I know that,” he scoffs, a hair playful.Baekhyun merely laughs and takes the opportunity to loop his arm around Yixing’s. “You might know that, but you don't execute it, Yixing. You’re a perfectionist.”“If I write all the interesting stuff first, I won't be motivated enough to fill in the blanks.” Yixing chews on his bottom lip and tries to focus on his notebook instead of how intertwined he and Baekhyun are, how it would look to anyone who happens upon them, and why Yixing is so comfortable with it.“That’s where I help!”Yixing quirks a brow and glances at his octopus. “You think I can get this finished before your vacation ends?”“You don't have to,” Baekhyun giggles. It’s so ridiculously cute and Yixing forces himself to focus on the sand between his toes instead. “I live in the city, remember? So do you. I bet we don't even live that far apart!”For some reason, Yixing is taken aback. “You want to keep working with me?”Baekhyun snorts. “Of course I do.”“I-I can’t pay you, Baekhyun-”“I don't care about that. I make plenty of money at my boring ass job.”“But-”“Yixing, if it really bugs you, we can work out some kind of payment arrangement when you’re published, but please, I really want to help you!”When Yixing turns his head to fully look at Baekhyun, Baekhyun does the same, and they're too close for comfort but there are faint freckles sprinkling Baekhyun’s nose that Yixing may need to count. “Why?” is all he manages to ask.“Because your work matters,” Baekhyun answers. “Because I don't want to just sit around while all of these aesthetic publishing houses stick with the safe and boring ideas.”“You don't even know me…”Baekhyun scoffs. “We spent the entire day together yesterday. I know that you like one sugar in your black coffee and that you don't eat or sleep as much as you should, that your Auntie Mei and Lu Han are like your second family. You don't like tomatoes or mayonnaise and you think ramune is too sweet, but you secretly love those chocolate bars Mrs. Li always gives you.” Yixing’s mouth quirks and Baekhyun’s eyes fall to it. “You’re also, just like your lead character, bisexual,” he mutters.A chill somehow slithers down Yixing’s spine despite the sweat forming on his neck from the scalding sun. Baekhyun’s cheeks already look sunburnt, or maybe he’s blushing, Yixing can't tell. All he knows is that Baekhyun looks so, so kissable and Yixing hasn't wanted to kiss anyone in so long, hasn't had genuine interest in another human being in so long. “You learned all of that yesterday?”Baekhyun nods slowly, eyes flicking all over Yixing’s face, but always lingering on his lips. “Learned a lot more than that, but that’s all that fit into my monologue.”Yixing finally staring unabashedly at Baekhyun’s soft lips is what seems to break the reverie somehow. One second they're centimeters away from kissing, kissing, and the next, Baekhyun is blinking rapidly and turning away and snatching Yixing’s pen from his hand and scribbling something down in the margin. His phone number.“Let me help,” he quietly pleads. Yixing quietly agrees.Chapter ten flows easier after that, and opens with a dream about soft pink lips and faint freckles under the sun that can't be counted, because the boy won't let him.--- May 6th, 2017, 12:00AM “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Yixing’s ears are already ringing from the loud music and he’s positive his eardrums are going to explode by the time everyone is done shouting at Baekhyun; his friends at the table, and several patrons of the club who stopped by just in time, anticipating midnight just like the rest of them.But Baekhyun’s smile is so wide and his cheeks so pink as he leans into Yixing as if suddenly bashful, that Yixing doesn't really care about hearing loss at all. His hand finds it’s home cupping the inside of Baekhyun’s thigh and he leans over Tao to tell their server that Baekhyun is on Zhang Yixing’s tab starting now.Tao whistles and smirks at him. “That tiny body can really hold its liquor, you know.”Yixing laughs. “He just thinks he can hold his liquor and doesn't know when to stop.”“Touché.”“Just one of my birthday presents to him, is all.”Tao’s smirk only grows and his gaze flickers to Yixing’s hand on Baekhyun’s thigh. “Just one of his presents, huh?”Before Yixing can respond, Baekhyun is completely pressed against his other side, gripping his arm between them and seeking Yixing’s ear. “What are you two talking about?”His breath is hot and shuddery and Yixing’s hand squeezes tighter in response before he breaks from Tao’s knowing gaze to lean into Baekhyun’s ear. “You.”“Anything I should know?”They're pressed so close Yixing feels Baekhyun’s cheeks raise with a smile against his own. “Just that you’re insufferable.” That earns him an elbow to the ribs. “And that the drinks tonight are half off so you’re on my tab.”Yixing feels Baekhyun’s gasp more than hears it. “You don't have to do that!” But Baekhyun’s long fingers are wrapping more securely around Yixing’s arms and squeezing, a silent thank you. Their own language they seem to have developed.They separate just enough to see each other’s faces and Yixing mouths, “Happy birthday.” Baekhyun practically glows.And it’s one of those moments, Yixing realizes, where they've been so wrapped up in each other for way too long, that by the time they glance around everyone will be staring at them in question and it will become awkward. But Yixing chances a glance only to find Jongdae and Yifan playfully bickering amongst themselves, and Tao yelling across the table at them. Okay, this is good. But by the time Baekhyun’s shining, pretty eyes are back in his peripheral, Yixing’s gaze lands on one Do Kyungsoo, who is watching them, glaring at them, at Yixing. He’s seated on the other side of Baekhyun and has been overall quieter than Yixing, which Yixing wasn't sure was possible, and a quick glance down reveals that Kyungsoo actually has a hand on Baekhyun’s other thigh, squeezing his knee. They must look silly, both claiming him like this, but Baekhyun doesn't even seem to notice. He’s still watching Yixing so happily, glowing; their new round of drinks is placed in front of them and Baekhyun says, “Dance with me.”A simple request, so Yixing nods. He hasn't danced in so long. They down their drinks way too quickly and Baekhyun slides his hand down to lace their fingers as Tao scoots from the booth for them then claims, “I’m coming with.” He bounces his perfectly arched eyebrows at Baekhyun, who possibly looks a little disappointed, but Yixing can't afford to read into it. Instead, he tugs Baekhyun by the hand onto the dancefloor, and they dance.--- May 6th, 2017, 12:32AM Tao left them three songs ago, bored with sandwiching Baekhyun between them, and they spent the next song taking advantage of the dance floor waiter, sharing drinks so Yixing could figure out what he likes here.Now Yixing stares, admires, floored over Baekhyun’s head thrown back ever so slightly, lips parted, eyes shut. Sweat drips down his temples and his arms stay carelessly tossed around Yixing’s neck. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him, and Baekhyun chooses this moment, when Yixing’s thoughts are too dangerous, to pick his head up and press their foreheads together.Baekhyun says something, because Yixing feels his lips move against his own, but it’s drowned in the pulse of the bass Yixing can feel beneath his skin, and he closes his eyes to the blinding neon lights as his hands pull Baekhyun closer, but it’s Baekhyun who initiates the kiss, pressing every inch of their bodies together as if trying to meld them into one.--- October 28th, 2016, 1:01AM “I can't do this,” Baekhyun whispers.He’s near tears, and Yixing is dumbfounded, lips tingling from the kiss they shared not ten seconds ago on the floor of Baekhyun’s living room, enveloped in darkness but for the TV in front of them.They’ve been doing this every week for the past two months, working their asses off to edit Yixing’s novel two nights a week, and the third night, they work for a couple of hours and then settle in for a movie and dinner and snacks. It had been Baekhyun’s idea, something to help Yixing relax and change up his routine. Most of the work is done at Yixing’s apartment, but this third night always happens at Baekhyun’s. You need a change of scenery. Eat some junk food. Watch movies. Cuddle me. That’s exactly what they had been doing and Yixing realizes with horrifying clarity that he can taste Baekhyun’s strawberry milkshake on his tongue even though all he’s had is his own chocolate drink. Because Baekhyun had kissed him back, long and slow and desperate. But Baekhyun can’t do this. Why can't he do this?“Baek…”Of everything in his life that Yixing did not want to screw up, his friendship with Baekhyun was at the top of the list, ahead of his shitty office job, ahead of his novel, ahead of everything. Baekhyun is his favorite person, his rock, and despite falling hard and fast for him, he never intended to act on his feelings. He doesn't want a wall between them. He wants to keep who is potentially the best friend he’s ever had.But Baekhyun had somehow gotten ice cream on the corner of his mouth, and Yixing had laughed and used his thumb to wipe it away and without thinking, licked his thumb clean. The shift in the air between them was palpable. Baekhyun couldn't take his eyes off of Yixing’s mouth, only glanced up when Yixing cupped his face. He doesn’t know how long they stared at each other before Baekhyun rested his hand on top of Yixing’s and Yixing swooped in.“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun murmurs, voice unstable. “I’m so sorry. I-I can’t-”Yixing swallows. “Why?” They're practically perfect together.“Because I’m- Because I’m seeing someone.”Yixing’s hand falls to his lap and Baekhyun touches his own lips, a tear tracking down his cheek. Of course Baekhyun is seeing someone, Baekhyun is always seeing someone. Someones who never care enough about him, who constantly blow him off, treat him like shit, leave him alone on his birthday vacation to find company in lonely strangers.“You- You’re amazing,” Baekhyun whispers. “You’re one of my best friends but I just- I can’t, Yixing. I’m sorry.”“I should be the one apologizing.” Yixing tries to swallow around his dry throat.“No- Yixing, I kissed-”“I’m going to go, okay? I’m tired.”Yixing stands, grabbing his keys and wallet from the coffee table. He brushes his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair once in an attempt to appear unbothered. “Yixing-”“See you later, Baekhyunnie.”--- May 6th, 2017, 12:42AM The water in the bathroom is cold, especially when Yixing splashes it on his overheated face. The room is spinning, because Yixing is tipsy and dehydrated and he tends to get nauseous when he has utterly no idea what’s happening or what to do. The fluorescent lights are way too bright and Yixing needs a moment to think. He can't go through another kiss incident with Baekhyun; he can't take adding another memory like this to his repertoire when it means nothing to Baekhyun.He’s five seconds from hyperventilating when Baekhyun slips under his arm and kisses his way up Yixing’s neck, nibbles at his jaw. Baekhyun is pressed up against the sink, trapped by his own maneuvering inside the walls of Yixing’s arms, and Yixing can’t help the way his head falls to the side to accommodate the lips on his skin. “We sh-should talk,” he mutters half-heartedly. He’s too deep in Baekhyun to fight properly. He’s weak. Baekhyun has always made him so weak.Their lips crash together more fervently than before, and Yixing has a hard time not noticing the stark contrast in how Baekhyun tastes. The strawberry was good, it was right, this, the sweat and alcohol- it’s not them; neither of them are in the right state of mind for this-Baekhyun tosses his head back and moans, because Yixing pressing closer to suck at the juncture of his neck rubs their crotches together and they're both half-hard.Somehow, it’s that realization that makes Yixing step away. Except his move is taken as an invitation for control, and he’s pushed back against a panel between bathroom stalls, overtaken once again by Baekhyun’s mouth.Yixing gets a hand between them, palm flat on Baekhyun’s chest to gently shove him away. “We have to stop.”“I don’t- don’t wanna stop this time-”“Baekhyun.” Yixing presses his hand against his stomach. He’s going to be sick. “You’re seeing someone. Fuck, you have a boyfriend. Again.”“No Yixing, I lo-”The door swings open, startling them both out of their skin. Baekhyun stumbles back against the sinks as music and chatter flood the room, completely shattering whatever reality they were settled in. Bile rises in Yixing’s throat because one good look at Baekhyun makes it clear how drunk he is. None of this is right- “Guys?” Yifan steps between them, clearly unsure which one of them to console. Kyungsoo hangs back by the door, dark and sour. “Are you okay?”Yifan steps toward Baekhyun, but Kyungsoo swoops in as soon as he does, gently getting an arm around him and leading him out of the bathroom. “Let’s get you something to eat. You’ll feel better.” He shoots a glare in Yixing’s direction before they’re gone. Yixing sinks to the floor, head between his knees.“What happened?” Yifan asks, kneeling in front of him.“We kissed.” “Again?” Yixing shrugs.“It took you forever to get over it last time.”Yixing picks his head up and knocks it against the panel behind him. “What makes you think I ever got over it?”“Oh.”“Yeah.”“He’s with Minseok.”“Minseok should be here then!” Yixing snaps, then deflates. “Sorry.”Yifan lowers himself to the floor and combs his fingers through his hair. “I think he does it on purpose.”Yixing sighs. “What?”“I think he picks guys that he knows won't commit to him. Guys that he can kiss and fuck-” Yixing flinches. “-and call his boyfriend but it’s always someone who just uses him.”The bile is back. And the feeling of Baekhyun’s mouth on his neck. “How classy.”“Stop,” Yifan sighs. “Don’t be an ass. You love h-”“Don’t I have a right to be an ass about this? He keeps stringing me along when he always has another boyfriend; I’m the other man.” Yifan shakes his head. “I think his boyfriends are the other men. He cares about you so m-”“I need a drink.”--- May 6th, 2017, 1:28AM Yixing took the long way to the bar, just to kill time, and happily fended off suitor after suitor, too, because it killed more time. But he can only hang out at the bar without the intention of picking someone up for so long before he starts to look ridiculous, so with a couple of drinks in hand--turns out he likes the James Queen one--he stumbles back to Baekhyun’s booth.Jongdae and Tao greet him with cheers, Yifan with a nervous smile, and Yixing only chances a glance at Baekhyun when Tao gets up to let Yixing back in, because Kyungsoo is sitting where Baekhyun was, and Baekhyun is staring at Kyungsoo with wide eyes, expectant, but Kyungsoo doesn't budge. He quirks a challenging brow until Yixing has no other choice but to scoot into the booth next to him. Tao nudges Yixing’s arm questioningly. Yixing shrugs.“Yah, Yixing!” Jongdae shouts across the table joyfully. Looking at him puts Baekhyun in his line of sight. “I see you were tonight’s victim of Baekhyun-ah’s dancing!”Baekhyun stares holes into his plate of food. Yifan downs the rest of his beer and orders another. Kyungsoo smirks. Yixing doesn't get it. “Ah, but he’s not a bad dancer.”Jongdae cackles. “No, no. I mean the kissing! Baekhyun-ah loves kissing whoever he’s dancing with at places like this. He just gets so into it!”Yixing’s stomach drops and he locks gazes with Baekhyun, who’s subtly shaking his head, watery eyes pleading.“Yah,” Kyungsoo butts in, smirk even wider. “Didn’t you and Baekhyunnie make out at his birthday the year before last?” he asks Jongdae. “Yes!” Jongdae’s laugh somehow echoes around their booth, despite the level of noise in the club. He throws an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders. “Such a good kisser, this one! Cured my sadness from my break up at the time, I swear!”Yixing tears his eyes away from Baekhyun and downs one of his drinks as quickly as he can.--- November 6th, 2016, 5:30PM “When are you gonna get over this guy, huh?” Lu Han nudges Yixing from where he’s lying next to him on Lu Han’s bed. Yixing’s lost track of how long he’s laid there, notebook and pen on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. “Honestly, Xing, you've been hiding out here for the past week. Get a fucking grip.”“Gee, thanks for the support,” Yixing mumbles.Lu Han groans. “This is me supporting you, dumbass. You’re better than this… moping you’ve been doing. So what, you kissed him? He’s called you like thirty times, so clearly he’s not mad or anything.”“I’m not worried that he’s mad-” “You’re worried you've ruined everything. Yeah, yeah, I know.”“You make me sound so dramatic.” Yixing tosses his notebook and pen on the floor and rolls onto his stomach, resting his forehead on his crossed arms. Lu Han’s bed is unreasonably comfortable.That is, until Lu Han takes the liberty to sit on him. “You are dramatic,” Lu Han says as Yixing groans. “He’s just a guy. He’s your editor. Just keep going like nothing happened!”“Yeah, that sounds fair,” Yixing says drily. “Stop being insufferable and get off of me.”The doorbell rings and Lu Han laughs. “Only because you’re being saved by the bell.”The weight on Yixing’s ass disappears, so Yixing sucks in a breath while he can. When footsteps reenter the room, he grumbles out, “I swear to god Lu Han, if you sit on me again-”“Hey.”Yixing freezes, fights the urge to look back. At Baekhyun. He beats down the bubbly feeling in his chest over the sound of his voice. “Hi,” he struggles to say. He listens as hesitant footsteps approach him.Baekhyun sits on the floor next to the bed, putting their faces level with each other. His eyes are red, like he hasn't slept, and his hair is a mess, like he’s run his fingers through it a hundred times. Yixing swallows. Baekhyun offers a watery smile. “Hey.”“Hi.”Baekhyun laughs into his hand and relief courses through Yixing’s veins at record speed. “Can we go back?” Baekhyun bites his lip. “To how we were? I miss our routine. I miss you.”It’s that moment when Yixing knows he would walk to the ends of the earth for Baekhyun’s smile alone, because they should talk about this, what the kiss may have meant, but all Yixing can feel is the overwhelming relief of having Baekhyun back in his line of sight, so all he says is, “Yeah. Yes. I’ve missed you, too.”--- May 6th, 2017, 3:03AM How he’s made it this long in this club, Yixing doesn't know. His head throbs with a headache and he stopped participating in conversation half an hour ago, approximately another half an hour after Yifan put a stop to his drinking.That’s who he sits next to now, head tipped over to just barely rest on Yifan’s shoulder. Yixing and Tao danced together the last time Yixing bothered to get up, and the opportunity to not have to sit next to Kyungsoo was way too appealing to pass. Kyungsoo was so smug about it, too, shooting one of his infuriating smirks across the table and dragging a half-heartedly willing Baekhyun to the dance floor. Jongdae joined them maybe ten minutes later and it’s just been Yixing, Yifan, and Tao ever since.It’s been hard, acting like he’s okay. Yixing was having a hard enough time pretending not to be bothered by the pounding music and blinding lights, but to add pretending he and Baekhyun didn’t passionately, publicly makeout on the dance floor, and again in the bathroom, Baekhyun’s drunken almost-confession… Yixing is exhausted. Because despite everything, he still didn't want to ruin Baekhyun’s birthday by walking out early. Leave that to the boyfriends who never show up. To Minseok. So Yixing downed as many drinks as possible until Yifan stopped him. Baekhyun stopped ordering anything with alcohol after what happened in the bathroom. They danced around each other, figuratively, bouncing questions and answers off of their friends instead of each other, smiling and laughing while Yixing snuck glances and Baekhyun full on stared, trying to convey some kind of message Yixing wasn't picking up on.But Baekhyun hasn't been at the table for a while, which means Yixing’s front is gone and he can barely move.“I’m gonna go,” he mumbles in Yifan’s ear.“Are you sure?” Yifan watches him, concerned.Yixing nods. “Tell Baek I’ll call him.” Maybe. “But I’m gonna hit the bathroom and catch a cab home.”He chugs the rest of his water before Yifan pats his back sympathetically and Tao smiles the same way, and finds his way back to the bathroom. He spots Baekhyun on the floor just before he makes it, dancing with Kyungsoo, Jongdae, and a couple of girls Yixing’s never seen. Baekhyun is different than he was earlier; he’s smiling and dancing and even laughing, a picture bathed in pink and purple, but he doesn't wrap himself around anyone the way he had with Yixing, keeps his hands to himself mostly, spinning around and shaking his hips and laughing in Kyungsoo’s face.The song ends and Yixing darts into the sanctuary of the bathroom, though it’s not exactly hard to relive what happened now that he’s in here, squinting his eyes against the fluorescence. But he’s quick to shut himself in a stall and take deep breaths before relieving himself. He’s almost out of here and in his bed.Splashing cold water on his face again sounds like a good idea just before he does it, but the moment it’s dripping from his face, his sense memory kicks in and he’s staring in the mirror, not at himself, but at Baekhyun, as Yixing remembers how easily the other man had slipped in front of him, how easily they fit together to kiss and claim-“Yixing!” a breathless voice exclaims, Baekhyun’s breathless voice. Yixing swallows thickly and turns to him. He’s sweaty and disheveled and completely sober this time.“Baekhyun.”“Y-You’re leaving? I got back to the table and Yifan said-”“I’m tired, is all.” Yixing tries for a smile; it doesn't quite work.Baekhyun steps closer. It’s minute, and accompanied by something resembling a whimper. “I don't want you to leave,” he whispers. “Please, don't- don't leave me here-”“Come with me.”The words leave Yixing’s mouth before he can really think it through, but it remains what it is:  a final offer. Come with me. Be with me, maybe. Baekhyun’s clearly taken aback, but he doesn't hesitate for a moment. “Anywhere.”--- April 21st, 2017, 9:00AM “Do it, do it, do it!” One click. Everything is in place so all that’s left is one click. “Xiiiiiing! The suspense is killing me!” Baekhyun cries, wrapping his arms around Yixing from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder.They stare at the computer screen. Yixing inhales the scent of Baekhyun’s lemon scented body wash and left clicks his mouse. A loading bar flashes across the screen, blink blink blink, and then:  CONGRATULATIONS!Baekhyun cheers, screams really, and tackles Yixing right from his chair and onto the floor with a massive hug. “You’re published!” he exclaims as they laugh and roll around like animals, or lovers.“I’m published!”“ZHANG YIXING IS PUBLISHED!”--- May 6th, 2017, 4:00AM “Baek, we’re here.” Yixing gently shakes his friend awake; he had dozed off on Yixing’s shoulder a few minutes into the quiet cab ride.Baekhyun hums questioningly under his breath, slowly blinking his eyes open. “What? Where? Did I fall’sleep?”“Yeah,” Yixing presses a kiss to Baekhyun’s hair without thinking. “Yeah, you did.”Baekhyun picks his head up, stretching as much as one can in the backseat of a car. “Sorry.”“Don’t be.” Yixing pays the driver. “I’m tired, too.”“Where are we?”Yixing opens the door. “Come on.”It takes a moment of walking, but a happy noise of realization leaves Baekhyun the moment they hit the sand. They slip out of their socks and shoes, and both audibly sigh at the feeling of their feet in the soft sand as they walk further in. The tide is low, and the serene sound of the water gently meeting with the shore is music to Yixing’s ears. He’s so relieved with the change of scenery, he could cry. He digs into his back pocket. “I have something for you-”“I broke it off with Minseok.”Yixing freezes, hand gripping the envelope he had nearly forgotten about, and Baekhyun faces him.“A couple of weeks ago. I- I don't know why I didn't mention it to you before, but I just- want you to know.”“Oh. O-Okay.” Yixing blinks at the ground, attempting to process the information. He feels more hungover than drunk, but it’s still not something his mind wants to fully wrap around.So… Yixing isn’t the other man?“Anyway!” Baekhyun smiles weakly. “What do you have for me? Is it another birthday present?” He rubs his hands together.Yixing chuckles. This, he can do. “Kind of. More of a surprise than anything.” He hands over the envelope.Baekhyun marvels over it for a moment, clearly blank on what it could actually be. He glances up at Yixing curiously before ripping it open and sliding out the slip of paper. “What is- Is this a check?” Yixing digs his phone out of his pocket and turns the flashlight on, shining it on the paper for him. Baekhyun’s eyes widen. “This is a check for over 2,000 yuan!”Yixing actually laughs. “You say that as if it’s a huge sum of money.”“Is this-” Baekhyun turns his wide eyes on Yixing’s face. “Is this the first check for your book?!” Yixing nods. “But I’m only supposed to get ten percent!”“That is ten percent, Baek.” Yixing beams. “First two weeks’ sales. I picked up our checks yesterday. They give them to us as a sort of congratulatory thing when starting off. After this everything will be direct deposited.”“Yixing,” Baekhyun breathes, awestruck. “You made over 20,000 yuan in your first two weeks. With a self-published novel. Holy shit!” Yixing gets an armful of Baekhyun then, who jumps on him, throwing his arms around Yixing’s neck and squeezing. Yixing hugs him back happily. “It’s doing better than we hoped.”“This is amazing!”“Thank you so much, Baekhyun. I literally couldn't have done this without you.”“You could've.” Baekhyun pulls back and cups Yixing’s face. “You really could've. But I’m so happy you let me be a part of this. I’m so happy this brought us together. And-”And they're hugging again.Baekhyun tucks the check inside its envelope and safely in his back pocket before they walk out to the wooden pier, discussing celebration plans for the next night.“I’ll be free by six for sure,” Baekhyun says. “Jongdae’s flight back home is at two, and Kyungsoo’s isn't until four. So I’ll sleep in, see them off, and then I can meet up with you as soon as I leave the airport?”Yixing nods. “They’re not staying for your entire birthday?”“Nah,” Baekhyun smiles. “Kyungsoo couldn't get out of work on the 7th, hence the midnight celebration.”“Ah.” Yixing nods again, then can’t help but ask. “So, um, what is Kyungsoo’s deal anyway?”Baekhyun kicks at a rock and shrugs. “He’s just overprotective of me.”“I think he likes you.”“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s my lifelong best friend.”They reach the end of the pier, now surrounded by water, and Yixing sits down. “And?”“And…” Baekhyun doesn’t sit down. He rolls onto his toes and stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking out into the dark sea. “And I’m kind of in love with my newest best friend. I met him a year ago at a coffeeshop a few minutes from here. He’s a writer. I’m an editor. We were kind of an ironic match made in heaven from the start, don't you think?”Yixing’s chest hitches and he wraps a hand around Baekhyun’s ankle. “Come here.”Baekhyun turns and squats in front of him, but sways in the wind and laughs. He sounds nervous. “Hard to keep my balance out here.”Yixing just catches his hands and holds him upright. “Then come closer.”“You want me closer?”Yixing pulls until Baekhyun is on his knees and straddling Yixing’s lap. It seems to be answer enough as Baekhyun continues, “He-He’s amazing, you know? He’s quiet and calm and so imaginative. He has the best, cutest laugh, even though I know he hates being described as cute. The shyest, prettiest smile…” His thumb drags across Yixing’s bottom lip, his free hand laces with Yixing’s, their fingers squeezing. Baekhyun’s voice falls to a whisper. “He’s selfless. He buys hungover strangers aspirin and introduces them to the locals as his friend. Lets them cling to him and read his incomplete novel. He-He stuck around, even after we kissed and I pushed him away, even though it took me too long to get here, to this realization. But I’m here now, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, and I just hope that after everything, all of that and attacking him in the bathroom earlier tonight, that- that he still wants me, too.”Staring up at Baekhyun in disbelief, Yixing exhales shakily. The wind ruffles Baekhyun’s hair across his forehead, and his eyes still somehow shine despite the darkness surrounding them. Yixing’s free hand reaches up to cup the side of Baekhyun’s neck. “You’re only kind of in love with me?” he half teases, voice soft.A breathy laugh hits Yixing’s parted lips. “That's all you got from that?” Their noses bump. “I really, really, really-” Yixing’s eyes fall shut. “-love you.”Yixing’s chest explodes with affection the second their lips meet, a gentle press, an official stamp on the next chapter of their relationship. “I love you, too,” he whispers, and his hand slides into Baekhyun’s hair, pulls him impossibly closer for a deeper kiss until they tip over, Yixing’s back hitting the wood.“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun suddenly murmurs between kisses. “For earlier.” His lips ghost down Yixing’s chin and back up again. “I didn't kiss you just because we were dancing. I kissed you because I couldn't not do it anymore. I never wanna stop kissing you ever again.”Yixing nuzzles their noses together. “It’s behind us. And please.” Baekhyun’s lips are so soft against his own.“Please what?”“Please never stop kissing me ever again.”Baekhyun giggles into his mouth and leaves one kiss, two, three. “That can be arranged, I think.”“Good.” Yixing grins, wrapping his arms tight around Baekhyun's neck and holding him close.He never thought he would feel this kind of love, so open and honest and overwhelming and perfect. But here they are, at four in the morning on the pier of their favorite beach, so wrapped up in each other that the world could end around them and they wouldn't know it.“Thank you,” Yixing quietly pants when they come up for air. “For coming with me. Here.”“I would walk to the ends of the earth for you, Yixing.”Yixing grins. He knows the feeling.
10522533
Ghosts
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Angela \"Mercy\" Ziegler, Fareeha \"Pharah\" Amari", "Fandom": "Overwatch (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Pidonyx", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "2,957", "Additional Tags": "Blood, Mentions of Violence, so if that's not your jam then maybe this isn't for you, its mostly just patching up an injury with lots of crying, because of course there's crying in this, Aftermath of Violence, angela is tired and so am i, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, lots of \"whoops not dead\", Role Reversal, Age Swap, Kind Of, its probably not what you're thinking, its an AU where Fareeha was Strike Commander during Overwatch's glory years, Ang was head medic at the same time", "Relationship": "Fareeha \"Pharah\" Amari/Angela \"Mercy\" Ziegler", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Ghosts", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
It didn't look so great. Horus's hands hovered over Sigrún's chest, flitted over to the mask, cracked down the side, then down to where a round of bullets had ripped through the side of the jacket and through half her side. She had basic medical training, of course she did, but here...she didn't even know where to start.Sigrún coughed, grasping at Horus's sleeve. Impressively calm for the situation, she said, "The canisters on my belt. Grab one, please." Her voice was rough from pain but her body was still, tone almost matter-of-fact. It reminded Horus irresistibly of Angela, and she had to clamp down on those rising emotions before they could distract her from the issue at hand: Sigrún, her ally, perhaps she'd even say colleague, of these past few months, bleeding out on the rooftop in front of her, in need of her assistance and focus.When Horus had fetched the canister, Sigrún took it with a murmured thanks and pointed to where her belt and hip pouch were discarded. "There are medical supplies in my bag. Could you get it?"Horus nodded, stumbling to her feet again. She shouldn't be this shaken up over something like this, she'd seen it many times before, but Sigrún's side was bleeding sluggishly and all she could think of was blinding light, crushing weight, sliced flesh, a gush of warm, slick fluid, blood, blood, blood, filling her senses, pooling in her throat, her chest...A wheezing cough from behind her shook her out of her memories once again and Horus snatched up the leather bag from where she'd thrown it haphazardly upon getting Sigrún to the roof, hands trembling. Sigrún was here now, and she needed help. She needed help. Get the supplies.Horus resisted the urge to clutch the pouch to her chest as she walked stiffly back to where Sigrún lay prone on the concrete rooftop. She was a goddamn adult. Actually, a bit beyond an adult at her age. So squeezing the bag like a lost child with a security blanket was...ridiculous. She set the satchel down next to the other woman, who had activated the canister. The golden field emitting from the canister hub bathed her in a warm glow, glinting off the blood pooling next to her stomach and making the ugly wound carved in her side look almost lovely. Almost."I've evaluated the wound from what I could feel." Sigrún spoke as Horus knelt beside her again. "I know it's not sanitary to be poking at it, but based on what I felt, I don't think it's life threatening. Just painful." She stifled a gasp as she tried to shift her position. "That is, as long as we get it treated." Sigrún reached for the satchel, but withdrew as soon as she moved, a drawn out hiss of agony escaping.Horus was immediately at attention. "Here, let me," she said, gently moving Sigrún's arm back to her side. Sigrún said nothing, but huffed in response, and Horus could imagine a frown under her mask. The thought brought a bittersweet smile to her face, still concealed behind her own mask. As stubborn as Angela, too.She opened the pouch, rifling carefully past the neatly stored magazines of ammo, canteen, even more biotic canisters, and...what looked like an old Overwatch comm? Horus forced herself to ignore that for the moment, though it did confirm the hunch she'd been harboring for weeks. Finally, deep within the bag was a fairly large package of medical supplies. Opening it, Horus realized with more than a little surprise that some of it she didn't know how to use. It was more than a basic field first aid kit, so much it was slightly overwhelming. She turned back to Sigrún, who was still lying quietly, head tilted far enough back that a stripe of pale, scarred skin was exposed at the top of her neck where the collar of her jacket met her jaw. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, painful breaths. "Walk me through this," Horus said, keeping her voice as calm as possible. "I thought you were in the military," Sigrún said, tone lightly teasing. Horus remained serious. "I was. I had basic training. And that was all on how to patch up injuries just well enough to last until...until the medics could get them back to full health." Her voice caught slightly, and she scolded herself silently for being so pathetic. "I don't know how to deal with injuries this severe, at least to the level that you need. And the medical supplies here aren't labeled."Sigrún tilted her head to the side. "Alright. Take the water and soap and sterilize your hands. You're going to have to take your gloves off."Horus obeyed, hesitating only slightly before tugging off the dark blue gloves. Sigrún, to her merit, only twitched slightly in surprise at the sallow corpse-grey of her skin, at the faint cast of smoke that drifted from a scar on her wrist. When her hands were sterile, Sigrún pointed as well as she could towards a small bottle at the edge of the pile and a folded package of cloth. "Now take the solution and put it on the cloth. You'll use that to clean the wound."Horus moved for the bottle but did pause this time, looking back over her shoulder. "Do you have any painkillers in here?"Sigrún shook her head slightly. "I used the last of them the other day and haven't had the chance to steal more. In any case, I would not ask you to use them on me. They are only for the people I assist."Horus swallowed against the lump in her throat and picked up the bottle and cloth. "Alright."She helped Sigrún out of her torn leather jacket, carefully peeling away the fabric from the jagged bullet wounds. She ran a thumb over the engraved wings on the back before folding it and placing it with the rest of Sigrún's belongings.Sigrún was silent through the entire cleaning of the injury, though she gripped Horus's arm so hard that when she finally finished and pulled away, five crescent divots in her arm showed where the other woman had dug her nails in.Sigrún took a deep, steadying breath of air before speaking again. "Now get the needle and thread and stitch it up."Horus felt her stomach twist in nausea, but once again, she obeyed. She tried to ignore the blood as she worked, breathing through her mouth so she wouldn't have to feel the metallic tang at the back of her throat. Sigrún acted unbothered by the blood; breathing heavily in combat to the pain, but sighing in relief when Horus finished. "Now get the gauze and the bandages."Horus wrapped the wound tightly in clean white bandage, clipping it neatly at the end. Satisfied, she ran more water over her hands as quickly as possible, washing until the bloody stream ran clear.When she came back, Sigrún was sliding her own padded glove off and probing the dressed wound with delicate fingers. Seeming pleased, she reached out to squeeze Horus's bare hand, not seeming to mind the coldness or the smoke. "Thank you."Horus blinked in surprise. "You're welcome." Then she reached for Sigrún's mask. Sigrún grabbed Horus's arm as it moved towards her face. "What are you doing?" Her tone wasn't exactly unfriendly, but it was certainly apprehensive. Horus didn't push it, but she didn't move her arm either. "A bullet hit you in the face. Even if it didn't graze your cheek, your mask is cracked and there could be shrapnel. I can see blood, at the very least. I need to check it, and to do that I need to remove the mask."Sigrún's hand held tighter, and she offered no response. Horus tried to make her voice as gentle as possible. "I promise I won't tell anyone who you are, if being recognized is what you're worried about."Sigrún's shoulders slumped as the fight went out of her, and she released her hold on Horus's wrist. "Thank you," Horus said quietly, and lifted her hands to the clasps on either side of the face. There was a hiss of air as they slid open. Because the mask was cracked, it took a slight bit of wrangling to get the broken pieces away from Sigrún's face, but when she did, she almost dropped them.Tired blue eyes stared dully at the air in front of her, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Her mouth was pursed in a small frown, split at one corner by a scar. Familiar freckles still lightly dusted a straight nose, though now slashed through by another thick scar. Once-blonde hair, now silver and streaked with grey, flew in loose strands from a thick bun. Wrinkles at the corners of her eyes had only gotten deeper in six years, and she looked exhausted. In fact, the expression she wore was similar to the one F -- Horus would find her with after a week of not leaving her lab, though this tiredness seemed deeper. Maybe more permanent. Horus's heart clenched."Angela...?" Her voice cracked, and Horus flinched.Sig -- Angela's mouth tightened, and the lines on her face deepened. When she spoke, her voice was hard and carried the bone-deep exhaustion evident in her face. "Angela Ziegler is dead. She's buried in Arlington Cemetery next to Strike Commander Fareeha Amari."*Sigrún didn't know what to do when Horus said her name. She had anticipated some sort of recognition when Horus removed her mask. Her face was once plastered on posters, on the news, on billboards. But the way Horus said her name, first only, voice shaking, implied that she knew her more personally than as one of the heroes of Overwatch. Her response was a knee jerk reaction, a culmination of half a decade of loneliness, grief, and anger. Desperately, she thought through any and all people she knew personally that were ex-military, female, and approximately Horus's size and build. She came up with nothing. She turned her gaze sharply back to Horus, who was frozen, Sigrún's mask still in hand. She tried to speak commandingly, but it just came out sounding melancholy. "How do you know Angela Ziegler?"To her surprise, Horus sat back, letting out a choked sob. Even more surprising, Horus reached for her own mask. When it came away, and Horus's hood with it, Sigrún felt every iota of breath leave her lungs.She was delirious from pain. She must be. She was dreaming, in a fever, making every part of this situation up to spare herself a moment of freedom from this half-existence. In no possible universe could this be real, because Horus looked just like Fareeha Amari, and Fareeha Amari was dead.She lifted both hands to her eyes, ignoring the sharp flare of pain in her ribs at the movement, pressing the heels of her palms into the sockets until starbursts appeared behind her eyelids. No, this was all made up, and she'd come out of her delirium in a minute, and Horus would be there, silent and broody and always slightly mistrustful (though Angela couldn't really say better for herself), and it would be back to normal. Back to reality. She almost had herself convinced, her heart sinking, when she felt a hand on her cheek, tentative, thumb brushing over the scar on her mouth. "Angie...?"Sigrún opened her eyes, and there she was, still with Fareeha's face. Only...this had to be real. If she was hallucinating, there was no reason why she would have imagined Fareeha any different than how she knew her. This Fareeha had slightly longer hair than she remembered, just sweeping her shoulders, and it was solid white as opposed to merely the bright silver streaks she'd had before the explosion. The bottom was gathered into small, haphazard braids, as if she fiddled with it to keep her hands distracted, though Sigrún could spot one of her old hair ornaments on a single chunk of hair near the back. It was her face that was most changed through, her skin closer to an ashy corpse than the warm tone Sigrún was familiar with. A long, intersecting scar that Sigrún had seen fresh and bleeding, torn into Fareeha's face by a piece of shrapnel, snaked up her cheek, another crossing her nose. Smoke rose from the healed lacerations. Her eyes were almost solid white, a slight sliver of shadow the only indication of where she was looking, and they glowed as if lit from the inside. By all counts, she should have looked far from familiar, but it was Fareeha. She was 100% certain of that. Angela's world tilted on its axis and she was free falling. As she struggled to get air back into her body, she reached up to touch the scar on Fareeha's cheek. Fareeha moved delicately, a minute shift in the universe as the world held its breath."...Habibti?"The pet name broke Angela out of her stupor. She breathed a shaky breath, gasping, as tears started to bubble up. Heedless of ripping any stitches or reinjuring herself, she heaved herself up and flung herself into Fareeha, burying her face in the long leather coat Horus wore. Even as she sobbed in full-body heaves, she could feel Fareeha's arms come around her and hold her tight, felt Fareeha bury her nose in her hair. The shaking of her shoulders and the wetness that dropped onto her head only made Angela break down further. Fareeha was alive. Fareeha was alive, alive and here, here with her and holding her as tight as she ever had. She almost couldn't comprehend it, couldn't believe that Fareeha had come back. They clung to each other, desperate and stunned, as six years of grief and misery were laid out. Finally, the deluge slowed to a small trickle and Angela allowed herself to sit up, swiping at the tear tracks on her cheeks, though she didn't make any move to remove herself from Fareeha's arms. Incredulously, she pressed her hand into Fareeha's collarbone, reaching up with the other to brush her cheek. "I...I saw you die. You were dead, I couldn't save you..." She swallowed back another flood of tears threatening to spill over and threaded her hands through Fareeha's hair. "How are you alive...?"Fareeha didn't respond at first, adjusting so Angela was nestled against her chest with her arms around her. Once her chin was resting against her head, she spoke, haltingly, the vibrations rumbling where Angela's ear was pressed. "I don't know. I know that...I'm not exactly alive. I'm more alive than dead, but...whatever it is...that you did didn't bring me back completely. Didn't work until after the fact, either. I think I was a couple weeks dead when I...woke up, for lack of a better term." She moved her head so her cheek was against Angela's hair. "What was it exactly? What you did."Her tone was anything but accusatory, but Angela felt a sick twist of guilt at the thought that this was her doing. "Nanobots," she croaked. "They weren't ready." She clenched her fists in Fareeha's jacket. "I'm so sorry."Fareeha stiffened. "No, no, no, don't apologize, please, it wasn't your fault. And if being alive again means I get to see you, it is more than worth it." She rubbed soothing circles on Angela's back as she spoke, and Angela buried her face in Fareeha's neck. There was a calm lull in conversation where neither of them said anything. Then, "If anyone is to blame, it is me."Angela sat up, aghast. Fareeha's expression had clouded, a frown tugging at her lips. "What on earth are you talking about?"Fareeha pressed their foreheads together, not meeting her gaze. "I should have listened."Then it clicked. "Oh...Schatz...maybe you should have. And I should have been more patient. But listen to me now. We've been working together these last few months, and in this time alone we have enough information to know you couldn't have stopped it at that point, save exposing it fully to the public. And then you might have been gone anyways."The huff of breath Fareeha let out was closer to a sob than a sigh. "Right before the bomb went off...I was going to apologize. And when I woke up...I was sure I was never going to be able to tell you I was sorry."She clutched at Angela's shoulders, struggling with the words. "You--" She swallowed. "When I saw your headstone, I--" She cut herself off, but Angela had gone pale. "You...oh, I didn't think about that. I was sure you were dead..." She wrapped her arms back around Fareeha's neck, mumbling soothing words to herself as much as to Fareeha. "I'm here, you're here. We're okay. We're going to be okay.""I love you. I didn't tell you enough when I was alive." Fareeha's voice had dropped to a whisper, but that really did seal Angela's fate. Taking Fareeha's chin in one hand, she kissed her hard. Fareeha was colder than she remembered, with a taste of smoke, but the smell of gunpowder and metal was still there, the hint of spices, the familiarity in which Fareeha responded, and Angela could feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes again. She broke the kiss with a sigh, laying her chin on Fareeha's shoulder. "I love you too."She felt Fareeha's lips brush her ear, her hair tickle her neck, and knew, for the first time in a long, long time, that she was home.
10534008
Shou Quan Fan Yi What
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Morgana (Merlin)", "Fandom": "Merlin (TV)", "Language": "中文-普通话 國語", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by ambertria", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-03T00:00:00", "words": "1,886", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese", "Relationship": "Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Merlin Emrys是一本敞开的大书，他没有秘密，除了——一，他有魔法；二，他爱着他的朋友Arthur Pendragon。对于第一个秘密，只有五个人知道——他的妈妈，他的叔叔Gaius，他的朋友Will，他的前女友Freya和他最好的兄弟Lance。对于第二个秘密，Merlin把它深藏在心底。没有任何人会知道，他确定。他自己那么多年来都不知道。接着，两个月之前，Merlin吻了Arthur。Arthur也不甘示弱地回应了他。这毕竟是个转瓶子的游戏。Arthur的双唇柔软而坚定，Arthur的双手又大又暖，他捧着Merlin的脸，直到嘴唇刺痛，鲜红地泛着欲望。但是，好吧，这只是个愚蠢的转瓶子游戏。Arthur也以相同的方式吻了Gwen。这没有什么别的意思。当然什么都没有。生活仍在继续。他们去上学，Arthur参加足球训练，Merlin偷偷地和Gaius练习魔法。大家都在八卦他们的教授Mithian和Elena。Morgana发誓她看到她们俩在午餐的时候手牵着手，分享薯条和蘸汁。星期五的晚上他们一起玩，经常是聚在Pendragon大宅，因为这是最宽敞的地方，而且Uther总是会为外卖买单。这没事的。这很好。Merlin甚至能更好地掌控他的魔法了，他现在估计都可以施咒复活滴水兽了。很明显他做不到的就是闭紧他的大嘴巴。不过问题是，发问的是Gwen。在所有人中最友好的Gwen，Merlin对她完全不设防。“你这是作弊，完全是作弊。”她说，大笑着，“你不能杀了Rory[1]因为他不能真正地死去；和The Doctor[2]结婚因为他是一个有两颗心的外星人，有不止一个伴侣，所以也不会有正式的婚姻；然后亲Amy[3]因为她很可爱，还已婚。倒不是说我也不会，因为她实在是太可爱了！但是那不是重点，你还是算作弊！”Merlin耸耸肩，一脸天然无公害的样子。“好吧，好吧。”她抓住Merlin的一只手，拉着他，“上、嫁、杀我们中的人怎么样？我，”她指指自己，“Morgana，”她用大拇指指向正在心不在焉地看着电视上的破案节目的Morgana，“和Arthur。”她挥挥手，大概示意了一下剩下在隔壁房间玩电子游戏的人的位置。“开始。”Merlin呻吟起来，因为第一，啊，他真的不应该喝这么多Morgana的啤酒的。他很确信里面一半是魔法，至少五分之一是伏特加。第二，Gwen问他是否会上、嫁、杀Arthur，Merlin脑子里在纠结着前两个选项。第三，Gwen依然像个甜美的天使一样地看着他——刚刚发生的事证明了她现在完全不是。“呃……”Merlin迟疑着。加上Morgana用她高冷的表情催促他。“快点，Merlin，快说。你可不能思考。游戏不是这么玩的。”所以Merlin深吸了一口气，将答案一股脑吐了出来。“亲你，Gwen。杀了Morgana——对不起，Morgana——和Arthur结婚。”没错，Arthur刚好在这个时候走了进来。感觉就像是时间突然慢了下来。花瓶碎了（Arthur猛地看向他，两人四目相接）。水撒了（Gwen的眼珠子都要掉出来了，而Morgana的嘴巴张成了一个大大的O）。花枝凌乱地散落在白地毯上（Merlin脸涨得通红，躲避着Arthur的目光）。“我也会杀了Morgana。”这是Arthur拿了一杯水离开前说的唯一一句话。Morgana翻了个白眼，也没觉得被冒犯到了，她朝Arthur扔了颗爆米花。“我也爱你，弟弟。”然后——她把所有注意力都转向了Merlin。灾难啊。Merlin希望他能多会几个咒语，如果他能停止时间或者逆转它就好了。但是太迟了，他的秘密已经公诸于世了。他会和Arthur结婚，所有人都知道这就等同于爱的告白。~~如果不偶尔混蛋一下，Arthur就什么都不是。这一点Merlin很清楚。他只是没有预料到Arthur在这件事上也这么混蛋。Merlin满脑子都是不断重复闪现、晦涩难懂、发着金光的咒语——他刚刚结束和Gaius的魔法学习——所以，他最不想看到的就是Arthur正倚在墙上等他。“啊！”Merlin抱怨道，慌得手足无措，“你在这干什么？”Arthur一脸坏笑，“和我的丈夫一起回家啊，还能干什么，就像你一样。”Merlin瞪了他一眼，脸红了。“谁会和你结婚？”他气冲冲地离开，心里好像有一台打字机在啪啦作响。“上次我听到的，是你。”Arthur轻而易举地跟上了他，手臂擦过他的。“想要我帮你拿书吗？”“滚开。”“拜托，Mer-lin。”Arthur用手肘推了推他。“我们别吵架。”说实话，Merlin不想和Arthur吵架。他只是希望继续秘密地暗恋他的朋友，他不想让这一切变得尴尬。他想让Arthur能再次正常地看着他，而不是像——像他的脖子一直僵硬地伸不直一样。他们并肩走过网球场、走过一排排桦树、走过蒲公英花丛，感觉真的挺好的。无论如何，Merlin丝毫不介意。直到Arthur再次开口说话。 “你觉得我们该去哪度蜜月？”Merlin生气了，脸颊开始发烫。“这已经不好笑了，Arthur，停下来！”“等等！”在他第二次暴走之前，Arthur抓住他的手腕，“我的意思不是……”Arthur的拇指轻轻摩擦着Merlin的手背，无比温柔地抚摸。接着，他突然丢下了Merlin的手，好像被灼烧了一样，他抱起双臂。“我……”Arthur移开视线，又转回来。他的下巴肌肉抽搐着。Merlin希望他没有被Arthur吸引得那么彻底。不过，他不需要就这么放过Arthur，他可不想。“你什么？觉得因为一个蠢游戏嘲笑我很有意思吗？可以满足你的自尊心？是这样吗？”“我也会和你结婚的。”Arthur脱口而出。这绝对是Merlin最没有意想到的Arthur会说的话。“什么？”“最开始我想肯定是‘上’。”Arthur垂下视线，看向Merlin的唇。“但那只是我想要的其中一部分。”Merlin的心脏砰砰砰地跳动。什么？什么！什么！？“天。”“我想和你约会，白痴。”Arthur鼓起嘴。“你可不能就这样约一个人出去，混蛋！”Merlin不客气地回嘴，但却没能抑制住嘴角微微上扬的弧度。Arthur顿了一下，笑了。“Merlin，你明天晚上有空吗？还是你有更多的魔法练习？”Merlin对上Arthur的凝视。什么？！Arthur耸耸肩。“有的时候你的眼睛会闪金光。”他指了指，“挺干扰人的，从你的嘴唇。”Arthur的拇指按在Merlin的下唇上，Merlin张开嘴，惊讶着，期待着，对Arthur种种复杂的情感交织在一起。Arthur靠近吻上他，没有犹豫，没有秘密。这比他们的第一个吻好太多了。Merlin想他可以跳过一次训练。毕竟，他的秘密已经不再是秘密了。他随时都可以练习，他甚至可以在Arthur身上作试验。不管怎么说，冒牌丈夫是用来干什么的？
10508139
nothings gonna hurt me
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "VIXX", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by youburnme", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-31T00:00:00", "words": "1,678", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Sleep Paralysis, Lucid Dreaming", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Lee Hongbin", "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
His lungs protest against the strain and it feels as if something has crawled inside him, a feral creature that is now refusing to let go of its prey, teeth sinking in. His throat is raw and it stings but he has to let it out, out of his body, out of his chest before it burns him from the inside. Hongbin screams and it wakes him up, and for a moment he’s disoriented, can’t find his own limbs. Then the room comes into view under a flash of light and it hurts his eyes and he’s in his bed. He’s safe, but the panic in his chest doesn’t leave him. What’s wrong? His eyes are wild, his pupils dilated. His breathing comes in fast, and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. I don’t know. Sleep takes him in the end but it’s not peaceful, and when he wakes up in the morning he’s still tired.He’s tired and restless and he wants to turn in his bed but he can’t. He can’t sleep, but he can see the eyes looking at him from the window when he keeps very still, can hear the whispers under the bed when he holds his breath. He’s sweating, his head completely covered with his blankets, his hands cupped in front of his face, his breath hot against his skin. When he wakes up hours later he’s upside down in his bed, perfectly made, his head peeking out from under the blankets. They can get to him now. His bedroom is shrouded in deep shadow and he can feel them slithering under the bed, unseen—a hand reaching out to grab him, cold fingers thin as twigs that could easily break between his own—and he screams. There’s nothing there when the lights are on but a pair of old shoes, and his parents look at each other and sigh before turning it off again, his head completely covered again.He’s in a library, rows and rows of books stretching out at his sides. He wanders. At some point he looks upwards, and the bookshelves keep going up, up, up towards the sky; there is no roof over his head, and no end to the books. His fingers run through the spines, almost touching but not quite. He can’t read them, not even the titles, but he can hear and smell hints of the stories hiding inside. There’s a sound of flapping wings overhead, almost a whisper, and he looks up and it’s not wings but pages; the books are rearranging themselves, flying around so delicately that they’re almost gliding, until a scratching sound starts at the end of the corridor behind his back. The books fall lifeless to the floor, and Hongbin starts running. The shelves are closing in, empty now and falling inwards, wanting to trap him, and he keeps running. When he wakes up he can’t run, or breathe, or move at all. His eyes are open, his legs sore, and he can still see the shelves trying to trap him but he can also see the lamp in his bedroom, the window. It’s not real, and he blinks until it goes away, the empty shelves slowly fading, disappearing from behind his eyelids. After a while he can breathe again, and his fingers move. He’s crawling on all fours, up through a set of stairs, and he doesn’t know or question why. He keeps going, everything around him changing, until he finds a door. The place looks familiar now, as if he’s been here before, or somewhere that looks a lot like this. The floor he’s standing on doesn’t exist, he knows that, and the darkness greets him from the other side when he opens the door. It closes softly behind his back, unprompted, and he can briefly see a mirror right in front of him; it looks old, stained near the corners. There’s a coat rack slightly to his left that he can’t see it in the dark, but he knows this somehow, knows it’s there in the corner just like he knows that there’s a hat hanging from it. A white owl is perched on top of the rack, watching. It stares at him as he goes further into the house, into a long room with a wall full of mirrors facing a wall made out of windows, a thin table stretching between from one side to the other, a chair on each end. He’s a bit hungry and when he turns there are grapes on the table, overflowing from a fruit bowl that must have been bronze at some point, and he steps around careful not to touch anything. He doesn’t know if you should eat in dreams. Outside the sun is setting, and he spends what feels like hours in that room before realising that he can’t see his reflection in the mirrors; that he can hear whispers coming from behind them, waiting to see what he does, can see a corridor opening on either side of the room where before there were none, and goes towards the one to his left. There’s a warm light coming from that one, and it draws him in. He’s been here before as well, he can tell, but the room it takes him to is different to the one he thinks he knows; the closet door is open and it leads to a new tiny room, warm and empty but for the armchair sitting at the centre, and Hongbin curls there like a cat and sleeps.A wave of panic wakes him and he’s falling, falling, the darkness waiting under him, for him, and when the lights come on the upper half of his body is hanging over the side of his bed. He can’t see anything but his face is right there and he can feel something moving in anticipation, and he screams until he can crawl back under the blankets.Sometimes the pain helps. There are thorns embedded in his hands, and he knows he should take them out and wash them properly, soon, but he waits until right before going to bed before telling anyone. It helps knowing what’s real and what isn’t, sometimes.It’s not the scream that wakes him this time, but the hand around his ankle. He opens his eyes and he knows where he is, he just knows, and he thrashes and screams and kicks and tries to grab onto something with his hands. His knees are purple for a few days after that, and when he closes his hand around something it’s only a stuffed toy, but he feels his heart in his throat when he thinks about the moment in which his eyes opened and he found himself on the floor under his bed. He wonders if they will take him, someday, drag him towards the dark to never be seen again.The scream bubbles in his throat, trying to get out. He can feel it when he wakes up. It almost sounds like a boiling kettle, and he keeps his mouth shut, breathes through it. He can see his room clearly almost as soon as his eyes open. It’s still dark, but he’s used to staring at his ceiling through the nights. Something moves to his left; he catches it with the corner of his eye, but pretends he doesn’t and slowly covers his head, holding his breath. He’s not a kid anymore, and morning will come.Reading helps. It gives him something to do when he doesn’t sleep, but it also takes him to new places when he does. Sometimes he goes back to the room with the mirrors, always finds a way hidden somewhere. When it’s night outside and the stars shine only for him, he sits on the floor in front of the windows and looks until he falls asleep, until he wakes up. When he opens the door and the owl isn’t there, everything is different; the mirrors are silent and it’s dark outside, not a star in sight, and he stops going in when that happens. The hat isn’t there, either.Bright eyes look at him from above. The owl is here again, and he feels safe. It sits atop a weeping willow in the middle of a dark garden, its branches so long that they almost reach the floor, and Hongbin crawls under them and sits there, waiting, breathing. He falls asleep and he wakes up in his bed, rested.Music soothes him. Guitar and piano, mostly. A soft voice. Movies too, but they’re distracting, and music is not. Some nights he leaves it on in his room, volume as low as it can go, until it lulls him to sleep.He doesn’t wake up screaming anymore, hasn’t for years now. He doesn’t have nightmares, usually, at least not ones that he remembers, but he can’t move around as he did either. He can’t remember his dreams most days. Sometimes, he doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t fight it, not anymore, but it only comes when it wants to. Some nights he’s glad; others not so much, when he’s so tired that he can barely keep his eyes open. Sometimes he lies down for a bit, in the middle of the day, just to rest his eyes, and doesn’t wake up until almost a whole day has passed; others he grabs a book when he gets home, or watches something on his laptop until he has to start getting ready for work again, and doesn’t even try to sleep until it’s well past midnight and he can feel his body giving up on him. Some nights he doesn’t feel anything as he lies there thinking about his life, and wonders if they did get him in the end, if they finally managed to drag him under the bed and what’s left now is just a shell, a memory of his old self. Some nights he hears an owl calling in the distance, and he falls into a dreamless sleep almost immediately.
10520664
Crushed
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Keith (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk (Voltron)", "Fandom": "Voltron: Legendary Defender", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "927", "Additional Tags": "all characters are 18+", "Relationship": "Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/M, Gen", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Hunk swallowed the bit of food goo before it stuck even more in his throat. He coughed. “That’s…that’s great, Keith! I’m really happy for you.”“You sure it’s okay with you?” Keith asked again, his dark blue eyes piercing and earnest. “I won’t ask her if it’ll bug you. I know you guys are close and I don’t want there to be any hurt feelings.”“I’m sure.” Hunk cleared his bowl from the table and paused for a second to snag Keith’s empty plate. He turned his head so Keith couldn’t see the frown that twisted his mouth for a split second. “What’s that old term…shipping?”“Eh?”“Shipping.” Hunk turned and shrugged. “I’ve kinda been shipping the both of you for awhile now.” Keith frowned for a second, then realization of the term dawned on him and he chuckled and ducked his head.“Pidge literally lights up when you guys are together,” Hunk continued. “I haven’t seen her this happy…well, ever.”Keith looked up and smiled. “Thanks, Hunk.” Hunk waved him off, and Keith stood. He paused for a second, as if wanting to say something but struggling to find the words. He finally shrugged. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Or Pidge will; whomever you see first, I guess.”“Yeah.”Keith left the dining area, waving a jaunty goodbye. Hunk leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He frowned at the floor for a moment, then his shoulders slumped with a long sigh.His chest hurt, like he’d been kicked hard. And his throat was doing something weird and his eyes felt kinda itchy…Hunk scrubbed furiously at his eye with the back of his hand. Little kids cried. He was 18, an adult, and he could handle things like an adult.He’d had a crush on Pidge from the moment he’d realized she was a girl. And that hadn’t been long after meeting her. She was so smart, and funny, and creative, and the amount of ferocity packed into that petite frame always blew his mind.He’d forced himself to be logical about it, though. He’d figured she probably wasn’t into him, and that suspicion was confirmed when she’d friendzoned him several times—even after she’d revealed to the team she was actually Katie Holt and not Pidge Gunderson. (Whether she’d friendzoned him intentionally or not, he’d never known, because he’d never voiced his feelings to her. But he’d gotten the message and tried to squelch the stupid crush.)Except it hadn’t really gone away. She and him would work on projects together, joke around together, and despite her atrocious culinary skills, she’d still sit on the kitchen counter and watch him cook.And he’d been happy with their friendship. He’d told himself if either of them started dating anyone else, he’d be fine with that.But the moment had arrived, the moment he’d seen coming the second he saw Pidge lay eyes on Keith, and he hadn’t been ready.Part of him welled up with excitement at the thought that they might finally be together!! But another part was crushed with the weight of reality. He’d never get to be anything “more than friends” with Pidge. And even though he’d known that for almost a year now, the cold hard reality of it suddenly kicking him in the chest with Keith’s excited smile hurt.Not that he would say anything. He knew how much Pidge and Keith meant to each other, had seen it in Pidge’s eyes when she talked about him. More than anything, he wanted them to be happy.Never mind what he felt.Hunk scowled. Selfish, he accused himself. He’d known, deep down, that even if Pidge had felt the same way, it was highly unlikely the relationship would have worked out. Sure, they were similar in a lot of ways, but vastly different in others. He’d forced himself to look at it logically, and logically it hadn’t made sense for them to get together.So, logically, it didn’t make sense for him to be this upset.Hunk allowed himself a few more deep breaths, not daring to leave the dining area until he knew his emotions were under control. Then he rolled his shoulders and made his way to the kitchen, pushing any and all thoughts of the incident from his mind as best he could. He knew what he wanted to do: he wanted to do everything he could to make sure Keith and Pidge were happy. And everyone else on the ship, too, while he was at it. And while talking to anyone right now might not be the best idea—he didn’t trust himself yet to not give away how much he was hurting—he could still spend a few hours in the kitchen whipping up a fantastic dinner for all of them.Humming “Hakuna Matata” to himself, Hunk stood in front of the pantry with his hands on his hips, taking stock of the ingredients. It took him three tries to run an inventory of what they had and actually focus on putting a meal together from it.But eventually he found his groove and was able to shove the emotions even further back, reducing them to a dull, nagging ache that he could ignore. He grabbed some “space flour” (as Pidge had dubbed the blue powder) and set to work.He knew better than to think he’d get over it by tomorrow, or even next week. But he would, eventually, and that thought put a comforting warmth in his chest.
10536102
Double Trouble OMG There
{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark", "Fandom": "The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Dark Kaerith (Kaerith)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-03T00:00:00", "words": "6,883", "Additional Tags": "First Time, Kissing, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Tony Stark", "Series": "Kinks Series", "Collections": "WinterIronShield*", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
There had been eight weeks of Tony&Steve, post love confessions. Tony had thoroughly enjoyed them, learning Steve's new/old body and how to give him the most satisfaction. Steve, however, was not in as blissful a state of mind. He constantly thought about, worried about, and pined for Bucky. Tony ended up spilling to him how he had met with Barnes at the diner, and tried to convince Steve that leaving him alone to sort himself out was for the best. Bucky had moved from Idaho east through Montana, then down through other flyover states (Tony's general American geographical interests could be summed up in five letters: LANYC) until he was in eastern Pennsylvania, where he had been for almost four days when Tony texted him: S driving me crazy. Please send help! though he really was not expecting anything to come of it. Certainly not a phone call from Tower security that a man with no identification who called himself James Barnes was waiting under guard in a secure room. Tony smirked at their shock when he told them to escort James to his private elevator and send him up to the penthouse. Tony knew Steve would get to the doorway before he could, so he pulled up the video feed from the entryway so he could savor Steve's reaction. Steve opened the door to reveal Barnes, looking very travel worn, and his familiar duffle and backpack. He let them drop when Steve glomped on him to hug him back. After nearly a minute of very macho man-hugging Steve stepped back, wiping his eyes. Tony rolled his eyes and smiled fondly as he powered down his equipment and left his shop to join them. Steve looked uneasy when Tony entered the room. "What did you do to make him look like that?" Tony jokingly asked Barnes, pointing to the blond man's face. "There haven't been any indecent proposals made yet, right? I was hoping you could wait for me to get here, but if you two need some more time to... reunite privately, I can," he hooked a thumb so it pointed behind him. "Two days alone with this punk was enough," Barnes said, letting his luggage drop again now that he was properly inside the apartment. "I think we need to team up and combine forces if we want to keep him." "I'm not-" Steve's objection was interrupted when his jaw dropped as Barnes pulled Tony into a hug. "When did this happen?" He asked, huffing in exaggerated shock. "I promise, nothing's happened yet, sugar tits," Tony said releasing Barnes and winking at both of them. That nickname, which Tony only used rarely and strategically, still made Steve automatically blush. Barnes noticed, grinned, and said, "There's a story I'm sure I would like to hear later," then sat down and began to remove his boots. "Phyllis fire your ass, or did you man up and quit?" "Quit," Barnes responded, dropping one shoe. Tony and Steve winced simultaneously at the state of his socks. "I feel like I should get Bruce with one of his biohazard bags down here," Tony said. "You couldn't have shoplifted a clean pair from a truck stop?" "I was keeping a low profile. You try washing your socks with that stingy foam soap they have in public restrooms nowadays." Steve still looked confused. "What's up?" Tony asked. Steve shrugged. "I just... figured there would be a lot more... tension between you two." "Don't be so modest, Steve. You're man enough to handle us both." "...Both?" Steve repeated. "What, you mean at once?" "I know it's been a long time, Stevie, and my memory ain't reliable, but I seem to recall you liked both sucking and fucking. I think we'll be able to work something out." Bucky said, slowly, as if he was talking to an idiot. His act couldn't hold up, and his expression cracked into a impish grin halfway through. Steve's head swiveled to Tony, who had a matching grin. "I'm not shy," Tony added, with a shrug. "Bruce better be close to fixing me, or I am going to die of exhaustion," Steve muttered. "Don't think like that. Look on the bright side: orgasms!" Tony encouraged. "Lots of orgasms," Barnes added, nodding seriously. "There are fucking two of you. I am totally going to die," Steve reiterated. Barnes and Tony exchanged an amused look. "Well, you do seem to have a type," Barnes said. They ordered a hearty dinner of barbecue, and Bruce joined them for the meal. Small talk was a bit awkward. Tony monologued about the revolutionary new fuel cell he was envisioning, and how we was just waiting for his supplier to procure some particular rare earth isotopes. He dropped the subject when he noticed that even Bruce was staring off into middle distance out of boredom. "Okay, fine. Dr. Banner, do you have a more riveting tale to weave about your research?" Bruce smiled in that self-effacing, apologetic way he had. "No. I am considering asked Dr. Richards for his input on restoring Steve's serum effects." "Ugh," Tony griped. "Richards. That elastic twat is so conceited that even I find it tacky." "You are still upset about that Maddie Williams thing? It's been, what, eight years? Get over it," Bruce said. "Who's Maddie Williams?" Steve asked. "Nobody," Tony said, but Steve and Barnes paid more attention to Bruce's answer: "an eleven-year-old schoolgirl." "He makes it sound interesting when he calls her a 'schoolgirl,'" Tony defended. "She must be almost twenty now, but have we heard anything about her since? No; she was an over-popularized flash in the pan." "Maddie Williams was a sixth grader who received national attention for her school science fair project about reversing double limb paralysis in rats," Bruce explained. "The NSF gave her the option of spending a day working with either Tony or Reed Richards in a laboratory with full media access to promote STEM programs in schools." "Science foundation was like, photo op for you and one of your heroes, because science rocks and let's get all the kids interested in it again," Tony Sparks-Noted. "She chose Richards over me, which is obviously why she has faded into obscurity since then. If she had picked me, we would have cured MS, ALS, you name it." "They both say a lot of letters," Barnes said to Steve. "Do the letters actually mean anything, or do they just think it makes them sound smarter?" "You need to brush up on your acronyms, Bucko," Tony shot back. "Aw, Tony. I never thought that you had one," Steve said, apropos of nothing that Tony could tell. But he took the bait. "Had one what?" Steve smirked. "A girl who got away. And she was eleven? No wonder you haven't recovered." "Ha ha," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "Well, if she impressed you so much, why don't you ask her to recreate Erskine's serum?" Steve suddenly grew serious. "I made the choice to lose the serum to get Bucky back. Don't feel like you need to go to the ends of the earth to try to recreate it. I'm fine." The other three men around the table scoffed at that. "You are prone to chronic bronchitis," Bruce argued. "You couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag," Barnes added. "You had an allergic reaction to that cherry-flavored lube," Tony disclosed, getting stares from everyone. "That's my favorite flavor! It is a real tragedy!" He argued. Bruce and Barnes chuckled, and Steve chided him. "I'm sure that's- how do they say it? TMI." Barnes groaned. "Stevie, not you too with the letters." Clean up after dinner was quick, then Bruce and Tony excused themselves to their work. Less than two hours later Steve's voice interrupted Tony's music. "You planning on staying down there all night?" "Probably. You and Barnes enjoy getting reacquainted." "Really? Are you sure about that? Can JARVIS put up a video connection? I still have a hard time knowing when you say things are fine if things truly are, or if it's killing you inside." "The only thing that has ever killed me inside is palladium, and I beat that." Tony let JARVIS project a live image of Steve on one screen, and Steve was treated to one of Tony in all his tank top and engine grease glory. "You really want the sappy reassurance? I'm okay with you and Barnes renewing your relationship. I'm not afraid he's going to suddenly convince you to leave me. I trust that you care about me, and I care about you and want you to be happy. So go to your boy, and we can work the kinks out as we go. Can we take off the dresses now, and go back to being men who don't have to hash everything out verbally?" Steve smiled, ducking his head in the self-conscious way Tony had never seen him do before he got smaller again. "I told you I would be happy just being his friend." Tony pointed a wrench at his picture. "Don't lie. You don't need to lie about this. I've seen how your focus has changed since the Winter Soldier came into the picture. You don't need to give him up. I am at the most mature and emotionally stable state now then I have been in my entire life, and that's is due in a large part to you. I'm not giving anything up, here. You can have sex and companionship when I'm in my creative moods, and I will let you know when I am ready to come crawling back into your arms for a nap and a quickie." Instead of looking reassured, Steve looked gutted. "Tony, I don't feel like you neglect me." "Did I say that I thought that? Listen, go take a shower then go ride Barnes' dick. If he consents; verbal consent is very important when dealing with someone with PTSD. Later, I will demand all the steamy details. Maybe during breakfast. Or demand an encore, even." Tony saved his wrench at the camera. "Lets end this chat. I've got more wrenching to do, and you've got screwing to do." "I love you," Steve said, looking into the camera with his ridiculous blue eyes. "Yeah, yeah, love you too. Go fuck-y your Bucky, Rogers!" "See? Told you," Bucky said to Steve. He had been in the bathroom doing some detailed cleaning on his metal arm. That chore was one that he often neglected when he was not in a secure location. Steve still looked uncertain. "Are you sure you're okay in a guest room? Last time, we shared your bed." "I'd feel weird being in you and Stark's bedroom without him. If it happens, it'll happen. If the guy wants some private space where I'm not allowed, that's fine. Did you want to spend the whole evening yakking, or should I take my clothes off?" "Clothes," Steve said, without hesitation, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning forward a bit in anticipation. "Finally getting your priorities straight." Bucky pulled off the white tank he had left on after removing his Henley earlier, then got to work stripping off his cargo pants. Steve looked at the bulge in his navy blue Jockeys like he was starving for what was inside, but Bucky stood still. "Your turn." Steve skinned out of his clothes like they were about to spontaneously combust. Since he was up on his feet, he took the two steps he needed to to press himself fully naked against Bucky's front. "You gonna kiss me this time?" He said, some of the old hurt and uncertainty in his voice and in his eyes. "Yeah, baby. I'm gonna do it all like we should'a a long time ago." Bucky's breath washed over Steve's upturned face and the blond closed his eyes and shivered. Bucky lifted his hand to that face and stroked the man's cheek, letting his thumb smooth over the pale eyelashes. Steve's mouth dropped open in a moan, and Bucky took the opportunity to kiss him for the first time. Even when they had fucked around as kids, giving each other hand jobs and blow jobs, Bucky had been stern about nothing else "actually real." Steve was the more experienced one of the two, actually. He took control immediately, sucking on Bucky's bottom lip, pulling away while he had it trapped playfully between his teeth, then letting it go to assault the inside of his mouth with his tongue. His hands clutched Bucky's shoulders, and while he was absorbed in their kiss Bucky braced Steve against him with his metal hand on his thin back and his other hand burying itself into Steve's hair. Steve was the one who broke it off and said, "Naked. Time to get on the bed." Bucky obeyed orders and shucked off his briefs before he followed the blond onto the bed, straddling over Steve with his knees on either side of his slim thighs. Steve pulled Bucky down on top of him, and they felt their bodies scramble to get the important parts of them closer to each other before engaging in more kissing with full body participation. Tony could hear their moaning from the other side of the closed door. He knocked, and said, "Changed my mind. You two up for an audience after all?" The men on the bed exchanged a look, then Bucky called out, "Only if it's just you, Stark! I'm really very shy." Tony opened the door. "With all the noise you two were making, I figured you'd be halfway between third base and home by now, but it looks like the game just got serious." "You gonna join?" Steve asked. He extended one hand while the other kept stroking the huge expanse of one of Barnes' lats. Tony only could get glimpses of parts of Steve's slim body from under Bucky's. "I said audience," Tony said, pulling a small armchair into prime viewing position and collapsing into it. He waved his hand regally; "As you were." Steve and Bucky picked up where they left off, mouths and bodies thrusting and rubbing together in growing need. Finally Bucky sat up. "You mentioned me sucking your dick before. I'm up for trying, but I can't promise I'll be any better." Steve was pretty sure he lied. Bucky sure felt like he knew what he was doing with his mouth. He put his fingers in Bucky's short hair and couldn't stop himself from pulling him closer. The tugging did not seem to bother Bucky; he used his hand to squeeze the shaft, then focused his attention on the head of Steve's cock. "Oh, fuck, I'm getting close," Steve said. He pulled his right hand from Bucky's hair and clenched it around a handful of skin and muscle on his thigh. He was jolted back into the realization that he was in his old body by the size of his leg, and remembered he had no reason to be careful about using his strength against his lover. He was torn between continuing to thrust his cock in and out of the tight grip of Bucky's mouth, and pulling himself away to save his (single, basic human) orgasm for later, but Bucky held down his body as it acted out the struggle, so he didn't have a choice in the end, coming into Bucky's mouth with a grunt. Bucky lifted his head up to grin wickedly at him, and used metal fingers to wipe off the few trails of semen that had escaped. Steve threw an arm over his eyes and cursed. "Did I break him, or is he always like this?" Steve heard Bucky address Tony, who laughed. "He goes all sleepy and boneless after he comes in this body," Tony replied. "When he was big, it would take three or four rounds to get him this tired. It's adorable how he has so little stamina when he's like this." Steve lifted an arm to present his middle finger to Tony, who cracked up with delight. "Wait, Steve, keep doing that! I wanna Snapchat it. No one will ever believe me, otherwise." "Fuck you and your 'little stamina' remark," Steve said. "Nothing about me is little." "You gonna pull yourself together? You're leaving poor Barnes here to finish himself off. Now's the time to prove you've got stamina." That kicked Steve back into gear. He sat up and looked at Bucky, who was jacking himself off. Steve slapped his hand away. "What do you want me to do? You want me to ride you?" Interest sparked in those familiar blue eyes, so Steve scrambled to retrieve lube, tossing a wrapped condom he also retrieved from the nightstand drawer onto the bed behind him. He could feel himself blushing as both Bucky and Tony watched him finger himself with fascinated appreciation. "Put on a show for us, Stevie," Bucky said. "He doesn't need much time to get ready. C'mon, quit playing with yourself. It's Barnes' turn." Steve stood up and wiped his fingers on Tony's pants before moving back over to the bed. Tony smacked him on the ass in retaliation. Steve directed Bucky to sit on the edge of the bed, then swung a leg over his thighs and reached around to get a hand on Bucky's dick. Bucky put both hands under Steve's ass to help guide him into position, and then the head of his dick popped into his hole. They adjusted until they found the right angle, and Bucky pushed himself all the way inside. "Oh my god. Oh, fuck," Bucky said quietly. "Jesus Christ, Steve. How come we never did this before? We never did this, right? I'm pretty sure I would've remembered." "Nope," he replied. "But we will definitely do it again. Are you ready to really fuck me now? I can take it as hard as you wanna give it." Bucky didn't respond verbally. He braced himself with his metal arm and started kissing Steve. The hand still on Steve's ass migrated inward to gently explore where Steve was taking Bucky's flesh into his slender body. Steve moved away from the touch, and that caused Bucky to begin thrusting. He couldn't stop it, couldn't slow the pace of his hips as he slammed his dick in and out of Steve's body. Steve rode the thrusts like a pro, keeping his hands on Bucky's shoulders for balance because he didn't need to provide any leverage as Bucky was doing all the work with extreme enthusiasm. It didn't take long for Bucky to go rigid as he came. Tony gripped his interested erection through his pants as he watched his boyfriend take his oldest friend's cock with a frantic desire to make the man feel good. He didn't want to interrupt their afterglow, but his lustful mind would not allow him to pass up the opportunity. He went to his knees and craned his head to closely examine where the two men were joined. "He looks big. Does he feel huge inside of you?" Steve pulled his face away from where it had slumped against Barnes and met Tony's eye with an amused glint through the tiredness. "Yes," he replied, teasing. "Maybe even bigger than you." "Look at how you fucking take it," Tony added with admiration. "Your asshole is just, like, eating his cock." Tony finally allowed himself to slip his hand inside of his clothes to press against his dick. "I'll eat yours too, baby, if you ask real nice," Steve said, fluttering his eyelashes. He couldn't restrain his grin. Tony got up, feeling the protest of his knees. He bent down to kiss Steve's hair. "I can take care of myself tonight. You take care of Barnes; are you sure you didn't break him?" Bucky let himself fall back onto the mattress. "Possibly. Fuck." Steve let them slip apart then stood up on shaky stick-thin legs. He wrapped his arms around Tony. "You going back down to the shop, or you planning on coming to bed?" "That depends. You gonna convince me?" "I can give it my best shot." The blond carefully dropped to the floor, pulled Tony's hand away from his junk by his wrist, then yanked his sweatpants down so he could worm his nose into the crease of Tony's thigh before guiding it behind his half-hard dick to nuzzle his balls. "You love cock," Tony said, like it was new revelation. "Not all of 'em," Steve protested mildly. "There are just a couple that I really, really like a lot." He backed off so he could take Tony's dick into his mouth. He looked up through his hair at Tony and moaned, and Tony went from 10 mph to 150. Barnes had recovered enough to sit back up and looked torn between handling the used condom and stopping to watch Steve deep throat Tony. The latter option was winning out. "Jesus fuck," he said with more than a hint of admiration. "You don't even have to do anything when he's like this. He's so hungry for it. He drools because he likes it so much," Tony said, using a hand to wipe Steve's chin. Steve had lessened the pressure, and was swallowing around Tony's cock, making content humming sounds. His eyes had closed as he put all of his attention toward his task. "He's completely zoned out. Look," Tony tugged Steve's hair sharply, but the blond didn't react except for an absent-minded whine. Bucky stood and retrieved his tank, using it to pull the condom off and wipe himself down. His eyes constantly flickered back to see Steve and Tony, as if he was unable to keep them away for very long. "You ready for another turn?" Tony asked. "Are you sure he'd be okay with it?" "Get some lube then put a couple fingers into him. You really nailed it spot-on when you said he likes sucking and fucking. Usually, we have to use a toy, but this will be so much better for him," Tony said. He flashed Barnes a conspiratorial smirk, then gazed back down at Steve, tapping him on a cheek. "You want Barnes to finger you?" Steve pulled away long enough to say, "Yeah," huskily and give Bucky a longing look before diving back down to business. Barnes was getting his fingers slick when he asked, "How are you lasting so damn long?" Tony chuckled. "One: experience. Two: I am definitely not in my twenties anymore." He pulled away so he could sit back in the chair. Steve followed, shuffling on his knees, which gave Barnes some room to work. He sat on the bed and then reached forward. Steve released his mouthful of cock so he could make a high-pitched desperate noise, and arch his back to tilt his ass up in a silent beg for Bucky to continue. "Finish him off! I'm starting to feel like he's just showboating to rub it in my face," Bucky commanded Steve playfully. "Stark, your stamina is impressive. I admit it; you can stop showing off now." He narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance. "He's hard again," Tony said, putting their focus back on Steve. "How's the spacing between those finger plates?" "Big enough to pinch. I don't grab my dick with it." "Okay. Keep working his ass. Steve, jack yourself off. Jack yourself off, and make me come," Tony ordered. Bucky was pistoning two fingers into him. Steve wrapped a hand around himself and shifted his position to try to guide those fingers to- there. A sound involuntarily punched out of him from his diaphragm, his teeth mistakingly scraped against Tony's shaft, then they were both coming. Several minutes later, after a brief cleanup, they turned off the lights and collapsed onto the guest bed. "That was fun. Are you both sure you're up to this much excitement in your old age?" Steve was too sleepy to respond, but Barnes made a dismissive "Pphhhbb" sound by flapping his lips. "Old age? You're the one to talk." "...You seem to be having a good day today," Tony said. The topic of Barnes' mental stability was easier to address in the darkness of the room. "I had a fucking great day today. And there are a lot more good days, now. I've done some reading: repression, compartmentalizing. Most people say it's a bad thing, but it's like the electricity helped separate and distance things in my mind. Even if issues and flashbacks come up, hopefully they'll pop up one at a time. Otherwise, there's... just too much to deal with." "Gotcha. Do whatever works." They both decided that that was quite enough sharing, and focused on going to sleep. The next day, after the three of them woke and staggered to the kitchen for sustenance, Barnes asked Tony if he would like to take a look at his arm. "Hallelujah! I was trying to be polite and not bring it up, but it was killing me," Tony admitted. "Now?" He added, impatiently. Barnes shrugged. "Sure." They went down to the shop. Tony ordered Barnes to sit on a desk and adjusted a lamp. Barnes removed his shirt. "Tank, too? I would really like to be able to examine how it integrates with your body." "You didn't get enough of a look at my body last night?" Bucky teased, complying with Stark's request. "I was not focusing on your arm last night," Tony said archly. "Honestly, neither was I," Barnes replied, with a smirk. Tony picked at the metal plates for a minute. "How do you open this thing up to get to the delicious stuff inside?" Barnes did something, and the plating telescoped to reveal the mechanical interior. Tony examined it closely for about two minutes, then shook his head. "This was totally impossible for the forties. The neural interface is impossible for now! How new is this?" "Last upgrade was sometime in the eighties, I think." "Aliens, then. Definitely. Maybe time travelers? This shit is fucking incomprehensible." "So we can't do anything to get it off?" Tony held back his instinctive 'Get it off? Why would you want to lose this amazing piece of tech?' And forced himself to briefly consider how Barnes might instinctively and emotionally feel about it. "Let me take a look at your shoulder." He wheeled his chair over to some of his specialized tools and devices. The screwdriver he had originally picked up was obviously not going to do much. "You want it off?" He asked, about ten minutes later. "I think I can remove it without disrupting the nerves attached. No promises." "I really would like to never see the thing again." "If you give me a couple weeks to deconstruct it, I can probably fix up a prototype replacement. Lighter, with a much different aesthetic. Can't promise the same sensory input, but you could probably use it to flip pancakes. Is the 360 rotation something you absolutely need for your lifestyle?" "Nah. I honestly never got used to it being able to move like that. But I would be willing to have another one without as many bad memories." "Sure. I'm going to remove the power reservoir; hopefully that should turn off the sensory relay. This thing stores electricity generated by your own body! The amplifier is pure sci f! I'm not kidding when I say aliens were probably involved." He dug into the wiring and gently detached a cluster of metal the size of a pack of gum. Without the power, the arm crashed down onto Barnes' thigh and the tabletop. "Sorry. It suddenly got heavier." "Hmm... hell if I know why. Magnets? Muscle stimulation? Let's get this over to my vise; it'll help you with the weight." Bucky was redirected to stand next to another workbench and his forearm was installed in the grip of a large vise to keep it stable. With a twist and wrenching movement, the arm separated from the shoulder, the vise holding the weight and keeping it in position. Tony used pliers to gently pull some wires that were still attached to the shoulder from the arm casing, then clipped them with cutters, leaving the long strands dangling out. "I'll get them tucked away into something. It's just smarter to leave the wires in place and as long as possible. I might be able to figure out how to use them in the replacement, giving you the same sensation and movement this old one did. Can't tell yet; gonna need some time to see if I can reverse engineer or cannibalize the sensors that gave you tactile feedback. I'm not sure anyone could replicate the neural interface in your shoulder and spine, so it's best to leave it intact and in place for now." "Whatever you think is best," Bucky said. Tony paused. "Now, see? So many more people should share your attitude! Congratulations, you made your way up my favorite person list." He picked up some more tools and turned his focus back to the shoulder, his face close to Bucky's body. "Usually it's 'Mr. Stark, you can't just violate Canadian airspace,' or 'Tony, an AI can't learn something after doing it only once,' and just look at how I successfully incorporated Bayesian induction into JARVIS! Saved me years of programming. Just need a positive attitude, a willingness to think outside the box, and an intrinsic need to piss off authority and break the rules. There are no boundaries in the sky separating political areas; just different people tracking you with different types of anti aircraft guns. And, hell, our guys do that to me all the time, so it isn't any different if I cross the 49th parallel, is it? Wait here, let me find something to put on over this." Bucky watched Stark putter around the shop sorting through different piles and drawers of junk before returning with what looked like a rubber swim cap. He cut it down to size then retrieved a mason jar of translucent goo and a foam paintbrush. "Waterproof adhesive. Skin-safe, non-corrosive, breaks down when introduced to NaHCO-three. Baking soda." He painted the glue on then fitted on the rubber over the metal-covered stump of Barnes' shoulder, carefully sealing the edges. "Just don't go swimming in the ocean. Quick dip in the pool's fine, so's the shower. Have fun." He patted Barnes' back absent-mindedly, already fixated on dismantling the arm. Bucky backed away slowly, bemused and amused. "Thanks." Stark hummed in acknowledgement, then grasped a piece of plating with pliers and started tugging at it. "Come on, I gotta get a sample for the mass spec. Gotta know what this is. Adamantium? Adamantium alloy? Has anyone even been able to combine anything successfully with adamantium, yet?" Steve gave Bucky big sad eyes when he saw the arm was missing. "C'mon, Rogers, it's fine. I'm a side-sleeper- it'll make it so much easier to cuddle up to you." Bucky next encountered Tony in the kitchen two mornings later. The man was slumped against the fridge waiting for coffee to brew. "You really do burn the candle at both ends," "Mmph," the exhausted man replied. "I think you need sleep, not coffee." "Too far," Stark mumbled. "Caffeine. Bed." "Doesn't make sense. It's 3 am. Come on." Barnes wrapped his arm around Stark's shoulders and tried to turn him away from the coffeemaker and out of the kitchen. "Coffeeeee," the man whined, trying to fight back. "Beeeed," Bucky mocked. "C'mon, Stevie's still there. It's nice and warm. I bet I can convince him to give you a blow job to put you to sleep." Tony grumbled unintelligibly, but shuffled in the direction Bucky was leading him. It was easy enough to get Stark into bed, but Steve was very resistant to waking up. He cuddled up to Stark, but kept slapping Bucky's hand away when he tried to get him to open his eyes. Bucky could see that Stark was exhausted and would likely fall asleep within a few minutes if he left him alone. But the man was half-hard, and looking toward him with pleading puppy dog eyes, which Bucky could see all too clearly in the dark. "Fine. Don't complain if I ain't as good as he is," Bucky capitulated. "Are there truly any bad BJs?" Tony mumbled more clearly, more alert now that his body knew what was coming. "I would say yes. Everyone has teeth, Stark. Maybe you've just lived a charmed life." Bucky pulled down Tony's sweatpants down enough to get the man's cock out. It was mostly filled out, and noticeably thicker than Steve's. Bucky sprawled out on the bed and draped himself over Stark's legs, then took some time to get familiar with Tony's smell. He didn't have a nose-to-dick reaction to it like he did for Steve's sweat and musk, but the odor was acceptable. He used his hand for a bit, feeling a little self-conscious. He wasn't drunk or feeling hugely horny like he usually was when he did this, so his mind was clear enough to hesitate about whether this was a good idea. "Get to it, Barnes. I promise that I'll still respect you in the morning." Tony jerked his hips up to get his dick closer to Bucky's face. Absurdly, the man ordering and mocking him made Bucky open his mouth and take him in without any other stalling. "Mmm, yeah. You mind if I talk through this? When I'm all floaty like this I tend to babble." Bucky gave him a couple pats on his hip to convey approval, and turned his focus onto the flesh in his mouth. He had a different flavor than Steve, one Bucky actually liked from the beginning. He used his tongue to encourage precome to ooze from the slit and was rewarded with a burst of earthy flavor. He mapped out the shape of the spongy head of Tony's cock before pushing his tongue out further to cup the shaft. The hand he had on Tony's hip moved in to feel his balls, and Tony jerked away, worked one leg out from under Bucky's chest, then planted that heel in the mattress to tilt his hips to encourage Bucky to play with his anus. Bucky wet a fingertip before getting his mouth back on Tony's cock and stroked the damp digit over the furl of wrinkled flesh, then turned in to what Stark was babbling. "...hot mouth. Open me up, yeah, push in a bit. God, your tongue. C'mon, baby, yeah, stud, a little bit harder. Mmm. Nice. Make me nice and sloppy. I want to drip with your spit. Wanna be warm, wanna be wet..." Bucky was surprised to find the man's dirty talk a little bit charming. He did as requested, opened his mouth to let drool roll down Tony's cock. Dipped his fingers in it, and pressed against his hole with a bit more intent. Tony whined high in his throat and thrust his hips to expose himself more. He changed his cocksucking tactic, letting his lower lip hang slack to let the precome and saliva fall out, and one of Tony's hand stroked his hair, carefully not letting his fist close so he wouldn't hold him down or pull his hair. The man was uncharacteristically benevolent during sex. "In, in, in, wantcha in," he demanded, voice still quiet, thrusting his asshole toward Bucky's fingers. Bucky complied, and pushed one in through the ring of muscle, and Tony cried out wordlessly. Bucky thought he'd try talking back now, when Tony seemed so overwhelmed with sensation. "You a slut for it Stark?" The man went rigid before loosening back up. "Tony, please. Always call me Tony during sex." "No problem, Tony," Bucky said, enlongating the vowel sounds in his name. Tony's craving to be filled took precedence again as he hitched his ass demandingly onto Bucky's middle finger. "Had no clue you'd be like this. Thought you would always be about the control. You like to give it up?" "Only- only to Steve," the man replied through heavy breaths. "Gimme another finger. Get the lube. Want more of your fingers in me." "I'm not Steve," Bucky responded. "But here we are, your ass clutching around my finger because it isn't enough." "Not enough!" Tony agreed, in a louder whine. "Admit you're a slut for me, Tony. Come on. Admit and say my name." "Bu-Barnes," he stuttered. "Need you to give me more." "Don't call me Barnes, Tony. Return the favor." Bucky looked up over the man's body to see his neck and face slick with sweat and his mouth hanging open and panting harshly for air. He had bent one arm and was either hanging on to his pillow or his hair. His eyes were squeezed shut as he focused on his pleasure. "Bucky," Tony said. "James. Whatever you want me to call you, I'll do it. Give me more, please." Bucky teased his rim with the knuckle of his index finger, keeping his middle finger buried in Tony's flexing hole. "Whatever I want? Really? Would you call me sir?" "Yeah. Yes. Sir. Sir, I need more." "Good boy," Bucky crooned, and Tony's dick reared straight up and spurted a glob of fluid. Without another hand, Bucky could only try to cover his index finger with more saliva. He licked the tip of Tony's cock then added that to the mess covering his finger. "I'm gonna pull out a bit, but you'll get another finger, okay? I'll work you open 'til you're sloppy, then go in deep again and hit you just where you need it." "Sir, please," Tony begged, wriggling his ass in eagerness. Bucky did as he promised, and the man released a long, low wail. He concentrated on scissoring his fingers apart, stretching him open. "Deeper," Tony said with a gasp. Bucky rubbed Tony's dick with his cheek. "Is that any way to ask?" "Deeper, please, sir," Tony said obediently. "Good boy. I'm gonna finish you off, then I want you to go to sleep." Bucky took his dick back in his mouth and his cheeks hollowed with how hard he began to work at it. His finger simultaneously curled up inside Tony and found the exact spot to stroke, and Tony came surprisingly quickly and with surprising force. Bucky gentled his mouth, licking his cock clean. When he pulled his hand away, Tony whimpered softly. Before he could say anything, Steve had moved closer and was petting Tony's hair from where it was plastered on his forehead. "That was the hottest thing I've ever heard," he said gruffly. "I hardly had to touch myself before I came. Was it good for you, babe?" Tony opened his eyes and managed to smirk down at the deeper shadows where Bucky was. "Not bad," he said cheekily. Bucky slapped his thigh lightly. "You faked the whole thing?" He said with fake distress, following it up with a flat, "My poor ego." He then knee-walked up toward the head of the bed. He cupped his damp hand against Tony's cheek. "I was really looking forward to being able to call you a good boy again." He was able to see how Tony's eyes widened in the dark. He gave him a couple dismissive pats, then removed his hand and made to get up. "I was joking!" He said, grabbing Bucky's thigh. "I will call you sir anytime you want me to, Sir." Steve said, "I like what that does to both of you," with approval. Bucky moved even closer to Tony's face and kissed him lightly. The man practically attacked him back, pushing up against his mouth and humming in pleasure. "I am awake, right?" Steve said, voice dazed. "You guys are kissing? I gotta see. JARVIS, lights!" The dim illumination revealed that they were kissing. It wasn't frantic or fierce, just something slow, tentative, and soft. Tony had the collar of Bucky's shirt in a tight grip, and Bucky's hand was cradling the back of Tony's neck. When they broke apart they took turns kissing Steve, Bucky first, then Tony. Tony groaned. "I think you two are gonna decrease my life span." He flopped back onto his pillow. "I am gonna be sore in the morning. Afternoon, whenever." Bucky put his feet on the floor and stood up, heading to the bathroom. "Tony said he'd go to sleep after we finished. He looks pretty fucking finished, don't he?" "I'll hold him down while you clean him up," Steve responded, draping himself over Tony's chest. "Like I couldn't throw you off easily. You weigh about as much as a Pekingese." Bucky came back with a damp towel. He wiped Tony's pelvis clean then offered it to Steve. "What about you?" Steve asked. "Taken care of." Steve pulled his pajama pants off and bundled them up before taking the towel. When he was done he just tossed it all onto the floor. "You coming back to bed, Buck?" He felt the mattress on the other side of Tony dip. "I think it's gonna be difficult to get the three of us out of bed after tonight," he answered.
10553610
Proof of Existence
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sorbet (JoJo), Gelato (JoJo), Squalo (JoJo), Tizziano (Jojo)", "Fandom": "ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by ARandomRock", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-06T00:00:00", "words": "1,581", "Additional Tags": "Graffiti, Established Relationship, Alcohol, Fluff, Smoking", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Gelato/Sorbet (JoJo), Squalo/Tiziano (JoJo)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
The morning sun glistened on the river bank. Fresh air washed the world its worries and for the smug pair that travelled down the promenade this was a glorious golden morning. The smell of gunpowder ringed their fingertips, the speckle of blood still left on their shoes gave it a bit of colour.  In front, the blonde spikey, barely cleaned hair bounced with his step hummed along the side. Behind him with black slicked up prime and proper hair was a still chirpy, but less springy man. The pair together could have been two schoolboys in hideous jumpers on their way to school, far from their actual dirty deeds done.“Gelato! Slow done for Christ’s sake. I want a drink before we have put up with Mr. Moody and Mr. Hair Gel.” Gelato paused on his step and flung his hands out, shaking his head before grinning. Right hand still bearing a sight tint of red from not being cleaned very well. Ruffling his hair dismissively with the other hand.“It’s not my fault Mr. Boring-Sorbet over here is the one who wanted get this done in the morning. If you listened to me we could’ve had a nice night time excursion.” Sorbet ran his hand down his face and curled away from the riverside to followed the trail of bottles to the back-seating area of the bar. The door was locked and the chairs still sat upside down, he banged a fist on the door a couple times but to no avail.  A sigh puffed a small circle of condensation on the glass in defeat, something his partner gladly picked up upon. Gelato, who was now perched squatted on one of the outside tables behind laughed at him before pulling out a cigarette and patting his trousers down for a lighter. Sorbet threw one at him instinctively over arm behind and Gelato lit up before pocketing the lighter himself.“I have my own, you know. Idiot.” Puffing out a proud ring and standing up fully on the table he tapped his foot for attention that Sorbet was purposely denying him. Walking around the table and not looking at whiny blonde scruff ball on the table and continuing down the promenade.  Gelato getting rather frustrated at this petulant act follow behind and quickly caught up to him and grabbed Sorbet’s hand.“Do you need my attention that badly? Are you going to die if I don’t look at you twenty-four-seven?” Sorbet cracked a grin only for Gelato to take a sweep with his foot and knock Gelato on the floor, still holding his arm to soften the fall.  Flicking the ash away Gelato smirked above him rustled his hair with his spare hand in victory.“I don’t need your attention, nor would I care if you jumped in the lake. I’m justa saying that maybe you could take it easier in the morning.” Grabbing Gelato’s jumper and pulling him down,  Sorbet planted a kiss on him before pushing away. Not letting the man get away with antics any more than needed, but knowing that such a façade was thinner than wet paper.Gelato flicked his cigarette and looked at the back of the bar. Wondering if perhaps maybe they should get revenge on the poor bar owner who had the sheer audacity to not be open at the crack of dawn.  Taking out his pocket knife with his off hand, placed the hilt in his mouth before swapping cigarette hands and flicking it open he scratched at the wall to see if he could mark it. Knowing he could, he wrote their names in the middle with a big smug grin stretched across his face.“Murder, vandalism, you going to burn something later to complete the hattrick, Gelato?” Sorbet brushed himself down and straightened up the back of his hair before seeing what scribble the idiot was trying to write.  Vulgarism, threats, an endless spill of a typical mafia drivel.  Sliding behind him Sorbet traces his arm down Gelato’s and before sliding the knife out of his hand. Pulling his back and nibbling on his ear, he gave a laugh.“You need to write something to stand the test of time, not be washed off because it scares little kids, little child. Something poetic and beautiful.”Gelato wiggled but Sorbet nibbled his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek, calming him down and removing his resistance. Sliding he knife fully out of his hand and flicking the cigarette out of his other hand. Drawing on the wall he wrote something that Gelato would bully him about every time they passed he promenade. A sharp ping, a small rattle and the satisfying splash as a discarded empty bottle finished its journey. Leaving behind the sounds of a Friday night, abandoning the spilled lights and resting next to another fallen bottle at the bottom of the ocean. Eyeing a shark on its way down as if the bottle knew the creature on a friendly basis. The previous owner of both of these things was angrily crawling across the ground far above. Swearing at the tiled promenade, hastily patting his hands about. Behind him, glowing a soft red colour that leaked from the bar’s windows stood a man who had lost his sides to the point where his beer was dripping over the railing into the lake.“Where the hell did my keys go? Fuck fuck.” Became the repeated mantra. The darker skinned taller man was almost in tears as his head fell on his arm alongside the promenade railing. Long hair, struggling to stray straight after the night’s events, draped over his face, hiding how red he was turning. In his other hand, a set of car keys, jangling away in the opposite direction of their owner. The man in the pinstripe jumpsuit stopped his prowling after spotting something checking the wall after trying to stand up on. Running his fingers down it and calling out.“’Ay! Idiot. Stop being an’ look at this. Tizia~no!” Chirping just before collapsing, the ginger mess slumped against the bottom of the wall and pointed upwards before turning his eyes to his partner. Recovering his breath slowly, Tiziano jiggled the keys in front of him as he walked towards the drunkard who was still mumbling something under his breath. From the floor, the blue jumpsuit snatched his keys out of the hand and gave a stream of swears in appreciation. while Tiziano remained distracted. Looking at up in the barley legible scratched graffiti. We two dear men, friends forever, were here. If you want to know our names, they are Gelato and Sorbet. Tiziano tucked his bottle arm under and placed his elbow on it, resting his head on his chin in thought. Leaning one leg as the man on the floor stared at the sway of the white jumpsuit. Beer googles blind they were a nice pair of pegs. He laughed into himself like a crushing child, utterly forgetting the purpose of calling his friend. Amused simply at being in the comfortable company of his partner.“Passione sure gets everywhere, don’t they?” Tiziano looked down at his partner. “Do you remember them?” Seeing the blank face that looked up with him with blinking  useless eyes. “Do you even remember your own name?” Standing up with a wobble, jamming his stolen keys back into his jumpsuit pocket. He looked at the graffiti before pulling his arms back and stretching. After demonstrating how utterly sober and straight he was, he took the opportunity to fix his hairband. Rolling the names in his empty head, the now (not) sober man gave a shrug.“You stole my keys, set me off and I wouldn’t be surprised you spiked my bottle. Now you are giving me some sort of exam?”  Tiziano laughed a little before flicking his friends chin up at him. Staring at his wide blue idiot eyes. He could see he was probably bargaining for a slap but couldn’t help but admire the carrot in his hand.  Squalo really lived up to his namesake sometimes, He could see his little teeth bearing, eyes could harbour his own stand they were so deep and entrancing.  “Am I going to have to baby sit until your death, Squalo?” Taking offense at this snark, Squalo stripped the spare bottle from Tiziano’s loosened hand and smashed it across the wall. Shattering it behind him and pointed the end of the bottle at his silvery who had a loom of exasperation more than sort of panic. Squalo put lines across the wall and  scraped in a S and T. A show of his power, pride and prowess as he jabbed the bottle again at Tiziano. A drunken shark was just as sloppy and idiotic as any other mammal intoxicated.  Grabbing his wristband and pushing the little ginger shark against the wall, Tiziano pinned him there and pulled his other arm up.  Squalo struggled in Tiziano’s hands and fought with a stream of curses but was shut him with a bite of the lip. Getting him to open his mouth just enough seal it with a kiss and invaded tongue.  Flicking the bottle out of his hand to join its partner in the river.  Their tongues interlocked under the words of the graffiti, dripping salvia down the side as the shark tried to bite off more than he could chew, only to always be outwitted by the skin and wit of Tiziano’s tongue. ----
10577841
Ill Never Smile Again
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Benny, Charlie, Mary Winchester, John Winchester, Jody Mills, Garth, Jessica Moore", "Fandom": "Supernatural", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by emryjacksn6", "chapters": "4/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-09T00:00:00", "words": "16,460", "Additional Tags": "Destiel - Freeform, 1940s AU, Soldiers AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Angst, long pining, Flashbacks, Mentions of PTSD, Army, Heartbreak, First Kisses, Other Additional Tags to Be Added", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester", "Series": "Cas and Dean", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
Dean Winchester never did excel in the classroom. He preferred ditching lessons and smoking behind the dumpsters during his time at high school; something he learned his father did when he was younger, and decided to try his luck at it. The only lesson he ever did show interest in was PE where he truly showed his skills. Working at his Uncle's auto-fix garage proved to have helped in his agility and strength, giving him school records in obstacle courses and gold medals come awards day. His younger brother, Sam (Sammy, to Dean), preferred the books and knowledge aspect of school but could throw a mean left-hook to anyone willing to try poking fun at him.Mary, Sam and Dean's mother, often said that if Dean didn't join the armed forces he would probably be stuck fixing cars all his life. Growing up he never did see the problem with that. His Uncle Bobby had let Dean poke around with engines and tools when Dean turned five, and by the time he turned eleven years old Dean could fix up a simple motorbike in a couple hours. It made the buzzing in his mind lessen slightly and gave his fingers something to do for a while. When Dean turned eighteen the First World War took the USA by storm. Whilst the US didn't get involved in the war until the 6th April 1917, they felt the full force of German forces. John Winchester signed up for the army in May 1917, and by October the Winchesters received the yellow telegram stating that their beloved family member was KIA. Mary Winchester passed away on the 15th of November 1918, just four days after the first World War ceased. The house fire that took her life happened at midnight after a candle in Sam's room got knocked over. Police told Dean that Mary must have accidently knocked into it when checking on Sam, but Sam himself was lying in a hospital bed with smoke in his lungs at the time and Dean felt as if he would be the only remaining Winchester come morning.Sam made a full recovery in a month and went back to school. Dean had just finished the senior year but ducked out of attending his own graduation. Bobby took in Sam whilst Dean packed up their house in Lawrence, and then Dean found himself signing up for the army. By the time Dean was twenty years old he had gone through training and was being promoted to Colonel. Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, December 1939 Bobby's place has barely changed since Dean was a kid. More people have come to get their cars fixed here or to simply dump their old and beat up cars they no longer want. Bobby pays them to dump their crap in his yard so that things don't go to waste, and when a car gets fixed up it goes back on the market for 35% lower the price it was sold at originally. The property consists of several acres of land covered in stacked, wrecked cars, Bobby's house and outbuildings. The area is fenced by iron gates and trees, and Ed Singer (Bobby's father) is buried behind the woodshed.Sam bought a place three miles down the road after marrying long-term girlfriend, Jessica. He got his degree as a lawyer at the age of 27 around five years ago, whilst Jessica works as a school teacher for the Sunday group at the local church. When Jess isn't at the Church every Sunday she's helping Bobby by answering letters, stacking check books and doing general housekeeping (that Bobby verbally complains about but secretly appreciates). Sam helps out as often as he can, and when Dean isn't at the army base or overseas he's also leaning over a car hood or underneath it replacing gears. The war hasn't affected the company at all. At most the only damage down was to Bobby's legs. When the First World War demanded US troops, Bobby was drafted a month and a half before it ended. Frostbite and Gangreen threatened to take his legs, and a bullet to his left thigh kept him immobilized for three years. After medication bottle after medication bottle and countless physical therapy sessions Bobby gained more movement and can stand and move about freely for a couple hours a day. Doctors predict that give him a year or so and he'll no longer need the wheelchair he uses to get himself around, and Bobby's taken that as an invitation to stop using it completely."Bobby," Jessica stood straight and sharply glared at her Uncle-in-law, "I don't care what you think Doctor-Ganger said, I know he said you still need the chair."Sam grinned around the rim of his coffee mug, winking at his wife as she looked at him exasperatedly. Bobby edged himself out of the kitchen, mumbling about "idjits" on his way out, but he still slumped himself in his wheelchair when he reached hs desk. Jess sighed, falling onto her husband's right knee.Jess sighed, falling onto her husband's right knee, "I feel as if half the time we're just arguing about utter crap.""He loves you," Sam pushed aside her blonde hair and kissed her temple, "He doesn't like showing his appreciation for affection, 'it's'all." "Mhm," Jess closed her eyes, relaxing as Sam rubbed her arm over the sleeve of her dress."Boy, I do hope I ain't interrupting anything." Jess opened her eyes and smiled at Dean as he placed his duffel bag on the kitchen table, "Dean, always a pleasure.""Pleasure's all mine, Jessie," Dean winked playfully at his sister and nodded at his brother. "Want a coffee?" Jess stood, fixing her hair and smoothing down her apron, "Just heated the water but that damn man decided to be difficult before I could do anything else.""I ain't be difficult!" Bobby shouted from the conjoined sitting room. "Ya just insist on getting involved with another man's business-!"Dean glanced at Sam who just gave him a "don't ask" look, at the same time as Jess glared at Bobby again and shut the sliding doors to cut off the man mid-sentence."So," Jess smiled, patting Dean's shoulder, "Coffee?""Please." Dean grinned, "And-""Pie, yes, I know." Jess patted his cheek and set out getting plates and cups together. Dean jogged up the stairs quickly to set his duffel in the spare bedroom and locked the trunk at the end of the bed with a padlock. The trunk holds Sam's, Jess's and Bobby's Christmas presents that Dean picked up from New York when he stationed over there, and Sam's already tried his luck with snooping around in an attempt to find his. When he made it to the foot of the stairs again Jess was taking away a book from Bobby and replacing it with a mug of black coffee and a plate with a slice of cherry pie. She turned on the radio on her way out, pointing at the edge of Bobby's desk showing where Dean's own mug and plate sat."So," Bobby grumbled as Dean collected his plate and fell onto the couch underneath the window, "When are they shipping ya out then?"Dean flicked his eyes at the kitchen where Sam pulled Jess onto his lap again and flipped the newspaper over to the puzzles, unaware of Dean watching him. "Wednesday," Dean spoke, shoving three forkfuls of pie into his mouth in quick succession.Bobby looked at him with narrowed eyes, as if he knows Dean is hiding something from him. "That's two days after Christmas, what's the hurry?"Wincing through his mouthful, Dean swallowed the remainder of his pie and chugged his coffee too just to waste time. "New recruits are causing more of a problem than they thought. Boss has decided to get them actually trained before giving 'em guns.""And don't tell me they're making ya do it?"Dean shrugged, "Higher cheques-""We don't need no more money you dumbass!" Bobby wheeled himself closer to the couch, "The money from the yard is enough, plus Sam's cheques plus yours already. Dean, if you're doing this just to get more money I will send you down to Hell's Gates myself.""Bobby," Dean rolled his eyes, shrugging off his leather jacket, "I ain't doing it for no more money.""Then what then?""It's safer!" Dean hissed, standing up to slide the doors shut so Sam and Jess can't hear, "It means more of a chance me making it out of the war alive than it does going and fighting. Now I ain't no coward, but if I get a chance to stay in the backlines and come home when this hell-crap blows over then you can be damn sure I'm a take it."Bobby shook his head and wheeled himself back over to his desk. "The Fordhill's dropped their old banger off this morning, mind taking a look at the engine. They ain't getting rid of it or nothing, just wants it tuned up.""Bobb-""Stupid bastards paid double than what I asked," Bobby ignored him, opening up his books instead, "Well go on, the stuff's not gonna fix itself."***Dean banged his head against the car bonnet and swore loudly, shooting Jess a glaring look as she tried to stifle a giggle under her hand. "Sorry," Jess cleared her throat, lips tugging up as Dean rubbed the back of his head and dropped the oily rag back into his toolkit, "Just came over to say that the Fordhill's called, they thank you for the car. Says it runs smoother than it did when they first got it. Also, Sam tried to pick the lock on your trunk too. Cut his thumb and acted like a baby for a solid half hour."Dean snorted, slamming the hood of the car he's working on down. "Some things you don't learn out of books, Jessie, lock picking being one of 'em.""I'll be sure to mention it to him," Jess smiled as he slipped his arm around her shoulder and started leading them out of the garage. In return, Jess held her own arm around his waist and hummed along to Dean's whistling. "When you heading out?" She asked, sidestepping a tire. Dean tightened his grip on her as they reached a slope of wet mud. "Wednesday," He said, "In Arizona for God knows how long.""You stay safe, yeah." Jess tugged his arm back as they reached the steps leading up to Bobby's porch. "I don't want to go to no more funerals anytime soon you hear?"Dean took in Jess' pleading eyes and nodded slowly. "I'll be back in one piece, promise.""Good." Jess patted his cheek, "Got any idea what ya want to eat tonight. Sam has no input today since he's acting like a child."***Christmas Day came and went as quickly as it did during the First War. They exchanged presents, laughed at Sam's old embarrassing high school stories and watched cartoons on Channel 2. Boxing Day was a rush of fixing cars and getting into town to pick up Dean's uniform. They found that people had more respect for them after Dean stepped out in his Commanding General uniform, and guys that used to badmouth the Winchester-Singer family instead saluted them as they passed by.At exactly 4:58 AM on Wednesday, December 27th Dean woke up, washed his face, showered and polished his shoes. The other three were up by 5:30, and at 6:14 they were hugging goodbye one last time on Platform 2 at the train station. Dean held onto Sam three minutes longer than he did with Jess or Bobby but swallowed the tears back. He promised to be back home as soon as possible before boarding his train on final call.Sitting through the 35.47-hour journey (consisting of four trains and a ten-minute walk between them) proved difficult when wearing the most uncomfortable uniform ever, and the shoes Dean's wearing are rubbing his ankles the wrong way. The woman opposite him eyed him up for the first ten minutes of the journey but gave up when he didn't so much as spare her a second glance. When she got off at Omaha a mother took her seat. She nodded politely at Dean, who smiled back and winked at the small child clutching her hand. The boy grinned back at Dean and spent the 10-hour journey from Omaha to Denver sat on Dean's lap and asking about each individual medal Dean has been decorated with repeatedly. The mother thanked Dean for keeping her son entertained and thanked him for his service to their country. After telling them to stay safe and making sure they got a taxi (which he paid for when the woman wasn't looking) Dean slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the bus stop. There he took a lonely ride to the other station and boarded another train to Las Cruces. On the final train journey, Dean fell asleep for three hours, waking up during the last hour as they rode through the final stretch of land in New Mexico. Yuma was a bustle of army uniforms boarding and hopping off of trains, crying families either welcoming or waving off their loved ones, and the occasional child too young to know what's going on weaving between long legs to play with toy planes and tanks. Dean checked into his station, flirting with the woman at the desk for a while before letting a bell boy escort him to his room. The lad said he was currently in his second year at college and therefore didn't need to go off to fight, but is a part of the group set up by the army to train regardless. Dean gave him three dollars as a tip and some advice on what to do during training before getting some more shut eye. When he woke up again it was morning and he had three hours to kill before he was due to get to his meeting. He dug through his room to inspect every millimeter from top to bottom five times, unpacked twice and repacked three times and switched on the small TV he was given. Cartoons filled the screen and Dean sat to watch them for an hour before the small bell boy from yesterday delivered a file for him. Dean paid half of his attention to the file on his lap, and half of his attention on the cartoons still playing. That was until he read the one word he was not expecting to read. Partner Castiel Novak was born a miracle. The youngest of six children (and twin to one of them) Cas and his twin brother, Jimmy, were expected to be born with multiple genetic problems after their mother was involved in a car accident in her last month of pregnancy. Chuck and Becky Novak expected their final two children to die in childbirth, but both boys were born healthy and perfectly normal.Becky Novak was caught cheating on Chuck when Cas was five, and when he was six Becky moved away to Canada. Chuck was left to raise six children by himself, which turned to five when Micheal (the oldest son) packed up and left when he turned eighteen. Chuck worked back-to-back shifts at four different jobs to make ends meet, so Luci and Balthazar were left to make sure Gabriel, Jimmy, and Castiel got a somewhat normal life. Cas grew more fond of his brothers than he did his own father, which proved to be probably for the best when Chuck was hospitalized for excessive drinking when Cas was fifteen. Cas enlisted to the army when he was sixteen, and by seventeen he was training at MCB Camp Pendleton in California. Jimmy went on to become a preacher in Brooklyn, Balthazar works for a detective squad in Manhatten and Gabriel does off jobs around the country. Luci was arrested when he was 22 on account of identity fraud but was released after a year. Cas sometimes thinks that if his mother had never cheated and left them things would have turned out all right. He kids himself sometimes into thinking that he wouldn't have joined the army when he did, and he would have probably gone into teaching like he wanted to at fourteen. He blames his father, mostly, for drinking so much his liver started eating itself. That might have been the final straw he needed to get away, but the other contributing factors had started long before then too.  MCAS Yuma training base, Arizona, December 27th, 1939"You know," Anna Milton, one of the nurses at MCAS Yuma training camp in Arizona sighed, looking up at Cas through her lashes, "Lotta guys would love to be in your position."Cas rolled his eyes and continued sorting out his tie. He got to Yuma on Boxing Day, and Anna had been around him since. She's been working here since the war started in September, and the other men and boys around the base haven't been enough to keep her company yet. When Cas showed up she quickly realized he was the talk of the town, especially seeing as he is one of the youngest commanding generals histories have ever seen. His name will be plastered in history books for years to come, and it's just a bonus he's good looking too. Except for one small problem: Cas isn't interested in her. Not one bit.He doesn't seem interested in the amount of skin on show, or the fact that she's a nurse and that's just every guy's first wet dream. The engineers who whistle at her every time she walks by give her the attention she graves, but Cas prefers keeping his distance between them. In fact, he doesn't even seem interested in becoming friends either."Whole lotta guys," Anna muttered, huffing as Cas shrugged on his blazer and sat on the bench lining the wall to put on his shoes. "Mhm," Cas hummed, the first sound Anna's heard come out of him all day, "I'm pretty sure Leo from intercoms will be more than happy to switch places with me. Actually, I'll go find him now for you."He ducked out of the room before Anna could do so much as blink, and shivered quickly as the image of him somehow ending up in bed with her flashed through his mind. He's in Yuma for two weeks tops, just to meet the team and set up timings with his partner for the training before they head off to France to actually commence training.Partner.Cas already hates whoever he's supposed to be working with. He became commanding general individually, he went through training individually, he grew up individually since he was six-fucking-teen. He doesn't need a partner in order to do his job, but apparently, his bosses think he does."Novak."Speak of the devil.His boss, Crowley, is a bit on the chubby side, wears black constantly and owns 47% of all military organizations in the world. He's one of the richest men in the world and, currently, holds more power than President Roosevelt. Cas does have to give him credit though, Crowley does his job no matter what obstacle comes his way. He's ruthless yet efficient, everything a leader should be."Mr. Crowley." Cas nodded, falling into step beside him as they pass through the corridor."Settled in?" "Yes, finely sir.""Good," Crowley nodded, handing Castiel a file that Cas has already read dozens of times beforehand. He didn't bother opening it up again, just tucked it under his arm and continued to walk beside Crowley."A meeting's been scheduled for 1300 hours, there you will meet your partner and you will begin the process of planning. If there is, for some reason or another, implications in this ordeal which result in your absence to this meeting you will be physically removed from the site and your medals will be stripped. Do I make myself clear, General?" "Yes, sir."Crowley paused, spinning on his heel to face Castiel face to face. He studied the Commanding General for a moment before nodding approvingly. "I've always liked you, it must be because of your charming charisma seeing as you are in no way suitable for your position - in my opinion anyway - so do not make me rethink my choices. My bosses will be... displeased if I have to fire yet another pair of generals."Cas bit down his snarky remark and nodded tightly. "Yes, sir." He gritted his teeth, flexing his jaw as Crowley smirked at him and swaggered down the hall again. "Assbutt," Cas muttered under his breath, checking his watch to see he has fifteen minutes before his meeting.He snatched a coffee from the canteen on his way to the room, finishing it off just before entering. He stopped dead in his tracks as he came face to face with Dean Fucking Winchester sitting at the table. Dean looked up, then back down then snapped his head back up to look at Cas so quickly he must have pulled something."C-Cas?" Dean stuttered, sitting up properly and staring at him wide-eyedWell, Cas thought, Fuck. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Columbus, Ohio, April 1923 (16 years prior) It's wrong. They both know it's wrong, but they don't really seem to care as Cas pushed Dean against the wall and starts unbuttoning his shirt, kissing him roughly the entire time. They've been in Ohio for three months now, training endless hours for a fight brewing in Germany as Hitler gains more power (although no one really is sure that the fight will even happen). They're still too young, Cas only 21 and Dean 20, too young to be training for an evitable war and too young to be carrying such powerful ranks. But the powerful ranks mean separate living quarters to other people, which mean more privacy in situations like this.  Trying to even touch each other innocently in a normal bunk room would have raised all kinds of issues, but here - in Dean's room with the blinds shut, all doors locked and windows sealed shut - they can do whatever the hell they want with zero interruption.  Dean has his right hand in Cas' hair and his left hand gripping tight onto Cas' ass, grinding them both together whilst panting against his lips at the same time. Cas manages to squeeze his hand in the front of Dean's boxer shorts and Dean swears, throwing his head back roughly and swallowing down a groan.  It's clumsy and rushed but they don't care. Dean tries five times to get on top and trying to taking the reigns for once but Cas is stronger than him and manages to pin him down. When they're finished, sweaty and panting, they're under the covers, sheets pulled up to their cheekbones as they kiss lazily and run wet hands over the other's body.  "I love you," Dean whispers quietly into Cas' hair, nuzzling his nose against the black locks causing his breath to stir it slightly. Cas clutches tighter onto Dean's hips and kisses his shoulder. "I love you too." They grin at each other stupidly because they believe the other one, believe they have their whole lives to say it before Dean finally flips them over and kisses Cas again. Yuma, Arizona, December 27th, 1939 (Present day) Cas didn't expect to see Dean ever again. In June 1923 Dean was promoted and their time together was cut short when Cas was deployed over to Hawaii. They hadn't thought of getting addresses from the other one because Cas was only supposed to be a month and then they would be back together. Cas was away for six weeks, but when he got back he was told Dean had gone - packed up one night and didn't turn back. No one knew where he was, and it was only then that Cas realized he knew very little about the man he said he loved. He didn't know about his family (if he even had any left), where he grew up, basic trivial facts about him... all he knew was the selected pieces of information that Dean had dropped into conversations - and even then people around base back then had known Dean better. Dean didn't look any different. The only physical difference Cas could see was the added muscle and a few scars, but other than that he was Dean. Tanner than he was sixteen years ago, and he held himself differently too but it was Dean through and through. The same one that couldn't fall asleep with the window open, who said 'son of a bitch' at least ten times a day minimum, who hugged everyone like he would never see them again and the one who's smile could light up the whole damn room in seconds.And if it weren't for the fact that Dean had left without a word, breaking Cas' heart, Cas would have raced over and never let Dean go again. He would have apologized profusely for having gone even though Cas didn't do anything wrong. Cas was close to taking a step forward towards him, but then he remembered the long nights where dreams (both good and bad) of Dean had kept him awake. He remembered the aching hole in his chest that was created when he found out Dean went, and he remembered when he realized - exactly two months after Dean disappeared - that Dean may well have been lying-No, was lying about loving Cas. Becuase you don't leave someone you love, even in situations such as theirs. Or you at least leave a note or an address, or a number or something but Cas got nothing."Cas?" Dean's standing but isn't stepping forward. He's wearing the same uniform as Cas which is irritating because Dean looks ten times better than any other person with the blazer and slacks. He's also wearing those stupid boots that he never parted with, and Cas can see that equally as stupid leather jacket on the seat that Dean was occupying. Cas swallowed roughly, finally meeting Dean's gorgeous stupid green eyes, putting up a facade of pure hatred and betrayal. "Dean." Columbus, Ohio, July 19th, 1923 (16 years ago) Dean's staring out of the window. He has been for the past two hours with the same blank face, dead eyes of someone who had just experienced the worst thing in the world. The nurse taking his blood smiled weakly at him when she finished up, stuck a cotton ball over the injection spot, tapped it securely and then left without a sound. For the past two hours, it's been nothing but test after stupid test. The doctors have taken a pint and a half of his blood, made him piss in a cup and then swiped a wooden stick on the inside of his cheek for a DNA sample.  The entire time Dean hasn't said a word, and no one's tried to get him to speak. Anna Milton, a grad student of 18 years old had tried to when coming in to check his condition but gave up when Dean wouldn't even look at her. She did, however, sit with him and hold his hand when he started a panic attack. When it was over and he sobered up enough to continue staring at the window she wiped his face with a wet cloth to get rid of the tear streaks and then left the room. The horror of it all flashed through his eyes again and Dean tore his gaze from the window. He looked at his hands, bloody, cut, beaten and dirty with mud - clenched in fists since the incident. Slowly and painfully he flexed his fingers out straight, wincing as dry crusts of mud dropped to the floor. The hospital room he's been given has an attached bathroom, small but useful. Dean stood up, cleaned his hands (only the corner of his mouth twitching showing the pain of when the soap got into his cuts) before Dean wiped them on a small hand towel provided and then sat back in his original place. It's started to rain and Dean's hurtled back to when his High School Literature teacher tried to get him to understand pathetic fallacy. He's not sure if it applies in the situation seeing as the bad thing's already gone and been, but he saw the irony anyway.  A small knock at the door vibrated through the too quiet room and Doctor Dumler strode in carrying a clipboard. His assistant followed behind, pushing a trolley of Dean's belongings.  "Evening, Dean," Doctor Dumler started, waving his assistant off who shut the door silently behind him, "I see you've been up and about," He nodded towards Dean's hands and gave him a smile.  "How did it happen?" Dean asked, voice cracking. It's the first he's spoken since the incident and Dumler looked at him surprised, "The accident," Dean said, "How did it happen?" Dumler seemed to be having an internal debate with himself, before sighing and taking off his glasses. He situated himself in the wooden chair beside the bed and set the clipboard on Dean's lap. "Inadequate information was leaked to our sources." He finally spoke, "And I'm afraid that's all I can say for now. People are investigating the case. Once we have all the correct information we'll let you know." Dean remained silent. "There is, however," Dumler said slowly, "Now a chance for you to go home. We just need you to-" "Are the unit from Hawaii back yet?"  Dean barely moved and Dumler was taken aback, thinking momentarily that he had imagined the sentence. It wasn't until Dean looked at him and repeated the question that he realized Dean was actually speaking. "I..." He started, confused at the sudden interest in another unit rather than the accident that nearly killed Dean, "As far as I'm aware they've just been given the all clear to come back. They should be here by Thursday. Why? Is there-" "No." Dean interrupted gruffly, "Just-" He cleared his throat and looked down at the clipboard in his lap, "Just wondering." Dumler nodded, watching as Dean picked up a pen and started filling out the boxes on the form. Ten minutes later the hospital was calling Sam Winchester, Dean's younger brother, and explaining all about the incident. By midnight Dean was on the train back to Kansas.   Yuma, Arizona, December 27th, 1939 (Present day) Dean had told himself for sixteen years that Cas would get over him, that it was just a stupid infiltration that they had for each other and that they never really did mean it when they said they love each other.Except Dean meant it.Every single time he whispered the three words to Cas Dean meant it. Every. Single. Time.It hurt for the first couple months when Dean got back home. The physical wounds he had eventually went away and Sam stopped trying to be a mother hen. Bobby got him straight into work when Dean's hands worked again, and then Jess came along who didn't once look at Dean like he was anything less than a hero. No one knew about the accident unless they were told specifically, and Dean was told that the US Army was trying to keep it covered up. Dean was invited to a meeting at the White House to thank him for his "sacrifice" for his country, but he didn't attend. When his legs stopped aching Dean went out more. He tried to drown the guilt of leaving Cas with alcohol and one night stands, but the escape from reality only lasted the night. When he woke up again, hungover and in a stranger's bed, the guilt would come crashing in again, worse than the day before.Dean felt stupid, but by the time he plucked up enough courage to write to those at the base in Ohio he was told that everyone was either sent out to a different base or they went home. Searching for Cas was stupid; Dean had no clue about his address, family, hobbies, nothing. After five years Dean stopped sleeping around. He carried on drinking whiskey like it was water and throwing himself into work whenever it came up. Sam graduated from Law School and Dean clapped the loudest at the ceremony. When Sam got married Dean was both the best man and the one giving Jess away, but after the reception and the after party Dean went home to an empty house and got high. One of the bridesmaids that kept eyeing up Dean bumped into him at the corner shop the next morning and tried her luck again, but was ultimately turned down again. And now Cas is in front of him - hair as messy as it was when Dean last saw him, eyes bluer than before and he's packed on more muscle since their last meeting. He looks exactly the same, but he's looking at Dean like Dean's just committed the worst crime in existence and Dean knows he screwed up majorly. "Dean."It comes out harsh and cracked. Cas swallows thickly afterward, blinking rapidly three times and Dean drops his shoulders slightly. "Hiya Cas." He tries weakly, his corners tugging up sheepishly. Cas continued to stare at him, disbelief and something else slapped across his face until Crowley walked in the room."Ah, I see you've introduced yourselves already," He threw some files and a couple pens onto the circular table in the center of the room and then linked his hands together behind his back, "Well I don't want to be here any longer, you know what you need to do. This will be your office until we dispatch you and your unit later on. If you have any complaints, don't come to me, I won't care."He was gone as quick as he came, shutting the door behind him and swamping the room into silence once more. Cas is still standing by the door, looking down at his feet and Dean's standing by his chair, looking at Cas."Cas-""Don't." Dean swallowed and shrunk back as Cas glared up at him, eyes red and glossy. Cas ran his hands through his hair and chuckled sarcastically. "This is just-" He shook his head and looked at Dean again, "God, do you have any idea what you did?""Cas-" Dean tried again but he was cut off again."No!" Cas exploded, thankful that the office is away from other rooms and there's no reason for anybody else to be lingering in the corridor, "No! You don't get to try and explain yourself or tell me it wasn't your fault. You left. You did that. Not me.""I didn't want to!" Dean argued, staring at Cas intently. "God do you really think that after everything I would just up and leave without a word? Do you think I'm that cold-hearted? Fuck sake Cas, if it was anyone else then sure but not to you. I would never do that to you intentionally."By this time they were somehow on the same side of the table, arm's length away and Dean can see the dark circles around Cas' eyes and the scar by his ear he got as a kid. Cas can see every freckle on Dean's face and the day old stubble on his chin. Dean wants to touch Cas like he used to but Cas looks heartbroken and angry at the same time, and when the proximity between them finally registered Cas cleared his throat and looked down at the files on the table."We better..." He trailed off, taking a step back and sitting down. Dean bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, moving back around to sit in his chair across from Cas and reaching for a file. Every now and again Dean felt Cas' eyes on him but every time he looked up Cas was looking at the paper in front of him. No words were exchanged between them unless they had to do with the work in front of them, and by the time six rolled around Cas picked up his jacket and left without another word. Dean leaned his head back, sighed, swore and then looked at the door Cas just left through. "I'm screwed." ***Three days later Dean runs into Anna Milton. It takes a couple moments to the name and face to become familiar and then Anna sees him, smiles brightly and rushes over to hug him tightly. The translator that was trying to feel her up waited for a couple minutes for them to catch up but eventually got bored and headed towards the medical block in search for another nurse. Dean and Anna fill each other in on what's been going on with themselves, and Anna gushes about how well Dean's recovered. Cas passes them by and barely looks at them, just gives a tilt of his head as Anna greets him. Later that night everyone on base heads into town looking for a bar. They find one nestled in the corner of town, small and barely busy when they crowd through the doors. The bartenders need to call in for other workers, and in thirty minutes the top shelf is cleared of all alcohol. One of the pilots starts playing some kind of jig music on the piano and everyone's moods brighten more.Dean's by the bar, one arm around Anna's waist as she rambles on about some trip she took to Mexico recently. Dean's nodding along but isn't really paying attention. His eyes are looking over the top of Anna's head towards the door, where Cas is talking to one of the female telegramers. She's laughing with her nose scrunched up and her hand on Cas' bicep, squeezing slightly. Cas' cheeks are flushed and it looks like he's finishing off a second pint when the girl he's with orders a round of shots. He's jealous. Dean-fucking-Winchester is jealous of some post-grad twenty-year-old woman because she has Cas' undivided attention. For the past three days, Dean's been getting nothing but side glances and one-word answers. Cas looks over at him and their eyes lock, both girls they're with still talking. Dean sees Cas' eyes flick down to Anna and then his jaw tenses slightly. And that's when it hits Dean. Cas is jealous too.  And if it weren't for the fact that Cas has been ignoring every attempt Dean's made at starting conversations, or just passed him without a second glance, or given him snapped remarks, or the complete ignorance of the fact that Dean isn't entirely to blame Dean probably would have excused himself from Anna and turned to Cas. But Cas has been treating him like shit for the past three days, so Dean looked down at Anna and asked if she wanted to get out of here. Anna stumbled on her words for a second before only managing a nod quickly. They drown the rest of their drinks and Dean slides his hand down into the back pocket of Anna's dress as they pass the door by Cas. They make out for a while in the alley next to the bar before they stumble their way back to base and into Anna's room. It consists of three beds on different sides of the room, with three sets of every piece of furniture. Anna guides him towards the middle one and kisses him again. Dean sucks a hickey into her hip and lets her leave scratches down his chest and back. Anna doesn't seem fazed as Dean gets up afterward and starts to get dressed again. Neither says a word as Dean leaves, shutting the door after him and making his way to the officer barracks across the base. Cas' room is opposite Dean's, and Cas himself is unlocking his door when Dean jogs up the stairs. Cas takes one look at Dean's messy uniform and sweaty skin, rolls his eyes and slams his door shut after him. Dean's so used to the guilt in the pit of his stomach that he doesn't even react anymore, just falls into bed. He wakes up in the middle of the night and just makes it to the bathroom in time to throw up. His back stings when he takes off his shirt, and the eight parallel scratches pulse red and angry when Dean twists to look at them in the mirror. Dean groans, fighting off images of doing this exact same thing sixteen years ago except back then it was Cas' fingernails leaving trails of lines and not Anna's. Dean throws back six shots before he collapses into the armchair by the open window. He falls asleep thinking about the last time he saw Cas smile at him. December 31st, 1939 Cas wakes up at ten in the morning with a pounding hangover. He vaguely remembers getting involved in a drinking game with some guys from the translating labs after seeing Dean leave with Anna, and then drowning half a bottle of tequila when he saw Dean stumble up the steps looking like a mess. He knows they slept together and for some reason or another, it hurts. Cas feels hypocritical because it's not like he's been celibate for the past sixteen years but the knowledge that Dean had slept with someone else stabbed at his heart strings. Cas shook his head, got dressed and headed over to the office. It was midday when Dean walked in, a cup of coffee in his hand and a couple files tucked under his free arm. Much to Cas' surprise, the coffee wasn't for Dean. He slid it across the table when he sat down, and nodded at Cas briefly before flicking open a file and starting to write. A small smile tugged at Cas' lips as he took a sip. It's black coffee, one sugar with a drop or two of cream. Cas actually moans, like full out moans at the taste and Dean snorts."Thanks." Cas wipes at his mouth to get rid of any evidence of the coffee on his lips. Dean looks at him and gives him a small wink."No problem," He shrugs it off, "Thought you might be hungover and coffee usually helps.""And if I wasn't hungover?""Then you just got a free coffee," Dean leans back and taps his pen against the paper. Cas looks at him and a brief smile comes across Dean's face."What?"Dean shakes his head softly and looks down at his lap before looking back at Cas when he receives a kick to the shins. "It's just..." He trails off again, clearing his head before mumbling a "nothing" and getting back to his work. The rest of the day involves them actually talking to get things done quicker until one of Crowley's assistant's wheels in a telegram mission. Dean works better with machinery, they found out, due to working with cars his whole life so he types out ten telegrams before six rolls around and they leave the office together. ***Cas fell asleep briefly when he got back to his bunk, and is woken up at around eleven in the night by someone pounding restlessly on his door. He doesn't bother buttoning up his shirt as he swings the door open and catches Dean's fist before it collides with his chest. Dean's not dressed like he normally is. He's in normal civilian wear and his stupid boots. Cas lets his eyes sweep his body quickly, his brain too sleepy to even think of the repercussions. Which, in turn, end up being pointless because when he looks at Dean's face again he finds Dean's eyes are directed at his naked chest. Cas smirks slightly and moves the door further open to get his attention. Dean has the decency to blush at least and wipe his mouth before looking Cas in the eye and giving him a cocky grin."Now if you were trying to seduce me Cas, all you had to do was say so." Cas rolls his eyes and leans against the doorframe. "I'll keep that in mind for the next time I decide to 'seduce' you."The comment throws Dean off a bit and Cas makes a mental tally in his head of a number of times he's done it. Eventually, Dean comes back to his senses and orders Cas to get dressed. Ten minutes later Dean's dragging him into one of the plane hangers where nearly everyone's gathered for a New Years party. He expects Dean to move off and greet people, leaving Cas to find his own way around but (much to his surprise) Dean slings an arm around Cas' shoulder and moves them around the room to introduce Cas to two specific people. Benny and Charlie both work in logistics. Dean tells Cas that he met Charlie back in High School, and he's known Benny since '25. Charlie's short with ginger hair and keeps calling all three of them 'bitches' as a collective term of endearment, and she's obsessed with old movies and games. Benny's around the same height as Cas, big with muscle and has a pointed glare 24/7 but he calls everyone 'brother' (even Charlie - who prefers to be called 'Queen') and Cas soon finds himself laughing along as Benny and Charlie recount embarrassing stories of Dean they can remember. They ask how Dean and Cas know each other (Benny pointedly looking at Dean's arm which is still around Cas' shoulders) and Cas interferes before Dean can say anything."Worked together in Columbus in '23." Cas shrugs as if it were no big deal. "Had to deal with his ego for about seven months before I was deployed to Hawaii. Only met him again around four days ago." Charlie takes it upon herself to fill him in with everything that he's missed in Dean's life until Dean suddenly cries out someone's name. It sounds like 'Gavin' but then Dean repeats it and Cas makes out 'Kevin'. Dean lets go of Cas to pull an Asian kid into a bear hug, but then Dean's back to holding onto Cas when he pulls away. Kevin's introduced to Cas just as Charlie pushes a bottle of beer into Cas' hands. Kevin looks nervous and out of his comfort zone but Dean whispers into Cas' ear that unless Kevin has a foreign language in front of him that's in need of translating he just permanently looks like a scared toddler. It takes Kevin five minutes to warm up to the group, and then it's half-past eleven. Nearly everyone in the hangar is drunk or on the verge of getting hammered. Soon it becomes too crowded and the five of them head out to sit on the steps of the officer barracks. Dean and Benny pull out a cigarette each as Charlie sits behind Cas and starts tapping morse code against his neck, getting both Cas and Kevin to guess what she's coding.One code says "Dean's a dick" and Cas giggles it out, causing Dean to kick him in the hip and hit Charlie round the back of her head. She laughs it off and Cas just grins at Dean around the top of his beer. Dean winks at him and it's enough to spread a faint blush on Cas' cheeks. No one else seemed to notice, except Dean who's heart soared (as cringy as it sounds) and he grinned wider. At five-to-midnight Kevin and Charlie race back to the hangar to count down with everyone else, whilst Benny only leaves when it gets to two minutes before the countdown starts. Dean and Cas promise to be there in time, using the fact that Dean's just started another smoke as an excuse to stay behind. Dean moves down a couple steps to sit beside Cas, but the steps aren't wide enough to fit both men comfortably and so they're pressed up against each other tightly. Cas takes a swing of beer which is still pretty much full and hands it off to Dean when Dean holds out his hand. Dean exchanges it for his cigarette and Cas takes a long drag of it, leaning his head back to exhale the smoke. He watches it dance with the air around them and disappears before repeating the action. He gives Dean back the last couple drags of it and Dean hands the beer back over. They stay silent, pressed against each other as Dean stomps out the remaining bud and Cas finishes the beer. He turns his head to say something to Dean but they're closer than he thought he would be and the words die out in his mouth. Dean looks at Cas' eyes, then his lips and back up to his eyes as the countdown begins in the hangar. Cas licks his lips once they reach twenty.Dean's hand is on Cas' thigh at eighteen, Cas' fingers are on the back of Dean's neck at thirteen.They're kissing before they reach five. An explosion of cheers erupt from the hangar and it's loud enough to make the two men pull away. They're panting heavily, buffs of air pushing past their lips which are still too close. Dean presses his forehead to Cas' and exhales deeply. Thirty seconds pass before it sinks in and Cas swears before stumbling up the steps and locks himself into his room. He ignores Dean as Dean pounds his fist on the door and yells Cas' name, confused and scared at the same time. Dean gives up and Cas hears the slam of Dean's own door.Cas falls back against the wall and lets the panic attack envelop him. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Youngstown, Ohio, February 1923 They've been sent to Youngstown so that their units can be evaluated. Their units remain in Columbus, but by army regulations officers are not allowed to be on base when evaluations are taking place. Dean's not complaining because the hotel they've been staying in the past few days has thick walls and the staff doesn't try to get in their rooms whilst they're away. This is crucial otherwise they'll ask why Dean has two suitcases in his room and why Cas has none in his. It's two rooms to a floor, so sneaking in every night isn't exactly difficult, but Cas goes back to his room every now and again to make it look lived in. Now though, now Dean's got his head on Cas' chest and Cas is playing with his hair. Dean's pretty sure that the shirt Cas is wearing is actually his, but Dean can't remember if he's wearing his own shirt or if it's Cas'. Either way, it's comfortable and smells like both of them. Dean's tracing small designs on the exposed skin of Cas' abdomen from where he's racked up his shirt, and Cas' fingers are soothing as they scrape against his scalp. Cas shifts his hips and exhales into Dean's hair, moving his fingers to play with the hairs on the back of Dean's neck. His pinkie slips underneath the collar of his shirt and rubs gently against the skin there. Dean smiles into Cas' chest and lifts his head to steal a brief kiss.  Cas hums contently and smiles as Dean tugs at his bottom lip. They kiss lazily for a while and then Dean gets up to go to the bathroom. When he clambers back into bed Cas pulls him in tight so Dean's back is pressed against his chest. Dean reaches for Cas' hand and kisses the back of his knuckles gently. Dean moans softly as Cas kiss the back of Dean's neck and Cas chuckles against his skin. "I love you," Cas whispers and Dean smiles despite Cas not seeing him. "I love you more." "Debateable."  Dean snorts and tightens his grip on Cas' fingers, "Oh yeah? Try me, Novak." "Challange accepted, Winchester."  Yuma, Arizona, January 12th, 1940 Working in the office has been silent since the New Years party. Once Charlie came in, talking quickly and using her hands to animate the speech but registered the tense atmosphere in the room and basically bolted. At one point Dean needed tools to fix the telegram machine and the only sounds were him cursing under his breath every couple minutes.Cas wrote page after page after page of training ideas and notes until eventually, it came the time where he and Dean had to actually evaluate their work and come up with a neat copy of a timetable. Neither one got too close, but every time Dean plucked the pen from Cas' hand his heart threatened to let out another panic attack and one point Cas all but shoved Dean out his way making the wheels on his chair push him back. Dean hit him back but nothing escalated from there. Neither brought up what happened at New Years and it turned out that when they had a reason to ignore each other and not the sixteen-year-old grudge from before they got work done ten times quicker. Crowley came in at ten at night of the fifth for the presentation and then took all their work. On the tenth, they received folders regarding their transfer to Évreux-Fauville Air Base in France. The base was built in the 1920s and as far as civilian knowledge goes it is out of use. The base was designed for advanced aircraft departures and arrivals but is currently being used for training and medical usage rather than the intended purpose. Both enemy and the country itself believe it to be empty and so all allied countries are working harder than ever to keep that belief going. The units going through training were sent out on the eleventh whereas Cas and Dean are expected to be flown over tomorrow night. Benny's sat opposite Dean in the room that was once Dean's shared office with Cas, now empty of all their notes and any sign of ever being used. Benny's sat on a chair by the window, ankles crossed over each other and legs spread out as far as they can go. He's chewing on a toothpick and looking at Dean intently.Dean's sat on one of the chairs by the table, feet propped up on the edge with a bottle of beer at his fingers and eyes trained on the door as if he's expecting someone to come through. "What's got ya so worked up, brother?"Dean shook his head. "Nothing.""Ya ain't that good of a liar, Dean."Dean looked back at Benny, putting his beer down on the floor and sighing. "Cas is mad at me.""Again?""No," Dean said sarcastically, "We were peachy before. He glares at everyone he likes."Benny rolled his eyes, turning back to the window and fiddling with his toothpick. "Ya used to have a thing with the guy didn't ya?"Dean stayed silent as he played with his thumbs in his lap. He thought back on all the times they said they loved each other and the unspoken promises about the future. He thought of the accident that happened when Cas was in Hawaii and then the years of PTSD and suffering afterward. Eventually, Dean nodded, "I loved him, Christ I loved him so much.""What happened?""There was an-" Dean cut himself off, kicking his feet off the table and standing up properly, "I was a dick." Was all he muttered before he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Benny watched through the window as Dean left the building and jogged down the stairs, heading towards his barracks.Dean didn't look back once, knowing fully well that Benny was watching him, and it wasn't until he shut his door behind him that he let the tears fall.  Kansas,1923 Dean won't talk about what happened. That piece of information was clear from the moment Sam and Bobby picked him up from the train station. Dean also wasn't the same guy that left. Sam can remember clearly that when Dean first went to Ohio he still had light in his eyes and his smile reached his ears; but the guy that came back was battered and bruised, dead behind the eyes and his lips took on the form of a permanent frown. His legs ached constantly and it hurt to move, the bullet wound in his hip didn't help much either. The doctors never had to tell Sam that his older brother was experiencing PTSD - it was something Sam concluded on his own. Sam had just finished up Law School when they got the call, and he was quick to put off all the plans he had made with friends and school mates. It was the first time during the war that Sam realized there was another world beside school, and that the world was one that Dean was facing the trauma of all alone.  Dean's sat on the porch steps, just out of reach of the rain and he's clutching something tight between his fists. Sam's watching from the door, hugging his waist to try and fight the cold. Dean doesn't seem affected by it despite only wearing a pair of slacks and a tee shirt. It's midnight, and Sam would be asleep if it weren't for the fact that he noticed the porch light was on. To say that Sam's worried about Dean would be an understatement. The PTSD mixed with the insomnia is causing his older brother to slowly turn into a ghost. Bobby said it was bound to happen eventually; the fighting, the war, the army... it's a recipe for disaster. Sam's seen men come home from war and not be the same, but it wasn't supposed to happen to Dean. Dean wasn't supposed to change, not like other men had. He's tried to understand it, to wrap his head around what happened but the little information he's received isn't enough to go on, and whilst Bobby said he's gone through similar experiences he can't even explain Dean's situation. Small, warm hands wrapped around Sam's middle and Jess leaned her head against Sam's bicep. She first came over three days after Dean came home. Sam was worried that Dean would get overwhelmed, especially when Jess went over to where Dean was sitting and sat beside him, but Dean just cracked a small smile at her and didn't do anything else. Jess seems to know how to handle PTSD pretty well, and once let it slip that her father had it when she was a little girl. "He'll be okay," Jess whispered. Sam pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said nothing, just repressed all the memories of Dean laughing at a much smaller and younger version of Sam as they played with sticks in the backyard, pretending they were guns and that they were helping their dad out on the front. He doesn't want that memory tainted by the knowledge that it's not pretend for Dean anymore; that is his job. His job being the same one that killed their father and took away a part of Dean that he might not get back. "Go on," Jess patted his stomach, "Go to bed," Sam opened his mouth to argue but Jess just gave him a pointed look and promised to stay with Dean. Dean registered the fact that Jess sat down beside him and tried his hardest not to flinch as her thigh bumped against his own. She didn't move away from him though, and eventually, the feeling of being overwhelmed went away and Dean stopped tensing. He has yet to actually say anything to the girl despite the fact that she's been around 24/7 for the past three weeks.  "My dad used to have PTSD," Jess said gently, looking straight ahead at a beat up car that's long since seen it's better days. Weeds are growing out of the tires and the door hinges are rusted over from years of disuse and neglect. She felt Dean's eyes on her and took a guess that it was okay to continue. "He was part of the army when I was a little girl," She carried on, "I didn't see him a lot but my Ma used to tell me he was a hero and that he was fighting for the better cause. I didn't have a clue what the cause was but when my dad came back I knew I hated it. He wasn't the same anymore and I thought at the beginning that the fight ruined him. When I grew up a bit I realized that I didn't hate the cause I just hated what it did to my dad. I also realized that it didn't ruin him." Jess looked at Dean then, saw his emotionless gaze but also the curiosity in his eyes, "I thought it did because he acted like you," Jess explained, smiling and wiping her eyes as Dean reached out and held onto her hand. She felt the cold metal of a dog tag against her palm and squeezed onto Dean's fingers, "You're not broken Dean, you're not ruined or a lesser version of who you used to be. I know because my Dad got better, he overcame it and he lived a very long, very fulfilling life. He did that because he had something to fight for. He had family who loved him, he had friends supporting him and he came up with his own cause to fight for." "I don't-" Dean coughed, voice rough and gravelly. Jess isn't sure if this is the first time he's spoken since he's gotten back or if he's spoken when she's not around, but either way, it sounds as if he hasn't said anything in a while. "I don't have anything to fight for. Not anymore." "Yes, you do. You have Sam, and Bobby, and everyone who's ever done you any good." Jess whispered into his shoulder. She felt him slide his hand out of hers briefly to cool it down but the dog tag caught on a ring her mother gave her as a teenager. Jess flipped it over in her hands to read the name and serial number, tracing the numbers before the name on it fully sat in her brain. "Who's is this." She asked, peering forward to make sure she read it right; Novak,Castiel856-15-0432RH PositiveChristian Dean said nothing, just sniffed and looked away. Jess pressed it back into Dean's hands, closing his fingers around the silver tag and holding them there. She kissed his temple briefly, "There's another one to fight for," She whispered before standing up and making her way back into Bobby's house. She came out again to drape an Afghan blanket over Dean's shoulders and to set a mug of hot chocolate by his feet before saying goodnight and making her way upstairs. Sam turned from his space by the window when she shut the door behind her, and the look on his face said that he saw it all.  "He hasn't mentioned a Castiel has he?" Jess asked, slipping out of her nightgown and hanging it up in the closet. Sam paused for a moment, eyebrows furrowed before he shook his head,  "I'm pretty sure he's said 'Cas' a couple times but it's been too quiet to actually hear. Why?" Jess sighed once again and climbed under the covers, into Sam's arms. "He's got tags that say, 'Novak, Castiel' but he won't say who it is. He looked real upset 'bout it though." "We'll figure it out," Sam kissed her shoulder, "You got him talking at least. That's progress." They stayed up until they saw the porch light flick off and heard Dean's door creak shut. In the morning Dean would sit with them and eat breakfast, shower and go mess around with a car. He would ask Sam if he wanted a coffee and then he would go out with Jess to the market. He would also have three panic attacks throughout the day but it still progressed.  Los Angeles, California, August 1926 Cas was discharged after a minor mission went downhill and one of the snipers was nearly killed. His unit was first checked into a psychiatric ward for a series of tests and diagnostics, but Cas was given the all clear within a couple of hours. He traveled from Shawnee, Kansas to Los Angeles, California where he knew Jimmy was staying with his wife and daughter, Claire.  Had Cas known he was 36.5 miles and approximately 40 minutes away from Dean at the time he properly would have made a detour. Whilst it's common that priests and preachers live on church grounds Jimmy decided to buy a house about ten minutes away from the church. After getting the call about Cas' unit he quickly set up the guest bedroom and didn't push his twin brother to come out of his room for three days. Eventually, Cas got over the post-trauma and managed to eat meals with the family, as well as take Claire to and from school every day and run errands for Amelia, his sister-in-law, between. "Uncle Cas," Claire, a blonde child of just six years old with a missing front tooth from where she fell from a swing set recently, is stunningly similar to her mother. She bares the same eyes as Jimmy and the same "it-will-be-done" attitude, but one look at her proves that she's her mother's child through-and-through. After Cas managed to remain out of the guest room for more than four hours she became weary of the man, especially as he winces whenever someone brings up Ohio and wears two sets of dog tags rather than one. Over time, however, Claire became drawn to the man and now clambers onto his lap whenever he has the chance to sit down. Today she's brandishing a book and multiple sheets of math homework, a pencil stuck behind one braid and a suspicious ink stain on her shorts. Cas picked her up before she could fling herself off of the chair she's currently stood on, and returned her grin with an equally toothy one.  "What's it this time?" He asked, taking a seat and perching his niece on his right knee. Claire flattened out her piece of paper with both palms before reading off the questions, sticking her pencil between her teeth whenever she needed to figure a particularly difficult question out. Amelia smiled from her seat across from them as Claire used Cas' fingers as a counting tool, and continued to fold the laundry in front of her. Jimmy returned from the church at precisely six PM and said grace before they dug into their meal. Claire peeked her eyes open to see that Cas wasn't praying with them, but instead just bowed his head slightly and thumbed at the dog tags hanging from his neck.  "Daddy," Claire started as her father tucked her in that night, "Why doesn't Uncle Cas say grace with us?" Jimmy paused from where he was brushing her hair off of her forehead and swallowed roughly before answering, "Your Uncle doesn't have a lot of faith left, Claire. And that's not a bad thing." "Why, what happened to his faith?" Claire's brows furrowed as her six-year-old mind tried to comprehend it. Growing up around religion has conditioned her into believing that faith is the final resort and that those who don't pray in the name of God are punished for sinning. She's read psalms from the Bible and she prays every Sunday at Church beside her mother. Her friends, family, and teachers all believe, and now one member of her family has seemingly lost all sight of the Lord. "Your Uncle..." Jimmy paused again, trying to come up with the right words, "Well, one day, something might happen to you and you might just stop believing. Or you may wake up one morning and stop that way. Something happened to your Uncle, Claire, and he's seen a lot of bad things happen. Sometimes it gets difficult to clearly see what you think is right when you're in his position." "What happened to Uncle Cas?" Jimmy thought of the letter he got a couple weeks ago telling him his brother was involved in the unit that was ambushed in Italy. He thought of the smile that Cas used to have years ago but didn't come back from Ohio. He thought of Cas, at fourteen, freaking out in their childhood bedroom because he realized he was attracted to guys and not girls, and he thought of how his father would get drunk so badly he didn't think twice about hitting Cas with a bottle when Cas came out at fifteen. He remembered Cas was at their father's hospital room two weeks afterward with the bruise still dark on his cheek, and he remembered Cas boarding a train in military uniform at sixteen. "A lot of things happened," Jimmy whispered, "But it doesn't make your Uncle any less of a hero." Yuma, Arizona, January 13th, 1940 Cas is stood in front of the mirror in his room, fidgeting with the tie that's been securely in place since he tied it six minutes ago, but his hands won't stop moving and he fears that if he manages to finally gain control of them he'll do something stupid. The mirror is stained around the corners from grim and years of dirty fingerprints picked at the already peeling plastic. The rest of his room isn't exactly five-star worthy either, with peeling wallpaper from draughts and damp winters; the carpet should be a pale green but is instead a rusty mud color, and the other pieces of furniture have seen better days. None of that matters now, though, because in an hour he'll be boarding the plane that's taking them to France and there they will begin to do actual work. Cas is grateful for the apparently full timetable they'll be receiving because his mind needs preoccupying constantly otherwise it'll rocket him back to News Years and the taste of Dean and cheap beer on his lips and the way Dean pressed Cas closer to him when their lips meet. Sleeping in the room opposite Dean for the past thirteen days has been more painful than the days leading up to News Years when Cas was still sure he hated Dean for leaving. Cas knows he's probably overreacting. He can easily pin it down to them both being slightly buzzed and not knowing any better - but Cas knows better. He knows he wanted to kiss Dean, knows he still does and that if he wasn't so stubborn and just knocks on Dean's door they can start all over.But Cas overthinks everything, always has, and his anxiety wins over every time.The knock on his open door startles him out of his mind, and his eyes flick up in the mirror to see Charlie leaning against the doorframe with her usual confident ease, "Hiya, thought I'd say goodbye before you head out."Cas turned and smiled at her, opening his arms for a hug which Charlie dived into, burying her nose into his shoulder and breathing in deeply. "You stay safe now," She whispered, "You're due back in a couple months and I'm not planning on leaving until you do."I won't make a promise I can't keep, Cas wanted to say. He didn't think he could promise Charlie to return and live to see the day where he comes back, not because he thinks he'll die overseas, but because he knows the heartbreak of returning only to see his loved one has left. But Cas just swallowed, shut his eyes and whispered the promise into Charlie's hair. When Cas opened his eyes again he met Dean's, the green of his iris bright and slightly glossy as Dean himself stands in the doorway, one hand raised to knock on the wood. Dean's fist falls back to his side just as Charlie pulls away to place a kiss on Castiel's cheek, mere centimeters away from the corner of his mouth. Charlie wiped away a stray tear, saw Dean and rushed over to give him the same affection she had just given Cas.Cas heard Dean's duffel hit the floor as Dean wrapped his arms around the redhead, and Cas heard vague mumbles being exchanged between the pair as he finished zipping up his own bag. When Cas looked back up again Charlie was wiping her eyes and giving them both one small wave before disappearing. Dean arched his back to watch her go, his hands holding onto the doorframe to steady himself when he looked back up."You ready?" He asked, jaw tensing as he ground his teeth together. Cas surveyed his room once more before facing Dean again to nod, except he stopped short and sucked in a breath as Dean appeared in front of him, invading his personal space. Dean flicked his eyes up briefly to look at Cas' face before he looked down again and reached forward to fix the askew tie and medals on Cas' uniform. Dean's own uniform is crumpled now, presumably from where Charlie hugged him, and Cas swallowed thickly at the way Dean's uniform stretched tight against his arms. "She gets upset about people leaving," Dean said gently, moving from one badge to another as Cas does nothing but stare at him as he talks, "Her mom was hospitalized when she was twelve and Charlie blames herself. Told me when we left high school that her mom got in a car accident on her way to pick Charlie up from a slumber party." Cas drew in a breath and Dean just nodded sadly. "Her mom's still alive, barely. She's over in Lebanon on a life support machine." Dean explained, "Charlie sneaks in every now and again to sit with her, and she's been saying she's planning on signing the forms to take her mother off of life support. She's only kept it going because she wants to believe that she'll wake up and she can apologize. I think she knows now that she can't, but she's coming to it eventually. I guess that's why she wants everyone to come back."At the last sentence Dean looks up at Cas, his hands falling back to his sides again and Cas looks at his uniform to find it in the pristine condition the army expects. He reaches forwards and fixes Dean's, registering the hard muscle of his chest against his hands as he works and the large intake of breath that Dean takes. Cas is quick with it, not wanting to touch Dean any longer than he needs to.But when he goes to take a step back Dean catches his wrists and tugs him forward again. "Dean," Cas says softly, refusing to meet Dean's eyes. It's the closest they've been since News Years and Cas is getting ready to spiral into a panic attack."No, listen to me," Dean said, his officer voice is on and he's setting his jaw again like he does when he's serious. Cas remembers mocking Dean's 'serious face' when they were in Ohio and the way Dean all but tackled him onto the floor afterward. "Dean," Cas tries again."Cas." Cas huffs and looks Dean in the eye, logging Dean's expression as one of ache and guilt. Cas tries to stay angry, tries to remember the betrayal and abandonment he felt when he found Dean had gone. He tries to tap back into the anger he would take out on a boxing bag in California and the amount of times he resorted to alcohol and drugs just for a few hours of escape from the hurt. "Why won't you just listen?" Dean's voice cracks and Cas snapped."Because you left." He ground out, freezing in his place. "You left. You left when you promised to stay and I don't know why I'm still so heartbroken over it.""Cas-""You lied," Cas whispered.Dean looks as if Cas had just slapped him, "What?""You lied," Cas repeated, "You said you loved me. You made me fucking believe you. You made me love you back and then you tore it all away. You. Left."Dean took three steps and ran a hand through his short hair. His entire posture is tense as if he's ready to throw a punch and if it weren't for the fact that Castiel is beyond pissed off he would probably be a bit afraid of him."I never-" Dean stopped and looked at Cas, his eyes teary before he raised a finger and pointed it at Cas, "I did not leave you."He glared when Cas went to argue, and Cas shut his mouth again."I didn't want it to happen the way it did and you have no right to hold a grudge when you don't know the full story-""Then enlighten me, Dean!""No!" Dean roared, moving to slam the door shut and all but pushing Cas against the opposite wall within a matter of seconds. Dean's fingers dug into Cas's shoulders and Cas hates to admit he feels slightly turned on underneath all the anger. "I didn't-"The thing about Dean is that he can show all known emotions under the sun within a single conversation and transition between them quickly. In the past ten seconds, he's gone from angry and red faced to seemingly broken and teary, and Cas didn't think as he lifted up a hand to cup Dean's cheek and chase the fallen tears with his thumb.Dean hiccuped at tried again, "I didn't leave you, Cas. Not intentionally anyway. And God knows I want to tell you but I... I can't. It hurts too much.""I don't know what you want me to do, Dean," Cas whispered. "I'm either pissed at you or I'm getting drunk and kissing you or... I don't know how to be around you anymore," Dean pushed their foreheads together and their breaths mingled in the space between their chins, "Talk to me.""I can't, Cas," Dean breathed out, "I want to, trust me. But every time I try to tell someone it kicks in again and I don't want the pain to happen again.""Then what, Dean? I can't sit here and pretend nothing happened. I can't look at you not knowing the story and just act like everything's fine again."Dean sighs, closing his eyes and Cas knows he'll regret it when they're apart again, but when Dean leans in Cas just closes his eyes and kisses him back. Cas is still cupping Dean's face and Dean still has his nails pressed into the shoulders of Cas' uniform, and it's not much of a kiss - more of a press of their lips - but it's enough to set every cliche thought off in Cas' head. He can't push himself into pulling away and eventually they both part for a breath. "I'm sorry," Dean whispered against Cas' neck and before Cas even comprehend it Dean's shutting the door after him as he leaves.Again. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Urbana, Illinois, July 26th, 1907 Luci and Micheal share a room, right next to Jimmy and Cas' small room. Gabe and Balthazar both have their own, only because Gabe sleeps in what used to be their mother's study and Balthazar renovated the basement a couple months ago. The difference between Luci and Micheal's room compared to Jimmy and Cas', is that Luci and Micheal have their own beds. Luci, being the oldest of the six children, has their parent's old king sized bed, whereas Micheal has a regular double bed. Their room is just big enough to fit both insides, however, they have had to store their clothes in drawers that slid under the bed, and each has a small suitcase filled with regular reading books. Everything else, like medals and trophies, fit on shelves around the walls; loose pens stashed on the window ledge and hidden in corners. Jimmy and Cas, also, have a bed designed for two people, which takes up the majority of their room and is big enough for the two five-year-olds to share each night.  Luci's bed, Cas has decided, is the best to sleep in when a storm's raging outside, and Luci himself is the best to go to for comfort. Jimmy prefers sleeping in with Gabe, the twelve-year-old providing enough comfort to calm down Jimmy, but his skin's too cold for Cas' liking and his bed is lumpy. Plus, Gabe grumbles and goes right back to sleep once the twins crawl under the covers. Jimmy likes it, but Cas goes straight into Luci's bed. Micheal barely made a sound as Cas opened the creaking door, just turned over and pulled his covers up over his head. Luci stayed perfectly still and only opened his eyes when Cas scrambled up and under his covers. Luci rolled onto his back and let his youngest brother crawl onto his chest.  "It's okay Cassie," Luci whispered into Cas' brown hair when a crack of lightning rattled the window panes, "It's just a little storm, it won't hurt ya." Cas didn't believe him. The last time there was a noise as big as the thunder and lightning outside was when their mother slammed the door shut after she left, not even ten days ago, and that's left a giant hole in his chest that hurts every day. Luci fell asleep after ten minutes, the comforting hand rubbing Cas' back seizing. Micheal rolled back over and blinked awake, winking at Cas when he stood up from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.  Cas took the opportunity and dived into his other brother's bed. When Micheal came back he just let Cas draw patterns on his back with his finger until, eventually, Cas fell asleep. Micheal stood again, gathering Cas up in his arms and sneaking out his room, retrieving Jimmy from Gabe's bed on his way. He tucked them both into bed and shut the door after him, making sure that Jimmy had his toy in his hands and that Cas was closest to the wall and furthest from the window.  He went to go back to his own bed, but he heard his father stumble his way down the stairs and out the front door, locking it with unneeded force. Micheal sighed, catching the sight of Luci leaning against the banister, watching the door.  "You got the twins?" Luci asked. Micheal nodded and turned to get the twins again. Jimmy mumbled something incoherent as Micheal picked them up and headed towards Gabe's room once again. The twelve-year-old woke up and hugged his pillow as he wandered down the hall towards Luci and Micheal's room. Luci jogged back up the stairs with Balthazar in tow, and the six children huddled in Luci's bed. The eldest three stayed awake until they heard their father stumble back in the house at around five in the morning, and Balthazar wrapped his arm tighter around the sleeping twins on his chest when the strong scent of alcohol washed through the door when their father passed by.  The whiskey bottle would by empty by morning, and Micheal would be gone by evening the minute he turned eighteen. Cas would watch him from his bedroom window until Balthazar pulled him away. That night they would all pretend they didn't see their father pour whiskey into his dinner glass, and they would ignore Micheal's empty seat. In three months Balthazar would leave for Manhatten with his then-girlfriend, and by the time Cas turned thirteen it was only him, Jimmy and Gabe left. In a later three years, Cas would wave goodbye to Gabriel, board a train to California with Jimmy and enlist in the army.  Arizona Train Station, January 14th, 1940Dean purposely didn't look back as he picked up his bag and shut the door to Cas' room after him. He purposely didn't go seek out Charlie, Benny or Kevin, and when Cas sat at the opposite end of the carriage ten minutes later Dean purposely didn't look up. But it didn't stop it from hurting. It did, it hurt so bad - worse than the accident, worse than the bullet he took to the shoulder once. It hurt so much worse than losing Cas the first time. Because back then he had Cas, but he knows now that it's wrong, that it shouldn't have ever happened.And the thought is so painful it might just kill Dean. New York City, 1923 "How are you feeling today, Dean?" Doctor Hunter is sitting opposite him, dressed in a crisp three-piece suit underneath a white, doctor's coat. He's wearing glasses, has a small leather notebook on his lap and an expensive pen tapping against his knee. Dean remembers that his mother used to have a pen like that. It was properly the most expensive thing in the house at the time, and it was used to fill out bills and important letters. The letters usually went to John when he was fighting on the front lines until he passed away and the pen was locked in Mary's bedside cabinet. Dean didn't go looking for it after the fire, and it's the first time he's remembered it since. "Dean," Doc said again, scribbling something down, "How are you feeling today?" "Fine." "Have you been-" "Having urges to screw a dude?" Dean interrupted, meeting the doctor's eyes daringly, "No offense, Doc, but you sure ain't my type." Doctor Hunter sighed, turning to his assistant and nodding. The assistant can't be any older than nineteen, and he only hesitated for a brief second before pressing a button on the desk and watched as Dean screamed in agony at the shock of electricity bolted through the wires and into his arm. They've been at this new form of "curing" Dean for the past two hours now, and so far Dean's been shocked fifteen times. His palms are bloody from his nails digging into them, and his body hurts beyond belief. His lips and throat are dry, his eyes constantly flicking up to eye the glass of water the doctor has placed beside his notebook.  "Dean," Doctor Hunter said when his assistant turned down the voltage so it was just a dull throb. Dean has his head hanging down to look at his lap, and his neck feels too weak to muster up enough courage to look at him.  "You are making this harder than it should be." Doctor Hunter stood up, strode towards Dean and used his hands to direct Dean's attention to his face. "Now, how are you feeling today, Dean?" Dean swallowed around nothing and whimpered as the doctor held tightly onto his bruised face, "I'm feeling better, Doctor." "Good," The smile Dean received looks sadistic and Dean squeezed his shut so he can pretend he's not submitting to the torture and letting them win, "Have you been feeling as if you'll break again?" Dean shook his head feebly as the doctor let go, "No, sir." "And why is that?" He can feel the tears brimming in his eyes, and he thinks of Cas. "Dean, why is that?" He thinks of how Cas smiled at him, laughed at his stupid jokes and kissed him like he was a dying man who just found his lifeline.  "Dean." He thinks of the way Cas moaned into his shoulder and sucked bruises into his hips and stomach so they would be hidden later on. "Dean." He thinks of how much he loves the stupid idiot, of how much he wants to find him and just apologize, again and again, holding Cas tight and never letting go again. "Dean!" Doc's raised his voice now, tone sharp as if he's talking to a disobedient dog, "Why. Is. That?" "Because-" Dean's throat protested and he gagged. A sharp flash of pain burned his insides and he screamed again, letting the tears fall.  "Answer me, Dean, and it'll stop." "Because..." Dean whimpered, feeling disgusting and violated, "Because it's wrong." The words sting his throat, twist his stomach painfully and are lies. Dean knows that, knows that Doctor Hunter and everyone else here is trying to get him convinced of lies. The pain stopped suddenly, and the assistant took of Dean's restraints. He took away all the equipment attached to Dean, and then Doctor Hunter is standing over Dean with the glass of water in his hands. He holds the back of Dean's head and brings the glass to his lips, watching as Dean gulps down the entire glass in three swallows, some excess dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. Dean doesn't hear what he says afterward, just knows that eventually they both leave and Dean's left sitting in that god-awful chair. He puts himself into a freezing cold shower, not even wincing as the icy water assaults his bullet wound in his shoulder. He stands under the spray, tilting his face back and holding his breath. He knows that if he stays long enough it will get difficult to breathe, but he doesn't care. It's been difficult for him to breathe for months now. It became suffocating when the nurses took away Cas' dog tags and dropped them into the fire in his room. They stupidly left before the metal burned completely, and Dean blistered his hands when he dug it out of the still alive flames. The blackened tags are lying in the bottom of his suitcase, away from prying eyes and sadistic doctors.  Dean promised he'll give them back to Cas when they next see each other. He hopes Cas won't be too angry about the burn marks. January 1940The train from Yuma to New Bern was around three and a half days. Dean and Cas barely looked at each other and stayed on opposite sides of the carriage. At one point Dean fell asleep, and five minutes later the rain started pouring in from the open window beside him. It wasn't enough to wake Dean up, and Cas made his way over to shut it gently. While he was at it, he moved Dean to lie comfortably across three seats rather than sit up on one. He moved back to his own seat and Dean slept for a couple hours. When he awoke he registered that his window was now closed, and looked over at a now-sleeping Cas. He's curled up on himself against the cold of the carriage. Dean found a blanket on the over-hanging bag holders and set it across Cas before returning to his seat and spending the rest of the journey looking out the window. The plane from New Bern to Evreux felt as if it took years despite it only being eight hours. Cas is sat opposite Dean with their bags between them, and he spends the entire time staring at his feet. Their rooms are separated by three floors, and Dean finally remembers how to breathe properly when he locks his door behind him. His new uniform and work schedule is already on the desk in the corner of the room, and his eyes see Cas' signature on the front before anything else.Dean falls backward into bed and fingers the burnt dog tags in his pocket as he falls asleep, and for some reason, he dreams of the first time they said they loved each other. 14th May 1923 "What the hell is wrong with you!" Cas growls into Dean's mouth. Dean can taste Cas' tears and feels Cas' wet cheeks pressed against his own, but is too caught up in the fact that Cas is pressing him tightly into the mattress and that his hands are scrambling grab at his face, shoulders, and hands all at once in a blur of desperation. The question is rhetorical, and that's a good thing because the only reply Dean can come up with is a strangled moan. It all happened too fast to really sink in for Dean, and now it all comes rushing back. It was supposed to be a simple break-up of protestors that had crowded the streets. At the time it had been a peaceful riot - just groups of teenagers and adults standing at the crossroads and refusing the movement of militant tanks and weaponry. Dean, Cas and a group of foot-soldiers had been sent to break them up, but the rioters didn't seem to want to talk. It ended up violently breaking out very quickly, and Dean can't remember if he fired a bullet before the man in front of him did or not, but he does remember the guy pointing a gun at the back of Cas' head. It was almost instinct for Dean, just to cover Cas' back, and the man was on the ground with a bullet in his wrist before he could properly squeeze the trigger of his handgun - which he still did anyway. His shot didn't cause any serious injuries. Once Dean's shot rang out everyone screamed and ducked to avoid any oncoming disasters. Cas ducked seconds before the stranger's bullet zoomed overhead and embedded itself into the wall of a corner store opposite them.  Everyone was quick to either run away or stay still and let the army escort them back home. Dean and his team were checked over in the medical room which took less than ten minutes, and Cas was held to give a statement. "You could have been fired, Dean!" Cas moved to mouth at Dean's jaw, feeling the stubble rub against his chin. He paused, heavily panting onto Dean's neck as Dean clutched at the back of his uniform and choked back a sob into Cas' hair. "What were you even thinking?" "I'm sorry, God I'm so sorry." Dean did sob this time, blinking away the tears that pooled in his eyes, "I just- he pointed the gun at you and I freaked out. I thought-" Cas pushed their foreheads together and wiped away Dean's stray tears. Dean's staring up at him with red, wet eyes and a wobbling bottom lip, and Cas's breath was lodged in his throat as Dean grabbed his cheeks and kissed him. Their usual kisses are quick and hurried, full of need and desperation and worry of being caught. It's been like that since they started sleeping together a couple months ago, and whilst Dean gets off from it and wouldn't change it for the world, he slows the pace down. Cas doesn't try to speed things up. He lets down kiss him slowly and lick his way into his mouth. He lets Dean hold onto the back of his neck and onto his hair without trying to rock their hips together, and when Dean slides his hand down to Cas' chest he's pleased to find that this makes Cas' heart beat faster than their normal routine. Cas is breathing through his nose as he tries to keep up and he can't remember when he started gripping onto Dean's hips but his fingers are leaving his uniform wrinkled and are pulling them from his slacks.  "I love you," Dean whispered against swollen lips. They both froze at the same time. Dean had absolutely no idea where that came from, or why he said it - he meant it, of course, he meant it, but when you say you love someone it's typically because you're in a serious, committed relationship with them and not just sleeping with them every other night to try and ignore the war.  But he meant it. Dean loved Cas; loved his constant sex hair, how the guy has no clue what anyone is actually saying ninety-percent of the time, how the left corner of his mouth tilts up into the smile before the rest of his mouth, how his voice is constantly husky and Dean loves the way Cas looks at him. He loves how he doesn't have to hold up so many burdens around him - and loves most that Cas doesn't push him.  Sam, Bobby, heck even his own parents and everyone around him would push Dean to either bottle stuff up or let it all out in one big go. After his mother's death, Dean learned to zip his mouth tightly and worry about Sam's issues over his own. Even when John was still alive Dean had not been raised to show emotion. Bobby himself has helped Dean to open up sometimes, but the old man can only do so much.  Cas though... Cas will listen to what Dean wants and then let Dean remain bottled up unless it becomes unhealthy. Cas takes on some of Dean's own issues if needed, and never makes Dean feel guilty for anything.  Cas is- well, Cas is a literal angel. Capital 'A', harp and everything. And yet, despite Cas being so gentle and subtle most of the time, he's sure as hell stumbling over his thoughts now. He's pushed himself up to lean over Dean on his palms, and his tie is hanging down onto Dean's chest. His lips are parted into an 'o' shape, and his pupils are darting across Dean's face as if he's expecting Dean to jump up and laugh it off as a joke.  "I... what?!" Dean's read books and watched a couple silent movies as a teenager with some chick he found interesting, and in every single scene where they confess their love one of the pair is normally stumbling on their words when asked to repeat them. Dean though, just cracks a toothy smile and whispers back again, "I love you, Castiel." It may be the 'love' part or the use of his full name for the first time in months, but Cas breaks out into the biggest grin Dean's ever seen and then he's surging forwards to capture Dean's mouth again. Dean laughs as their noses collide and their teeth clash, and Cas chuckles too before kissing Dean properly.  "Say it again." Cas murmurs and Dean says it again. And three more times as Cas requests. Cas pulls away and his eyes are shiny all over again - this time with happy tears. Dean smiles and his heart actually stops beating as Cas rubs their noses together and laughs. "I love you too, Dean."  Dean launches forward to kiss Cas again so hard that they tumble off of the bed, and Cas laughs through it all as Dean sucks a bruise into his chest.
10582008
On a Clear Night
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by professor_riddikulus", "chapters": "11/11", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-09T00:00:00", "words": "39,486", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, My First Fanfic, wolfstar, I have no idea where this is going, it is going somewhere, Angst, Romance, Eventual Smut", "Relationship": "Sirius Black/Remus Lupin", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
He hadn't believed it when he saw the name on the map. Remus was used to rationalizing things - people's fear of werewolves (after all he was afraid of the one that bit him), his reluctance to talk to Harry about his parents (he didn't want to traumatize the boy further), his celibacy (it would be better if people didn't get involved, they'd just run at the first full moon). That night was no different. The name, scrawled in his own handwriting, had knocked the wind out of him when he saw it, his heart racing a million miles a minute. Peter Pettigrew.The map was nearly twenty years old, it must be starting to malfunction, must be displaying old names. Perfect. Rationalization achieved. Problem solved. But then another name: Sirius Black. And if Peter's name had confused him, Sirius' crystallized everything. He stuffed the map into the pocket of his fraying corduroy jacket and bolted for the whomping willow. Maybe, just maybe, Sirius was innocent. Maybe he'd been wrong.And the next thing he knew he was standing in the Shrieking Shack and Sirius was there and they fell into each other's arms as if it hadn't been thirteen years. And Sirius smelled like shit and dirt and rat and a thousand other terrible prison smells that even Remus' heightened sense of smell couldn't identify but underneath that he smelled...familiar. Like that combo of clove, firewhiskey, and warm fur that was undeniably Sirius. Remus swore his heart would explode in that instant, surely it had grown too large for his slim chest to contain it. A hundred different emotions ran through him at once, each following and reversing the last so quickly he didn't have time to even register a concrete impression of any of them. He had dreamed of holding Sirius again, but he had never imagined how much it would ache.The embrace lasted blissful seconds but before he realized he had done it, Remus had suddenly pulled away - he hadn't wanted to smell the familiar scent of his best friend, his...oh god...he hadn't wanted to smell Sirius anymore. And he rationalized this by remembering they still had the rat to deal with, that Harry deserved an explanation for why his mentor, his professor was hugging an ex-con that had supposedly murdered his parents, that this was not the time for whatever reunion he and Sirius might have. Maybe that was how he rationalized it, but there was a part of Remus, a gnawing, terrifying part of him that smelled Sirius and thought: murderer.Remus hadn't protested when Sirius had beat Peter to within an inch of his life, but when the fourth or fifth punch had broken Peter's nose, he had turned away from the blood and the fury in Sirius' eyes. Murderer murderer murderer."Stop." Harry's bright green eyes were wide, his voice quiet, but Sirius stopped instantly and some of the wild, feral animal had drained from his face. "Stop Sirius."Hermione was crying, Ron had his arm around her comfortingly and he used her shoulders to adjust and take the weight off his broken leg.Remus realized he should have said something. He should have been the one to tell Sirius that enough was enough. But he wanted Peter to die, didn't he? He wanted to see someone brought to justice for the murder of his friends. And now that it wasn't...now that he knew the truth, Peter deserved to die didn't he? What kind of example was he? Some professor."You're going to kill him Sirius." Harry spanned the difference in three steps and held his godfather's bloody fist, "It's enough now. It's enough."Sirius let Harry pull him off Peter, looking stunned at the mess he had made of the man's face, then he looked at Harry as if he'd just seen him for the first time."Thank you." His voice was hoarse, Remus could hear the pain in it. He stared at the splintering floorboards beneath his feet as if memorizing each flow and branching of the grain in the wood there would inoculate him against the terror and grief that battled each other within him in equal measure.Peter was out cold, Remus made sure before he conjured the bonds around the portly traitor all while trying to avoid looking at Sirius. He sent a Patronus to Dumbledore so they'd be expected, so that someone would intercept them before they got to the dementors.They made it back to the castle minutes before moonrise, just in time for Remus to find Snape and down his potion in one gulp. Snape droned on a bit at him about the dangers of being so irresponsible with his "contemptible condition". Remus tried not to lose it. It wouldn't do to explode in fury or devolve into tears in front of a potion master who already considered him a weakling. He wandered back to his rooms, knowing that the wolf was coming upon him at any moment. It always made him feel queasy, cutting it this close to the moon, as if he were standing on a swaying ship. This time, it was more as if the world had decided that gravity were no longer relevant. He couldn't seem to get his footing. The last fully human thought in his head was of Sirius, who was probably still speaking with Dumbledore, and the hurt in his eyes when Remus had pulled away.Remus had packed his bags so many times that he knew exactly what fit where. His extra pair of shoes in the front compartment, the books on herbology, magical creatures, and advanced theory of arithmancy fit on the right side between the portable wizarding wireless and a small, wooden box of letters with "P + M" stamped on them. This smaller box hadn't been unpacked in 10 years, it anchored the rest of Remus' things into their place, and he tried to ignore the glare of the initials."My dear Remus," Dumbledore's blue eyes had seemed too earnest as he placed a wrinkled hand on Remus' shoulder, "No one has asked you to resign. There's no need for such drastic measures."Remus felt resentment boil up inside him, a hot, corrosive churn in his blood that tired him even more than the transformation had. He took a breath and shrugged off the hand. "I appreciate the sentiment of course, but I'm not a fool Albus. Let me lose this with some dignity."Albus smiled sadly. Remus had the sudden urge to rip the expression from his face. What right did the old man have to pity him? "Tonight perhaps we can celebrate what you have gained, even if you are determined to leave the school."Remus had managed a weak smile because the headmaster expected it of him. Immediately after he left the headmaster's office he cringed. He was still smiling for other people instead of for himself, he promised himself he wouldn't do this anymore. And yet, it was just easier, easier to hide his anger from Dumbledore, to simply go before the letters arrived from angry parents, easier to run from Harry who looked so much like James. When he was alone, even if it was scrounging money for a Muggle hotel or sleeping in some empty shed, he never had to smile to make someone else comfortable. He didn't even blame Snape for telling the Slytherins about Remus - he knew Snape would retaliate against Remus for Sirius' innocence. Snape always picked on him, he was the easy target. He suspected that though Snape would deny it, he was slightly afraid of Sirius. Afraid and jealous of the long family lineage, the purebloods status, and angry at the ease with which Sirius had thrown it all away. He expected that sort of behavior from Snape. He hadn't expected the damned headmaster to send Harry to convince him to stay. That was underhanded.The boy arrived looking confused and windswept, a mixture of emotions that Remus had seen on James' face so many times it was difficult to count. Somehow those Potter genes conspired to make both father and son look perpetually like they'd just survived a hurricane. They even had similar glasses. Seeing him was a little like looking at an old photo you forgot you'd taken - as much as the warm breath of nostalgia would creep in at the sight of it there was always a bit of doubt, a feeling as if it had been another world, or another life, one that you couldn't claim, at least not anymore."You can't be leaving?" Harry's voice was tired, to be up this early he couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep."I'm afraid so, Harry. There are a few particularly sharp and pointed objections I imagine parents will have when they find out about my condition." He sighed at the look of defiance that greeted this statement, "I was prepared for this eventuality. People like me...we're often quite...mobile.""Just because you're a werewolf?""Well, it is contagious, they don't want to risk-" he stopped suddenly realizing that he was defending the people that would oust him, defending their bigotry. He didn't want to teach Harry that, James wouldn't have approved."That's completely mental. You're not going to bite anyone or...or hurt them or something!""Well Dumbledore has a school to run and he has already risked quite a bit on my behalf. This may be difficult to understand, Harry but trust me it is for the best."Harry looked puzzled, but he didn't say anything else for a moment. Instead he peered around the half-packed room and his eyes lingered on a framed photograph. In it, three boys not much older than Harry were smiling furiously up at the camera from the snow-covered Hogwarts grounds, playfully punching one another and generally looking as if they were having the pink-cheeked time of their lives. Peter's eyes were shining in it as if he had never imagined life could be so full of joy and James was at the far right, one arm around a reluctantly laughing younger version of himself (he always wondered why he ever thought that haircut was a good idea). James' other arm reached out of the photo, seemingly around another boy's shoulders. You could see just the edge of his shoulders, where he would have been had the photo not been not-so-skillfully cut apart.Harry scowled at it a bit and Remus turned his attention back to sorting through the remainder of his books. It was silent for a few moments."Where are you going to go?" Harry's voice was calmer, not so defiant."Most likely here and there." Remus tried to sound nonchalant but it came out a bit forced."But what about Sirius?"Remus froze."What about him?" He said, perhaps too sharply."I mean...they're going to free him...with a full apology from the Ministry. At least that's what Dumbledore said. I thought you were friends."Remus turned away from Harry under the pretense of folding his shirts but he gripped the edge of the wardrobe hard to keep his voice steady. "We were, yes.""And now?""Now," Remus chastised him, "Now you must give your former professor space to pack, I'd like to be off the grounds before lunch today. But," he pulled the Marauder's Map from a drawer and turned to hand it to Harry, "I believe that you will make better use of this than I could."Harry looked as if he were going to say something else, but he merely took the map."It has been more than a pleasure teaching you Harry, I am glad to have gotten to know you. I knew James and Lily as well as anyone and you are without a doubt, everything they would have wanted in a son."Harry stared at the ground."If there is anything you need, I will always be there for you, whether I am here at Hogwarts or elsewhere. I should have been there long ago, for that I am sorry.""I don't want you to leave." Harry muttered this to the floor.Remus smiled, for real this time. "Hedwig will know where to find me." And he hugged Harry, ruffled his hands through that stupidly untidy hair of his, and ushered the boy out of his office.Twenty minutes later, without another goodbye, he flew from the grounds, destination uncertain.And Hedwig did know how to find him. Remus sighed as the great snowy owl tapped her beak insistently on one of the windows of the small cottage. He hurried to let the bird in, it wouldn't do to let his Muggle neighbors catch sight of her, even if there was a field between the two houses. Their youngest daughter was perpetually ending up at the creek that ran near the cottage and she'd surely notice the bird.Remus had been in Iceland for almost two months. Luckily, Dumbledore had set him up with a larger-than average final paycheck. This meant that if he was frugal (and he didn't know how to be any other way) the little leaky cottage that the Muggle who rented it to him had called "unfit for winter" would be perfect. It merely took a few small construction spells to fix the rotted wood and the holes in the roof. He had sealed the hearth and now a fire was crackling happily there, filling the dwelling with the heavy smell of wet wood. He loved Iceland, if he was entirely honest. Out away from the paved roads and swarms of tourists of Reykjavik the landscape didn't pretend to be anything other than rugged, challenging, and cold. The land itself was practical, nothing grew in excess or without need, no energy went unconserved. And the people, his distant neighbors, were kind and warm. The opposite of the frozen landscape. They seemed almost happy to trudge the mile or so between them to share fresh baked sweet rolls and to receive a bottle of wine in return. They were astounded at the difference he had made in the cottage, promising him all kinds of repair work in the spring.It would be a few months until then. The landscape was not yet covered in a permanent blanket of snow but the heavy skies threatened it with each passing day. These days of biting late-autumn cold, when the chill felt like needles on any exposed skin he was glad of apparition. He could still turn on the spot and find himself in a cozy cafe in Reykjavik, gather supplies and be home before he froze solid.Hedwig ruffled her feathers, shaking off ice from the wind that must have settled there during her flight. Remus took the letter from Harry, and she swooped gracefully to sit next to the fire with a small contented chirp. Apparently she wasn't planning to leave until he had penned a reply.Remus turned the letter over in his hands and broke the seal, pulling the thick heavy parchment out with a small smile. This was what he truly missed most about teaching at Hogwarts, being with Harry. It was as if some piece of James remained, like the echo of a laugh, even if he realized that in many ways Harry was nothing like his cocky trouble-making father. But then he took in the first few lines of the letter, and realized Harry hadn't written to him after all. Dear Moony, Hi. I waited a couple months to hear from you, but its pretty clear at this point that you're not going to make the first move. I'd make a joke here about how you always liked to be chased but I think you might not be in the mood? I bet you're looking all disapproving and Moony-ish right now. I was right, wasn't I? Harry told me about you leaving the school, Dumbledore told me as well. He was quite put out about it, I think the old bat is just lazy, doesn't want to find a replacement. I wish you would have told me yourself. We didn't get a chance to speak at all, you were gone before I got away from Fudge. Can you believe that? A pardon from the Minister of Magic himself! My mother would be so proud. Actually I can tell you for sure she is not, Harry and I are living in Grimmauld Place again so I have to listen to her fucking portrait screaming about my traitorous nature anytime I want a bite in the kitchen. Not that I'll let anything get between me and food, but it is a bit unappetizing. It's just a temporary thing, until I can find a decent job and get us a bachelor flat somewhere less...covered in house elf heads and spiderwebs. You'd think it was the damn Taj Majal the way that Harry talks about it though. I gather those Muggles treated him like utter shit but he doesn't like to talk about it much. I'm crap at this sort of thing, mostly because I just want to rage every time I think about it, but I guess we're managing. Where are you? Are you coming back for Worm's trial? I don't know if I should say anything about - I am so crap with feelings Moons, just write me back okay? It has been 12 years of us not talking, now I don't even know what the fuck to say but I'm bursting to say fucking something. Anything. Where are you? Why did you go? -Padfoot P.S. Don't even think about not replying, Hedwig will make your life miserable. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Spring 1977 Remus blinked, staring up through the fluttering green canopy above him, shafts of sunlight and glimpses of clear blue sky dancing down between the leaves. He was lounging in the grass on a hill above the Black Lake, an oak tree shading him from the sunny spring afternoon. A breeze was blowing off the lake, the sweet bright air of early spring scented with the very earthy, woody scent of new growth. He breathed deeply, letting the warmth of the sun dapple down on his scarred face. Remus was sixteen, carefree, starting to truly grow into his limbs and fill out in the shoulders, his sandy hair lying in casual disarray in the long grass underneath him. It was the golden week of the month, two weeks before the full moon, when he had recovered from the last transition but was not yet antsy and irritable before the next.He had never thought he would be this lucky. Three friends who risked imprisonment in Azkaban to keep him company on his worst nights, who supported him, laughed with him...loved him despite his furry little problem. And hey he hadn't done so terribly when it came to OWLs either. Perhaps his future was brighter than he'd imagined it would be. He closed his eyes again, reveling in the silence, the sound of the breeze and the slow lap of the lake against the shore below Remus' hill the only disruption.Suddenly the calm was broken by a flurry of thuds on the soft ground and before Remus could even open his eyes a huge fluffy weight had fallen, hard, on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and leaving him gasping. His eyes snapped open and he was confronted with a mass of black fur and a drooling, wild-eyed animagus-form Sirius Black."MERLIN are you absolutely fucking mad?" Remus choked out, still trying to catch his breath while the giant dog looked perfectly happy to sit on his chest, "Get off Pads! You're heavy!"Sirius took his time, rolling off Remus and looking delighted with himself. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he panted into the grass."It's the middle of the damn day, you're going to get caught!" Remus spit at him, but he followed the pronouncement with a small huff and rubbed the huge dog's neck. "I'm assuming you're done with McGonagall's exam? And James is still in there?"The dog said nothing, merely continued looking pleased and rolled onto his back so that Remus could scratch his belly. "I saw you cheating off me you know." The dog whined a bit and Remus turned on his side to face him, "You had plenty of time to study, don't give me those sad puppy eyes. Any honestly you really shouldn't be running around grounds as Padfoot. Someone is going to come ask me what I'm doing bringing a dog on grounds. And I was having quite a good day without having to lie for you for once."He was mostly resigned to having to cover up for Sirius, though that work wasn't always as appreciated as it should be. Sirius had taken him for granted before, the same boyish charm and overconfidence could turn, with startling ease, to selfishness if left unchecked. He supposed this was the legacy of growing up a Black, though Sirius liked to pretend that he'd completely shed any effect of his upbringing. He thought for a moment about last year, what Sirius had done to him, to Snape, and he found that after half a year of anger and fighting and reconciliation and fighting again that he had finally really put those feelings behind them. Remus was not forgiving when he was angry, but Sirius was nothing if not persistent and somehow he'd wiggled his way back into Remus' good graces. Hopefully as a reformed version of his idiotic self. He ran his hand through the soft thick dog hair behind Padfoot's ears grinning back at the slightly vacant but otherwise blissful expression on the dog's face.And then Sirius transformed back without warning and Remus found himself in the awkward position of having a hand threaded through Sirius' long black hair, the boy, like the dog before him, less than half a meter from him and wearing a huge grin. Remus was momentarily stunned as he stared into Sirius' deep dark eyes, overwhelmed with the spicy clove scent of him and the tangible presence of being so close to him that he could feel the warmth of his body. His every sense seemed to shudder, to absorb what felt like a painful electric shock that traveled from his hand on Sirius' neck up his arm and into his suddenly heavy chest. It was impossible to breathe, and yet he couldn't breathe in enough of the other boy. Something had shifted, the world had spun and returned to him upside down and yet not more than a few seconds had passed. But perhaps he lingered there just a moment too long, his hand intimately wrapped in Sirius' soft hair, because Sirius' grin faltered, his eyes darting back and forth across Remus' face. He looked confused, but not upset, just merely taken aback, as if he'd never seen Remus before and didn't know quite how he got there."OI MY CANINE COMPANIONS!" James called from behind Remus, and Sirius snapped back to consciousness, pulling away from Remus to what seemed a respectable distance. Remus' hand, untangled from Sirius' hair seemed suddenly cold, foreign, as if he no longer had sensation in it. Remus turned to look at James, hair wild, robes billowing, stomping through the grass towards them. Peter followed behind, distractedly flipping through their Transfiguration textbook. Sirius sat up quickly, brushing his hair back and replacing his grin.Remus looked at Sirius, flush with excitement and maybe embarrassment, his bark-like laugh ever ready to answer one of James' dumb jokes and realized in that moment in a rush of emotion that was like the wave of a tsunami crashing down upon that he was totally, completely, and irreparably in love with Sirius Black. Fall 1977 Sirius allowed himself to be hugged one more time by Mrs. Potter - though he loved and appreciated the woman, he'd never been very comfortable with the sort of overly touchy expressions of affection that passed for normal at the Potter house. Literally it was like the whole family was always hugging one another. Sirius supposed this was what a normal family was like. After all, James never stopped throwing arms around his friend's' shoulders or punching them playfully, always wanted to throw his legs over yours on the common room couch or some other touchy-feely nonsense. He realized that this was normal, people expressed themselves this way. It was one thing with James, they were best mates. But with his parents, even though they'd taken him in, it still felt strange. Mrs. Potter kissed his cheek then wiped away the lipstick as James rolled his eyes aggressively, his frankly un-fucking-believable Head Boy badge pinned to his chest."Mum you're smothering let him go! We've got a train to catch," he turned to Sirius, "And girls to impress!"Mrs. Potter looked softly disapproving at this, "You keep out of trouble James, I don't want any more Howlers this year." But she said it without much conviction, as if even Mrs. Potter didn't believe there was any possibility her son could keep his twitchy energy from causing mayhem. After all, she had raised him."Thanks for letting me stay Mrs. Potter. Give my regards to Mr. Potter." Sirius flashed his most charming smile at her then let himself be dragged by James towards the train."I don't know why you're in such a bloody hurry. She's not going to expire if you're not there immediately." Sirius complained loudly, but James was already talking over him."And this year, Sirius bruv, this year is going to be different I can just feel it. The spark of romance is in the air." His eyes were manic as he said this, he looked completely mental but Sirius didn't bother pointing this out."Oh? Yeah? She's finally going to stop calling you a flobberworm? Or is she suddenly just going to be attracted to large mucusy invertebrates?""Piss off. We're going to be spending all this time together, doing...duties together."Sirius snickered."YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN""Prongs, mate, maybe the reason she doesn't like you is because your idea of romance is to visit the toilet together. That would definitely be a turnoff for me.""Good thing I'm not trying to date your furry arse then isn't it you absolute shit?""There you go again with the potty mouth.""Oh has he started already?" Remus had just come around the corner of one of the columns, pushing his shabby trunk and looking significantly taller than Sirius remembered. His hair was cut differently too, he'd done away with the shaggy bangs that covered a good deal of his face. This had the effect of calling more attention to the few scars that were slashed across his neck and left cheek but it also meant that Sirius could see his storm cloud grey eyes better. He looked, well, he looked really good."You know I never stop Moony." James looked at Sirius, then when the silence stretched for a moment too long, "So? Good summer? Have any adventures without us?""Oh you know, got into a bit of trouble running the dirty streets of Dublin. Nothing I couldn't handle."Sirius laughed, "You spent the whole summer reading, didn't you?"Remus opened his mouth to respond but James twitchily interjected "OKAY BUT GET ON THE TRAIN NOW CAUSE LILY."Remus laughed, "Okay Prongs we know you need your daily verbal abuse.""No he just needs to take a shit so he has to find her."But once they got on the train it did seem that James had to go find Lily for a legitimate reason, as Head Boy he was supposed to help her welcome and organize the activities of the prefects. Peter had scurried off to speak with the lunch trolley lady, who he swore hadn't given him proper change for his licorice wands and Sirius and Remus were left alone in the compartment together as the London sprawl gave way to more and more green on the journey north.They shared a few pumpkin pasties, enjoyed speculating how long it would take Lily to actually murder James, and whether the trolley lady had taken Peter on as his new apprentice and he would live out the rest of his life learning the proper way to yell "Anything off the trolley?" When the window started to gather condensation from the cold and they had most definitely entered Scotland, Remus suggested that they change into their Hogwarts robes and the boys stripped down to put on their uniforms.Sirius tried not to watch Remus, he'd seen the other boy mostly naked a hundred thousand times before, he'd also seen more of James and Peter than he ever needed to, these were the hazards of sharing a dorm with the same jokers for six years. But for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, Sirius suddenly felt like he shouldn't be looking at Remus while he was changing. And Sirius had never been one to look away from a naked body, there were plenty of girls in his year could attest to this. And actually, if you took into account that one time that they'd broken into the girls changing room in the Quidditch stadium, Sirius had seen a lot of naked bodies over the course of his tenure at Hogwarts. Nothing interesting or embarrassing about it.But this was different. Sirius was keenly aware, even as he tried not to look, of the smallest of Remus' movements. The way he laid out his uniform before undressing, to make sure that he had everything he needed. How he pulled the t-shirt, which was just a bit too tight in the shoulders now that Remus had filled out over the summer, over his head in one languid movement, more as if he were stretching than taking off an article of clothing. Sirius fumbled with the zip on his hoodie and scrambled out of his own t-shirt. Then he realized that he was staring, whether intentionally or not, at Remus' chest.The muscles around his collar were way more defined than Sirius remembered, wiry but strong. Sirius swallowed hard. What the hell was going on? This was Remus. His friend, his ally, a partner in crime. But the feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach (and if he was honest, somewhere a bit lower as well), was protesting loudly that things had changed. Remus was...well he was kind of hot."What are you looking at fleabag?" Remus joked but Sirius noticed he sounded a bit nervous. The question broke him from his staring at Remus' collarbone and snapped his head up. Remus had his Hogwarts shirt on but hadn't buttoned it yet and his hand went instinctively up to cover a fresh, bright red and purple scar that was slashed across his left pec. "You know it isn't polite to stare."Sirius looked at the scar and felt irrationally angry. He imagined that the wound would have been deep, probably painful for days as the skin stitched itself back together. He remembered the other times that Remus had clawed at himself, and Madame Pomphrey could only do so much on the wounds inflicted by a magical creature like the wolf. Sirius reached out a hand and delicately touched Remus chest where the scar was - he didn't think about the gesture he just reacted. Remus flinched away violently."What the fuck Sirius?!" His face was twisted, betrayed."I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Sirius was red, embarrassed. Remus didn't say anything he just stared with hard eyes at Sirius, the same eyes he had given Sirius for half a year after the Snivellus incident. He had to explain and quickly before Remus' slumbering temper woke up any more. He was slow to anger but when he got mad it took a long time to placate him."I'm sorry Moony I...I don't know what I was thinking. I just can't fucking deal with the idea of you hurting yourself like that." He looked down at the floor, Remus' look softened a bit, unseen by Sirius, "I sometimes forget ...you're all alone in the summer without anyone to protect you.""I have my parents Sirius. And I can take care of myself you know. Don't treat me like a child.""I know! But you shouldn't have to!" He was defiant now, "We promised we'd always be there for you. I promised. I'm gonna always look after you…" he trailed off thinking hard, "You never think you're worth it but you are." He turned away, going back to pulling on his own robes even though he could feel the other boy's eyes on him. And as he dressed he thought about how he'd like to kiss Remus' collar, how fiercely he wanted to protect him, how weird it was that a summer had changed everything. Sirius wanted to turn and tell him that his chest felt tight and his head was swimming. Tell him that he was beautiful and that Sirius had never seen him properly before now. But they dressed in silence and then Remus excused himself to the toilet to escape the heavy tension in the air.And somewhere near Edinburgh Sirius realized that things were always going to be different between them now, even if his affection weren't returned. He realized that he would give anything for Remus, not as he would for any of his friends, but as something more. He realized he was totally, completely, and irreparably in love with Remus Lupin. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It was blissful, walking out of the Dursleys' house for the last time, trailing his trunk behind him, Sirius' thin and tattooed arm around his shoulder. He was laughing and Harry was laughing and the sun had peeked out from behind the grey English clouds - Harry thought he'd never felt more alive. The very air in his lungs felt fresher, the sun felt warmer, he even thought that he felt taller. Although, considering the rate he was growing that could be possible. He could have cast a thousand Patronuses, enough silver stags to fill the Great Hall.Harry couldn't see the disrepair and damp of Grimmauld Place. Sure it was a bit spooky, and he had been surprised to say the least at the type of wizards Sirius' family had seemed to be, but on the other hand the house was theirs. It was a big, old, comfortable house that he could share with his real family. Not those relatives that tried to beat the magic out of a child, or enslaved a pre-teen, or only ever told him how worthless he is. Sirius was delighted by everything he did, every story, every terrible joke, every preference and interest. He wanted to know everything about Harry, to support him and teach him about the wizarding world. He wanted to hear every terrible thing Snape had done as a teacher and thoroughly enjoyed joining in Harry's vocal dislike for him. He had so many stories to tell him and Harry hung on every word.After a week at Grimmauld Place, Sirius arrived in the kitchen with his arms full of cleaning supplies. His head was barely peeking over the gloves, sponges, buckets, paint rollers and various other objects, grinning maniacally. Harry eyed the pile suspiciously."What's all that for?""Don't you think it's time we make this place smell less like Slytherin's balls? I mean, I hope at some point we can get a place that wasn't owned by my parents but in the meantime we should get to work, yeah?"And they had. They set to work clearing the house through magic and elbow grease, the wizarding wireless blaring away all the while. Cleaning with Sirius was not like cleaning up at the Dursleys'. It was filled with laughter, in fact everything that Sirius did seemed to be announced with booming barks that cut the air and reverberated off the walls. Harry wondered if the dog had influenced him, or him the dog. They teased each other, throwing garbage out by the bagful, Sirius with his hair up in a ponytail, Harry having to pull his glasses off time after time to wipe the dust and grime off them.Together they cleared out the house enough to invite the Weasleys over. Harry wanted Ron to come stay but Mrs. Weasley didn't yet seem keen on letting her youngest son spend too much time alone with Sirius, who in her mind might be innocent, but had certainly spent a lot of time in a place that could have unhinged him. Sirius tried not to show how much this bothered him, "She knows I'm dangerously charming," he had said, the smile not quite reaching his eyes, "she probably doesn't want Ron picking up any of my prodigious talents for trouble. Though based on what you've said I think Fred and George could have given your dad and I a run for our money." But Harry was starting to recognize the moments where Sirius' laugh was used more to distract from the faraway look in his eyes than to express some genuine joy. If he hadn't been so used to reading the expressions of his uncle as a survival skill, he never would have noticed it. Still, he reasoned, the man had spent twelve years amongst the worst creatures Harry could imagine. Certainly it would all take time. And they had plenty of time.It was two months into their residence at Grimmauld place that Sirius sleepily trudged into the kitchen and set the kettle on, scratching his bed head. He looked miserable. There were red and purple rings under his bloodshot eyes and he moved as if he were in a daze. Harry sat at the long wooden kitchen table, working on a summer assignment in a halfhearted way and nibbling on his fifth piece of toast. That was one of the many perks of living with Sirius, he could actually eat whatever he liked over the summer as well as at Hogwarts. Harry checked the clock. It was 10:45am. Sirius was a late sleeper but this was worse than usual."You look terrible."Sirius turned away from the stove, "Oh gee, thanks kid.""Didn't sleep?"Sirius nodded in a sort of noncommittal manner, turning back to the kettle. "You know how it is, still not used to the bed and all that."Harry could tell by the way Sirius held his shoulders a bit tighter as he said it that he was lying. Sirius hadn't been sleeping well for a while, but he never wanted to talk about it. Harry was sure that if Sirius got whatever was bothering him off his chest that he'd be able to rest, and if anyone deserved rest it was his godfather. He'd tried again and again to get Sirius to talk or to figure out what was bothering him. Weirdly, the only time that Sirius would clam up was when Harry mentioned Professor Lupin. Sirius would gladly go on and on about Harry's dad or their pranks in school, but whenever Lupin came up he would do this thing where he shook his head just a bit, like he was trying to rid it of some frustrating thought. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, then Harry thought he'd try something."I had these really terrible nightmares last night."Sirius turned around. "You did?" His expression had softened instantly and he came over to where Harry was sitting next to his potions essay and sat down. Harry knew he was new to this parenting thing, but he also knew how hard Sirius had been trying, and maybe this was a way to get him to talk. He crossed his fingers under the table, Hermione told him he was not good at subtlety but it was worth a shot."Yeah, I dreamed we were back in the Shrieking Shack, and that Professor Lupin," Sirius' eyes widened a bit but he didn't say anything sure enough, he shook his head just a bit to the left and immediately broke eye contact with Harry, "he was hurt, like in his wolf form and he was whining but we couldn't get to him to help him, we were too afraid to get bitten.""I was there?"Harry nodded, "And Hermione and I too. It was weird." Harry let the pause hang heavy in the air between them. Sirius had a faraway look in his eyes."I mean," Sirius sighed, "Remus can take care of himself Harry. We don't have to worry about him. And you certainly don't need to be afraid of him. He's a mostly tame wolf."Harry said nothing, he didn't want to interrupt Sirius, who seemed to be mulling over what to say next. He still wasn't looking at Harry, now he was examining the hem of his shirt."People, you know er...people always underestimated him, ever since we were kids. They used to think that James and I were the brains and brawn of the group but Remus was crafty. He was forever talking us out of trouble, even though he was usually the fucking one that made up the plan to get us in it in the first place." Sirius laughed, staring a bit wistfully "He knew how to keep a low profile even then."Harry nodded. The silence stretched thick between them. He realized that Sirius was going to need another prod."I just wonder where he is, is all.""You could write him if you're worried."Harry was starting to lose his patience. Sirius clearly wanted to contact Remus, every time Harry's former professor came up, he would stare off and start reminiscing about their time in school. As close as Sirius and James were, it seemed often to Harry that Remus and he had been closer - and so Harry had been trying to get Sirius to write Remus basically since the moment that they'd left Hogwarts. He didn't, however get the sense that he could just come out and say it, he was worried that though Sirius was all bravado and laughing confidence, that Azkaban had left Sirius a lot more fragile than even Sirius understood."Yeah, he did say Hedwig would be able to find him no matter what."The kettle started singing and Sirius got up from the table without responding. It didn't make any sense. They'd been friends, best friends even. And now Remus finally knew that Sirius was innocent! And Sirius knew that Remus knew that he was innocent. Sure, things would be awkward for a bit while they got to know each other once again but Harry couldn't imagine them not even wanting to speak. If it had been him and Ron there's no way that he wouldn't be talking to him. They'd be spending every waking minute trying to catch up! He didn't understand it. He sighed and continued on his piece of toast. It looked like he was going to have to go to Hermione.Harry passed Hermione a butterbeer and Ron took a seat on the windowsill near her. Harry instead leaned back on his hands on his large oak four-poster. Hermione and Ron were finally spending the night now that Grimmauld place had been largely cleaned up. Not only did Harry now have his own bedroom for the first time in his life (and it was a particularly grand one, with new paint, Gryffindor banners, a huge comfortable bed, and a large window that looked out into the square) but Sirius had connected another of the floors rooms to his, so he had a study as well. Hermione had spent all day giving him suggestions for what books he needed to fill the new shelves with and Ron helped Harry put up photos from Hagrid's album on the wall. Once he had some armchairs or couches near the fire it would be a cozy place to read and relax.Harry couldn't believe his luck. Only a few months ago he was dreading going back to being Dudley's punching bag for the summer and was sure to drop the few pounds he had put on at school. Now he and Sirius were living in this huge house and he could travel by floo to see his friends whenever he felt like it. And though Sirius clearly loved having him around, he still sensed something was weighing on his new guardian, and he had his suspicions that it had to do with a certain professor. They were leaving for Hogwarts in a few days, the autumn was starting to really set in. If he was going to figure out what was going on with Sirius he didn't have much time."So you really have no idea why they're not speaking?" Hermione asked with her brows drawn together like she was examining a particularly difficult arithmancy problem."None. It's weird yeah? Like every time I start trying to talk about Professor Lupin, Sirius gets all misty-eyed and starts talking about the past and how good of friends they were. What kind of best friends don't want to talk to each other?"Ron wiped butterbeer from the corner of his mouth, "Must be kind of awkward though right? Lupin thought that Sirius killed...er...killed your parents right?"Hermione nodded, "But now Lupin knows the truth.""Yeah. So what's the deal then?" Ron asked."I don't know," Harry said, "It's like there's something that neither of them wants to tell me."Ron looked puzzled and shrugged, "I mean if they want to talk again they will."Hermione rolled her eyes, "Clearly someone has to push them into it," she turned to Harry, "You know how stubborn Sirius can be, and this is a sticky situation. They must have so much they need to work out, get closure on."Ron smirked, "Closure is a girl thing Hermione, I don't think we should-" but the look that she gave him was so withering that he didn't even finish the sentence.Harry intervened, "No I think Hermione is right. Sirius is…" he tried to find the right words, "he's really important to me you know? And if I can help him, I owe him that. I mean look how different he's made my life, and his has been so hard."Ron nodded slowly and Hermione smiled at him."Let's just go speak to him then. It might not be the most subtle technique but it sounds like you've tried those...to the best of your ability"Ron looked at the clock on the wall, "He might be asleep, it's nearly eleven."Harry shook his head, "He's always up late. We can check the lounge downstairs, he likes to read down there."Ron still looked skeptical, as if he didn't understand why they'd be intervening in this kind of emotional tangle, but he followed the other two out of Harry's bedroom and down the narrow flight of stairs to the main level of the house. They did indeed find Sirius in his favorite chair in the lounge of the house with a book in his lap but he wasn't reading. Instead he was pouring a glass out of a rather large bottle of firewhiskey that was only a quarter full. Judging by Sirius' red face, he had consumed a large portion of the bottle that evening while the trio had been upstairs. Harry paused, feeling a bit like they were intruding on something secret, but Sirius had already spotted them so there was no point in backing out now."Harry!" He looked delighted, "I hope you three are staying out of tr-trouble...erm...told Molly I am a responsible fucking...guardian now."Ron laughed and sat in the chair opposite Sirius, "Sirius are you, are you pissed?!"Sirius turned to him, but the motion was too quick, because his head seemed to have much more momentum than he planned and he had a hard time stopping it in time to look directly at Ron. He pointed at him, "You, you are much too observant Young Weasley...I am, actually...a bit...a little." He laughed, a big bark laugh that reached his eyes, "Okay, kind of pissed. Do me...a solid kids and don't tell Molly yeah?"Hermione looked apprehensive.Harry shrugged and sat down, "Nah, Sirius we won't tell anyone."Sirius grinned, "Cheers Harry. Have some firewhiskey." He passed the bottle to Harry who took it but didn't drink. Hermione was looking downright disapproving now."I don't think you should Harry.""Oh lighten up Hermione," Ron took the bottle of firewhiskey from Harry's hand and took a swig from it then coughed as it burned down his throat. He handed the bottle back to Harry who followed suit with a guilty and slightly manic smile. When Hermione shot him a look he shrugged. "What? Sirius was probably our age when he started drinking a bit."Sirius nodded, "Oh yeah, I think I had my first drink when I was in second year! I won't tell. It's good to...erm...practice….know your limits. Then you won't be throwing up later."Hermione snorted but sat down. After the boys had a few more sips she confiscated the bottle wordlessly from them. When no one was looking, she took a small sip. She smirked to herself but no one noticed because Sirius was speaking loudly."There was this one time James and Remus and I nicked McGonagall's scotch after she ummm...gave us a talking-to for...erm...something or other and we took the booze up to the Astronomy Tower," he laughed, "She is a tough old bird but she has...wow...brilliant taste in liquor. Bottle was probably worth more than our fucking heads. James got so drunk he threw up over the side of the Astronomy tower, it landed right in front of the potions professor, Slughorn, who was smoking a cigar. Got all over his trousers."Ron and Harry laughed, Hermione tried to suppress a smile. Sirius looked elated at their laughter. "He looked up and saw James...and so we ran. But ha, running while drunk...it's not easy. And we were on the landing and Remus fell...James was...gone. And I picked Remus up…he was a scrawny thing" Sirius trailed off.Ron took the bottle from Hermione and handed it to Sirius. Sirius took another long gulp, this time straight from the bottle, the glass long since forgotten. They passed the bottle around in silence for a bit, until Harry could feel the firewhiskey making his head a bit warm and watery and slightly heavier than usual. Ron was looking rather oddly at Hermione who was holding her liquor like a champ and didn't seem to be effected In the slightest. Ron's eyes were narrowed and he was staring at Sirius."What're you looking at Ronald?""What happened after you picked up whatshisname, the werewolf guy?" He was slurring his words just a bit.Hermione scoffed, "Professor Lupin to you Ron!""Yeah! The Lupin! What happened at the end of the story...did you get erm...caugh-t?"Sirius looked faraway, "No. We got away. We hunkered down in an empty storage… erm…in a...closet." He blushed if possible, a deeper red at the last word and Hermione put her hands over her mouth. She stared at Sirius, eyes wide and almost gleeful."And the professor never found you?" Harry asked.Hermione laughed, "Oh my god. A closet."Harry stared at her, "What's funny?"Ron laughed too, "Hermione you've had too much."Sirius was looking at Hermione with his eyes narrowed and Hermione ignored Ron, instead looking softly at back at Sirius, "Sirius, why didn't you TELL us?""How...how are you doing that? Wait how do you know?""Oh Sirius it's totally obvious the way you talk about him. I've read too many novels to not see this coming. That's why you've been avoiding talking about him."Harry looked between Hermione and Sirius as Sirius put his head in his hands. Things were suddenly turning in a direction he didn't expect but his head was too full of water for him to figure out where it was going or why."Sirius, how long were you two together?"Ron spluttered, "What?! Like gay together?!"Sirius glared at Ron. And Harry finally put it all together, even with the fishtank of a head that the firewhiskey had given him."You and Professor Lupin were, together?"Sirius nodded, with his head still in his hands, "Fuck. Yeah.""Oh Sirius," Hermione said quietly, "that must have been so hard, losing him."Sirius looked up and he wasn't crying but he looked completely lost, as if he couldn't remember how he got there. His eyes were red but whether it was from the booze or from the emotion, Harry couldn't tell. When he spoke his voice was suddenly clear, almost calm. "Yeah. I lost, everyone." He looked at Harry, "Your dad and your mum. I came to the house to give you a present, it was a little stuffed lion that roared when you pet its tummy. Remus picked it out for you. And the house…" his voice cracked, "I found them. And I knew that it was Peter. And for weeks I had wondered, if…I wondered if it had been Remus...and he wondered if it had been me. It was horrible. I loved him so much and I thought that, I suspected him. After promising that I'd never think less of him because of who he is. I started thinking there was something wrong with him, that they'd turned him. That he was betraying me...I mean us."Hermione wiped a tear away and Ron stared into his lap but Harry couldn't look away from his godfather. This man had changed his entire life for the better, had been through so much, more than he ever imagined. Harry had considered what it must have been like for Sirius in Azkaban, how angry he must have been knowing that he was put away for a crime that he didn't commit. But he'd never thought, until now, how unbelievably painful it must have been, reliving the worst memories of his life over and over for years, especially when the worst memories of his life had been seeing the bodies of his friends, finding them dead after weeks of suspecting that his partner might have been the one betraying them. He tried to imagine finding Ron and Hermione, but just the thought seemed to tear his chest in half. And he looked at Sirius, with his long hair sticking out at odd angles from his ponytail, his limbs still too thin, his face too lined, and he realized he'd never known anyone with a stronger heart.Now that Sirius had started talking, it was like he couldn't stop. He had started to cry, but it seemed that he hadn't even realized, the tears slid down his cheeks but he didn't wipe them away, "I couldn't go home. I had to find Peter, I was in a rage, I couldn't think of anything but hurting him. It was as if the whole rest of the world had fucking dimmed to nothing, all other emotions turned off. I remember handing you to Hagrid, Harry. I thought for sure he'd take you to Remus, to your other godfather. And then I found him and I didn't go for my wand, I wanted to squeeze the life out of him with my hands. Then he was gone and Remus' worst fears were confirmed. Everyone thought I'd killed your parents. He didn't even come to the trial. I don't know what's wrong with me.""What's wrong with you? How was it your-" Harry didn't understand.Sirius looked at Harry, "I should have just gone home. I should have taken you with me, let Dumbledore or the Ministry, or fucking Voldemort find Peter. I should have gone home to Remus and told him what happened. You could have had a different life, we all could have. Fuck. I...I'm so goddamn sorry."Harry stood and put an arm around Sirius, who was really crying now. Hermione tapped Ron and led him out of the room. Harry didn't know what to say, it was kind of a lot to take in at once, but he knew that he didn't want to dwell on what could have been, Sirius still had a chance to be happy."We can still have a different life Sirius. We've already started to. You've given me a better home than I ever could have hoped for."Sirius tried to smile."You have to talk to him Sirius. He's alone somewhere, and he shouldn't have to be alone anymore. None of us have to.""What am I supposed to say?""I don't know if it matters. Maybe start with 'Hi'. You're writing him in the morning." He paused, he wasn't any good at this kind of thing, "You can still make the choice to...you know, go home to him. Maybe he wants you to."And in the morning, after cold pizza and coffee with three hungover teenagers, Sirius wrote Remus the first letter he had in more than twelve years. Dear Moony, Hi. I waited a couple months to hear from you, but its pretty clear at this point that you're not going to make the first move. I'd make a joke here about how you always liked to be chased but I think you might not be in the mood? I bet you're looking all disapproving and Moony-ish right now. I was right, wasn't I? Harry told me about you leaving the school, Dumbledore told me as well. He was quite put out about it, I think the old bat is just lazy, doesn't want to find a replacement. I wish you would have told me yourself. We didn't get a chance to speak at all, you were gone before I got away from Fudge. Can you believe that? A pardon from the Minister of Magic himself! My mother would be so proud. Actually I can tell you for sure she is not, Harry and I are living in Grimmauld Place again so I have to listen to her fucking portrait screaming about my traitorous nature anytime I want a bite in the kitchen. Not that I'll let anything get between me and food, but it is a bit unappetizing. It's just a temporary thing, until I can find a decent job and get us a bachelor flat somewhere less...covered in house elf heads and spiderwebs. You'd think it was the damn Taj Mahal the way that Harry talks about it though. I gather those Muggles treated him like utter shit but he doesn't like to talk about it much. I'm crap at this sort of thing, mostly because I just want to rage every time I think about it, but I guess we're managing. Where are you? Are you coming back for Worm's trial? I don't know if I should say anything about - I am so crap with feelings Moons, just write me back okay? It has been 12 years of us not talking, now I don't even know what the fuck to say but I'm bursting to say fucking something. Anything. Where are you? Why did you go? -Padfoot ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Remus was an Irishman through and through but he had an Englishman's neurotic attachment to tea. He had finished reading the letter from Sirius, dropped it unceremoniously onto the scrubbed wooden counter and immediately gone for the kettle. There was no way he could approach this kind of thing without a steaming, over-brewed cup of tea to steady him. He tried to block out all other thoughts as he filled the kettle with water, gently deposited loose tea in his single-cup steeper and placed it in an old chipped Gryffindor mug that was covered in ambling and roaring lions. The mug was well-loved and slightly faded, it was a remarkably different color on the inside than the outside. He smiled softly at the mug, which had been a present from James years and years ago.Waiting for the water to boil, he sighed heavily, eyeing the letter suspiciously. He should have known this was coming, did know in fact. He thought that a few months roaming Scotland, northern France, and his homeland of Ireland would allow him to formulate a plan, to spend the time with himself that he needed to search his own feelings. Of course he knew that he'd have to face whatever existed or didn't between he and Sirius eventually, but he knew Sirius avoided things like this - he was deathly allergic to any kind of conflict that would end with a talk about feelings. Although, maybe he wasn't anymore. It struck Remus that after twelve years he didn't know the other man at all. But all those weeks roaming hadn't helped Remus know what to do about Sirius black, he'd merely filled his time pointedly not thinking about Sirius. And here was the result. Now he sat here, staring at the letter without a plan and kicking himself.Sirius' letter had said that Hedwig wasn't about to leave without a reply but she didn't seem to be in much of a hurry either, he imagined she had flown a long way through bitter cold. The letter was dated the last day in August, so Remus was guessing it had taken her several attempts to find him. In some ways it was comforting to know that he was hard to find. He glanced at the calendar on the wall, a cheap advertisement for a Muggle travel agency that featured the pictures of tropical havens which he had picked up in France. It was only a few days until Halloween and he couldn't help imagining the warmth, laughter and food of the Hogwarts feast. What he would give for a warm mug of mulled cider with whiskey in it. Sirius had always loved Halloween, if James had been the patron saint of April Fool's, Sirius had been the king of Halloween. He'd spent weeks and weeks concocting plans to scare teachers and first-years alike and convincing the house elves to help him throw elaborately-provisioned parties where everyone got far too drunk and sugar-high.He suddenly remembered the skeleton-like, broken look in Sirius' eyes when he first saw him in the Shrieking Shack and the absolute bloodlust that had replaced it as he beat Peter within an inch of his life. He shivered despite the warmth of the hut. Sirius had been like a ghost himself, so thin he was almost transparent. He was built thick, with a strong chest and neck, and so to see him so waif-like, so weak…He shook his head to clear it. Better not to think about that. Better to think about the task at hand. He couldn't fall apart. He placed a hand flat on the counter and took several deep and steadying breaths. He was always like this close to the full moon, shaky and emotional, every breath was an effort. His muscles felt tight, ready to cramp at any quick movement. He tried to relax the tight muscles gathered in his back. When they had been together, Sirius would cast a warming charm on his hands and rub the tight muscles in Remus' shoulders in the few days before the full moon. He would be the one to nurse him back to health the days after. He had been Remus' whole life. Try as he might, he couldn't help but wish he still had those strong hands to hold on to.The kettle screamed and Remus jumped. He hurried to pour the water into his mug and took the steaming tea and the letter over to the tiny table against the wall of the hut that served as both desk and dining table. He read it again to himself slowly, noticing the wide, flat writing and the blotches over the i's. When he had finished reading it for the fifth time, he pulled added milk to his tea, pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and began to write. Hello Sirius, No. No, too formal. God it was like he hadn't seen the man naked. He tried again. Hi Padfoot, Consider me caught. Hedwig looks as if you've exhausted her trying to find me. You should probably get your own owl, Harry might be missing her. So yes, I'm looking disapproving, now with the added experience of having been a professor. My looks are much more stern than they used to be. He stopped and took several sips of his tea. So many choppy sentences. Not that Sirius would notice, but he knew its what he did when he didn't quite know what to say or where his thoughts were going. He thought ruefully again of spiced cider with whiskey, the whiskey would be a help in trying to figure out what to say but there was no way he was apparating anywhere in this cold. He read the part of Sirius' letter again where he asked why Remus had left without saying goodbye and, not knowing how he was to answer that without opening up a Pandora's box of emotion, continued to the next piece. I read in the Prophet that you were pardoned, it almost doesn't feel real, not of course that you don't deserve it. God where was he going with this? He scowled at his own writing and considered starting again but he persisted. I just, I dreamed of your innocence, your freedom so often. I'm sure you did too. Here he paused once more. He didn't know what else to say about Sirius being out of prison. Everything he wanted to say felt hollow, insincere. He rubbed his temples, and stretched his shoulders. How did he communicate what it was like to lose him? How long he'd hated him. Now that hatred was gone and instead, nothing. I don't know what to say, Pads. It's all so unreal. So I'll say congratulations on being a free man, regardless of what your mother has to say on the matter. No one ever liked her anyway, I'm sure Harry despises her and you know I was never particularly fond. I hope you're taking care of yourself and Harry, I don't like the idea of him having to eat what you think passes for cooking. Normally I wouldn't be so irresponsible as to suggest you put off finding a job but, you could probably use a rest. God knows the Black estate was made for just that kind of thing and the aforementioned mother would be quite put out by the thought of you spending the fortune lazing away (which is a great reason to do just that). I heard about the Dursleys from Harry while I was there, but it sounds like you know more than I did. Dumbledore had told me they weren't the kindest of people but I didn't know he was being treated terribly. Not that I would have been able to do much. I haven't stayed in the same place more than a few months since you went to Azkaban. You know how people are about hiring me. He considered the question about Peter's trial. It felt so strange, for twelve years he's thought of Peter as a victim, a righteous avenger of James and Lily who had tried his hardest to stop Sirius. Now things were all jumbled up in his head and that avenger was actually the traitor and Sirius the traitor was actually not a traitor at all. Sirius was, or could be again, his best friend, his confidant. But his heart couldn't keep up with his head and the truth didn't erase the knot of fear and anger in his gut and he felt like he was going to go mad just going over and over it again. He'd had enough trials to last him a lifetime. The last one had almost killed him. I think I'll have to come back for the trial. I haven't received a summons yet, but it's only a matter of time I'm sure. I'd really rather not be there, I don't imagine that my repetition of events is going to add too much to the preceding. It's a good thing we have Harry and Dumbledore because the words of an ex-con and a werewolf aren't probably the most convincing. Then again I suppose just the fact that Peter is alive speaks volumes. Have you heard from the Ministry? You've always been crap at feelings Pads. It's okay. I am these days too. I think maybe we're getting old. Old wasn't what he meant to write at all but as he stared at the word he couldn't think what he actually meant. He ignored it and continued on. I'm in Iceland, I know you must think that's daft but that's where I am. Its cozy and cold at the same time. I couldn't stay at the school after Severus told the Malfoy boy about my condition. I didn't want to hurt the reputation of the school and I've been doing this a few years now, I know when it's time to move on. Is Harry back at school (I sure hope so)? Are you still at Grimmauld Place? Who have they hired to take my place at the school? I'm going to cut this letter short, tomorrow's the moon and you know how I get. But get your own owl. I promise to be easier to find. Remus took a deep breath, at this point at the bottom of his second cup of tea. He chewed nervously on the end of his quill and then, before he lost what little nerve he had with his whole body aching. I miss you Padfoot. I don't think I ever stopped. Below this he drew a little crescent moon, the way he used to sign all their letters back and forth when they'd been apart over the summers at Hogwarts. He blew on the ink to dry it before sealing it closed, washing his mug, and prodding Hedwig awake. Only when he fed her a treat and tossed her back into the dark, cold sky did Remus go to his little quilted bed and let himself fall apart completely. Hey Moony, Finally. Finally finally that stupid snow owl tracked you down. She had to give up twice before she finally reached you, so much for you telling Harry that she could find you. You know people worry about you when you go fucking missing. You wouldn't have thought that of course though. You'll notice I followed your professorly instructions and bought a new owl. His name is Rigel because Harry insisted that we name him after some star in his Astronomy book. Don't blame me for that one. You have no idea how freedom feels. Honestly I don't think I could even explain it to you. It's like the best broom ride and the best orgasm all together. But it's also terrifying in a lot of ways. It's been twelve years since I've spoken to another human, and you know all my charm has been saved up over the years, I'm slightly afraid I'll unleash it all at once. So I try to stay out of the way a bit, stay in the house mostly. Unreal is the word for it. My cooking is delicious, even better than you probably remember thank you very much. Every day I receive an owl from my unbelievably brilliant godson telling me that he misses dinners that I made and that Kreacher definitely did not make. Did I tell you Harry has totally impressed Kreacher? Now that Harry is back at school the little shit is moaning about how nice it was to have him in the house, even though we busted the whole place open and reconfigured the rooms to change the house into something even vaguely fucking inhabitable. Some things will never change. I own the damn place and the only kreature (ha) here still hates me. I do not, as of yet, have a job. I'm not really sure what I'm suited for other than being a dangerously eligible bachelor with money to burn. Dumbledore has sent Kingsley around a few times to give me books and the like, I think he wants someone to keep an eye on me so, at least we know he still thinks I have an aptitude for trouble. If only that paid better and got me out of the house. Mostly I just spend my days trying to read up on everything that I've missed. The end of the war and the trials and more importantly TWO QUIDDITCH CUPS. I'm supposed to go down to the Ministry tomorrow for the preliminary hearing or some other bollocks. They did say they were going to be calling you. I hope they don't do the trial in the same rooms as they used to. It would be...weird right? Stop fucking saying that your word doesn't hold value or that no one should want to hire you. Merlin twelve fucking years and same old Moony huh? I can't believe you left Hogwarts. Actually I can't believe you let Dumbledore rope you into being a professor in the first place. You're an absolutely traitor you know that? Going into higher education?! What would James say? At least Harry said you had the decency to give him back THE MAP. I mean it is his birthright after all. I hope the moon wasn't too hard on you. Hedwig came back with your letter right after but I saw it the night before and was thinking of you. Have the changes been hard? I remember what they used to be like when you were alone and you have some new scars along with the grey hair. I can't believe you're in Iceland. Only you would have the ability to go anywhere in the damn world and would pick the country with 'ICE' in the NAME to winter in. You're an absolute nutter. Are you going to come back anytime soon? Where are you staying? What's it like there? Are you planning to take a teaching post somewhere else (shame on you if you say yes)? Send Rigel back soon, he's a bit of a primal donna. -Padfoot PostSirius: Look how long this letter is huh? Crazy. I guess I must be happy to hear from you or something. Harry told me to tell you hello. He said he'd be writing to you once Hedwig had a bit of a rest. P.P.S: I more than miss you Moons. Pads, Rigel is the brightest star in Orion. You know, not that far from Canis Major if I remember correctly. You should remember that one right? Your new owl is quite stuck up. He keeps breathing out aggressively as if I'm taking too much time composing this. I'm guessing you're not getting out of the house at all. I know it must be difficult to stomach all the noise and activity in London after a long time in isolation. Why do you think after a year at Hogwarts I found a cottage in rural Iceland? I am not a nutter, it's just nice and quiet here. I'm staying in a little cottage at the edge of a farmer's property, he raises sheep and chickens though they're all shut away for the winter now. We had our first real snow right at the beginning of November but I don't mind. The snow stops unwanted visitors and muffles any wolf noises too. You ought to go out a bit though Sirius, you can't spend the whole term indoors waiting for Harry to come back for Christmas. I'm going to ignore that part about freedom being like orgasms. I have literally nothing to say in response to that except: good for you. I can't actually believe that Kreacher is still alive. It seems like he was a million years old that time that we went back to Grimmauld to gather some of your things when we were moving into Bayham Place. Back then Camden was such a shithole. You'd be amazed how it looks now, covered in punk rock coffee bars. Did they give you back the flat? I miss the old place. Remember how loud the Palace was on Saturday nights? Why wouldn't you and Harry stay there instead? I should have told you before but I moved a lot of your things to the Alligator Self Storage around the corner. I still pay the storage fee monthly but I haven't been there in years. I don't think the Muggles mind. If you'd like some of your old things, I can mail you a copy of the key. Your bike is in there Sirius. And Harry might enjoy some of the records (or, like me he might not enjoy the sound of screaming to aggressive guitar). I got my summons from the Ministry. I'm supposed to be there in three weeks. They said it could take several days and while I don't really fancy staying in London it seems I may have no choice. Did yours take that long? Did it go okay? I hope they weren't too tough on you and that you didn't release all THE CHARM on them in one go. Fudge might lose what's left of his hair. I shouldn't think the trial would be in the same room. I'll have a word when I'm there. Yes, yes I knew we'd be getting around to my entrance into the world of higher education. I can't believe it's a huge surprise, you always used to complain I spent more time with books than you. Actually, if I remember correctly, you complained about me spending time with anything other than you. But I really really did like teaching. I didn't think I would but some of the students are so bright. And well, others, not so much. You never told me who took over my post! Also, I can't imagine James would have hated me teaching Harry at the very least. And yes, at least I gave him back the map. Anyway I think he enjoyed learning from me as well. Has he shown you his Patronus? He's remarkably powerful and has no idea. Best keep it that way or you'll only inflate his ego. The moon is how it always is. I make it through. How's Harry getting on at school? Tell Kingsley I said hello and that I'll help keep an eye on you. Or at least a quill. Should we, erm...try coffee or something while I'm in town? Maybe a pint instead? I don't know if you want to, I'd understand and in any case I don't know where I'll be staying but I'll let you know with my next owl. Cheers, Moony Hey Moons, I'm going to write just a tiny letter in response because I've got to head to the Ministry once again to do a follow-up interview. They're interviewing Harry today too so I need to be there as his guardian to supervise (can you believe it? I feel so grown up). So a few quick things before I have to run: Don't be an arsebadger and say you don't have anywhere to stay in London. You're obviously going to stay here at Grimmauld place. I'll add you to our floo and you can come through whenever. Chances are I'll be home and if not just ignore Kreacher and make yourself comfortable. Feel free to come in the day before too obviously. Let me know. Yeah they gave me back the apartment, I erm...I decided to come to Grimmauld instead. My bike. Oh fuck my bike. I have been wondering where that thing is ever since I got out. I've been telling Harry all about it and everything. Since you'll be staying here, I'll just borrow that storage key from you and get a few things. I'm sure there have to be some things you want too right? Maybe we should go through it together. I've got lots more to say but I'll save it for when you show your grey head in London. I actually can't wait to see you Moony, don't let me down. Wish me luck with the Ministry and see you soon. -Pads ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Summer 1978 "Did you see his trousers?""Forget how odd his trousers are did you see that arse?"Remus glared at Sirius who broke into a slapdash grin, his prominent canines flashing. He threw an arm around Remus' shoulder and bumped his nose against Remus' scarred cheek, laughing as they ambled down the street."Don't worry Remus, your arse will always be my favorite." Sirius planted a kiss on his cheek and Remus pushed him away by the face looking nervous."Not here Sirius, wait until we get to the flat." He said it under his breath glancing around, though the corners of his mouth twitched and he knew Sirius knew he was secretly pleased.Sirius spread his arms wide, gesturing to the street around them and laughed, "Come on Moons, this is Camden! There are poofters all over the damn place, that was part of the point of it."Remus put a hand over his face, there were several Muggles staring and his boyfriend was having a goddamn Sound-of-Music-moment in the middle of Camden Market. Sirius had been like this since graduation, when, after weeks of uncertainty, Remus had suggested that maybe, since James was moving in with Lily as soon as possible and Sirius didn't want to go back home like Peter, maybe they could make a go of it sharing a flat. Remus thought Sirius was going to cry with happiness. James later told Remus that Sirius had been privately pining away for several weeks, wondering why Remus hadn't said anything about moving in together and refusing to suggest himself it for fear of scaring Remus off. Of course he had, Remus merely shook his head at this information, he could be such a drama queen at times. And then Sirius dragged Remus all around London for a month before they decided on a little upstairs mews off Camden High Street. It had been an adventure, living off money left to Sirius by some uncle and traipsing around London without a care.Today, a sunny, beautiful, breezy day in early July they were finally moving in. Sirius and Remus each had one magically expanded overnight bag, and they had decided to walk (or practically skip in Sirius' case) the last kilometer or so to the flat so that they could get a better sense of the neighborhood. Remus couldn't help but grin. He was moving in with the man he loved. This crazy, daft, ridiculous clown was all his. It was all so domestic, but he didn't much care. He was a queer werewolf, he never thought that he'd find someone that would accept him for all his baggage, let alone love him for it."Sirius you pew, come back here." And Sirius turned, long hair tied back in a messy bun and threw his arm back around Remus where it belonged."Just think," he said pointing at the door to their right, with a sign over it proclaiming it 'The Stag and Cedar', "We could have pints at that dingy little pub.""And then drunk Chinese at that place across the street?""Of course! And then we can amble down there and buy some records to take home.""And then -"But Sirius wasn't listening anymore, there was a sharp intake of breath and Sirius suddenly had his face pressed against the window of a clothing store, his face alight like a kid on Christmas. He was staring lovingly at a black leather jacket, with zippers on the sleeves and a patch on one of the shoulders that was an embroidered wolf's head, muzzle tipped upward in a howl."Moony moony moony" Sirius pointed at the patch, his mouth open and eyes wide.Remus joined him at the window and looked up at the jacket laughing. "Well that does look like you doesn't it?""It's fucking perfect Moons. I have to have it. Think of how good it would look on me when I'm on my motorbike!"Remus couldn't argue with this, he had a momentary vision of Sirius in his favorite tight jeans straddling the magical motorbike with nothing but that leather jacket covering his torso. He tried not to linger on that image in the middle of the street or it would become obvious all too quickly how much he liked the idea of Sirius owning that jacket. He grabbed Sirius by the bicep."Let me buy it for you."Sirius turned to him, surprised, "But Moons it's probably expensive-""I don't care, I want to buy it for you. It's perfect for you and I know you haven't changed any of your money yet. It can be a housewarming present or something.""Isn't a housewarming gift supposed to be for the house?"Remus raised his eyebrows, "Do you want the damn jacket or not dogboy?""Yes yes please. I'm sorry I ever questioned your wisdom." Sirius put his hands up."Anyway, you in that jacket is decoration for the flat as far as I'm concerned." Remus said slyly, opening the door to the store as Sirius smirked and followed.Fifteen minutes later Sirius was wearing the jacket and Remus had to admit he was right about it suiting Sirius. No doubt the more battered it got the better it would look on him. Sirius just had this ability to make anything that was tattered look like it was part of his punk rock aesthetic rather than the truth which was that he just couldn't be bothered replacing it. It had something to do, Remus suspected, with the effortless confidence that he exuded, and the high aristocratic cheekbones."I'll pay you back Remus, promise.""I already told you I can afford it! I'm starting the new job soon and you're paying the rent anyway. Shut up for once Sirius. Let me do this for you."Sirius smiled at him but didn't argue anymore. He ran one hand over the buttery leather of the opposite cuff, "It does look pretty good on me."They turned the corner and half a block down on the right was the new flat. Sirius pulled the keys out of his pocket with some difficulty owing to the tightness of his jeans and let them in. They tramped up the creaky wooden stairs to the main room above and took in the flat. It was small but bright, with a wall of windows opposite the kitchen and smooth worn wood floors. Opposite the stairs there was a decent sized bedroom and tiny little bathroom with clean white tile. The lower floor, once provisioned for horses, was a perfect place for Remus to transform. A few spells to fortify and soundproof the place and he wouldn't even have to leave the house for a sanctuary every month. They had already made plans to paint the kitchen, to buy new furniture, to get a huge fuzzy carpet for the living room and to build bookshelves for Remus across one of the large walls.Remus couldn't believe it. A place all their own. He walked to the windows opposite and threw one of them open, looking out onto the little street below with a glowing feeling in his chest. The street wasn't exactly the nicest he'd ever been on, but he almost didn't see the graffiti or trash on the street. It was theirs, and it was impossibility brilliant.He turned and Sirius was looking at him like he'd never looked at Remus before. His eyes were bright and eyebrows knitted together. Remus met his eyes, "Can you believe this is-mm ff"Sirius had taken two steps and crossed the distance between them and he was kissing Remus, kissing him like he was never going to kiss him again, like this was the last time and he had to put every beautiful mixed-up and upside down feeling of desperate love into one kiss. His hand cupped Remus' lower back, pulling their hips together and Remus reached up to pull Sirius' hair free before tangling a hand in it. Sirius nipped at his lip with a playful growl and Remus opened his mouth, tasting the cinnamon of Sirius' mints and feeling Sirius's breath on his face. The world slowed and swam around them and Remus melted against Sirius. He pulled Sirius' hair a bit and kissed the other man's jaw and neck, before burying his face in the crook of Sirius' neck to breathe in his scent."It's fucking perfect Pads."He could feel Sirius' smile, "You're perfect Moons."They camped on the battered old sofa that night, the only piece of furniture that Sirius' mother had let him take from his room, and only this because it was ripped in several places. They didn't fit on it together, Remus was forced onto his side and to lay half on top of Sirius' chest who was laying carefully on his back with an arm behind his head. It wasn't the most comfortable sleeping arrangement but as they'd been mostly used to sharing one of their dormitory beds, which were not exactly roomy, neither really minded too much. Remus was beginning to drift off, Sirius stroking his bangs softly, when Sirius reached over to the floor and picked up his camera. Remus looked sleepily up from Sirius' bare chest at the lense as Sirius turned it backwards to capture both of them and grinned, clicking the button down."I love you Remus.""I love you too Sirius." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Remus checked his overnight bag a fourth time even though he knew the outcome would be the same as the third time he checked it. Toothbrush, two changes of clothes, extra shoes, all the necessities were in place. Now if he could only get his courage packed away he might actually be able to get into his little fireplace and get to London. He checked again to make sure he had his toothbrush. He was getting more anxious by the minute, he tried to ignore the gnawing voice in his gut that asked if he was a Gryffindor or not. Courage had seemed a much simpler ideal when he was 17. He sighed and put on his coat, tucked the summons from the Ministry into one of the pockets and picked up his bag. He could find no reason left to delay, and so Remus walked into the fire, through down a bit of floo powder and called in a clear voice, "Grimmauld Place".A sooty second later he arrived in the dusty fireplace in the entry. It was immediately clear that Sirius hadn't cleaned the thing, or instructed Kreacher to clean in, in quite a while. Typical. He brushed the ash off his shabby coat and the knees of his trousers and straightened up. He had only been in the old Black house once before, but he didn't remember it being quite so, light and airy? The last time he had been here he had the distinct sensation that perhaps the family surname was derived from the color preferred in their house. It had been brooding, clammy, oppressive, like the house had its own eyes to survey the comings and goings of its inhabitants, and put them to good use doing just that. But now the wainscoting was painted a pleasant warm grey and the blue above it was rich without being too opulent. He smiled. Sirius' mother was probably rolling over in her grave. 'Defiling the ancient and noble house of Black' and all that. Undoubtedly, Sirius loved the very idea of it.Before he had time to do much more than remark upon the interior decorating, a pair of small feet pattered up to him and he looked down to see Kreacher staring up at him, looking ancient and petulant, like an angry boiled potato with wrinkly ears and pug-like eyes."The werewolf, come to stay," He croaked, his bullfrog voice struggling to contain what were probably forbidden insults. There was a long pause in which he made it clear through look what he would truly like to be saying, "Master Sirius has been anxiously awaiting your arrival.""Oh splendid to see you too Kreacher." Remus inclined his head, "Is your Master here?"Kreacher shook his head, "Master Sirius went out an hour ago to get something, he does not tell Kreacher what it is. Kreacher is to take your bag to the empty bedroom near Master Harry's," Kreacher pointed in the opposite direction, "If sir would go to the kitchen there is tea and biscuits and Master Sirius will be home soon." The elf put out a gnarled and clawed hand to take Remus' bag, which he handed over with a bit of trepidation after removing a book to take to the kitchen with him.The surfaces of the kitchen were sparkling clean, the old wooden table that had served as the family's informal dining table was set up with several short vases of flowers and a heaping tray of assorted biscuits. Kreacher reappeared and poured a large mug of tea for Remus, then disappeared to the upper regions of the house again with some muttering about attending to the library. Remus tried and failed to read the book he had brought, looking up every few seconds at the clock on the wall, though the time never seemed to pass. He nibbled on his third chocolate biscuit (they were excellent). He reread the same sentence on the right page for what must have been the tenth time. He looked up again. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he sat down.Another five minutes later Remus was in agony. The house, clean, bright and remodeled as it was, still intimidated him a bit, and it didn't help that his heightened senses could pick up, under the crisp lemon smell of whatever cleaners Kreacher was using, that unmistakable spice smell of Sirius. It was the same smell he had come home to everyday in their Camden flat, the same smell that had comforted him in Hogwarts, and the smell he had missed for years when he truly believed that his lover, no his soul mate, had killed his best friend.Right before the half-hour mark Remus heard the jangling of keys in the door and perked up, most of the way through his fourth biscuit and his second cup of tea. Seconds later Sirius was at the door, breathless and windswept and lightly dusted with snow, his cheeks painted pink from the cold and his hair falling out of the band that tied it back. He stood for a moment in the doorway, arms pushed against either side of the frame as if he were afraid Remus would try to escape by bolting past him. In fact, the thought of leaving had occurred to Remus before Sirius arrived but now that he was here, standing so close, Remus didn't think he could have left if his life depended on it. Sirius was like a force of nature, like the gravity of some large planet - the people around him could never help being pulled into his orbit. Remus' chest suddenly hurt as if he were winded, as if he had run a great distance without ever leaving the long bench on which he was seated. Sirius was beaming, but he also looked slightly nervous, as if he were dealing with a scared and slightly unpredictable animal (he was)."Holy fuck. Moony. You're here. Merlin's beard I thought for sure I'd make it back before you -" he trailed off here, hesitant. He didn't seem to want to cross the threshold of the door.Remus smiled softly at him, "Hello Sirius," He stood, "I like what you've done with the place."Sirius came across the kitchen and pulled Remus into a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides. Gods, the scent of him, the feel of his warmth, it was completely overwhelming. He tried not to notice that Sirius' chest had a fragile feeling where he used to have thick layers of muscle, or that his arms felt thin. Sirius pushed him back, holding him at arm's length and searching Remus' face."You look fucking terrible."Whatever Remus had expected, it was not this. He stood there for a moment, shock clearly registering on his face until he broke into somewhat hysterical laughter. He laughed until the tears leaked from the corners of his eyes hand the had to sit back down on the bench. Sirius laughed too, the great, booming, distinct laughs that sounded exactly like Padfoot's barks. He walked around to the other side of the table and set down a bottle in a paper bag. When Remus had recovered he smiled up at the other man."I don't know when I last laughed like that, you prick, you know you're not the picture of health yourself.""Well at least I haven't gone and got OLD. What is all that grey hair?""I earned it," Remus objected, "It makes me look distinguished.""Since when was that a goal?"Remus raised his eyebrows, "We can't all be the bad boy of someone's dreams, covered in tattoos and steeped in family money."Sirius grinned wolfishly and fished two clear lowball glasses from a cabinet, "Whose dreams exactly do I feature in in this scenario?"Remus, flustered, stuttered a bit, "I didn't...that is…""Don't hurt yourself Moons, I like the grey."He pulled from the paper bag on the table bottle of whiskey, Jameson. Remus broke into a smile."I know it's your favorite," Sirius said, opening the bottle, "and seeing as we haven't had a drink together in over twelve years, I figured we should celebrate a bit." He poured three fingers into each glass, "Plus I am bloody terrified of being sober in a room with you."Remus accepted his glass, "I'll drink to that. You have no idea how many times I repacked today.""I wasn't sure you were going to actually show up.""Don't think I didn't consider just staying in my cozy little cottage.""You'd really rather be in bloody Iceland the week before Christmas than here?"Remus sighed, taking a large gulp of the whiskey, "God I haven't had this in ages, remember when this is all we used to drink?""Yeah, bought from that shitty little corner store with the pissed-off clerk who always looked like she was sleeping in her makeup. I had to go to Muggle London for this you know," he took another drink, "But don't think I'm just going to let you off the question."Remus inclined his head, "It's...good to see you Sirius. It's surreal."Sirius looked suddenly quite focused, Remus realized that he had drained his glass but he hadn't remembered doing it. Sirius leaned across the table and poured him another. Their fingers brushed just the smallest bit as Sirius replenished the glass and Remus was acutely aware of the feeling of his skin, "Because I'm even more handsome than you remember, or because you actually hate me now?"Trust Sirius to get straight to the point. He could be nervous and evasive by letter all he wanted to but he had time to plan for this moment, and face-to-face, Sirius wasn't usually delicate. He should have expected this tactic. Sirius knew that Remus took time to work into things, he knew that his he could catch Remus unprepared he'd get the truth. He couldn't believe that after twelve years the same tactics Sirius had used to get out of lovers quarrels would still be effective. Then again, he was usually defenseless around Sirius. Remus put his head in his hands and slowly pushed them up, messing his sandy-brown hair Before combing it back into place with his fingers."I don't want to talk about all that yet Sirius. I just got here and you're trying getting me drunk and…" he paused, he didn't know how to say any of this, it didn't matter that he had practiced this conversation over and over in his head for weeks in anticipation of coming to Grimmauld Place, of course when it came down to it the words sounded foreign, "I just want to sit here and eat something and reminisce with an old friend. That's what I can...handle right now."Sirius nodded slowly, "Okay. Okay Moons. Friends huh?"Remus looked at him, trying to express in a look everything he knew he'd never be able to express in words. As much as he wanted to fall into Sirius' arms and go right back to the way things were, they'd never be able to. Remus was different now, he was a man, he'd been through things, suffered in the world after Sirius had left, he had lost everything. And Sirius had suffered even more, he'd even lost his freedom, lost the safety in his own head for a while. They were both marked now, Remus with his scars, Sirius with the prison number tattooed on his forearm. They couldn't pretend that they could just forget it all and go back to being twenty-one and in love again.Sirius looked him dead in the eye and Remus almost fell into those deep pools, "Hey, Moons, don't worry okay? We don't have to talk about anything. I'm just happy you're here. That's enough for me you lightweight Irish ponce."He put a large, square hand over Remus' thin one in a surprisingly comforting gesture and Remus smiled at him. There was too much at stake to know what to say about them, so they said everything else. They reminisced and Kreacher made dinner around them before serving a lovely roast and root vegetables. They kept up with one another drink for drink, maintaining a lovely buzz long into the evening when their bellies were full and their hearts were warming in the firelight and memories of better days.Remus helped fill in the pieces of Sirius' memory that seemed oddly blank. There were stories from their school years that Remus told which Sirius only remembered three-quarters of, or that Sirius would mix up together, or where he would remember the smallest details but not the actual events. He would get uncharacteristically quiet or bashful at these moments, as if he were embarrassed by his inability to recall things the way that they happened. Remus didn't remark on these moments, instead he just helpfully prodded Sirius along until they reached common ground once again. He suspected that the dementors had taken a great deal from Sirius, that mixed up memories were just the tip of the iceberg, but he didn't want Sirius to have to talk about his time there. Instead he kept the whiskey flowing until they were both happily drunk, leaning red faced on their hands and laughing about dungbombs and charming Dumbledore's beard pink, and the time James ran down five flights of stairs trying to catch a crystal ball that they had bewitched to run away from him singing "James Potter is a massive prick, too bad he has a tiny dick" after he had secretly cut Sirius' hair the night before.Kreacher arrived back in the kitchen at one in the morning and helpfully offered them a steaming mug of Holland's Hangover Protection potion at which point they leaned on one another to climb the stairs to their respective beds. Sirius, whose bedroom was at the very top level of the house, stopped when they reached Remus' door."This, this is you Moony Moons Moon." He let go of Remus, leaning instead on the banister to support his wobbly frame."Pads, paddyfoot." Remus was flush-faced and prone to the most ridiculous fits of laughter when drunk, "Your house is often-ta- wait that's not right, ostentatious, yes that's the one.""How are you still wording like that?""I'm a Professor...or I was."Sirius hiccuped loudly, "Traitor to the cause. You were an aca...demic spy from...from..the beginning-"At the mention of the word 'spy' Remus had gone pale, and it took Sirius a moment to catch up. "Oh. Remus shit. I'm drunk. I mean, sorry."Remus reached for the door, "It's you know, it's okay or whatever. I thought it was you too.""I know.""If I had known.""I know.""Why didn't you tell me?""How could I? I was already in Azkaban.""You should have come home.""Moony I was in Azkaban.""No, that night. When you found...them. You should have come home. You knew then that it wasn't me."Sirius smiled sadly, "I know.""I would have believed you. I always wanted to believe you."Sirius turned to walk up the stairs, "I wasn't afraid you wouldn't believe me Moons. I was afraid you'd hate me for thinking it was you."Sirius was halfway up the next flight of stairs by the time Remus' intoxicated brain processed this, and at that point all he could do was whisper his reply to the empty landing."I could never hate you." But even as he whispered it, he remembered the feeling of holding Sirius in the Shrieking Shack months before, how his mind had screamed murderer when he did, he knew it was a lie. They had both hated each other, mistrusted one another, and they both had so much mending to do. But tonight, tonight had been a step, if perhaps a drunken, faltering one.The hearing the next day was long, and arduous, full of suppositions about his character and questions about whether werewolves could be trusted as witnesses in the first place. Remus told the story of the night Peter Pettigrew had been caught as plainly and as honestly as he could, but he knew that his word would probably mean very little in the eyes of the court. Luckily for them, the fact that Peter Pettigrew was alive and in custody did say quite a bit. It was difficult to imagine anyone would be on the run as a rat for twelve years if they hadn't had something to hide. Also luckily, Peter wasn't required to be present at the hearing, Remus didn't think he could have stood staring into the traitor's face anymore. He'd already had to face that situation once with Sirius' trial.He remembered the day they had sentenced Sirius, who had been bound and protesting his innocence loudly as the court read off the sentence. He had looked straight at Remus as they took him away, looked at him as if he were trying to memorize every feature. He had stared at Remus and pleaded with him, "Remus it wasn't me, Moons believe me, luv." But Remus hadn't believed him, hadn't believed the word of the traitor that sold out his two best friends and their infant son. He had stared coldly back, watching Ministry officials drag the man he loved most in the world to the cold, insanity-producing rock that was Azkaban.Now he was walking through the same halls and Sirius was free. So free that they were going to have lunch together in Muggle London when Remus was done at the Ministry. Neither of them felt like facing the inquiring eyes of the wizarding public. Remus had been outed to the world as a werewolf by Severus-fucking-Snape which meant that everyone knew, no one would hire him and some wizarding establishments where he had been a frequent guest would now turn him away at the door. On the other hand, many were unconvinced that Sirius Black was not notorious-mass-murderer-Sirius-Black and similarly did not take too kindly to his presence. Remus apparated back to Grimmauld Place where he collected Sirius and they made their way down to Soho to a ramen place that Remus had heard about in the Muggle newspapers.They spent a pleasant afternoon stuffing themselves and chatting aimlessly about anything that came up - neither of them mentioned the rather intense turn that their conversation had taken the night before, or the hearing that Remus had attended in the morning. It only took an hour or so in Sirius' presence for the stress of the morning to empty itself from Remus' tired shoulders, which he thought might be a record. He laughed more than he had in ages, all the stories and memories that he'd buried deep now had an audience, a co-conspirator, a witness who laughed at all the appropriate moments. They probably made a funny pair, the scruffy sandy-haired, dad-cardigan-wearing Remus and the ripped-jeans, black t-shirt and ponytailed Sirius sitting in a Ramen shop laughing until they cried about boarding school.Eventually they paid their bill and spilled out onto the streets, opting to walk through the city a bit before disapparating back to the house. Remus unexpectedly still had one more day of hearings, so he was planning to stay another night after he grabbed some more clothes from the cottage. It was late afternoon and the chill was starting to set in as they walked. Sirius rubbed his hands together and blew on them as they waited for a light to let them cross."So you never answered me in our letters about what you were going to do next Moons." Sirius asked, stamping his feet a bit.Remus nodded his head, "Mostly because I have no idea. Dumbledore was kind enough to employ me at a moment I was truly desperate. And now that Snape has outed me," Sirius hissed through his teeth at the mention of the Potions Master, "there's not going to be many options.""If it makes you feel any better, I'm in much the same situation.""I know," Remus sighed, "what happened to the pair of us huh?""Marauding takes its toll I guess.""At least you've got the house, and you're taking care of Harry. People are going to want to employ the guardian of the boy-who-lived."Sirius shrugged, "Maybe. I have the Black inheritance too and honestly I'm not in a rush. I thought maybe I'd start my own business, or invest in something. I like the idea of having a free schedule after all those years...you know...locked up."Remus rolled his eyes, "Sirius you always liked having a free schedule. You used to sleep until noon every day.""Well someone," he raised his eyebrows and waggled them at Remus, "used to keep me up late a lot of nights.""I remember that being a mutual decision. You act as if you had nothing to do with it.""I didn't. I was innocent to those types of -""Oh please, don't start with this act""-unholy unions until your beautiful body seduced me."Remus felt like he was doing a lot of eye rolling, "You big queer I remember you being the one that kissed me.""I was already under your spell.""Merlin you can still lay on the drama thick can't you?""I have a talent for it, yes."Remus shoved his shoulder playfully into Sirius' thinner one."Oi bony! Isn't Kreacher feeding you?""Yeah, it just erm...took awhile for my stomach to be able to handle a normal amount of food. It wasn't used to it."Remus blanched. He thought he knew what going hungry meant but thinking about Sirius, who had been used to huge sumptuous meals, going so hungry that he couldn't stomach food, made him profoundly sad. Sirius looked over at him and quickly changed the subject,"But seriously Remus, you can't stay in Iceland forever. You've got to stop being such a layabout. Come back to London.""Pads you know I can't afford it.""But I like having you here.""Yeah?""Yeah. I'm used to being the center of attention Remus, you know I deserve to be in the spotlight. But when Harry's off at school there's no one to watch the performance.""Oh so you want me back in London so you can have an audience? Nice.""Come on Moony, think of all the trouble we could get up to.""I can't afford it Sirius.""You can have the Camden flat back, I'm not using it."Remus sighed. "Too many memories. That's why you're not there right?"Sirius looked away, "You could, come stay at Grimmauld?""I don't know if that's a good idea. I mean-"But Sirius cut him off, "Look Harry is home for Christmas holidays in six days, he'd kill me if he knew you were here and you didn't stay for Christmas. You can't celebrate that all alone in god-fore-fucking-saken Iceland.""Come off it I like Iceland.""Just stay for Christmas. If you hate it or its...weird or something you can go back. But you can't stay there forever.""Sirius I dont want to be a-""Don't you dare say burden Moony I swear to all that is fucking holy.""But I'm not sure it's-""Moony, we're mates. We were mates first before we started humping like rabbits-""Oh that's a nice way of putting it.""And we're mates again. And yes it's going to be weird and...ugh a part of me doesn't know what the hell we're doing but you need a place to stay and I'm not abandoning you. No one should be alone at Christmas. We've spent too many apart."Remus looked into Sirius' eyes and saw that manic glint that he always got when thought he had a bright idea. It was the look he got pouring over the Marauder's Map in the middle of the night, the look he got when he had some new mischief to engineer or pranks to play. It was the look he had gotten in his eyes when he decided that James, he and Peter needed to become animagi to keep Remus comfortable. Sirius Black was nothing if not stubborn. Once he'd gotten an idea into his head there was no dissuading him. Remus knew that he was fighting a losing battle and he didn't have the energy to fight the way he might have years ago. So he looked into Sirius' eager face and resolved to at least make sure that Sirius ate properly and drank a bit less while he was staying. After all if he was taking care of Sirius he needn't feel quite so guilty about staying for free."Come ON Remus its not that complicated. Presents, Christmas cheer, your best-mate, your former student. It'll be grand.""You're not going to give up?""What a daft question. Literally do I ever?"He nodded, "Okay Pads, you pain in the arse. Christmas it is."And they walked the rest of the way in contented silence. Remus, for the life of him, didn't know why he couldn't stop smiling. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Harry jumped onto the platform at King's Cross, beaming as Ron threw his bag to him. Hermione stepped down too, and the three of them scanned the platform, searching through the billowing steam and rows of bodies. It was Harry's first year going home for Christmas, actually he thought to himself, the first year that he hadn't thought of Hogwarts as home. Grimmauld Place was his home now, a home he had helped to make over the summer. He couldn't wait to see Sirius and tell him all about the first task of the Triwizard Tournament and how all of Hogwarts had been cheering on Cedric. Hermione saw her parents and bid them goodbye and happy Christmas and then Mrs. Weasley surfaced, the twins behind behind her, to collect Ron."Harry, dear," she hugged him, "Happy Christmas! Glad to see you and Ronald have stayed out of trouble thus far this year.""We do try Mrs. Weasley, honestly.""Well I can't say the same for some of my other sons," she looked pointedly at Fred and George who had looks of pure mock innocence plastered on their identical faces, "Is Sirius coming to get you? We thought you might be with us this Christmas.""Sirius is coming, he said he'd meet me here. I just have to find him."And right on cue, his godfather emerged and swooped him into a hug that nearly cracked his ribs."Harry! It's Christmas and you're here and I've got an incredible surprise!"Harry grinned stupidly, "Sirius! Finally.""We were beginning to worry" said Mrs. Weasley."There are just a shit load of kids here. Nice to see you Molly," he added to Mrs. Weasley who looked scandalized by his language. The twins were looking starstruck, they had heard story after story, some of them from Filch, about the pranks that the younger Sirius Black had masterminded, and contrary to pervading attitudes, they didn't much care if he had murdered a load of people or not. They thought it gave him a dangerous edge. And he did look the part, his hand tattoos peaking out under the cuffs of his thick coat, hair casually long and thrown back."Did you bring the bike, Sirius?" Ron asked eagerly."Course," Sirius shrugged, "Doing alright Ron? Staying out of trouble?"Ron nodded and Sirius scoffed, "Terrible, I haven't had one letter from McGonagall this term. The two of you are going to have to work harder."Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips but didn't say anything except "Come along now Ron, your father is waiting with the car. Where is Ginny anyway? Oh and good to see you Sirius, Harry you have a wonderful Christmas love."Sirius took Harry's bag and slung it easily over his shoulder, "You just wait until you see who is here to visit for Christmas. We're going to have a fucking grand time kid. I can't wait to hear everything about school. Is Snape still being an arse?""Does he know how to be anything else?" Harry laughed."Don't worry, we'll devise a few plans for revenge. You brought the map right?""Do you really think that I'd leave something that valuable at Hogwarts over break?""Perfect. Well you'll have half the Marauders to help you plan your next moves against dear old Snivellus.""Is...does that mean Professor Lupin is here?!" Harry's face lit up. They'd arrived at Sirius' motorbike and Sirius strapped Harry's bag into one of the magically expanded saddlebags on the back."Oi he's not your professor anymore. Merlin that sounds odd, Professor Lupin. But yes he's come to stay for the holidays.""Does that mean that you two are -"Sirius cut him off, "It means you mind your own business, pup. Here put on the damn helmet so we can get home and out of the cold. I've got my eyes on a warm drink when we get home and Kreacher is fixing something special for you."Harry smiled knowingly but didn't say anymore. He got on the bike behind Sirius and just as he kicked the motor into life Sirius called over his shoulder, "And Remus doesn't erm...know that you know anything about our history. I'm sure you'd know better than to go blabbing."Harry laughed, "Sure Sirius, whatever you say."And they sped off towards Grimmauld Place.Remus was, as usual, in a chair near the fire, his feet propped up on a plush ottoman, nose buried in a book. Sirius had always been used to nice things in a way that made Remus a bit uneasy, in a way that reminded you he was used to having money, even if it didn't always come easily to him. Even when he'd left the house and run off to live with the Potters it wasn't exactly a story of destitution. He remembered James' mother's cooking wistfully. But here, warm underneath a thick afghan, with a mug of tea that was keeping itself the perfect temperature, Remus thought he could get used to this level of comfort, especially when, like today, his body was aching and a bit feverish still from his last full moon. He had run the Icelandic countryside, preferring to go back to the land around the cottage over sticking out the moon at Grimmauld Place.Though the change had been hard, it was always hard, it had also been the first change in years where he wasn't alone. Where he wasn't stuck in his own head, willing the wolf not to take out his feverish aggression on his own body, the first in which he was free to roam, to run, to feel the icy wind in his fur and the dirt beneath his paws. Because Sirius had been there by his side, huge and ridiculous with his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his playful nips and barks keeping Remus' attention away from distant farmhouses. They'd run together like they had in the old days, wrestling and play-fighting and howling stupidly together. He couldn't describe what it felt like to be able to change out in the open where he was meant to be, rather than stuck in a cage where his energy was restless and angry and destructive. So the change had been hard on his body, he couldn't avoid the breaking of bones or the grinding of joints as his skeleton shifted into the massive grey (now streaked with silver) wolf. But Sirius had been there, and that made all the difference.And he couldn't deny he was looking forward to seeing Harry again. Now that he wasn't Harry's professor anymore, there was no reason that he couldn't be more open and honest with him. There were so many things that he had wanted to tell Harry last year, about how much James and Lily had loved Harry, how they'd given everything to have him and protect him even in the darkest hours of the war, how much he, Remus, had loved James and Lily. He couldn't wait to tell him stories of how brilliant and fiery his mother was, how she had kept James in check. He hoped, well he was almost certain, that Harry needed to hear these stories too. At least Remus needed to tell them. He'd been silent for too many years, on his own.Harry bounded into the room suddenly, throwing his bag down on the rug."Professor Lupin!"Sirius followed, leaning on the door to the den, "I told you that you can call him Remus, Harry.""Remus is fine Harry," he started to get up, "It's wonderful to see you.""Stay down Moony, you're resting." Sirius had a hand on his shoulder before he knew how he had even crossed the room."I'm fine. Can't I hug my favorite ex-student?"Harry hugged Remus somewhat awkwardly, "Sirius told me you were recovering from the full moon. How did it go?""It was fine. Your godfather is being a mother hen.""Excuse me for worrying about you," Sirius muttered something under his breath about "ungrateful" and both Harry and Remus shared a look and laughed.Harry sat down on the couch opposite Remus and smiled, "It's brilliant that you're going to be around for Christmas. Sirius told me you were in Iceland until he rescued you.""He told you that he - of course he told you that he rescued me.""I did!" Sirius protested, "I mean it's bloody cold there.""You didn't complain the other night." Remus realized only a moment too late how this sounded and he deliberately avoided Sirius' eyes which he knew would be sparkling with barely contained laughter."You were in Iceland too?" Harry asked Sirius."Yeah, for the full moon. We thought that it would be safer there than here in London. Less chance of running into someone that he could bite after all. We ran the farmland, it was just like the old days eh Moons?"Remus smiled indulgently, "It was nice to have you there Padfoot. And good that we didn't run into too much trouble."Harry beamed at the pair of them, "Sirius has told me all about you guys running around Hogwarts at the full moon. It sounds incredible.""It was. We could have landed in so much trouble.""That's how you know it was fun Remus.""I'd love to be an animagus, get to just be free to run around and not be afraid of anything," Harry said."It's not like you're invincible Harry" Remus chided but Sirius was having none of it."But you feel like it! There's nothing like running as a dog it's not tiring or boring it's exhilarating there are just so many smells and the wind feels…" he trailed off into starry-eyed silence.Remus smiled softly, "Well that certainly is true."Remus asked Harry about a million questions about how he was faring at Hogwarts, inquiring after his marks and after Ron and Hermione along with students he liked a little less as well (the Malfoy boy being chief among these). Harry regaled them both with stories of the Triwizard Tournament and the way that Cedric had conquered his dragon. They speculated on what the second task might be and who was most likely to take the Triwizard Cup at the end. Remus had his money on the Bulgarian Seeker but both Sirius and Harry thought this was disloyal."You have to cheer for the Hogwarts champion," Harry said for about the fifth time, "that's the whole point of the tournament, to bring the houses together or something.""I'm not saying I don't hope that Cedric wins, I'm just saying I'm not sure it's the most likely outcome.""You'd think that he never even been to Hogwarts Harry," Sirius said, shaking his head dramatically. And Remus rolled his eyes.They had a huge dinner topped off by Harry's favorite treacle tart and then sleepily headed to bed with plans made to take Harry shopping in Diagon Alley in the morning. Harry had to get Christmas gifts for his school mates and new supplies for school as well as some owl treats for Hedwig. He'd never been able to take trips to Diagon Alley over breaks before and he and Sirius were equally giddy to get to Quality Quidditch Supplies and check out the newest brooms and equipment. Remus on the other hand, needed to visit Flourish and Blotts to check out a new book on the wolfsbane potion which he had to start making himself now that Dumbledore wasn't ordering Snape to make it for him."Goodnight boys." Sirius waved to the two of them as he climbed the third set of stairs up to his room.Remus smiled and hugged Harry properly, "I'm so glad to be spending the holidays with you Harry, Sirius and I have so much to tell you about your Mum and Dad. But for now just know that they'd be so proud of the young man you've become.""Thanks Remus. I'm glad you're here.""Me too Harry."Remus turned towards his door and began to open it when Harry spoke again, looking towards the stairs to check if Sirius had made it to his room, "Hey Remus?""Mmm?""I erm...Sirius asked me not to say anything...but I'm glad that you're my godfather too and well...I just thought I should tell you that."Remus blushed, he could feel the heat rising in his face, "Wait, what...erm...else did he tell you?"Harry looked uncomfortable, "I don't want to get in the way or make things weird or anything. But I mean, I can already tell that he's happier with you around. And like I said, I'm proud to have you as my godfather too."Remus was floored, he opened his mouth, closed it again and took a deep breath, "I wanted to tell you."Harry shrugged, "It's okay. I understand things are..or were...complicated right? Between the two of you. But we're all getting the chance to start over yeah?""Yeah, we are. We're both going to be there for you the way we should have been. That's a promise.""I'm glad.""Me too Harry," he hugged Harry again, "Get some sleep okay?""You won't tell Sirius that I said anything?""Of course not," he felt overwhelmed, "Goodnight.""Wait, Remus. One more thing?"Remus stopped, hoping that Harry wasn't about to have some opinion on a relationship that he shouldn't even know about in the first place. It was quite enough that now he knew a fourteen year old was going to be watching Sirius and him for clues as to what was (or was not) happening between them. Remus may have only taught Harry for a year but that year had taught Remus that Harry inherited James' penchant for sticking his nose exactly where it didn't belong. Before Sirius and Remus had gotten together James had been completely insufferable trying to get them both to admit their feelings for one another. He could only hope that the younger Potter had more sense, but the chances were slim."I am a bit tired Harry.""Okay. I just wanted to tell you not to blame yourself.""For what?""All of it."Remus nearly laughed, the idea that his worry could be turned off like a sink spigot was frankly hilarious. But he knew Harry's intentions were good. They always were."I will do my best."He smiled, opening the door to his room and finally laying his achy body down on the soft mattress. It was several hours before his busy mind let him drift into sleep.Five days later Remus rolled over and groaned. He lit his wand and pointed it at the clock opposite the bed which told him it was a 5:22am. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, there was no reason why any of them should be up this early, but clearly Sirius and Harry had decided otherwise. The laughs and loud words of their wrestling and teasing filtered up to the second floor where they had woke Remus out of a deep sleep. He had been dreaming of Hogwarts, of his small office off the DADA classroom, of watching students fly lazily by his window as they practiced with Madam Hooch. It had been a good dream, he remembered the light that had filtered through the window onto his face. Remus tried for a few minutes to block out the noise and slip back into his dream but it was dispersing into nothing as quick as a warm breath in cold air. Just then Sirius gave a particularly loud barking laugh and Harry could be heard shushing him, a noise which was itself quite as loud as the laugh that came before. Remus sighed. As much as he liked the idea of going back to sleep there was nothing for it. They were clearly determined to have Christmas morning come as early as possible.Remus slid off the bed and placed his feet on the cold wood floor, then threw his dressing gown over his pajamas. He descended the stairs, the noise of laughter louder with every step. When he entered the den he was welcomed by complete disarray. Sirius was sprawled out on the floor in a pair of sweatpants and a ratty old tshirt, his hair in an uncombed mess around him. Harry, in his striped Gryffindor pajamas, was sitting on Sirius' chest, pinning him to the ground, with his arms crossed triumphantly. Around them were stacks of presents of every shape and size, with the humongous Christmas tree they had decorated the night before twinkling behind them."You have to surrender!""I can't breathe...you little twat." Sirius choked out, his chest struggling to expand under Harry's weight."Sorry? What was that?""I said I surrender! Get off." Harry rolled off, laughing and Sirius sat up rubbing the spot. Only then did he catch sight of Remus standing there in the doorway with tired eyes and raised eyebrows.Sirius flashed him a crooked smile. "Look Harry you went and woke up the wolf.""You know very well that I am a creature of the night and not of the morning." Remus meant it to come out sternly but it sounded a little more whiny than he had intended. He was grumpy and exhausted and did not like being woken up early."But it's CHRISTMAS Remus!" Harry called happily, if a little haphazardly. He was perched on the back of the large sofa, one of his feet tapping on the cushions and looking decidedly twitchy. His hair was sticking up in every direction even more than usual. He looked a bit deranged."How much tea has he been allowed this morning?""Not tea, coffee!" Harry was practically yelling now."Woah take it down a few decibels, pup," Sirius laughed. Remus shot a look at Sirius who shrugged, "It is Christmas. Sorry to have woken you.""Liar. You just wanted to get to presents. You probably encouraged this behavior."Sirius shrugged but didn't look guilty."I have one for you Remus!" Harry brought over a package wrapped in the deepest blue with constellations moving lazily across the wrapping. Remus admired the paper as Kreacher handed him a steaming mug of Irish breakfast tea. "I picked the wrapping because it has you and Sirius in the same sky." Harry blushed a little but persevered in explaining, "See? Here's the dogstar" he pointed to the brightest star on the wrapping, "and there's you in the corner," this time indicating a full moon, "I like that you can see both of you on a clear night."Remus smiled. He had always liked that too. He remembered sitting in the small living room of their flat and looking out the window as he waited for Sirius to come home from an Order mission. It had been Sirius and James heading out together, Remus was making dinner and keeping an eye on the clock, trying not to worry himself to death. He'd been out there himself several days before, tracking down and tailing a suspected Death Eater. He remembered leaning out of the window of the flat, so that he could keep both Sirius's star and the moon in his field of vision. He felt like if he could just see them both at the same time, keep them together, then Sirius would come back safely. It had been a clear night that night too. And Sirius had come home."Aren't you going to open in?" Harry asked as Remus stared at the paper. Remus unwrapped the corners carefully, not wanting to rip through the stars. Inside was a black box. Remus opened it slowly and inside on a sapphire pillow was a silver pocket watch. Remus looked up at Harry in shock to see the young man grinning, "Harry, this, you've spent far too much money."Harry rolled his eyes, "Don't worry about that, I've never had a family Christmas before. Open it." Remus pushed the button to open the watch and inside were three hands with each of their names on it, one that said Harry, one that said Sirius and one with Remus' own name. Around the edge of the watch were, like the clock that the Weasleys had, a number of locations: Grimmauld Place, Hogwarts, Hogsmede, Traveling, and Danger, among others. All the hands currently pointed to Grimmauld Place. The face of the watch was mostly dark, with perhaps a third of the face white. "It shows the moon phase, see? Sirius and I each have a matching one. Now we can all help keep an eye on one another, even when we're separated. And you know, we'll know when the next full moon is coming."Remus willed himself to keep it together, but the struggle must have shown on his face because Harry enfolded Remus in his arms, "Happy Christmas Remus.""Happy Christmas Harry."Remus had gotten Harry a notebook that was spelled to keep track of your most brilliant or original thoughts (Sirius had laughed, "He'll bring it home at the end of the year and it'll still be empty!" earning him a slap to the back of the head from Remus), a ton of Mars Bars (Harry had confessed he sometimes missed Muggle candy), a book of the best seekers in Quidditch history. Remus and had also gone in on with Sirius on a brand new broomstick, a Firebolt that Harry didn't put down for at least several days after he unwrapped it. In addition to the broomstick Harry received a two-way mirror from Sirius, a fresh pot of invisible ink to pass notes in class, and a whole pile of dungbombs.Sirius had gotten Remus a huge box of Honeydukes chocolate, a metal bookmark that was spelled to make the book it rested in searchable by voice, socks with the Icelandic flag on them ("well if you love it so much, you should wear it"), and a new kettle that kept your water at the perfect temperature for brewing.Remus in turn got Sirius new motorcycle boots, a tshirt which featured a German Shepherd wearing sunglasses and was emblazoned with the words "Bad to the Bone" (Sirius laughed so hard at this he had a difficult time breathing and Harry had to thump him on the back to bring him back to his sanity), and a Oyster card loaded with some Muggle money for when Sirius wanted to venture out into Muggle London.Things had settled down a bit, Harry had come down from his caffeine high and was crashing on one of the large sofas, when Remus retrieved one more box from his room. He considered not giving it to Sirius, they were, after all, trying to keep things casual between them at Remus' request. Sirius hadn't brought up James, or their old relationship, or anything. He was letting Remus have space, time to come around. And Remus appreciated this. The new Sirius Black seemed to have a measure of self-control (just a tiny measure but it was there nevertheless) that the younger Sirius he remembered did not. He stood in the guest room and ran a finger over the red wrapping. He didn't have to break the peace this way, but...something in his gut told him to go ahead. After all, he wanted Sirius to have it. So he steeled his Gryffindor courage and marched back downstairs, reaching around the sitting Sirius to place the box in his lap."There was one more thing for you Sirius.""Aw Moony you did enough already.""Don't worry, I didn't buy this one, at least not recently. Anyway, you're just not the same without it."Sirius looked back at him, confused, but didn't comment. He slipped the gold ribbon from the ends of the package and ripped off the paper. Remus was fidgeting, twisting his fingers behind his back and shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously. There was a good chance that Sirius was going to get emotional, well as much as he ever did, and he was worried that the calm, family atmosphere that had made the day so memorable, so unlike Remus' recent Christmases, would be snapped like a frozen thread.Sirius pushed aside the tissue and pulled out his jacket. The black leather jacket that Remus had bought him years and years ago on the high street in Camden the very day that they moved into their new flat together. It had been one of the only things that Remus kept out of storage, had moved with him each time he wandered. He wouldn't be able to feel even the slightest bit at home if the jacket weren't slung over the back of a chair or on a peg near the door. It had decorated his chambers at Hogwarts and even more recently had been hung over one of the posts of his little bed in Iceland. He knew it was ridiculous, childish even, but the presence of the jacket had soothed him. Even when he had hated Sirius, cursed him, wanted him dead for what Remus thought he had done to James, to Lily, to Peter, to him, he'd always kept it near him. It made him feel as if the man he loved were still coming back.Sirius ran his hands over the soft leather, the slightly faded embroidered wolf on the shoulder, the studs that he had added, the two pins on the lapel (one featured the image of a rising phoenix, the other a pink triangle on a black background) and for a long time, he didn't say anything. He brought the jacket to his face and inhaled."I thought this was long gone. I can't...wow...holy shit Moony," Sirius, it seemed, was at a loss for words - something that had happened only a handful of times as long as Remus had known him, "When I came back here I looked for it. I don't know why I hoped it was here, I knew if it was anywhere it would be in the flat but I didn't...I haven't gone over there.""Well, like I said, I don't think you can be your proper self again without it," Remus looked at him smiling and yet, felt a twinge of sadness somewhere at the corners of his eyes, "Aren't you going to see if it still fits?"Sirius stood and threw the jacket on in one fluid movement, the same movement he practiced a thousand times leaving the house to get cigarettes or groceries or to take Remus out for the night. The jacket settled on his shoulders, which were just slightly smaller than they had been. Though it didn't fit perfectly anymore, Remus had the sudden feeling that he was seeing Sirius for the first time since he had gone to Azkaban - that every interaction they'd had since the Shrieking Shack was a bit unreal. Here was Sirius, his Sirius, at last."I'll have to work out a bit, get the shoulders back."Remus grinned, "It looks perfect Pads."Sirius closed his eyes for a brief minute, "It smells like you." Remus blushed and opened his mouth to try to explain why he'd had the jacket in the first place, but at that moment Harry finally looked up from his Seeker book and saw Sirius in his jacket."Woah! Sirius you look dangerous! That's a brilliant jacket.""Vintage Harry, that's real quality right there, Remus bought me this jacket when punk was actually dangerous."Remus sat down and listened to the two of them argue over whether Sirius was old or cool or some combination of the two but he mostly blocked them out. He let out a long sigh. So that might have been what other people would consider 'a moment' and Remus had made it out alive. He tried not to let himself believe that one moment would multiply easily into two or three or even more, but there was a tiny spark of hope that ignited in his chest and today, on Christmas at least, Remus refused to snuff it out. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- On Boxing Day they all (mercifully) slept in. Remus was just heading downstairs at half past ten to have his morning toast and tea when he quite literally ran into a shirtless Sirius."Woah there Moony. Careful." Sirius was smiling."Hey, erm good morning Sirius." Remus willed himself not to stare at Sirius' chest, covered in tattoos,which though thinner, had lost none of its appeal since Remus had last seen it. You can't g around saying you want to just be mates for a while if you keep giving him sentimental gifts and staring at his incredibly appealing chest."Heading down to the kitchen?""I thought I might have a bite.""Hold on, don't go anywhere, I have something for you. Fuck wait here." Sirius left Remus standing on the landing and threw himself back up the stairs to his room. After a few moments he returned with a frame in his hand. He shuffled it back and forth from his left hand to his right a few times before handing it to Remus."I wanted to give this to you yesterday, but I didn't know how you'd take it, so I erm...fuck...I just have a copy and I thought...well it means a to to me so I thought you might want one too."Remus was only half-listening to this waterfall of anxious words because he had turned over the frame and seen the picture inside. His own, sleepy, eighteen-year-old face looked back at him. It was the photo they took the day they moved into their new flat, the one Sirius had insisted on snapping as they were drifting off to sleep on that horrible couch they had. Sirius was bright-eyed and grinning, showing off his canines and messy hair. He was shirtless, as he was in front of Remus now, his tattoos swimming across his chest. Sirius looked in the photo as if someone had just handed him the whole world on a plate, greedy and excited and warm. God he looks so young. We both do. Neither of them had the deep worry lines carved into their face, or in Remus' case the streaks of grey hair along his temples. The younger Remus looked sleepy, utterly satisfied, comfortable, safe, with the smallest hint of disbelief as if he didn't know how he was allowed to have this kind of happiness. He would have given anything in that moment to have that happiness recapture the electricity and ease in equal measure that passed between them in the photo.Remus looked up and realized that there were tears in his eyes. Sirius was watching him, slightly wary."Hey Remus, look shit I'm sorry I didn't know it would make you sad -"But Remus took one quick step, closed the distance between them and kissed Sirius. There was nothing, Remus decided, like kissing Sirius Black. It was like swimming in a warm rip current that pulled you in and out to sea, a force of nature. It only took a second for the shock to fade from Sirius' body and for him to wrap a strong hand around Remus' waist, pulling Remus against him. Remus' whole body seemed to have grown extra nerves, he was acutely aware of every point of contact between them, each meeting burning itself into his mind until he was totally overloaded and could do nothing but lean on Sirius for support. Sirius deepened the kiss, trailing his teeth across Remus'' bottom lip and Remus give a little "oh" of surprise. Sirius made a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl that sent a shock down Remus' spine and made him acutely aware of how hard he was already. He threaded a hand through Sirius' hair and tugged it just a little bit the way Sirius used to like, pressing further against him. The rest of the world disappeared until there was only the taste of Sirius, the feel of him, the feeling of home. Touching him after thousands of days imagining touching him - it was better than he could have ever imagined. It was like breathing again, like kissing Sirius had jump started his heart from hibernation, he could feel it beating in his throat.Remus could have stayed like that forever, could have never let go of this man, his anchor. But there was a rustling on the landing behind Sirius and Remus realized that they were making out on the landing right between his bedroom and Harry's. He pulled away from a reluctant Sirius almost at the exact same time as Harry opened his bedroom door to see his two godfathers pink in the face and a bit breathless. Remus was still holding the photo Sirius had given him in his hand and he put it behind his back under the scrutiny of the surprised teenager.Harry smirked at them, Sirius was looking at the floor, not helping their charade at all."Oh well good morning godparents," Harry said in the voice he usually reserved for sassing Snape, "I hope you two are staying out of trouble?" His eyes lingered a bit on Sirius' mussed hair and Remus' bright pink cheeks, "So I'm just going down to the kitchen for at least an hour now."And with that he turned and left the landing, Sirius and Remus staring after him."When did he get so-?""He's been living with you too long already Padfoot.""Don't blame me, he's James' kid, some of this is genetic.""Some of it."They looked at each other for a long moment and the awkward emotional tension that had stretched between them since Remus left Hogwarts began to creep back into his mind. He'd just kissed Sirius. Kissed him after he told him that he wanted to take things slow. More than that, he searched his mind and realized that in no way did he regret it at all. He'd do it again if he had the chance.Sirius was looking at him intensely and Remus smiled a little half-smile at him, "That was..erm…""Incredibly unexpected and deliciously sexy?" Sirius offered."Yes. Exactly that.""Hey Remus? It's okay if you still think I'm devilishly handsome. I really can't blame you.""Shut up Sirius.""I mean but you can't resist can you?""And why the fuck should I?""What kind of language is that for a professor?""Ex-professor."Sirius kissed him this time, soft, smooth and almost romantic compared to the hungry heat of their first kiss. It was short, Sirius pulled away just at the moment that he knew would leave Remus wanting a bit more. This was how he operated, Remus remembered, he was a notorious tease and needed lots and lots of positive feedback. But when he committed, wow did he commit.Sirius smiled, "We should probably go downstairs."Remus sighed, "I suppose we should. Don't want to give that little punk any ideas.""I mean I think he already has the gist."Remus rolled his eyes, but they trooped down to the kitchen where Kreacher was making Harry a huge pile of scrambled eggs and bacon. To his credit, Harry didn't say anything more about nearly catching Sirius and Remus lip-locked on the landing, instead he merely gave them both a knowing look before launching into an idea to apparatus out to the countryside to play one-on-one quidditch with Sirius."Or we could go two-on-one?" He asked, looking at Remus."You and Remus against me?" Sirius clarified."Don't be ridiculous. I can take the both of you easy." Harry laughed and Sirius raised an eyebrow."Oh yeah?"Remus knew where this was going and wanted to avoid an argument, "I think I'll just come watch. I've got some reading to do anyway."So an hour later the three of them apparated far enough outside London that they could set up some wards in a field to disguise their game from the muggles. They chose the back of an open field, dotted with rocks and a few flat boulders for Remus to sit on and with just enough trees on the edge to make Remus feel less like they were going to get caught. At the north end of the field was a tiny stream that was iced over, and near it was a large boulder on which Remus cuddled under a warm blanket to read. Sirius and Harry set some makeshift hoops up and Harry flew circles around Sirius for several chilly hours. Sirius, to his credit, did much better than Remus expected considering he probably hadn't been on a broom in ages.They had lunch in the field, after which Sirius changed into Padfoot to startle and chased a couple of rabbits, barking madly and tripping over his own feet in the process. Remus and Harry watched him ambling around, periodically yelling to him about which direction the rabbits had gone when he lost them.Harry was leaning back on his arms, face turned towards the winter sun. Sirius came back to the rock and curled up, as Padfoot, with his head on Remus' lap. Remus ran his hands through the silky black fur almost absentmindedly, scratching him behind the ears. They sat in happy silence for a bit, and just when it was starting to get a bit too cold, even in their thick coats, Harry broke the silence."So, the Marauders, which by the way guys is a stupid name, you all became animagi when you were what, sixteen?""Fifteen, wasn't it Padfoot?"Sirius had stood up and walked opposite them before turning back into his human self and taking a seat, "Yup, we started attempting it in fourth year but it took a little while, I think we could all transform by midway through fifth.""How do you do it?" Harry asked eagerly."It's a fucking process, let me tell you. There's all this weird meditation and visualization, complex stages of spellwork, and then there's the month that you have to keep a Mandrake leaf in your mouth."Remus laughed, "You should have seen them Harry, they of course didn't time it so that they'd be doing the Mandrake bit over break, instead they had to cook up this crazy vow of silence. It was honestly the quietest month we ever spent at Hogwarts.""McGonagall was so pleased after she stopped trying to figure out what we were protesting.""Yeah and when James started speaking again you could see the depression set in once again." Remus laughed."I wonder what kind of animal I'd be."Sirius looked at him, his head cocked a bit to the side, doglike, "I think a lot of the time people have animagus forms that are the same as their Patronus, so you might be a stag like James."Remus cut in, "But not always. There are lots of examples where there was a deviation in forms between the two."Harry beamed, "It would be nice to know."Remus had a feeling he knew where this was going, and it was starting to make him a bit nervous."Would you teach me Sirius?" Harry asked, staring excitedly into his godfather's face.Remus knew it. He had known ever since the first night that Harry came home for the holidays. Every time that Sirius turned into Padfoot, Harry's eyes would light up. He had wanted to know about all their adventures at Hogwarts but especially those ones that featured them turning into animals. The way Sirius talked about it, being a dog gave him a sense of freedom that he didn't get anywhere else, it quieted the human tendencies to worry, to be stressed or sad about abstract things, it was a mental and emotional release. Of course, transforming into an animal was a decidedly different prospect for Remus. Sure he loved running with Sirius on the nights of the full moon, but he would still give anything not to have to. The problem was, if he knew Sirius at all, he was going to jump at the idea."You really want to learn pup?""Yeah, I mean why the hell not?"Remus raised his eyebrows, "Are you sure that's a good idea Sirius?" his voice very clearly indicated that he did not, in fact, think it was a good idea.Sirius brushed this off, "Of course! He's talented he'll figure it out quick with me guiding him.""I have no doubt he'd be capable-""So what's the problem? Can you imagine we could all run the full moon together in the summers."This was the problem."Sirius," there was warning in his tone this time, "you should think this over."Harry glanced from Remus to Sirius and back as if he were watching a tennis match."I am thinking it over. And I think it would be brilliant Moons. I don't know why this is an issue.""Because he's too young-""The same age as Prongs and I were-""And the two of you were idiots back then if you remember, Padfoot.""I don't remember you complaining, especially because we did it for you to begin with."This stung and Remus looked down at his hands for a moment to gather himself. His eyes followed a thin white scar that becan where his pinky joined his hand and wrapped around his wrist near his pulse point. He rubbed it absentmindedly with his other hand, feeling the bumps and ridges of torn and repaired skin."Perhaps," he said with an air of forced calm, "it's time to go back to the house. It's getting cold.""You can say that again," Harry said, but Sirius shot him a look and he didn't say anything else until they had apparated back to Grimmauld Place. Harry scampered up to his room with some vague words about a book that he wanted to get to which must have been a complete lie, but it was all for the best because when Remus entered the kitchen after Sirius, Sirius rounded on him. Remus had seen that hard look in Sirius' eyes before, the grey turning to steel. When he was angry was when you saw the stuck-up posh boy come out of Sirius. He tilted his head slightly back, emphasizing those aristocratic cheekbones, and flexed his jaw and shoulders. Remus hated it, it not only meant that he was in for a fight, it was a reminder of the life that Sirius had, the life that that Remus never even dreamed of."So tell me why the fuck you're so bent out of shape about making him a Marauder? It's his birthright!""Oh now we're making him a Marauder?" Remus spat, "Christ Sirius he's fourteen.""So what?""So even if he turns out to be a stag he's not going to be James, you can't put that kind of monumental expectation on a kid.""Who said I was expecting anything?""You want to have adventures like the old days, I get it Sirius, I really do but-""Do you really get it Moony? Because freedom might mean something fucking different to me than to you.""You could get him in a load of trouble, with the Ministry Sirius! And in case you forgot," Remus' voice was rising, "the fact that you and Peter weren't registered got you into a fair bit of trouble until recently! The Ministry never knew they were looking for a-""And the fact that I wasn't registered is the whole fucking reason I could get out of Azkaban too, otherwise you all would have let me bloody rot there."The words hit Remus like a whip. He couldn't believe Sirius was trying to throw Azkaban in his face, like he should have known, like Remus had some information that he just never acted on. Like he wanted Sirius to be stuck in that hellhole for years. Remus narrowed his eyes, "Don't talk to me like that Sirius.""I'll talk to you however the fuck I want.""I didn't put you there.""You were pretty fucking quick to believe that I killed James fucking Potter, Lupin." These words exited Sirius like they were poison being drawn from a wound. He almost whispered them, and each one was full of as much venom as could be squeezed into each syllable.Remus took a step back. "What the fuck was I supposed to think, Black?""You should have had some faith in me!""How dare you.""Well you should have.""How dare you fucking say something like that to me. You fucking asshole. You have no idea what I went through when you didn't come back, when I found out! What the fuck were you doing chasing down Peter Pettigrew by yourself?!""I wanted to kill the little fuck who had killed my brother.""You didn't stop to think for one fucking second that maybe that was a bad idea? No, fucking Sirius Black can take anyone on single-handedly. You never thought maybe you should come home and tell me what the fuck was going on?!""Don't come at me like you know what the hell was going on Lupin. Don't fucking even think it.""I was waiting for you! I waited for hours!""Oh and a few hours of torment really compares-""Shut the FUCK up Sirius! For once in your fucking life you shut your fucking mouth and listen to me!"This actually had the desired effect. Sirius looked momentarily thrown off balance by the force of Remus' yelling, and Remus took the opportunity to let it all spill out."A few hours?! Fuck you. I had to hear about James and Lily from a fucking MINISTRY EMPLOYEE WHO CAME TO TELL ME YOU'D KILLED THEM! You...should have come home to me you fucking shit...you should have been the one to tell me. You left me Sirius. You left me fucking alone. For years." Tears were streaming down his face at this point and his voice cracked from the strain of screaming. But Sirius wasn't ready to back down either. They had opened this chasm between them - now they were falling down into the broken abyss of rock and stale air and they had not yet neared the bottom."You didn't have to fucking see them Remus. You didn't hold James' fucking burned body in your hands. You didn't smell the fucking singed hair and the stench of Dark Magic. You have no idea…" Sirius was crying too, "you have no idea what it was like to step into that miserable house. So don't you yell at me about reasonable decisions, I was out of my mind! You have no idea what that kind of hell is like. I do, I've been fucking living it over and over for years.""But I could have helped you! You should have come home Sirius. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have to hate the person you love most in the whole damn world? It ripped my fucking heart out every day. I felt like I was dying, no worse than that!""You know what, fuck you Remus. You should have stood up for me. You looked me in the bloody eyes at the trial and walked away while I BEGGED. How could you think I did it?""How could I NOT?! You didn't tell me anything! We were barely speaking for months before that! If you'd just come HOME, if you'd just EXPLAINED. You should have trusted me! How could you be so fucking reckless with the other fucking people that needed you?! You had me! You had Harry!""Don't bring him into this shit!""And why not?""Because where the hell have you been for him the last thirteen years? Huh? Do you have ANY FUCKING idea the way those Muggles treated him?""I don't-""No! You don't. Because you never even fucking bothered to check on James' SON. They were abusing him, keeping him locked up in a cupboard, barely feeding him, hitting him, forcing him to do all their housework, letting their kid kick the crap out of him.""What was I supposed to do Sirius, I didn't have a job-""YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DO SOMETHING. Fucking anything Remus. James trusted you!"Remus said nothing. They were both breathing heavy from screaming at one another, and Sirius was gripping the kitchen table so hard that his hands looked like they might bruise. Remus was crying so hard that his vision was swimming, and all the strength seemed to have gone out of"Fuck you Sirius. You left. You fucking left.""Yeah for a fucking reason. I did something. What the fuck did you do, Remus?""I survived without you. And I can do it again."With that, Remus turned and walked out of the kitchen. He was wrong to come in the first place, there was too much hatred to patch over with a photo and a leather jacket. And Sirius would never understand. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The snow on the ground squeaked and crunched beneath Remus' feet as he walked briskly down the street and around the corner. It was night now, and the wind was whipping up the snowflakes to whirl them around in little eddies that bumped softly against Remus' boots. He had pulled the collar of his coat up but he was still shivering, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He was glad that the street was largely empty, most were indoors avoiding the cold and relaxing with family after the holiday. He wiped away some of the freezing tears with the back of his hands. Pull yourself together Lupin.He had left Grimmauld Place not ten minutes after he left an infuriated Sirius standing in the kitchen. Remus didn't know what else to do but to run. He didn't know how to tell Sirius, how to make him see what it had been like for him in the years since they had been separated. He carried that despair, the despair of losing in one night the love of his life and all his best friends, the only people that had stood up for him in a world that openly despised him. That despair, though some days it felt easier to ignore, had hardened over the years, a worry stone that he would run his mind over and over until it was as smooth as a gemstone. And then Sirius had been innocent, had come back, and all the jagged edges that Remus had sanded down through touch returned and it was cutting him up from the inside once again.He knew that Sirius had been right in ways too, knew that he should have been there for Harry. It wasn't as if it hadn't been on his mind. Every time he saw a kid running down the street with messy black hair he thought of his godson, what he had lost when James and Lily were killed, what James would think of Remus leaving his son to be raised by the Muggles that despised magic. The ones that Lily always spoke of with a wavering pain in her voice, as though talking about them was like tonguing a wound in your mouth that wouldn't heal. He had even gone so far as to write Dumbledore one year, when Harry would have been about six. That year had seemed like it was going well. He had gotten a job at a Muggle bookstore, had saved a bit of money and had a feeling he was going to be able to keep the job. He thought that maybe he'd be able to at least visit Harry, to give him some presents, to let him know that one of his mother and father's friends cared, to tell him about them and how much they loved him. Dumbledore, however, refused to tell him where Harry was."One of the reasons Harry was placed with the Dursley's was to provide him with a stable upbringing. I am glad to hear of your employment, but your condition Remus, means that you may be a disruptive force in Harry's life. You will remember we decided to let Harry grow up unaware of his magic, I do not believe that it would be easy for you to conceal yours or to avoid letting something slip if you were to visit him."The words had cut into Remus. Dumbledore, for all his kindness towards Remus in school, had never truly believed that Remus could hide his condition, that he had the same level of control as other wizards. Sure he would give Remus a teaching job, but he would keep a close eye on him, and he certainly never came to the rescue for all those years that Remus had struggled. And he thought that just having Remus around would be too tumultuous for Harry. Remus imagined that Harry had a fairly normal Muggle upbringing, so he tried to smooth away the sharp edges of Dumbledore's prejudice and continued on.He shifted his bag and stopped, realizing all at once that he was here. The Camden flat. He looked at the door, the black paint and brass numbers still looking fresh thanks to the spells that he had cast on the place years ago when he left. Under the numbers was a little brass plaque with the names "Black and Lupin" etched in neat letters. When he had left the flat years ago he knew in some small part of his mind that he'd be back, and so he'd done some complicated spellwork to maintain the inside and outside of the house in the state that he left it. He fumbled in his bag and pulled out a small matching brass key which he stuck in the lock but didn't turn. Instead he pulled out his wand and tapped the key with it."Remus Lupin" he said, his voice hoarse from yelling. And the door swung open as if it hadn't been thirteen years since he'd been there.Remus walked through and into the stairway, closing the door against the snow and wind outside. He mussed his hair and stamped his boots to dislodge the snow that had clumped up as he walked. Remus lit the lights with a flick of his wand and cast a heating charm that he hoped would at least take the chill off the abandoned flat. Slowly, as though his feet were cast in lead, Remus dragged his exhausted body up the stairs as he had so many times before - coming back from getting groceries, coming home from work, or drinks with Sirius. This, more than any place he had ever lived (except perhaps Hogwarts) had felt like home.He reached the top of the stairs and looked around. There was his favorite leather armchair, still pointed towards the fireplace. There was the battered old sofa, with its rips repaired. There was the soft fuzzy white rug that Sirius had insisted upon, where he used to like to sleep curled up as Padfoot. There was the coffee table that they had found on the street a few blocks down that they had painted black. There were the framed posters of Sirius' favorite rock groups on the wall, his record player still hooked up below, an empty glass standing near it. There was the bookshelf, now mostly empty, which had been overflowing with both Muggle and wizarding books alike, so full that the top shelf was slightly bowed even now.Remus couldn't move. He was paralyzed by the smell and the sights of the flat, the place that had seen both his happiest and most devastating moments. It smelled like them. Like Sirius' cologne, his cooking, his breath against Remus as they slept. Like Remus' parchment, his tea-dunked biscuits, his laughter at playing fetch with Padfoot. All the strength drained from Remus' limbs and he found himself sliding down the wall near the stairs until his knees were drawn to his chest and he was sitting on the hardwood floor. The tears that had been fueled by anger, now turned to despair. He was sobbing, sobbing for his small, hopeful heart - sobbing because there was no love in his life that was going to last, there was no way to undo the years of bitterness and hatred that he had used as armor to guard against feeling his losses too deeply. He sobbed for the hatred flung casually his way from past employers, from people who might have been friends. He sobbed for the sounds of his bones breaking every full moon, for the scars, both inside and outside, that he never bothered to heal. He thought that Sirius coming back, Sirius' innocence, may have changed him. It may have given him a reason to believe that tides turn, that he would find some measure of peace to guide him. He thought that Sirius' mere presence could be a salve, could roll back time and erase the weights of poverty and loneliness that made it impossible for him to stand up straight. I should have known, he thought mournfully, letting himself succumb entirely to the grief until he could barely breathe and his body shook, that a monster's life is not marked for happiness. He gripped his knees, trying to find some measure of stability, but his body had always betrayed him. There was no safety there.He's always going to hate me. I let them all down. I didn't believe him, I wasn't there for Harry. He let the memories of Sirius' livid face wash over him. I don't deserve them. No matter how hard he tried, there was always going to be something of the monster in him. It should have been me. It should have been me instead of James or Lily. It should have been me instead of Sirius in Azkaban all those years. What seemed like hours later his body stopped shaking and the tears dried up and he realized that his limbs were stiff from sitting on the floor. So Remus, now in a daze, half-awake, half-alive wandered into the bedroom, where he fell asleep on Sirius' pillow. A pillow that still smelled like the boyfriend he had loved, and the life that he had lost.Sirius paced back and forth in the kitchen, making tea, then pouring it out, opening the biscuit tin and then closing it again. He had so much rage-fueled energy coursing through his body he didn't know how to let it out. He banged a fist on the table, "Fuck" somehow the word didn't even begin to get at the swirling inferno of shit churning in his chest. "Fuck fuck goddamnit."He couldn't understand why the hell Lupin was fighting him! He thought that something was happening between them, that they were going to be a team again, they were going to have the chance to fix this thing that was broken between them. Sirius had been ready to forget, to forgive Remus for not believing in him. Why couldn't he have just left it alone? Who is he to lecture me about how to raise Harry? After all, the first thing that Sirius had done when he left Azkaban was to check on Harry, to make sure that he was safe. He called the Knight Bus, made sure that Harry was well-looked after, and then went after Peter to continue to keep him safe.And where did Remus get off arguing that Sirius left him? It wasn't like he had wanted to be dragged away to prison, he hadn't been thinking straight. No one would be after what he had seen that night! He found him. Between the charred but standing door frame leading from the living room to the hall. He was burned to the point of being unrecognizable, but Sirius would have recognized him no matter what. Months, years, decades would pass before he forgot the smell. The tears started to fall from his face before he even realized that he was crying, they cut wet trails through the smokey dust that had already covered his cheeks. He wiped his face hard with one sleeve and fell down on his knees next to his best friend. He reached out to touch him, but couldn't bring himself to hold the burned and sizzling flesh. All his senses were slow, as if someone had turned off the input. He didn't feel the heat from the scorched concrete against his knees, didn't hear the timbers still cracking, couldn't even feel the stinging smoke in his eyes anymore. His brother was dead. Dead because Sirius had let the rat in deeper. No. He wasn't going to relive that anymore. He didn't need to, not now that the dementors weren't siphoning off the good memories. He had some of them back now. Running the full moon with James and Remus, teaming up with Lily to scare the shit out of James as he studied for exams, the smell of her perfume as she tutored Sirius in Charms, James laughing as they all sat at the side of the lake drinking Remus' whiskey well into the golden twilight during their last year at Hogwarts.Remus had no idea what he'd been through, had no idea what it was like to replay those memories, that fucking guilt over and over in his head until he could see James' body in his cell whether his eyes were open or closed. He had no idea what it was like to lose every piece of you in a slow drip of madness, your only defense to retreat into the mind of an animal. Now he just wandered into Sirius' fucking life and had the nerve to tell him how to care for Harry? Had the nerve to try and fucking say that Sirius should have thought about him? He had thought of nothing else for years, he loved that fucking man and Remus had believed, really believed that Sirius wasn't just a murderer but that he murdered his brother, his godson! As if Sirius could ever hurt a fucking kid, let alone James' son!It wasn't that Sirius was stupid. He knew he should have gone back to his Moony that night. He knew that Remus had been there for him no matter what, he had instantly realized that he had fucked things up. For months he had suspected Remus, had believed that perhaps Remus was the one passing information over to the enemy. After all, Remus had gone for some time to live with the werewolves, and when he came back he had been like another person, withdrawn, irritable, depressed even. He was always ready to lash out, always incredibly anxious about where Sirius was going on missions. Sirius had thought...he had thought maybe the werewolves had gotten to him. Maybe being in a colony that accepted him, no, that celebrated him, had made Moony think twice about working to overthrow Voldemort. It had been agony, going to bed each night beside the warm body of the man that he loved the most, kissing him, holding him, and all the time wondering whether that man would be willing to sell secrets to the most evil wizard that the world had seen.And now, when Sirius looked back at it all, it seemed absurd. Of course Remus was edgy. They all were. James was practically out of his mind pacing a hole in the rug of that stupid cottage where he was locked up for his own protection, Sirius was trying to protect his friends from dying, Remus was spending months with wolves that wanted to have free reign to maul small children, children like Remus had been. So then, that night, when Sirius had found James and Lily's bodies, he couldn't go home, he had to kill Peter, to take care of his mistake. How was he supposed to go home to Remus, who had always loved and trusted him, and tell him that he had believed Remus was the spy? How could he explain that he'd let those old fucking pureblood prejudices sneak back in?!He knew that it must have killed Remus to stand at that trial, to believe that Sirius had betrayed them, betrayed him. He had seen the pain in Remus' eyes, pain so deep that he had held himself as if he had been physically wounded, his shoulders slumped, his eyes red and raw, his limbs heavy. Sirius had wanted nothing more but to take that pain from him, to make it his own. But they hadn't had a chance to speak, hadn't even had a moment to say goodbye. And he knew that Remus suffered while he was gone. He had watched the changing of time by keeping an eye on the moon phase tattoo on his wrist. Every full moon his heart broke knowing that Remus would be waking alone, bruised, broken, probably having slashed open his own flesh. He had imagined what it would be like if he had taken Harry instead of handing him over to Hagrid. Had wondered what kind of family the three of them would make together if he hadn't gone after Peter. He grieved for the years that the three of them had lost together, for the way Harry had grown up when he could have grown up with two loving parents who would have treasured him. Sirius ran his hands through his hair, wiping the tears from his face. If only he had just stopped to think for one fucking second back on that night in October. Now he'd had a glimpse, a family Christmas, and he'd immediately gone and fucked it up over a fucking animagus transformation.Kreacher entered the room, looking at once resentful and a bit timid. Sirius turned on him, practically snarling, "What the hell do you want?""The werewolf left a letter for you Master." Kreacher held out a hand so ancient, it could have been carved from wood, "Kreacher thought you would want it, you are seeming angry though Kreacher knows the house is better without the monster so near to Master Harry.""Oh do I seem angry?" Sirius nearly kicked the elf. He would have, if he hadn't promised Harry that he would make more of an effort to be kind to the little shit, "Get the fuck out." Kreacher scurried away.His name was written hastily on the outside, in Remus' round, wide letters. He opened the envelope and pulled out a scrap of parchment, on it there was only five words in the same handwriting: "You know where I am" followed by Remus' initials. He looked into the envelope and pulled out the other object, which turned out to be a brass key. Attached to it was a faded piece of black leather that Sirius had tied there which was stamped with silver paw prints. He sighed.All the anger drained out of him and he sat down on the bench of the kitchen table. Remus had never dealt with conflict well, he had been afraid as a child of getting too angry and hurting someone, always afraid of his own power, even when it wasn't close to the full moon. This had meant that, when facing off with Sirius' legendary temper, Remus would often hit a point where he couldn't fight anymore and he would be the one to leave to give them space to think things through. Sirius sighed again, he couldn't believe that they were still fighting the same way that they used to. He knew he had said some things that Remus would take to heart. Remus always believed the worst of himself. It was all so fucked up.Sirius stood and grabbed his coat off the rack in the corner of the kitchen and Harry poked his head in the door."Are you okay Sirius?"Sirius tried to smile, "Yeah it'll be okay Harry.""I'm sorry I asked about the animagus thing-"Sirius looked him dead in the eye and put a hand on his shoulder, "You did absolutely nothing wrong. Trust me okay? It really isn't about the animagus thing. Moony and I just, have a complicated past."Harry smiled but still looked worried, "Yeah I heard. Is there something I can do to help?""No no don't even worry about it. We're going to work it out, okay?""You're going to talk to him? How are you going to find him?""I'm Sirius Black that's how," Sirius winked at him, making Harry laugh, "I'll floo you and let you know what's going on, okay?""Don't worry about it Sirius, I'll see you tomorrow or something when you come back."Sirius clapped Harry on the back, "Good lad."Sirius threw his coat on and turned up the collar. He was trying to remember, it had been a long time, exactly what the area around the flat looked like. In the end, he settled on apparating to the alley behind their old favorite pub and walked the rest of the way. They'd both made mistakes. Remus shouldn't have believed the worst of him, he should have tried to be there for Harry even if it were just in small ways. And Sirius hadn't come back to Remus before, when he should have taken a moment to master his temper, should have swallowed his pride and worked through their grief together. This time, he wasn't going to leave Remus alone.It took him nearly forty minutes to find the flat, it was late at night at that point and Sirius could see a light on in the bedroom window. His pulse sped up, he was nervous and that didn't surprise him, but the level of panic that he felt outside the door, staring at the sign with his last name on it, was ridiculous."Are you a fucking Gryffindor or not?" he asked quietly to the street, "Come on, stop being a complete fucking coward. It's just Moony."He put his key in the lock and tapped it with his wand, "Sirius Black". The door swung open. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sirius climbed the stairs into the apartment, and he could tell immediately that Remus was there somewhere. He'd always had a sixth sense when Remus was nearby, even before they had started dating. He ran a hand through his long hair when he reached the top of the stairs. He hadn't been here in thirteen years - remembered the very last moment that he saw the flat. Remus had been sitting in his chair, the leather chair near the fireplace, working through some new Muggle book and Sirius had been heading out to the Potters'. He had stood on that fluffy rug and bent down to kiss Remus."Are you sure you should go this late? The sun's about to go down." Remus had asked him."Since when was I afraid of the dark?""I'm just saying, you can always go tomorrow.""Sure but you know how James gets. He's so antsy it's driving me out of my mind, I can't even imagine how Lily hasn't strangled him." Sirius had replied."Okay. Be safe. I love you. Straight there and back okay?""Of course Dad."Now Sirius stared a bit forlornly at the chair, which was empty. The house looked like someone had packed it in a hurry. Remus hadn't taken the furniture out, hadn't even packed away all the books or the records, but he must have preserved the place because it didn't smell like it had lay empty for thirteen years, it smelled the same way it did that night when Sirius set off.Sirius didn't see Remus, wondered if he were even in the flat, so he did a quick homenum revelio which told him that there was indeed someone in the bedroom. He crossed the flat quietly, avoiding the planks in the wood floor that he remembered as especially creaky, and pushed the door to the bedroom open just enough to peer though.The bed was draped in blankets and a thick comforter, inky blue with golden triangles on it. And under this comforter was a Remus-shaped lump whose heavy breathing told Sirius that he was asleep. Sirius entered the room with less caution than before. Moony slept like the dead, like he'd never slept before, and it was notoriously difficult to rouse him. Sirius often wondered if he hadn't acquired this quirk out of necessity while at Hogwarts. James and Sirius were forever staying up into the early hours of the morning, joking and avoiding their homework, and Remus must have learned to sleep through a certain level of noise.He walked around to the far side of the bed and saw Remus, cuddled up on his side under at least three blankets, his mouth slightly open as he breathed heavily. His eyes were red, as if he'd been crying a long time or rubbing them. But just looking at him, resting finally, Sirius softened. This man, he'd always been there for Sirius, he'd understood the rebellious teenager that Sirius was before Sirius had himself understood. He'd always looked after him, bringing extra quills or holding him back from what would be a nasty fight. Remus had been the architect of all the best-laid-plans in Sirius' life. Not just the mischief they got up to in school but all their adventures after as well. Sirius smoothed a piece of sandy hair streaked with grey out of Remus' face. If anything, he was getting better with age, Sirius decided firmly. The grey fit him, gave him a kind of gravitas. He was still, without a doubt, the most handsome creature Sirius had ever seen. His large, round eyes and heavy eyelids always meant that he seemed, to the untrained eye, slightly sleepy or slightly bored as if, with a mind as sharp as his, there was nothing that could possibly surprise him. Those soft eyes contrasted with a strong, almost pointed jaw and the heavy scars slashed across the left side of that jaw and neck. The scars made him look slightly dangerous, like he'd fought off a beast, which in a way, Sirius supposed, he had.Sirius didn't want to wake him, but he also wasn't going back to Grimmauld Place without sorting things out. He dithered on the spot for a moment, not sure whether to stay or go. Would Moony be annoyed if he spent the night? If he did it in the bed? Would Harry be okay until morning? In the end, Sirius split the difference, climbing into bed as Padfoot and slowly pushing his fuzzy face against Remus' back. Remus turned, still asleep, to pull Padfoot closer to him, one hand tangled itself in the thick fur at the base of the dog's neck, and Padfoot inhaled Remus' scent, amplified a hundred times by the dog's keen nose. The thought floated through his head as Sirius drifted off to sleep, a bit simplified by the dog's brain but still utterly and completely true: This is right. This is good. This is where I'm supposed to be.Remus opened his eye slowly. Sun was streaming in through the gaps in the curtains over the window opposite the bed, casting the whole room in a dappled glow. He had a moment of confusion where he didn't realize where he was. Then, as it dawned on him that he was in the Camden flat, he wondered briefly if he was still asleep. It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed of being here on a warm morning, waking up curled around Sirius.It was about the time that he realized that no, it was not a dream, that he also realized there was something warm and heavy on his hip. He turned his head and was face-to-face with a sleeping Padfoot, who had rested his head there, the rest of his body splayed out across the bed. He was snoring softly, his huge paws twitching as he chased something in his sleep and as Remus watched he periodically let out little quiet whining yips as if he were barking at whatever he was chasing. Remus sighed, he knew Sirius would come after him, that's why he'd left the note after all. He did want to fix things, to figure out if they could be fixed. But he was exhausted, drained from his crying last night and his eyes still felt warm and red. It was too soon, he wasn't prepared, didn't know what he wanted to say - he didn't know if he was happy Sirius was there or if he'd rather that he weren't. He hadn't imagined that Sirius would come to get him so soon. He smiled softly at the sleeping dog, maybe it means something that he did.And waking up, in this flat, with Sirius snuggled up to him - it was more than a dream, it was a fantasy that had followed Remus for all those years. To have something normal again, to have a safe place and the man who loved him. To have simple, small things like shared cups of tea or trips to the store together. To hold his hand, to wake up in his arms. To worry together about which plates to buy or what color to paint the walls in the living room. To have a place where he could finally let the tension slip from his shoulders instead of looking over them constantly, waiting for the moment that someone found out what he really was.Remus awkwardly leaned back a bit so that he could reach his arm over Padfoot's head and softly stroke the silky fine fur around the dog's ears. Padfoot stopped whining and twitching instantly and let out a long puppy sigh. Remus rubbed behind his ears in circular motions and Padfoot gradually came out of sleep, eventually opening his deep, dark eyes and staring into Remus' own. They sat like that for a moment or two, just looking at one another before Padfoot removed his head from Remus and jumped off the bed. A half a second later, there was Sirius, still dressed in the same clothes he was in the night before, which made Remus conscious of the fact that he was just in a tshirt and short pajama bottoms.Sirius looked nervous, he pulled his hair back and realized that he didn't have a hair-tie. Remus gestured to the side table on the other side of the bed - Sirius' side."There's one over there."Sirius caught sight of the abandoned hair elastic and grabbed it, "Thanks" he sat down on the bed close to Remus, folding his legs under himself and looking everywhere but directly at Remus. The seconds stretched into minutes and neither one of them spoke until the silence grew so thick and heavy between them it had started to penetrate their chests and made it hard to breathe normally."This is awkward, isn't it?" Sirius grinned over at Remus, who rolled his eyes but couldn't stop a smile from pulling at the corners of his mouth."It sure is. Do you, erm, want to talk about things?"Sirius sighed, "No. You know I don't. But I think we should.""Is it worth it Sirius? I mean, it isn't like things are going to go back to the way they were.""Merlin, shut the hell up Remus, what do you mean it's not worth it? Are you going to start moaning about how you're a monster or some shit? 'Cause we've done that song and dance routine before. It's a bit old.""So are we." Remus smiled a bit but wouldn't meet Sirius' eyes."Speak for yourself, Moons. I'm not the one with grey hair."Remus said nothing, he looked down at the old blanket covering him and picked at a few of the loose fibers, trying to figure out how he could phrase what he was thinking. Somehow, in the light of the morning, all the anger and sadness and self-loathing that had collapsed on him the night before felt muddied, tangled up like a web that he couldn't undo, or even follow the threads. He picked at the blanket a bit more, opened his mouth, then closed it again.Sirius fidgeted, but stepped in, "Look Moony. I'm sorry about all that stuff I said.""You don't have to apologize Sirius, I mean you're not wrong.""And neither were you," he ran a hand through his hair, messing the bun he'd just put in place."I don't even know where to start.""Just talk to me. Just talk and I'll listen."Remus took a deep breath and looked at Sirius. He was beautiful, even now, even after those years in Azkaban had chiseled away at his youth, he was breathtaking. The angles of his face, his strong jaw, the stubble collected there, the dark stray hairs that fell around his face - he looked like something out of an old Renaissance painting. Better suited for the frame than for real life. Remus could have easily lost himself in those grey eyes that seemed to shift color based on Sirius' mood. He wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to make it all go away. To forget the heavy air between them."I just…Sirius I needed you. You were my lifeline," Remus looked away, "You looked at me and saw something of value. And I just, I lost all of my people at the same time. I think a part of me never really thought that you had done it, always hoped there'd be some way that you'd come back to me. But you have to understand just how, how fucking angry I was. I was livid. I was shaking with rage and grief and yeah, I just wanted someone to be punished."Sirius was nodding, but true to his word, he said nothing."I felt so betrayed. When they told me you did it I didn't believe it. But then I started thinking about how strained things had been between us, how...I don't know...it sounds stupid now. And I just was so angry that you were gone, angry at you. Because I felt like if we had talked, maybe you wouldn't have done it. Maybe I missed something. Maybe I should have noticed some sign." Remus shifted in the bed, rubbed his fingers over the star on his hand compulsively."I just, I hated myself for loving you. And I never stopped. Even when I really truly believed that you killed them. I couldn't stop and I wanted to. And then I was alone, and hungry and had no one. And then you were back and I didn't have to hate you anymore, but I did, because you could have come back...I dont know Sirius..."Sirius grabbed Remus' hand, stopping him from rubbing the scar."Go on." He said, but Remus shook his head sadly, "I think I've run out of words."Sirius laughed, "That's a new one."Remus looked at Sirius incredulously, "You're trying to tell me that out of the two of us, you think I'm the one that never runs out of things to say?"Sirius grinned crookedly at him, "Well it was worth a shot."Sirius was the one to break eye contact this time, "Look, I know I should have come home. I wanted to. I just, Remus...I walked into that ruined fucking house and I knew they'd be dead," Sirius' eyes had started to fill and Remus squeezed his hand, "I knew they would be but in my head I was begging, fucking pleading that they wouldn't be. But...it barely even looked like James. He'd been burned in the fucking house fire and he smelled, god, fuck..."Remus wanted to tell him to stop talking. Wanted to tell Sirius that he didn't need to hear the details, that he didn't want to. But he didn't. Because Sirius had seen this, had been there and if he had to carry this memory, the least that Remus could do was hear him out. He felt sick, his stomach was churning."It smelled like steak for fuck's sake. And he was just laying there, just left there. And I couldn't touch him because...he was all sticky…" here Sirius broke apart, he couldn't go on anymore and Remus was crying too, wrapping his arms around Sirius and pulling him to his chest. He cried into Sirius' hair while rubbing his back. They sat like that for a while, both of them mourning James and Lily, properly this time, together."I saw her too, Remus," Sirius choked out after a few minute, "She had tried to protect Harry you could tell and she wasn't burned in the fire just, stone. Cold. And she was never like that you know? Never cold."Remus nodded as Sirius pulled away from his chest, "I wanted to come home, to tell you. But I had spent the last fucking months before that swearing on everything that you were the fucking spy."It all made sense to Remus. That's why things had been so tense, that's why they'd both been withdrawn. Suspicion had crept in between them, made a stinking nest in the heartstrings that joined them and begun to sever the strings one by one. Remus understood what it felt like to wonder if he'd been betrayed."I just…I hated myself for thinking that it was you. And maybe I could have come home, fucking knocked some sense into myself and nut up and told you the truth. But… it was the why that made it impossible. I just, shit…" Sirius trailed off."It's because of the wolf." Remus' heart sank but he wasn't surprised."Yeah. Fuck Remus you don't know how much I hate myself for it. You know I've always loved you despite, no not despite it." he paused to gather better words, "It's part of who you are. I always loved all of you."Remus looked sadly at Sirius. He knew that Sirius still had silent misgivings, there were some prejudices that took a lifetime to undo. He'd faced them before."You'd spent all of this time with other werewolves and I wondered like, if maybe they were giving you shit that I couldn't. I know it's complete rubbish but I was scared." Sirius wouldn't meet his eyes now."We were all scared Sirius. And trust me, there was nothing appealing about them. It made me sick to be among them. The ones that wanted to turn children, being close to Greyback." Remus shuddered."I know. I know and it's fucked up. I don't think about you in the same damn universe as them.""Not anymore.""No, not ever.""Sirius," Remus looked at him unbelieving, "you've just told me that you thought I was the spy because I'm a werewolf."Sirius leaned his leaned his head back, looking at the ceiling and rubbing his eyes, "I didn't think it was because you were a werewolf really, I thought it was because of the way people treated you for being a werewolf. I mean I know it doesn't seem like much of a difference but I couldn't blame you if you'd, you know, fucking had enough. If you snapped. I've seen the way people treated you and if that were me I'd be bloody infuriated.""It's a good thing we don't all have that trademark Black temper.""No but seriously. And then when I realized what happened, I realized I'd been doing the exact same shit that I was afraid turned you in the first place. And so I couldn't come home without trying to fix it all. It's such a mess. I'm so sorry Moons."Remus sighed heavily, "It was a long time ago."Sirius noticed that Remus didn't say it was okay. He knew it would take some time for Remus to chew things over."For what it's worth," said Remus, "I made a mess of things too. You were right when you said I should have been there for Harry. I wanted to, but I was afraid that I would have just made his life harder. Surely he'd be better off with a family that stayed in one place, that was stable and not turning into a monster every month.""No," said Sirius bitterly, "they were monsters all the time.""I know. And I should have made more of an effort. I did try once when I knew I'd be in the same place for a while, Dumbledore didn't want me to know where he was."Sirius snorted, "He can be a right fucking prick sometimes, yeah?"Remus nodded, "I had no idea how they were treating him Sirius, you have to believe me. I would have send him to live with Andromeda at the very least if I couldn't take him. I wouldn't have let them hurt him.""I know Moony. You fucked up, I fucked up. I guess we basically haven't changed since school huh?""Well," Remus chuckled, "except that our fuck-ups have gotten progressively bigger. This is a bit more of a mistake than the time we set Avery's hair on fire.""God I'd forgotten that. Remember how he squealed?""Remember how we'd been in detention for two months?""Yeah I can still smell the dragon dung we dried for Slughorn's third years. That was one of the worst detentions."Remus put his hand over Sirius'. Sirius looked down at their clasped hands and then back to Moony questioningly."So...erm...are we good?""No, Sirius we're not good. I know this is all probably going to come up again. It doesn't just go away immediately, but I don't want to fight. I want to have you back as my best mate again."Sirius looked disappointed, "I don't know if I can be mates.""What?" Remus tried to pull his hand away, but Sirius didn't let go."I love you Remus Lupin. I fucking love you okay?""It's been thirteen years Padfoot, you don't even know me anymore.""That's even better.""How the hell could that be better you prat?""I get to fall in love with you all over again. To watch you blush, to woo you, to be nervous about whether you like me. All the shit we did at Hogwarts. Now we get to do it all again. It'll be the best adventure yet."Remus' heart flipped upside down in his chest and he felt momentarily light-headed - Sirius was looking at him with narrowed eyes, a canine smirk on his face. He felt suddenly nervous under the gaze of those predatory eyes. He knew exactly what it meant when Sirius Black looked at him that way."Shut up you sap. Just fucking kiss me." Remus said, a bit more confidently than he felt.Sirius crossed the distance between them in an instant, leaning forward on all fours to capture Remus' lips in a kiss. There was no hesitancy, no worries in the back of their heads about how this intimacy would be received - just aggression and passion as they claimed one another. Remus bit Sirius' upper lip hard, and Sirius opened his mouth to allow Remus to deepen the kiss even more, sliding his tongue against Remus' and leaning in as far as he could. The kiss was hungry and hot - it burned deep, like coals that had been smoldering for hours, sprung up into flame again with the addition of fresh fuel. Remus reached a hand to pull out Sirius' soft dark hair and tangle his fingers in it, tugging Sirius roughly toward him until the other man was straddling Remus, who leaned back against the headboard. Remus thought he might have never seen anything as utterly arousing as Sirius Black straddling his hips, his eyes dark with lust, his upper lip red from where Remus had bitten him. Sirius would probably have a bruise there later, but Sirius had always been a glutton for a certain amount of punishment.Not letting go of his hair, Remus tugged enough that Sirius let his head fall back, giving Remus access to nip and kiss all of his neck, tracing his teeth and tongue down Sirius' throat and pulling the collar of Sirius' shirt sideways to expose his collarbone. He could feel the muscles there under the skin, taut and wiry, feel the rapid thump of Sirius' pulse in his chest. Sirius moaned, a deep gravely, needy, thing that only made Remus harder and he felt a pull in his chest, something animal, something primal. A need that he had long since buried. There would be no teasing this time, no pulling away, they were both too high on their emotions to do anything but touch every available piece of skin with wandering fingers and desperate mouths.Sirius broke away from Remus' mouth to pull his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, rocking gently as he did against the bulge in Remus' pajama bottoms. Remus sucked in a breath and Sirius grinned cockily."You like that?""Do it again." Remus growled and gripped Sirius' exposed hips as Sirius ground down on him. The feeling of their hardness rubbing against one another was just enough pressure and stimulation to frustrate - with Sirius' chest bare Remus could see the muscles of his hips as he rocked, and he ran his hands up from those intoxicating hips over the planes of his stomach and to his strong tattooed chest, then pulled him down for another kiss."You are," Remus breathed against Sirius' lips, "So sexy."Sirius laughed softly, "Tell me something I don't know Moons.""God, don't you ever shut up?" Remus thrust his hips up harder and Sirius' sassy reply died on his lips, turning into a gasp instead. Sirius leaned forward to tug at the hem of Remus' own tshirt but Remus stopped his hands, covering them with his own."It's not a pretty sight…" Remus explained to a confused Sirius, "all those years transforming-"But Sirius cut him off, kissing him, "I don't care Moony.""You're sure?"Sirius tugged softly again, "We've all got scars. Take of your damn shirt and let me kiss your chest."Remus complied, struggling awkwardly to get out of his shirt without bucking Sirius off his hips. He watched Sirius' face intently once he'd removed it, searching for any fear or disgust. But there was none. Sirius leaned forward to kiss Remus again, wrapping a hand around the back of Remus' neck as he did so and touching their chests to one another. He made no mention of the crisscross of scars that covered Remus' chest, some of them still red and angry looking. Instead Sirius scooted off Remus' hips and moved down his chest, leaving nips and open-mouthed kisses as he went. He reached down and palmed Remus' erection, rubbing it slowly though his bottoms. Remus groaned and thrust his hips into Sirius' hand."God, Sirius." Sirius looked up at him mischievously through his hair, then bit Remus' nipple. Fuck! Remus thought, You cannot come in your pajamas Remus Lupin, you are not 19 anymore. But Sirius was licking at his nipple and then he was reaching under Remus' waistband and Remus let out a long, low whine as Sirius ran the pad of his thumb along the head of Remus' prick before wandlessly casting a lubricating spell on his hand. Remus was on fire, his belly hurt from the tightness in his abs and he felt like didn't know where he was any longer. Sirius' body heat was intense, he moved to kiss Remus' stomach as he began to stroke him firmly, just slow enough that Remus was writhing and panting. It was if there hadn't been thirteen years since Sirius had touched him. He still remembered every little detail of movement that turned Remus into a mess of nerves and moans."I want to suck your cock so badly." Sirius breathed the phrase out heavily and Remus was so overcome that he could barely catch his breath let alone find something cheeky to say. He merely nodded.And then Sirius was pulling off Remus' pants and wrapping his mouth around Remus and it was blissful, the heat, the wetness, the softness of Sirius' lips as they slid down Remus nearly all the way to the base. Sirius never broke eye contact as he laved his tongue along the underside before swirling it around the head and then sucking his cheeks in. One of Remus' hands fisted the sheets, the other wrapped itself in Sirius hair, probably gouging the back of his head with his nails. He wasn't going to last long, and Sirius must have known because he didn't waste time teasing or showboating for once. Instead, he held Remus' hips down with one hand and wrapped his other hand around the base of Remus' dick, sucking and working his hand without ever breaking eye contact with Remus. Remus' mind went blank as he got close, he stopped breathing entirely, his lungs started to hurt and the world seemed suspended, quieted, as if the volume had been turned down. His eyes rolled back in his head.Remus tapped Sirius rapidly on the head but that's all the notice Sirius got before Remus came down his throat, grunting so deeply and so loudly that his voice hurt from it after. Sirius didn't raise his head for another few seconds, but continued to suck. Remus' whole body felt limp, like his muscles had ceased to exist entirely. Sirius wiped his mouth and crawled up to kiss Remus, who tasted himself on Sirius' lips and found that he didn't even mind.A minute or two later Sirius pulled away, "Not too bad eh?""Gold star." Remus replied lazily, before he flipped Sirius over onto his back, "Shall I return the favor?"Sirius grinned and hastily pulled his trousers, his erection was warm and thick in Remus' hand, even bigger than Remus had remembered. Remus reached for his wand and mirrored the charm Sirius had used earlier before stroking and twisting gently while kissing Sirius' neck. He whispered against Sirius while he jerked him slowly. Sirius had always loved it when Remus swore, something about the good boy talking dirty drove him mad. So, with his body pressed up against Sirius' side and both of their eyes on Remus' hand, Remus told him exactly how and how long he'd wanted to touch Sirius again."I never stopped fantasizing about you," Remus said, kissing Sirius' jaw gently, "All these years I'd take my cock in my hand at night and stroke myself slowly and remember that time that we fucked the dormitory the last night of school. Do you remember? The first time you topped me?"Sirius' eyes were wide and he gasped out a "yes" as Remus continued."You stretched me out perfectly and bent me over the bed. And you were so big Sirius, it hurt but deliciously so. So, slow, so hot, so perfect inside me, filling me up. And I bet I was tight, hm Sirius?"Remus sped up and grinned against the side of Sirius' neck. "All these years I've been alone in bed, touching myself nightly, thinking about how you feel inside me, how much I want to be filled up by you again. But no one else would do, I needed you Pads. Promise me you'll fuck me soon. I don't think I could wait."Sirius choked a bit, his breathing was rapid and his hips had started to lift just slightly with each stroke, "Holy fucking shit Remus, I'm going to-" Sirius came hard on his stomach and Remus' hand bucking up wildly, "Fucking fucking shit."After, they both lay there panting, Remus smiling and quite proud of himself, kissing Sirius over and over until Sirius laughed and pushed him off."You wanker," Sirius laughed, "Don't look so bloody pleased with yourself.""I'm just saying, you seemed to enjoy yourself.""You're the first person to touch my prick for twelve years, don't get too ahead of yourself.""I'm offended Sirius," Remus grinned wolfishly, "see if I do it again.""Bet you will. Though next time feel free to use your mouth.""Fuck off dogbreath!""Oh I will." Sirius tackled Remus playfully and kissed him deeply, "that's the idea isn't it Moony?"Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry looked at the time, smiling. He supposed the fact that Sirius still wasn't back was a good thing. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Oh my fucking god." Sirius groaned, running his hands slowly and delicately over the curves of the dark leather seat on the motorbike, stars in his eyes. Remus chuckled to himself softly, if Sirius could love him half as much as he loved that bike...well he knew that would never happen. Nothing came between Sirius and the bike. But he'd take a close second."God I was fucking incomplete without you, baby" Sirius was practically purring to the bike."Okay, Pads are you talking to the bike now?" This was getting a little ridiculous, Sirius was, at least superficially, a grown man.Sirius shot him a glare, which was far less effective considering he had his cheek pressed against the side of the motorbike, making him look a bit like an angry chipmunk, "You don't understand the relationship we have.""Okay, okay," Remus restrained himself from rolling his eyes again or he was going to get a headache from the number of times he had done so in the last hour or so, "Here's the key, she's all yours again."Remus thought for a moment that Sirius might cry as he took the key from Remus. I can't believe I'm giving this damn thing back to him. He's a menace. But Remus couldn't help it. The two of them were meant to be together, and after all, the bike had just been sitting in the storage locker for years, it was better that someone get some enjoyment out of the thing. He'd never understand the appeal but he could also never say no to Sirius. They were planning to go through the rest of the effects they had stored in the storage locker soon, maybe get out Sirius' old records for Harry, but Sirius couldn't wait until then to get the bike back. They were incomplete without one another."Come on Moony let's take her back to Grimmauld.""I don't think we should vanish the bike back to Grimmauld Place Sirius, you could actually crush someone."But Sirius had a sly smile on his lips. He reached into a small box next to the motorbike and pulled out a two black helmets, one with a pawprint airbrushed on the back, the other with a crescent moon."No, no no I don't think so" Remus protested, backing a few steps away, "No one has been on that thing in years, it needs a tuneup at the very least or…""Hey we won't know what's wrong with it unless we giver her a spin.""Oh yeah that's a great way of testing it - with our LIVES.""What's life without a little risk, eh Moony?" Sirius flashed his canines in a signature smirk."You know I hate riding…" Remus ran a hand through his hair, "I'm not a fan.""Come ON Moons," Sirius pleaded, "she's not going to hurt you and it's been ages. Would I really put you in danger?"Remus nearly laughed, he could think, actually, of more instances of Sirius putting the both of them in danger than not. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Sirius, his rebel in a leather jacket."Okay," Sirius laughed, "Maybe the wrong question to ask, but come on. It's been ages. Live a little."Remus took the helmet from Sirius and wiped the dust out of the inside before putting it on his head, "I think it's more likely that I'm going to die a little."But Sirius wasn't listening. He was already happily wheeling the bike out of the storage locker and checking her over like a nervous parent reunited with a child they hadn't seen in some time. Remus almost expected Sirius to start asking the motorbike if it had been eating enough or washing behind its ears. Remus closed and locked the storage shed behind them, praying that there would be something just slightly wrong with the bike after all its years there and that they could apparate home like safe, sane people instead of riding some half-Muggle deathtrap.But before Remus knew it Sirius had somehow magically got the thing running again - Remus found himself straddling the humming bike and wrapping his arms securely around Sirius' waist."We are not flying this thing until you get it looked over, Black." Remus yelled over the sound of the engine, "Don't even fucking think about it. I will never touch you sexually again."Sirius cracked up laughing, "Touch me sexually?! What?! Who talks like that Moony? You spent too much time as a professor."Remus knocked him in the stomach, "Shut up! You know exactly what I mean."Sirius waved this concern away, "Okay okay Moons, I promise no flying. Just relax."And they were off, the wind rushing around them as Sirius pulled the bike into the street, his heart thundering so hard with excitement that Remus could hear it through the leather jacket covering his chest. Remus closed his eyes and held Sirius a little tighter, pressing his face up against the other man's back. He never liked the bike. Something about the feeling of weight and machinery between his legs, darting between cars, the roar of the exploding engine, was more than he could handle. It wasn't nimble and light with the speed and agility of a broomstick, it was a beast of burning metal and exhaust, liable to burn you or buck you off. And that was how he felt about it on the ground. Flying on the thing was a whole other level of crazy, he felt like the heaviness of the object was absurd. Some things were just not simply supposed to fly.However, he did like the feeling of being pressed against Sirius' back, the soft worn leather of his jacket against Remus' cheek. He liked the feeling of the hard planes of Sirius' chest under his hands, the sturdiness of the other man's torso under his grip. He could admit, if he had to, that there was something comforting about holding on to Sirius this way, something grounding and calming, something that made trips on the death machine at least a bit bearable.Sirius whooped as he kicked the bike into a higher gear, speeding forward even faster laughing, "FUCK YES MOONY FEEL THAT?" Remus just nodded against Sirius' back and tried not to think how many minutes it was between Camden and Grimmauld Place. Don't look at the ground, don't look at the buildings, don't look at the other cars.But they made it back to the square without dying and even Remus had to admit that Sirius looked completely and deliciously fuckable letting his hair fall out of the helmet, a pink tinge in his cheeks from the whip of the wind against them. Remus got off the bike first, then leaned over to kiss Sirius deeply."Had a good time then?" Sirius teased."I rather prefer looking at you on it than being on it myself.""Is that a double entendre my dear Moons?"Remus laughed, "Maybe."They were parked in front of Grimmauld and Sirius was climbing off the bike when the door to the house opened and Harry ran down the front steps with a huge grin on his face, his hair wild and a huge smile on his face."Oh my god is that your bike?"Sirius beamed, "Whose do you think it is pup? Yup, here she is, my firstborn.""Okay but, when can I have a go?"Remus rolled his eyes, of course Harry was going to want to get on the death trap, "Harry, Sirius needs to give the bike a once-over, it has been in storage for most of your life."Sirius put an arm around Harry and steered him towards the house, false-whispering at him "Soon kid. I'm gonna get this fucker tuned up proper and we'll give it a go. Maybe even fly it on holiday over the summer."Remus trailed after the other two shaking his head and spelling the bike to follow them back to the house. He had a feeling that no matter his protests, his godson would have his own helmet come summer. No doubt the two of them would do exactly what they wanted to do, just as James and Sirius had done. But that was alright, Remus was used to being outnumbered. Sirius opened the door to the house and just before they went into the house Harry looked back at Remus and then at Sirius."You two back together now? All done fighting about nothing?" he sassed them, before entering the hallway triumphantly.Remus' retort was lost as they entered the house, as Mrs. Black was unfortunately still stuck to the wall and so they had to be quiet as they walked slowly past her. Remus had a feeling that Harry had timed this cheeky comment exactly for this reason so that neither of his godfathers could give a quick response, but the need for silence didn't stop Sirius from giving Harry a smart smack to the back of the head.The next day the three of them cleaned out the storage locker out, and put the Camden flat mostly back together. Remus had decided to stay there for a bit while he and Sirius sorted things out and 'got to know each other again'. Sirius made it known through various long sighs and huffs that he wasn't particularly happy about this arrangement, but as they would spend pretty much everyday with each other at one house or the other he gave up this act after less time than would be normal. Perhaps he realized that Remus was going to need a bit of space, even if it ended up being mostly symbolic.Harry and Sirius spent the last few days of holiday going through all of Sirius' old records, laughing at the music that the Marauders used to listen to. Harry might not have shared Sirius' love of punk music to the extent that Sirius hoped, but he did learn some mean air-guitar moves, and Remus almost broke a rib laughing at the two of them rocketing around the living room and jumping from the furniture. And Remus wasn't merely a spectator, he and Sirius had left Harry speechless with embarrassment when they performed their lip-synced performance of Bowie's 'Starman' (which of course Sirius had taken as a personal anthem back in their younger days).They cooked together too, giving Kreacher a few nights off in the last week or so that Harry had off from Hogwarts. Harry was a startlingly good cook, having learned a lot from cooking from the Dursleys for all those years. But Remus took great pleasure in teaching Harry that cooking didn't have to be a chore, teaching him to be creative in his recipes and encouraging him to experiment. Sirius, of course, was all too happy to watch and be the guinea pig who chowed down on the fruits of their labor.Another day Harry had the bright idea to take Padfoot to a Muggle dog park, where he and Remus earned an incredible amount of respect from the other dog owners when they showed a crowd how Padfoot could not just sit and roll over but respond to highly specific instructions and do math problems by barking out the answer. Padfoot basked in all the attention and Harry tried, mostly successfully, to stop himself from completely dissolving into laughter.When they went to drop Harry off at the train, they did that together too. Sirius had his arm around Remus' waist as he clapped Harry on the shoulder and told him to make sure he got into some trouble this semester."I think everyone will be too focused on the last task of the tournament.""Exactly," Sirius smirked, "So you'll be able to get away with more."Remus broke away from Sirius and hugged Harry, "Just be smart about it okay? We're really going to miss you."Harry laughed, "Don't worry, I've got Hermione on my side. Smartest witch of her age, remember?""Thank god for that. Someone has to look after you.""I'll say," Hermione walked up to them, quickly taking in the way that Sirius leaned just a bit towards Remus, she raised her eyebrows, "It looks like we have a lot to catch up on Harry."Once Harry was safely back at Hogwarts, Sirius and Remus quickly fell into a routine of lazy mornings and long afternoons in bed. As hesitant as Remus was to live off Sirius' inheritance, he had to admit that there was something appealing about laying around all day. London was a different place with Sirius back in it, it was warmer and brighter (even when the sky was heavy with drizzle). It had been years since Remus was so happy.They spent each night with one another, either at the Camden flat or at Grimmauld, rediscovering each others' bodies and resurfacing the years of pain, of heartache, of uncertainty with soft words and hot breaths. Remus learned every inch of Sirius' skin, ran his hands hand lips across the crooks of his elbows, the crease between his eyes, the soft skin at the base of his neck. Sirius traced the crooked pathways of Remus' scars, learned the places that tickled, and the places that made Remus gasp. And as they reacquainted themselves with each other's bodies, they reacquainted themselves with each others' hearts. Things would never be the same as before, they weren't the same people. They were worn in places they hadn't been worn before, they had seen things that had changed them. But slowly, cautiously, they began to realize that maybe that was okay. Maybe their scars, inside or out, had strengthened the threads that stretched between them.So the days easily stretched into weeks, Remus got a job at a nearby Muggle bookstore just to keep himself busy. Sirius still argued that after twelve years in prison he deserved a few restful years and so he spent most of his time hanging around the bookstore bothering Remus, or else working on his bike at the house. Every night they wrote to Harry together. They spent the full moons running the countryside, Padfoot keeping the wolf in check as they explored various deserted and rugged landscapes. Remus' transformations hadn't been this easy since he was at Hogwarts. He woke with little pain and he hadn't had one new scar since Padfoot had been looking out for him. They may have lost a few rabbits along the way but at least Moony largely ignored the deer. Sirius and he wondered aloud if the werewolf did this out of respect and remembrance for Prongs.When the time came for the last challenge in the Triwizard Tournament, Harry even invited both of them to come watch and cheer on Cedric. They got decked out in their Hogwarts gear and spent an evening under the stars and the flickering lights of the castle watching the champions race to the center of the maze with Harry, Ron and Hermione while simultaneously stuffing their faces with as much caramel popcorn and Chocolate Frogs as they could eat. The crowd was electric, full of children and parents alike from all three schools, chattering away in their native languages, playing music, waving banners. Sirius had complained loudly on the way to the event that he couldn't see why they weren't also doing quidditch this year, but Remus assured him that next year they would be there watching Harry play, and this time Sirius would be sitting in the stands instead of crouching on the ground in the rain as a thoroughly soaked Padfoot.Harry was overjoyed to see them, his face painted, like many of the other students, with a large Hogwarts 'H'. Remus teased him gently that Harry had to be pretty self-absorbed to paint his own initial on his face when they were supposed to be cheering for Cedric - a joke which Ron jovially joined in on for the duration of the night. When Cedric had hoisted the cup, they shouted themselves hoarse with the kids before the Gryffindors (led by Fred and George who had nicked a huge amount of snacks and booze, Remus looked the other way at this) decided to head back to the tower for an after party. Harry hung back, Ron and Hermione pushing him towards his godfathers. Remus shared a confused look with Sirius, who shrugged."Harry," Hermione said pointedly to them, "had something he wanted to ask you.""Hermione!" Harry kicked a rock on the ground as Fred yelled at them to hurry up or they'd miss the beginning of the party."I'm assuming you're not asking us to come drink stolen Firewhiskey in Gryffindor?" Sirius smirked at Harry."Go on and ask them Harry.""Well, I didn't want to make the two of you row again but I still really want to be an animagus."Remus sighed but smiled. He knew that Hermione could probably figure out the process on her own and there was very little they could do to stop the kids if they were fixated on the idea. He looked over at Sirius who was looking back at him cautiously."Okay. But if you're learning you have to get registered. And your godfather too." Remus looked pointedly at Sirius, who shrugged."What about Hermione and I?" Ron added quickly looking hopeful, "We can't let Harry have all the fun."Sirius laughed, "Your mom would literally kill me Ron. But if your parents said it was alright then maybe? And get that in writing too, don't think I'm just going to take your word for it Ron, you know I'm smarter than that."Ron smiled but also looked slightly defeated."We'll get started in the summer Harry, it's a long process and there's no guarantee that you'll even be able to achieve your form over the summer. Some witches and wizards have an aptitude and for others it's immensely difficult.""Don't worry," Hermione smiled, "we like a challenge."When they arrived back at Grimmauld, where they were staying for the night, Sirius looked fondly at Remus as Remus unwrapped his Gryffindor scarf."Haven't seen you in that for a long time." Sirius closed the gap between them in a few steps and kissed Remus softly, "It looks good on you."Remus kissed him back, breathing deeply and letting the smell of Sirius' leathery cologne wash over him, "It seems like a long time ago that we were the kids wearing those scarves to class everyday."Sirius grinned, "And now we've got a kid of our own in the stands instead.""He's a good kid, no thanks to you. He's looking more and more like James every moment.""I can't believe I'm going to be teaching teenagers to become animagi. If McGonagall knew she would have my head.""She'd have both of our heads.""Well of course," Sirius said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "we're in this together now, like it or not."Remus smiled at him fondly, running the tips of his fingers through Sirius' long hair, "You're a pretty good dad you know that? James would be shocked.""Don't be ridiculous," Sirius scoffed, an arm around Remus' waist pulling him closer, "James knew we would be good parents."Remus wondered, as he leaned into another of Sirius' deep and heart-stopping kisses, how it is that he found himself a family after all these years alone. So many years he had spent thinking that his existence was predetermined - he'd been resigned, even willing to accept his fate as a, well, lone wolf. A monster that needed to protect others from himself. He saw himself as a danger, and if he were honest, it wasn't just because of the wolf. It was because he was sure that if someone saw him, really saw him, then it would hurt so much more to lose them. He'd already lost so much.But things were different now. In typical Sirius fashion, 'no' hadn't been good enough, and Harry was too much like James - he also knew exactly how to break down the walls that Remus had built. He couldn't ignore them and he found that he didn't want to. There was nothing more he wanted than to provide some stability for these two people who mattered most to him. They deserved that much, after so many years of struggle, and perhaps...perhaps he deserved it too. Sure, it may have been a weird, over-the-top family consisting of a ex-con and the Boy Who Lived but it was his family, and they loved one another. What more could he possibly want but this?
10599744
Way back Home
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Naria (OC), Sunstreaker (Transformers), Sideswipe (Transformers), Optimus Prime, Prowl (Transformers), Other Character Tags to Be Added, Jazz (Transformers)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Naria_Prime", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-11T00:00:00", "words": "1,534", "Additional Tags": "OC-POV, POV First Person, Calling home", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Family - Relationship, Friendship - Relationship", "Series": "Dystopian AUs", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
„Come on, 'Ria! We'll be late!“„I'm coming!“, I called out as I raced down the Ark's corridors after Sideswipe, towards the rec room. What we were hurrying to? As of this morning, our communications relays were finally fixed, so we could contact Cybertron! After 4 million years (and a few orns spent fixing the equipment) we could send the news that we were still alive.I skidded to a stop in front of the rec room door, almost running into Sides who was nearly vibrating with excitement, too.„Do you think they're still fighting?“, he suddenly asked me quietly.„Probably.“, I replied. „I mean, this war's gone on for longer than I've been alive. They've probably continued without us.“ Honestly, I had no idea whether I liked this or the alternative. The only thing I hoped was that they hadn't completely forgotten us.We were the last to enter the rec room, but my smaller size secured me a place close to the huge screen nonetheless. Sides simply squeezed in next to his brother Sunny. The room was completely packed, no one had wanted to miss this, but it was strangely quiet. Only a few whispers could be heard as the anticipation and tension rose.Directly in front of the huge screen, Optimus was discussing a few last-minute-things with Prowl and Jazz. I fidgeted in place, looking around. Why was this taking so long? I was actually really close to asking this question out loud when finally, something happened.The screen began to flimmer and, as one, we turned towards it.Kliks passed as the connection was established, then the screen went black, a monotone voice droning: „Unidentified caller, please identify yourself.“My first thought about this was something along the lines of: What the frag?! That sounds like a drone! Not normal... Over the sudden buzz of conversations I didn't even really hear what Optimus said in response to the creepy voice. Apparently, who- or whatever was at the other end didn't really hear him either, as the monotone came again.„Your identification could not be understood, your call will be relayed...“Everyone fell silent again, waiting.The image that appeared shortly afterwards was one of a green-optic'd mech sitting in front of a communications console, obviously a neutral, but something was wrong... I leaned forward curiously, careful not to get into our camera's radius. However, it was only when the mech spoke that I realised it: His face was blank, his optics dim, and the monotone voice was his!The air practically vibrated with comm chatter as the realisation spread, though everyone stayed outwardly silent.::Ria, do you see this symbol in the background?::, Sunny asked over comm, sounding confused. ::I think I know it from somewhere, but me and Sides can't remember from where...::::Where is it?::, I replied, staring intently at the screen, searching.::Upper right corner, on the wall.::, Sides said, making it a three-way-comm. ::It looks familiar, but...:: He trailed off.Now knowing where to look for it, I spotted the symbol almost immediately. Really, it wasn't surprising that Sunny had been the one who had seen it first: It was small, but as an artist, he had an optic for details.It was indeed familiar-looking... After only a few kliks, my search led me towards where I'd filed away my history lessons. Those had been rare and often interrupted by attacks and such, but it was more than enough for me to know this symbol...When I found an explanation, I almost fell over, freezing in shock.„Frag... Quintessons!“, I blurted out. Everyone turned to look at me, silent. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- „Frag... Quintessons!“„Cut the transmission!“, I yelled, recovering from the shock first, for once glad that I knew just what tone of voice I needed to use that an order would be followed. Not even a klik later the image on-screen froze.„What is the meaning of this, Prowl asked immediately afterwards, sounding completely furious. Optimus didn't look all that happy, either.„That's not a prank!“, I told them, trying to explain myself, pointing to the screen. „Just look! That symbol up there, in the background, it's Quintessonian! And that mech, didn't he sound like a drone?“„You are right...“, Optimus finally said after a thoughtful pause.Kliks later, Prowl spoke up: „Leave the room! Emergency meeting in the war room in ten!“It was as if a switch had been flicked.Just as suddenly as the chaos had begun, it was replaced by focus, battle programs surging to the fore. This at least was something we knew how to deal with: Orders, battle preparations, and so on...We left the rec room, and it took me a few kliks to both find Sunny and Sides and follow them. I didn't want to be left out again, as I so often was. I already had a plan, but I needed some help for that.I only caught up to them when they arrived at their quarters, slipping through the door behind them without them really noticing me.„Don't you want to know what's happening at the meeting?“, I asked once the door had shut behind me. Startled, they whirled around.„Whoa, 'Ria!“„Did you have to sneak up on us like that?“, Sunny griped, though I could see that he didn't really mean it. I laughed out loud. Apparently, they'd been very much distracted...„You do know that I was just behind you almost all the way from the rec room...?“, I questioned, amused. That surprised them even more. „Anyways, back to my first question: How about we listen in on the meeting?“, I added once it was obvious that neither wanted to say anything.„Sure.“, Sides grinned at me. „You do have a plan already, don't you?“Mirroring his grin, I replied: „Of course I have! It involves a well-timed distraction and...“„Why don't you just go through the ventilation shafts and send us a live feed?“, Sunny interrupted me almost immediately. I resisted the urge to facepalm.„Yeah, that'd work, too.“, I sighed. „It just wouldn't be as much fun...“They shared a quick look, the Sides said: „Really, I'm all for a bit of fun usually, 'Ria, but this time, I think Sunny's right. We need to know what's going on fast, and his plan's faster.“ As much as I wanted to deny it, they really had a point there. This was way bigger than anything we'd experienced yet...„I'll go.“, I told them, suppressing the unhappiness I felt at not being able to do this my way. „Do you still have that entrance point opened up?“„We barricaded it before the last inspection, but opening it again will be easy. Red Alert hasn't upgraded the vent security since the last time we used it, so the plan should still be valid...“„Great.“ I smiled, moving to pull one of the berths away from the wall. Behind it, the entrance point was hidden. Well, they hadn't lied: It was barricaded shut completely. Mostly with bits of sheet metal and other unidentifiable parts, though it blended in with the wall surprisingly well. It only took us a few kliks to get it all away, revealing an opening only just big enough for me to fit through.„I'll only start the live feed once I'm actually there, okay?“ Not waiting for them to answer I drove into the hole head first. I knew the way well enough already, the only reason I actually had to use the plan we'd made was to avoid running into any traps laid out by our (very much overly paranoid) Security Director.Reaching the war room only took a few minutes, but I was still too late to catch the actual beginning of the meeting. Instead, I arrived in the middle of a rather heated discussion between Optimus and the others. Actually, I almost forgot to start transmitting the live feed, I was that surprised.„...might be our enemies, but Cybertron is their home as well, so they have the right to know.“, Optimus was just saying as I arrived.„Old Buckethead's not even going to listen, much less believe us when we tell him.“, Jazz immediately argued. „He's just going to attack if he finds out that we're distracted!“„If there is one thing Megatron cares about even more than defeating us, it is actually having a Cybertron he could rule. I have no intention of letting him rule our home planet. What I intended to say was that he is not going to like it that the Quintessons forestalled him...“ Optimus trailed off there, having made his point.Getting steadily more curious about the outcome of this discussion, I crawled a bit closer to the vent I was listening through. This was proving to be even more interesting than I'd thought!An ominous creaking sound echoed around me, shaking me out of my focus and effectively ending the discussion as well. Oh, frag... they'd heard me!I scooted back to the last intersection as fast as I could, fleeing, only slowing sometimes to make sure that I didn't trigger any traps. I really did not want to get caught...
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You Took My Body Home
{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes", "Fandom": "Sherlock (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by amalnahurriyeh", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-06T00:00:00", "words": "1,680", "Additional Tags": "Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Post-Reichenbach, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mental Health Issues", "Relationship": "Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Truth May Vary (Post-Reichenbach series)", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }
You took my body, you took my body, you took my body home You took my body, you took my body, you took my body home It's quite a sight for my sore eyes And break my heart back into pieces A city blackout and a sea of white When all I want is to be alone. -Reuben and the Dark, Rolling Stone “Motherfucking fuck,” Sylvie hissed. Jen could tell Sylvie was trying not to move, but she clamped one hand quickly over her wrist to help stablize her. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to wait for lidocaine.” “I know, I’m being a pussy,” she said. The plane hit turbulence for a moment; Jen hovered with the needle away from Sylvie’s skin until she was sure there wasn’t more coming, and then returned to sewing the gash on her forearm. “Anyway,” she said, “I’m still in shock he was that fast.” “You’re lucky he didn’t catch your hand. That shit’s hard to sew in a moving vehicle.” Jen checked the tension on the sutures. She glanced over at their target; he was tranquilized and in five-point restraints at the back of the plane. Albert was sitting in the seat next to him with an ice pack pressed to his forehead and his headphones in; George was flopped across two seats further towards the front, cradling his dislocated-and-relocated shoulder. Jen’s cracked rib was aching, but she’d get Sylvie to tape it later. Thank Christ Inji had stayed behind to get the plane ready; if she’d been injured they’d have had to call for backup to fly home, and she’s pretty sure that would have gotten them all fired. SIS didn’t like people who couldn’t clean up after themselves. Jen pulled the last suture closed. “Right, this is done. Take some codeine and fall the fuck asleep.” “What about you?” Sylvie said, rolling her neck. “Too hyped to do anything,” Jen said with a shrug. “I’ll take a turn watching the target, I guess.” Thirteen hours to Diego Garcia, then another seven to Mina Salman, then eight to London; flying all the way around the world was a pain in the ass, but at least it would give them time to figure out what the fuck had happened. It had seemed like an easy takedown at first: apprehend target, deliver to London. Granted, it was unusual that the orders were quite so specific about taking him alive—“termination is not an option. Target should be released rather than terminated if apprehension fails”—but it just made it seem like Adam Kingston was a high value target. He’d been an easy mark, all told: went to the same coffee shop every day, ate lunch at one of two restaurants, worked as a freelance writer so didn’t have co-workers and wouldn’t be missed, etc. He didn’t go to the gym, didn’t look like he was secretly doing pressups in his free time—they should have just been able to stick a gun on him at some point and push him into a van and been done with it. Jen should have known something was going down when she realized he was turning towards an empty alleyway. How the hell he’d figured out they were tailing him was a mystery, but when she’d come up behind him he’d turned before she’d even been able to do the cover bit of asking for directions, elbow in her ribs pushing her back. The rest of the team had been there within seconds, and then it had been four on one, but the only reason they were all here is because Albert had a taser and Sylvie had the tranqs ready before he got his head back together. The bastard was tall, and wiry, and fought like a demon; he fought like his life depended on it. She tapped out Albert, who went to go hang with Inji, and checked Kingston’s vitals. When she was done, she glanced up at his face, and startled to see his eyes were slitted open. OK, so apparently they needed to dose him harder. “Um,” she said. His eyes didn’t open any further, but the focus in them was obvious. “Yeah, you’re on a plane. Don’t think I can tell you where we’re going,” she said. He blinked slowly. “You, uh. You need anything? Injuries you need attended to or anything?” “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, and she nearly jumped. Because she’d listened to Adam Kingston order flat whites and kabobs and pad kee mao for two weeks, and she knew his voice backwards and forwards, and this wasn’t the same voice, at all—it was deeper, and flatter, and full-on RP, no trace of the Welsh accent. Who the fuck was this guy? “Right, okay then,” she said, and patted his hand for lack of anything else to do. He stared at her hand on his for a moment. “Nurse or doctor?” “Uh. Nurse.” “Hmm,” he said, and closed his eyes. She settled in for the ride. *** George woke her at Mina Salman. She spent five minutes on the tarmac, absorbing the smell of exhaust and sand and salt, and then went back in the plane. Kingston was awake again, observing everything. He’d been silent and either watchful or asleep her entire shift, and George, who was still outside finishing his cigarette, said it had been the same for his. “Hey,” she said to him, rolling her neck. “You want anything? I think we could let you out for some fresh air if you want. Or transfer you to a seat for the next leg.” “Don’t unrestrain me,” he said, in that flat, flat voice. “Why not?” “Because I’ll kill you,” he said. She raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t make it ten feet before someone taised you again, you know that, right?” “I’m sure.” She appraised him. “Why did you tell me? Rather than just, you know. Saying yes.” “I don’t particularly want to kill you,” he said, eyes drifting shut. “So why would you?” “Said the frog to the scorpion.” She thought about that for a moment. “Want a cigarette, then?” She’d seen him smoking in his flat enough to bet he was gasping. His lips curved slightly, but he didn’t say anything. *** “Still gonna kill me if I unbuckle you?” Jen asked when they were thirty minutes from touchdown in London. Kingston nodded without opening his eyes. “Right. Got a tranquilizer preference, then?” “Benzos are a personal favorite,” Kingston said. “But ketamine would be acceptable as well.” She ruffled her fingers through her med kit and pulled out a bottle of clonazepam. “I was hoping you’d be able to walk out of here. You’re a heavy fucker, you know?” “Sorry to disappoint.” She palpated the veins in his arm. All of them were shit; apparently his drug preferences were very well established, then. Back of his hand was still good, though. She slipped the needle in. “Thirty minutes to ground.” “Right,” he said, and let his eyes close. *** George and Inji bumped Kingston’s wheelchair down the plane steps. They’d been directed to the hangar, and there was an ambulence waiting outside, as well as a black car and a couple Jeeps, which she assumed were for them. Jen shouldered her pack and headed down after them, figuring she should tell the paramedics what was in his system before he went wherever he was going. She hung back a minute, though, because the black car’s door opened and, holy shit, Mycroft Holmes stepped out. She’d seen him once or twice at briefings, but he was at the top of the heap, she wasn’t even sure who he reported to. Maybe no one, maybe the queen or something. Jen nudged Sylvie who had come to stand next to her. “Lookit that,” she said. “Well shit,” Sylvie said, and folded her arms. George parked the wheelchair, and beat a hasty retreat before he had to make eye contact with Holmes, who was coming up to face Kingston. Slowly, Kingston opened his eyes, and regarded Holmes through his drugged haze. “Oh,” he said. “It’s you.” “Seven years,” Holmes said. “A postcard would have been sufficient.” “You had my note,” Kingston said, head wobbling a little. Holmes winced. “Such as it was.” He looked down at the handle of his umbrella for a moment, and if that wasn’t a tell Jen didn’t deserve her job. He looked back at the man in the chair. “I’ve made arrangements for your convalescence in a government facility.” “And for my termination?” Kingston closed his eyes. “That will not be necessary,” Holmes said firmly. “It will,” Kingston said, and fought his eyes open again. “I’m not…I’m wrong, Mycroft.” He clenched his fists. “Then we’ll fix you,” Holmes said, with a lift of his chin. He stepped forward then, right next to Kingston and, slowly, reached out to touch him, hand settling on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, little brother,” he said, so quietly as to barely be heard. Kingston looked up at Holmes then. His slow blink might have been the drugs, but Holmes acted like he knew what it meant. He gestured to the paramedics, and then turned to the team. “Medical officer, please brief the ambulance team. All of you back to Vauxhall for debrief after.” A collection of mumbled yes-sirs, and Jen was handing her bag to George to put in the Jeep. Her handover to the paramedics was fast, and she kept herself from watching Kingston loaded into the ambulance, or showing her shock when Holmes climbed in the back after him. She climbed into the back of the jeep next to Inji, who had her phone out and was checking Man United results. “Well,” she said, leaning her head back. “That’s done with.” “Yeah,” Inji said. “Fuckin’ weird one.” “Hmm,” Jen said, and let the movement of the car soothe her as they pulled out into the grey light of day. Fucking weird one indeed. I mean, who would have guessed Holmes would have a brother?